Execution. S. J. Parris

      ‘Your woman is accused of killing her husband. In English law that is petty treason. Her punishment would be burning at the stake.’

      I pictured Sophia’s face engulfed by flames and closed my eyes briefly.

      ‘You know, I once believed he had some affection for me.’

      ‘He respects your talents.’

      ‘But we are all pawns to him in the end. Poole was right. Even you.’ When he didn’t reply, I moved closer until my face was an inch from his. I wanted to provoke a reaction, but he merely blinked again.

      ‘Truer to say we are troops in a war. A general cannot shed a tear over every soldier who falls.’

      ‘But a good general stands by his men.’

      When he did not reply, I slapped my palm on the desk, hard.

      ‘Doesn’t that make you angry, Thomas? You’ve devoted your whole life to him. Or do you imagine you are different?’

      He returned his attention to the paper before him. ‘I have never given it much thought,’ he said. I realised that, unusually, Thomas Phelippes was lying.