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.

Her servants came to dress her, and while she sat at her mirror and they arranged her beautiful hair, they chattered to her of Court gossip because she always encouraged them to do this. It was important to carry little scraps of information to the Countess; and now that Sir George Villiers was becoming so prominent, Frances always liked to hear the latest news regarding him.

This day they had another piece of gossip.

One of the maids had a lover who was servant to Sir Ralph Winwood, and Sir Ralph had just returned from a visit to the King. He had left in a great hurry it seemed, and when he had returned had been very busy. He had had long and secret talks with several people—but servants were the great detectives and secrets could not long be kept from them.

“Such a pother, Madam,” said the maid, “and it seems that it concerns a long dead gentleman. He died in the Tower and it was by poison.”

Anne had begun to watch the maid’s face in the mirror, but the girl did not notice how fixedly she stared.

“They’re going to find out who poisoned him. They’re going to follow up the trail because he was once a very important Court gentleman, a friend of my lord Somerset, no less.”

Anne stood up; she was afraid the girl would see that her face had whitened.

“Did you hear this gentleman’s name mentioned?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound casual.

“Oh yes, Madam. It was Sir Thomas Overbury.”

Since Frances had known that she was pregnant she had felt more at peace. It was true that Sir George Villiers had cast a shadow over her security and would have to be watched; but she felt equal to deal with that young upstart. Each passing week, she reminded herself, took her farther from the divorce and the death of Overbury.