“And are you of the reformed or the old tradition?” the young man asked, his voice very quiet.

My father did not know what answer they wanted to this, nor could he know what might hang on it. Actually we might hang on it, or burn for it, or go to the block for it, however it was that they chose this day to deal with heretics in this country under the young King Edward.

“The reformed,” he said tentatively. “Though christened into the old faith in Spain, I follow the English church now.” There was a pause. “Praise be to God,” he offered. “I am a good servant of King Edward, and I want nothing more than to work my trade and live according to his laws, and worship in his church.”

I could smell the sweat of his terror as acrid as smoke, and it frightened me. I brushed the back of my hand under my cheek, as if to wipe away the smuts from a fire. “It’s all right. I am sure they want our books, not us,” I said in a quick undertone in Spanish.

My father nodded to show he had heard me. But the young lord was on to my whisper at once. “What did the lad say?”

“I said that you are scholars,” I lied in English.

“Go inside, querida,” my father said quickly to me. “You must forgive the child, my lords. My wife died just three years ago and the child is a fool, only kept to mind the door.”

“The child speaks only the truth,” the older man remarked pleasantly. “For we have not come to disturb you, there is no need to be afraid. We have only come to see your books. I am a scholar; not an inquisitor. I only wanted to see your library.”

I hovered at the doorway and the older man turned to me. “But why did you say three lords?” he asked.

My father snapped his fingers to order me to go, but the young lord said: “Wait. Let the boy answer. What harm is it? There are only two of us, lad. How many can you see?”

I looked from the older man to the handsome young man and saw that there were, indeed, only two of them. The third, the man in white as bright as burnished pewter, had gone as if he had never been there at all.

“I saw a third man behind you, sir,” I said to the older one. “Out in the street. I am sorry. He is not there now.”

“She is a fool but a good girl,” my father said, waving me away.

“No, wait,” the young man said. “Wait a minute. I thought this was a lad. A girl? Why d’you have her dressed as a boy?”

“And who was the third man?” his companion asked me.

My father became more and more anxious under the barrage of questions. “Let her go, my lords,” he said pitifully. “She is nothing more than a girl, a little maid with a weak mind, still shocked by her mother’s death. I can show you my books, and I have some fine manuscripts you may like to see as well. I can show you…”

“I want to see them indeed,” the older man said firmly. “But first, I want to speak with the child. May I?”

My father subsided, unable to refuse such great men. The older man took me by the hand and led me into the center of the little shop. A glimmer of light through the leaded window fell on my face and he put a hand under my chin and turned my face one way and then the other.

“What was the third man like?” he asked me quietly.

“All in white,” I said through half-closed lips. “And shining.”

“What did he wear?”

“I could only see a white cape.”

“And on his head?”

“I could only see the whiteness.”

“And his face?”

“I couldn’t see his face for the brightness of the light.”

“D’you think he had a name, child?”

I could feel the word coming into my mouth though I did not understand it. “Uriel.”

The hand underneath my chin was very still. The man looked into my face as if he would read me like one of my father’s books. “Uriel?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you heard that name before?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you know who Uriel is?”

I shook my head. “I just thought it was the name of the one who came in with you. But I never heard the name before I just said it.”

The younger man turned to my father. “When you say she is a fool, d’you mean that she has the Sight?”

“She talks out of turn,” my father said stubbornly. “Nothing more. She is a good girl, I send her to church every day of her life. She means no offense, she just speaks out. She cannot help it. She is a fool, nothing more.”

“And why d’you keep her dressed like a boy?” he asked.

My father shrugged. “Oh, my lords, these are troubled times. I had to bring her across Spain and France, and then through the Low Countries without a mother to guard her. I have to send her on errands and have her act as clerk for me. It would have been better for me if she had been a boy. When she is a woman full-grown, I will have to let her have a gown, I suppose, but I won’t know how to manage her. I shall be lost with a girl. But a young lad I can manage, as a lad she can be of use.”

“She has the Sight,” the older man breathed. “Praise God, I come looking for manuscripts and I find a girl who sees Uriel and knows his holy name.” He turned to my father. “Does she have any knowledge of sacred things? Has she read anything more than the Bible and her catechism? Does she read your books?”

“Before God, no,” my father said earnestly, lying with every sign of conviction. “I swear to you, my lord, I have brought her up to be a good ignorant girl. She knows nothing, I promise you. Nothing.”

The older man shook his head. “Please,” he said gently to me and then to my father, “do not fear me. You can trust me. This girl has the Sight, hasn’t she?”

“No,” my father said baldly, denying me for my own safety. “She’s nothing more than a fool and the burden of my life. More worry than she is worth. If I had kin to send her to – I would. She’s not worth your attention…”

“Peace,” the young man said gently. “We did not come to distress you. This gentleman is John Dee, my tutor. I am Robert Dudley. You need not fear us.”

At their names my father grew even more anxious, as well he might. The handsome young man was the son of the greatest man in the land: Lord John Dudley, protector of the King of England himself. If they took a liking to my father’s library then we could find ourselves supplying books to the king, a scholarly king, and our fortune would be made. But if they found our books seditious or blasphemous or heretical, too questioning, or too filled with the new knowledge, then we could be thrown into prison or into exile again or to our deaths.

“You’re very gracious, sir. Shall I bring my books to the palace? The light here is very poor for reading, there is no need to demean yourselves to my little shop…”

The older man did not release me. He was still holding my chin and looking into my face.

“I have studies of the Bible,” my father went on rapidly. “Some very ancient in Latin and Greek and also books in other languages. I have some drawings of Roman temples with their proportions explained, I have a copy of some mathematical tables for numbers which I was given but of course I have not the learning to understand them, I have some drawings of anatomy from the Greek…”

Finally the man called John Dee let me go. “May I see your library?”

I saw my father’s reluctance to let the man browse the shelves and drawers of his collection. He was afraid that some of the books might now, under some new ruling, be banned as heretical. I knew that the books of secret wisdom in Greek and Hebrew were always hidden, behind the sliding back of the bookshelf. But even the ones on show might lead us into trouble in these unpredictable times. “I will bring them out to you here?”

“No, I will come inside.”

“Of course, my lord,” he surrendered. “It will be an honor to me.”

He led the way into the inner room and John Dee followed him. The young lord, Robert Dudley, took a seat on one of the stools and looked at me with interest.