He and Sidney, Earl of Godolphin, were more than friends and political allies. After a marriage of barely a year, Margaret Godolphin had died in childbirth. Francis, the baby son who’d lived, had grown up to marry Marlborough’s daughter, Henrietta, thus uniting the two families. Long commitments abroad meant that Marlborough didn’t see as much as he would have liked of the man who, as Lord Treasurer, provided the substantial funds needed for the continuance of the war. In order to do that, Godolphin had to become an adroit manipulator of Parliament.

‘What news of Blenheim?’ asked Godolphin, stroking the dark periwig that reached down to his chest.

‘Are you referring to the battle or the palace?’

‘The one led to the other.’

‘Indeed,’ said Marlborough, ‘and we are eternally grateful to Her Majesty for her kindness in bestowing the palace on us. Unhappily, it’s proceeding at a snail’s pace. There’s been definite progress in the grounds but the building itself has yet to take on any real shape. Sarah is there at the moment, cracking the whip over them.’

Godolphin smiled fondly. ‘I can imagine her doing that.’

‘My dear wife likes to have things her way.’

‘How is she getting on with the architect?’

‘Not too well,’ conceded Marlborough. ‘It was never going to be a marriage of true minds, alas. Vanbrugh came up with some splendid drawings and was very enthusiastic at the start of the project. Then Sarah decided that she wanted some changes.’

‘Oh, dear — have there been arguments?’

‘Let’s call them extremely warm discussions.’

‘Well, I, for one, can’t wait for Blenheim Palace to be finished,’ said Godolphin, firmly. ‘It’s not just a fitting home for you. It will be a visible reminder to everyone — including Her Majesty — of just how much you did for us as captain general of the Allied armies. Blenheim was a remarkable triumph.’

‘So it seemed at the time,’ said Marlborough. ‘Unfortunately, this damnable War of the Spanish Succession obliges me to produce a Blenheim year after year and that’s just not possible.’