“I shall go to Oatlands this week,” John remarked the very next morning at breakfast. Hester, seated beside Baby John, looked up in surprise. “This week?”

He met her gaze with bland incomprehension. “Yes.”

“So soon?”

“Why not?”

A dozen reasons why a newlywed husband should not leave his home in the first week of his marriage came to her. She folded her lips tightly on them. “People may think it looks odd” was all that she said.

“They can think what they like,” John retorted bluntly. “We married so that I should be free to do my work and that is what I am doing.”

Hester glanced at Frances, seated at her left, opposite Baby John. Frances’s white-capped head was bowed over her bowl, she did not look up at her father, she affected to be deaf.

“There is the planting of the spring bulbs to finish,” he said. “And pruning, and planning for winter. I have to make sure the silkworm house is sound against the weather. I shall be a month or so away. If you are in any need you can send for me.”

Hester bowed her head. John rose from his place and went to the door. “I shall be in the orchard,” he said. “Please pack my clothes for me to go to Oatlands and tell the boy I shall want a horse this afternoon. I shall ride down to the docks and see if anything has come in for the king’s collection.”

Hester nodded and she and the two children sat in silence until the door closed behind John.

Frances looked up, her lower lip turned down. “I thought he would stay home all the time now you are married.”

“Never mind!” Hester said with assumed cheerfulness. “We’ll have lots to do. There’s a bonfire to build for Guy Fawkes’s day, and then Christmas to prepare for.”

“But I thought he would stay home,” Frances persisted. “He will come home for Christmas, won’t he?”

“Of course,” Hester said easily. “Of course he will. But he has to go and work for the queen in her lovely gardens. He’s a royal gardener! He can’t stay home all the time.”

Baby John looked up and wiped his milky mustache on his sleeve.

“Use your napkin,” Hester corrected him.

Baby John grinned. “I shall go to Oatrands,” he said firmly. “Pranting and pranning and pruning. I shall go.”

“Certainly,” Hester said, and she emphasized the correct pronunciation: “Planting and planning and pruning are most important.”

Baby John nodded with dignity. “Now I shall go and look at my warities.”

“Can I take the money from the visitors?” Frances asked.

Hester glanced at the clock standing in the corner of the room. It was not yet nine. “They won’t come for another hour or so,” she said. “You can fetch your schoolwork, both of you, for an hour, and then you can work in the rarities room.”

“Oh, Hester!” Frances complained.

Hester shook her head and started to pile up the empty porridge bowls and the spoons. “Books first,” she said. “And, Baby John, I want to see all our names written fair in your copybook.”

“And then I will go pranting,” he said.

Hester packed John’s clothes for him and added a few jars of bottled summer fruit to the hamper that would follow him by wagon. She was up early on the day of his departure to see him ride away from the Ark.

“You had no need to rise,” John said awkwardly.

“Of course I had need. I am your wife.”

He turned and tightened the girth on his big bay cob to avoid speaking. They were both aware that since the first night they had not made love, and now he was going away for an indefinite period.

“Please take care at court,” Hester said gently. “These are difficult times for men of principle.”

“I must say what I believe if I am asked,” John said. “I don’t venture it, but I won’t deny it.”

She hesitated. “You need not deny your beliefs but you could say nothing and avoid the topic altogether,” she suggested. “The queen especially is touchy about her religion. She holds to her Papist faith, and the king inclines more and more to her. And now that he is trying to impose Archbishop Laud’s prayer book on Scotland, this is not a time for any Independent thinker; be he Baptist or Presbyterian.”

“You wish to advise me?” he asked with a hint of warning in his voice which reminded her that a wife was always in second place to a man.

“I know the court,” she said steadily. “I spent my girlhood there. My uncle is an official painter there, still. I have half a dozen cousins and friends who write to me. I do know things, husband. I know that it is no place for a man who thinks for himself.”

“They’re hardly likely to care what their gardener thinks,” John scoffed. “An undergardener at that. I’ve not even been appointed to my father’s post yet.”

She hesitated. “They care so much that they threw Archie the jester out with his jacket pulled over his head for merely joking about Archbishop Laud; and Archie was the queen’s great favorite. They certainly care what you think. They are taking it upon themselves to care what every single man, woman, and child thinks. That’s what the very quarrel is all about. About what every individual thinks in his private heart. That’s why every single Scotsman has to sign his own covenant with the king and swear to use the Archbishop’s prayer book. They care precisely what every single man thinks.” She paused. “They may indeed question you, John; and you have to have an answer ready that will satisfy them.”

“I have a right to speak to my God in my own way!” John insisted stubbornly. “I don’t need to recite by rote, I am not a child. I don’t need a priest to dictate my prayers. I certainly don’t need a bishop puffed up with pride and wealth to tell me what I think. I can speak to God direct when I am planting His seeds in the garden and picking His fruit from His trees. And He speaks to me then. And I honor Him then.

“I use the prayer book well enough – but I don’t believe that those are the only words that God hears. And I don’t believe that the only men God attends are bishops wrapped up in surplices, and I don’t believe that God made Charles king, and that service to the king is one and the same as service to God. And Jane-” He broke off, suddenly aware that he should not speak to his new wife of his constant continuing love for her predecessor.

“Go on,” Hester said.

“Jane’s faith never wavered, not even when she was dying in pain,” John said. “She would never have denied her belief that God spoke simple and clear to her and she could speak to Him. She would have died for that belief, if she had been called to do so. And for her sake, if for nothing else, I will not deny my faith.”

“And what about her children?” Hester asked. “D’you think she would want you to die for her faith and leave her children orphans?”

John checked. “It won’t come to that.”

“When I was at Oatlands only six months ago, the talk was all about each man’s faith and how far each man would go. If the king insists on the Scots following the prayer book he is bound to insist on it in England too. If he goes to war with the Scots to make them do as he bids, and some say he might do that, who can doubt that he will do the same in England?”

John shook his head. “This is nothing,” he said. “Nonsense and heartache about nothing.”

“It is not nothing. I am warning you,” Hester said steadily. “No one knows how far the king will go when he has to protect the queen and her faith, and to conceal his own backsliding toward popery. No one knows how far he will go to make everyone conform to the same church. He has taken it into his head that one church will make one nation, and that he can hold one nation in the palm of his hand and govern without a word to anyone. If you insist on your faith at the same time as the king is insisting on his, you cannot say what trouble you might be running toward.”

John thought for a moment and then he nodded. “You may be right,” he said reluctantly. “You are a powerfully cautious woman, Hester.”