This nobleman had even played pander for the king, allowing Henry access to his wife's silken sheets. However, what Henry didn't know (but the courtier did) was that this beautiful woman had the French contagion, a dreadful disease which first appeared amongst French troops marauding in southern Italy. This pestilence revealed itself in open sores on the genitals, turning them blue then black until they rotted off. A more subtle kind entered the blood, vilified the humours and turned the brain soft with madness. 'And Henry thinks Throckle can cure this?'

Agrippa shrugged. 'He trusts Throckle. On my way here I called in and left him YVolsey's invitation. The old man had better be ready!'

We passed through Wodeforde, following the track which wound through the dense forest of Epping. As we came to a crossroads Agrippa stopped before the gate leading up to a spacious, three-storeyed, black and white, red-tiled house. This mansion was built in a truly ornate style, with black shining beams, gleaming white plaster and a most fantastical chimney stack erected on one side of the house. Agrippa, Benjamin and I dismounted and walked up the garden path. On either side flowers grew in glorious profusion, turning the air heavy with their scent; there were marigolds, primroses, columbines, violets, roses, carnations and gilly-flowers.

Agrippa rapped on the door, but the house was silent. He knocked again. 'Aren't there any servants?' Benjamin asked.

'He was like his master, the old king.' Agrippa grinned. 'If Throckle can save a penny, he will!'

This time he pounded on the door but, again, no answer. Agrippa pulled down the latch and pushed the door open. Inside the stone-flagged passageway the smell was not so sweet. It was stale and rather fetid, and there was something else – not wood smoke but as if a bonfire had been lit and all sorts of rubbish burnt. We went through the downstairs rooms – a small solar, scullery and kitchen – but these were deserted.