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Valentina swallowed. She was enjoying this, she realised. Enjoying showing Carmel that she was more than a cleaner, more than a wife. ‘Right. So Caravaggio wanted to be welcomed into the Order, but he was not of the usual aristocratic class – and he had no money. The Grand Master told Caravaggio that he would accept one big artwork in lieu of something called passaggio, which all the Knights paid as a tribute. This would be used as an altar-piece in the newly built oratory of the cathedral. The beheading of St John was suggested as a subject matter, which of course suited Caravaggio’s leanings towards darker topics, confronting scenes and his mood of seeking atonement.’

‘And the date?’ Carmel asked.

This was a test, she knew.

‘Well, there was a deadline for the painting. Wignacourt wanted to unveil it on the feast day that was dedicated to the decollation of St John.’

‘Which is?’

She saw that Peter was itching to say it, but he held his tongue, nodding at her in encouragement. She smiled. ‘That would be August twenty-ninth, in the high heat of summer. And I might add that the painting would also lift the death sentence that had hung over Caravaggio should he return to Rome.’

Carmel clapped three times. ‘Brava, Valentina. You have included a depth of detail only a scholar might know. I am amazed that you’ve been studying this painter under our noses all these years.’

She shrugged. ‘I had no outlet for the knowledge, but I took great pleasure in enriching myself all the same.’

Peter took his chance to step in. ‘I think we’re getting only a glimpse of Valentina’s knowledge, not just of the man, but of his works, and no doubt other painters of his ilk.’

‘I take a keen interest in Michelangelo,’ she said casually, wanting him to know she had more to offer.

‘You’ll have to tell me another day,’ Carmel said. ‘But for now, Valentina, I do agree that you have earned the right to be here – not as a cleaner, but as a worthy adviser on Caravaggio in the presence of Her Majesty.’

Valentina felt herself tremble with pleasure. Recognition at last. She gave a nod of thanks, realising it was more of a bow, and breathed out as she did so.

The door opened and three strangers walked in, looking around with the same wonder that everyone did when they first entered. Carmel excused himself and walked towards them, and Valentina heard them introduce themselves as part of the royal entourage, officials arriving ahead of Her Majesty.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly to Peter. ‘Truly. This means everything to be here.’

‘Let it be the beginning of something much bigger,’ he whispered. ‘You are so impressive, Valentina. You take my breath away.’

She felt herself blush furiously, feeling almost like a young girl again in his presence.

‘Peter? Valentina?’ Carmel called to them, his tone one of beckoning.

‘Here we go,’ Peter said to her. ‘Looks as though Her Majesty will definitely be visiting us. Now, enjoy yourself and have absolute confidence that you deserve to be here.’

When Her Majesty arrived, the main doors were flung open and Valentina, standing in the depths of the cathedral, saw the sunlight stream in ahead of the diminutive figure of the Queen. It seemed to give her a sparkling halo that momentarily shimmered as she took neat steps inside, flanked by officials, including Carmel, of course. Valentina nudged Peter, who waited beside her in excitement, and they instinctively backed away as the royal party entered the cool shadows and the doors were closed behind them.

The Queen did not break stride or conversation with Carmel, who was bent in her direction, listening carefully, smiling now and then or making a soft remark. The party came deeper into the cathedral, their voices hushed, but there was a noticeable hum of delight and surprise at the glorious decoration that belied the solemn exterior of the building.

Valentina only had eyes for the beautiful young woman who was the newly crowned figurehead not just of a nation but of a host of Commonwealth nations. What responsibility, she thought, considering how this woman must have had to confront the change from a relatively carefree lifestyle as a princess – young, dashing, admired – to this weighty role. She would have been aware of her expected path since she was old enough to understand, but even so, it still must have been a shock to give up her freedom and become owned by the people. She was only twenty-five when that had occurred, just a few years younger than Valentina was now.

In that moment, as the Queen’s entourage were still catching their breath at the cathedral’s bedazzling interior decor, Valentina felt inspired by this woman. If Elizabeth could, she could. Their lives were entirely different – Her Majesty had minions to do her bidding, from waking her, dressing her, feeding her, caring for her children, helping her to make decisions to telling her where to be and when. And yet if you stripped all that away to the person underneath, she was a wife, a mother, just like Valentina.

Valentina smiled. She would swap places, if the Queen should offer, but she realised that in truth she had more freedom than this sovereign. Imagine always having to smile, be courteous, always needing to be interested, never lazy nor lost for words, ever ready to engage with others no matter how desperately she might just want to have a quiet day. Valentina, though, could make any decision she chose – yes, there would be consequences, with every action having a reaction… but it would be her choice. If she was brave enough, she could do what she wanted, be who she chose, make her own decisions and to hell with anyone who wanted to tell her otherwise.

To hell with you, Lawrenz, she thought, fresh courage coursing through her. You will never hurt me again – I will break your fingers if you so much as reach for me.

She blinked at the violent thought and the sense of power that had overtaken her. She felt like Caravaggio, suddenly, and how it must have felt when he was finally welcomed into the Order of St John.

The Queen and her entourage were moving, a small snake of people curling back and being guided into the oratory. Valentina glanced at Peter, who tipped his head once in the direction of the others, encouraging her to come with him.

‘Don’t lurk in the shadows, Valentina. Come and take your place at my side.’

‘She’s so beautiful,’ she breathed.

‘So are you. You just have no idea,’ he whispered and gently pushed her forward.

Soft murmurings of awe lifted into the cavernous ceiling as everyone’s attention became riveted on the massive altarpiece.