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you calling on your master the Devil.’ He ignored the mutter that ran round the room. ‘Is this true?’
    I shook my head with fierce denial. ‘No, sir, it is not true.’
    Bedingfield was not a superstitious man, and I was counting on his sturdy, pragmatic nature to save me. But he was a clever man, and he could smell a lie when he heard one. He examined my face, then lowered his gaze to my gown and the kirtle underneath, the tell-tale streaks of dust along the hem of my skirts.
    ‘But you were in the old palace tonight?’
    ‘Y-yes, sir.’
    ‘Then you had better explain what you were doing there, and how Joan could have made such a mistake. And do not bother to lie, for it will go badly for you if we search the palace and find any unholy instruments of witchcraft hidden there.’
    Alejandro stirred. His hand dropped to his sword hilt, and for an awful moment I thought that the young Spaniard intended to kill me there and then.
    But of course he would not dare. Not in Elizabeth’s household, so openly, without even a formal trial having taken place. It would be impossible.
    Yet still he gripped his sword hilt, his knuckles whitening with pressure.
    I thought of the dagger I had hidden under the mouldering rushes. Night had fallen, and it would be too dark for the guards to search the old palace now, even armed with lanterns and torches. But come daylight, the dagger would be found and I would be thrown into prison to await my trial and execution.
    Assuming the furious Alejandro de Castillo did not take the law into his own hands first.
    I shivered, my mind working fast. ‘Sir, as God is my witness, I am no witch. Please, you must believe me. Joan kept wanting to explore the old palace, but I told her no. That it was too dangerous. Tonight, she ran away there instead of finishing her chores, and I had no choice but to follow. I . . . I did not want her to go in there alone.’
    The cook turned to Sir Henry Bedingfield, his florid face filled with excitement at these rare goings-on.
    ‘That part is true, sir,’ he told his master eagerly. ‘Joan did slip away before she had finished her work. The lazy girl was there one minute, cleaning the pots from supper. Then the next, she was gone.’
    Bedingfield gave a grunt, but I could tell he was still unconvinced. He looked back at me.
    ‘Go on.’
    I could have kissed the fat-paunched cook for his help. But it would not do to show anything but fear to these men. That was what they expected of me, and what they must see. The danger was not over yet, not by any means. I still had my neck to save.
    ‘She ran upstairs, and I had to follow. I was afraid she would hurt herself up there. But it was so dark, and there were so many rooms, I couldn’t find her at first.’
    I saw Joan look up at this lie. I was sorry to land her in trouble for running away, but if everything went well, neither of us would suffer for this night’s events.
    ‘Then I heard Joan cry out that she had seen a ghost,’ I continued, my voice gaining strength. ‘I followed the sound of her weeping, and found her terrified, hiding behind a chair . I took her downstairs and tried to comfort the poor simple thing. But she must have caught some reflection in one of the windows that scared her, for she suddenly screamed that I was a witch, pushed me over, and ran back to the lodge.’
    I had everybody’s attention now. Even Joan was staring with her mouth open, no doubt trying to reconcile my fanciful account with her own memory of what she had seen.
    ‘By the time I got back to my feet and ran after her, she had already told everyone in the house that I was a witch.’ I injected a note of righteous anger into my voice. ‘But it’s not true, sir. I am a God-fearing girl and would never tamper with such evil.’
    ‘No one would expect a witch to admit her wickedness.’ Speaking for the first time, Father Vasco broke the silence that had fallen. Their heads turned to the old Spanish priest,