She was large with child now being in the seventh month of her pregnancy; and there were times when she wished she were dead. She would be allowed some respite until the child was born; that had been promised her, but when she had recovered from the birth it would be her turn.

Jennet was with her; sometimes she felt she could not bear to see the woman’s eyes fixed on her. They were no longer truculent. Jennet was as frightened as she was. It was clear that Jennet was wishing she had never taken her along to see Anne Turner.

“I wish those bells would stop,” she said.

“They are for Richard Weston,” answered Jennet.

“They sound joyous.”

“They are meant to be … because a poisoner has been discovered and sent to his death.”

“Be silent.”

“Did you expect London to mourn for Weston, my lady?”

Frances did not answer. She sat, her head bent, her fingers pulling at her gown.

“What did he say, I wonder, when they questioned him.”

“He was ever a coward, my lady.”

Frances was overcome by further shivering and Jennet brought her a shawl.

“Jennet,” said Frances, “go out and see his end, and come back and tell me all that happened.”

Jennet rose obediently. As she pushed her way through the crowd to Tyburn, she had convinced herself that she was not to blame. She had done nothing. There was no law against introducing one person to another; and if these people plotted murder together that was no concern of hers.

It was disconcerting to see a man one had known, riding in the cart, and Jennet wished she had not come. The people were all talking about Sir Thomas Overbury.

“I hear he only gave the stuff and was paid well for it.”

“By those that could afford to pay him.”

“Did you hear what he said? It was that he believed the big fish would be allowed to escape from the net while the little ones were brought to justice.”

“Oh, there’s more to this than we have heard. My Lord and Lady Somerset …”

“Somerset!”

“The King won’t have Somerset hurt….”

Jennet was almost swept off her feet, so great was the press.

She looked at the scaffold with the dangling rope. Weston was talking to the priest who rode with him in the cart; the moment had almost come, and the noose was about to be placed round his neck, when a group of galloping horsemen arrived on the scene.

There was a gasp of surprise among the watchers when it was seen that these were led by Sir John Lidcott, who was Sir Thomas Overbury’s brother-in-law.

The hangman paused and Sir John was heard to say: “Did you poison Sir Thomas Overbury?”

“You misjudge me,” answered Weston.

Sir John addressed the crowd. “This man is sheltering some great personages.”

But the hangman continued with his task, saying that he had his orders and Weston had received his sentence.

“The matter shall not rest here,” shouted Sir John. “This is but a beginning.”

The crowd was silent while Richard Weston was hanged.

Jennet made her way back to her mistress. She had little comfort to offer her.

It was indeed a beginning.