The Murder in the Tower: The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex

The memory of Overbury depressed him more than ever.

He cried out: “You are untrue to your promises. You have not dealt fairly with me.”

“Robert,” said James, and there was more sadness than anger in his voice, “I dismiss you now. Go to your own apartments, and do not come to me again until you remember that though I have humbled myself in my regard for you, I am the King of this realm and as such your master.”

“You have turned against me.”

James laid a hand on Robert’s arm.

“Nay. Cast off your sullenness, throw away your tempers. Only do that and you shall see that my love for you has not changed. I am a faithful man, Robert; but I cannot say how long my love for you will last if you goad me so. Go now and think on what I have said. Reflect well, Robert. Be my good friend once more and you shall see that my love for you has not diminished.”

Robert left the King and, pacing up and down his room, he realized how foolish he had been.

James was his friend and James was a faithful man. He might in time feel a great affection for Villiers, but that need not affect his love for Robert Carr. He must be sympathetic, understanding; he must not give way to these nervous tempers.

He held the Privy Seal; he was the Lord Chamberlain; he was still the most powerful man in the Kingdom.

He must regain his old sweet temper; he must explain to Frances that although the King loved him and had given him his great possessions, he would be a fool to continue to bully James who had hinted that he could not endure much more of it; he must be wise, calm, serene.

And when he endeavored to be so, James was his affectionate self once more.

But he was beginning to smile rather fondly on Sir George Villiers—not, he wanted everyone to know, that this interest in the young and charming man in any way changed his abiding affection toward my Lord Somerset.

James was happier than he had been for some time. He was delighted with the new young man whom he had nicknamed Steenie because of his likeness to St. Stephen; and Robert was being his old self, understanding that the friendship between them was too deep to be disturbed by a new fancy.

James had been on a tour of the south, for it was necessary to show himself to his people from time to time, and was resting at Beaulieu when he heard that Sir Ralph Winwood had ridden from London because he wished to speak to him on an urgent matter.

James had never greatly cared for Winwood but he believed him to be a good minister and he received him at once.

Winwood seemed over-excited and it must, thought James, be news of some importance to have brought him so far to tell it, since James would shortly be returning to London.

“Your Majesty,” began Winwood, “a strange rumor has come to my ears and it disturbs me so much that I could not rest until I had laid it before you.”

“Let us hear what it is,” said James.

“It comes from Flushing, Your Majesty, where an English boy has recently died in great distress on account of a crime he helped to commit in England.”

“What boy is this?”

“He was an assistant to Dr. Paul de Lobel, Your Majesty, and he declares that Sir Thomas Overbury died by foul means in the Tower and that he was bribed to poison the clyster which was administered to him.”

“Ha!” laughed James. “There are always rumors of this sort.”

“This seemed more than a rumor, Sire. The boy was in great distress and made a full confession on his death bed; he mentions certain people in connection with the case and I believe there to be such persons living in London as those he named.”

“What persons are these?”

“A jailer of the Tower, and a Dr. Franklin … a man of shady character, Your Majesty, even perhaps a dabbler in witchcraft.”

At the mention of witchcraft James’s face darkened.

“Look into this matter, Winwood,” he said, “and report to me what you find.”

THE LITTLE FISH ARE CAUGHT

Since the marriage of the Earl and Countess of Somerset, life had been good for Anne Turner. When she awoke in her luxurious bed in some palace or large country house she thanked the day Jennet had brought Lady Essex to her. Anne was a beautiful woman, a fact which had not been so obvious when she was living obscurely in Hammersmith as it was now that she was at Court.

She had even become a leader of fashion and many women had taken up the yellow ruffs which she wore because, as they were so becoming to her, they believed they would be to them.

It was a good life, and all because she had done an inestimable service to a rich and noble lady. Frances would never forget; in fact Anne was determined that she should not, and although she never reminded her that they had committed murder together, she made sure that Frances remembered.

Frances was her friend and patron and she had become one of the many ladies in the retinue of the Somersets. She saw the good life stretching out ahead of her and was determined never to return to Hammersmith.