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continued.
    “Does the name Stafford mean anything to you?”
    He thought a moment. “Wasn’t that the family name of the Duke of Buckingham?”
    “Yes,” I said. And then: “He was my father’s oldest brother.”
    Geoffrey’s voice went flat and careful. “The third Duke of Buckingham was tried and executed for high treason fifteen years ago.”
    “Sixteen years ago,” I corrected him. As if it mattered.
    “And he was arrested for plotting to overthrow the king because of his nearness in blood, to take the throne for himself. Some thought he had a better claim to it than Henry Tudor.”
    “I don’t suppose this is the time or the place to say that we know my uncle to be completely innocent of all charges?” I asked.
    Geoffrey grunted. “No.”
    Then came the question I was waiting for. “So you are close kin to the king as well?”
    “I am not a woman of the court,” I said defensively. “I was last in the presence of the king ten years ago.”
    He repeated, “You are kin to King Henry the Eighth?”
    I sighed. “My grandmother and King Henry’s grandmother were sisters.”
    “And your cousin Margaret?”
    “My uncle the duke’s daughter.” I swallowed and pressed on. “The duke’s illegitimate daughter.”
    Now it was his turn to go quiet,to look out the side of the barge.
    “Thank you,” he finally said. “I begin to understand.”
    “But you don’t understand everything,” I said in a low voice.
    I could feel the oars begin to pull in a different way. We were slowing down, and I needed to make Geoffrey aware before it was too late.
    “I am a novice at Dartford Priory in Kent,” I said in a rush. “I left my order in secret before dawn to reach London. I don’t expect to be allowed to return, but if so, I intend to take my final vows by the end of next year.”
    There was silence from Geoffrey. And then I heard something from him. At first I thought with horror that he was crying. But no, it was more like choking.
    Anger singed my veins as I finally realized what it was. Laughter. He was doubled over, shaking with it.
    “How dare you make a mockery of me?” I said.
    He shook his head and slapped his knee, hard, as if he were trying to stop the laughter, but couldn’t.
    “I come to London to represent my master at a state execution,” he said, more to the river than to me. “I save a young woman from harm, then linger for a pair of fine brown eyes, and see what happens? Ah, Geoffrey . . .”
    His words were a shock. “So much for your show of chivalry,” I hissed. “I told you at Smithfield to leave me alone, and you wouldn’t. What happens to you now is—”
    Suddenly, Geoffrey sprang forward and gripped me by my shoulders. “Close your eyes and don’t turn around,” he whispered, his warm breath curling into my ear.
    I couldn’t believe he would touch me. Using my manacled hands like a club, I pushed him away and he fell into the bottom of the boat, hitting his head with a yelp of pain.
    And then, as if compelled to do so, I turned around.
    Our boat had slowed as it approached a large bridge. Every twenty feet or so a torch blazed, creating a string of soaring lights across the wide dark river.
    Between the torcheswere severed heads on spikes.
    There must have been a dozen of them, although I only saw one clearly, the one closest to me. The head’s rotting flesh was black. The flicker of a nearby torch filled its hollow eye sockets and leaped into its gaping mouth. It made it seem as if the head were coming alive and smiling down at me in delight.
    A loud noise filled my ears, and sweat curdled on my skin. I shut my eyes tight, trying to erase the horrific vision. But it was too late. My stomach heaved, as if an unruly animal leaped inside me. I bent over and gripped the side of the boat with my manacled hands. “Help me, Mother Mary,” I gurgled.
    For what seemed like an eternity, I fought it. But I lost. Doubled over, I vomited into the boat, a sour string, hardly