James, who had shown greater courage than the Queen during the Prince’s illness and had been at his bedside even though warned of the contagious nature of his illness, scorned these suggestions; and bade Robert put them from his mind.
“Why, lad,” he said, “’twas ever the same. A prominent person dies and the word Poison is bandied from mouth to mouth. The autopsy shows the cause of death and in time all will come to accept it.”
Robert was grateful for the King’s sympathy but he was uneasy. It was unpleasant to be suspected of murder.
One evening the guards at St. James’s were disturbed by the figure of a naked man; he was tall and fair, and in the dim light had a look of the Prince.
“I am the ghost of the Prince of Wales,” cried the naked one. “I have come from the grave to ask for justice. Bring my murderers to the scaffold. It is where they belong.”
Some of the guards fled in terror, but two, bolder than the rest, approached the man and saw that he was not the Prince of Wales.
They hustled him into the porter’s lodge and there demanded to know who he was.
“The Prince of Wales,” he answered. “Come from the grave for justice.”
“This is a trick,” said one of the guards. “Someone has sent him to do this. We’ll find out who.”
They then took a whip and proceeded to lash the fellow until he screamed in agony. But he persisted that he was the ghost of the Prince of Wales.
Ghosts did not allow themselves to be beaten, the guards were sure. They tried to force him to confess he was a human being trying to trick them; but he persisted in his story, and they kept him there through the night, every now and then trying, as they said, to make him see reason and confess the truth.
In the morning news of what had happened was carried to the Palace and brought to the ears of the King, and James himself went to the porter’s lodge to see the ‘ghost’ of Prince Henry.
He frowned when he saw the marks of lashes on the naked body.
“Why,” he said, “did ye no understand that the man is sick? He’s suffering from the same fever that carried off the Prince. He’s in need of doctors, not lashes.” He tried to soothe the man whose mind was clearly wandering. “Don’t ye fret, laddie. You’ll be taken care of.”
He gave orders that the man should be cared for and inquiries made as to who he was.
It was soon discovered that he was a student of Lincoln’s Inn who had left his bed, deposited his clothes in an open grave and wandered on to the Palace.
On the King’s orders he was looked after in the porter’s lodge; and one evening when his nurses went to his bed, they found he had disappeared.
It was presumed that he had wandered out of the lodge, perhaps in an effort to find his way back to the grave which he believed he had left.
Some boatmen thought they saw him at the river’s edge and, as he was never seen again, it was believed that he had drowned himself in the Thames.
The rumor of poison died down; but it was not entirely forgotten. Rather was it laid away to be brought out in the future when people were reminded of it.
INTRIGUE AT CHARTLEY CASTLE
Frances stared straight ahead of her as though she did not see these people. She was not going to pretend that she was a happy bride.
Her beauty must attract attention, for although it was a little marred by her thunderous looks it was no less remarkable.
When they entered the old castle and found the servants lined up, waiting to pay homage, she walked past them and did not glance at one of them, so that it was clear to all that there was something very unusual about their master’s marriage.
“The Countess is weary with the long journey,” said Essex. “Let her be shown her apartments without delay so that she may rest.”
“I am not in the least weary,” retorted Frances. “While at Court I have been in the saddle for hours without feeling the slightest exhaustion. But let them show me my apartments.”
A dignified manservant signed to two young women, both of whom hurried forward, curtsied afresh to the Countess and turning, made their way up the wide staircase.
“Come, Jennet,” said Frances; and without another glance at her husband, followed the two serving girls.
“What a draughty place this is,” complained Frances. “One might as well have lodgings in the Tower. They could not be more uncomfortable. Where are you taking me? Is it to the apartments occupied by the Queen of Scots, when she too was a prisoner here?”
“I am not sure, my lady, where the Queen of Scots had her apartments,” said the elder of the servants.
Frances shuddered. “Poor lady. How she must have suffered!”
They had reached a corridor and were confronted by a spiral staircase. When they had mounted this they came
