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

IS THE EARL IMPOTENT?

The weeks which followed were some of the happiest Frances had known. Robert, stung out of his mildness by Overbury’s interference, was more loving than he had ever been before. The meetings were more frequent; and Frances was sure that this was due to the spells and enchantments.

She had met Dr. Savories and Dr. Gresham, who had expressed their keen desire to work for her; they were more reckless than Dr. Forman had been and agreed with Mrs. Turner that it was imperative to work on the Earl of Essex. Frances saw several women, all of whom could procure some ingredients which the doctors had decided were necessary, or had some special powers to work their spells; all had to be paid and they were often pleased to accept a piece of jewelry.

Robert was always loath to make love at Court where the Earl of Essex could not be far away, so Frances arranged that they should meet at Hammersmith; but when she sensed that Robert was not even completely at ease there, because it was the house of Mrs. Anne Turner, she decided to buy a country house of her own—a small place which she could look upon as a retreat.

Impulsive as ever she soon acquired a house at Hounslow which had been the property of Sir Roger Aston, and here Robert came frequently as the house was within easy riding distance of Whitehall.

It was here that Robert expressed his dissatisfaction with the state of affairs and explained his uneasiness every time he was in the presence of her husband.

“You need not concern yourself with him,” Frances replied.

“But I cannot help it. He is, after all, your husband; and when I think of how we are deceiving him—”

“My dearest, you are doing him no harm.”

“But how can that be … when you and I are as we are.”

“He could never take your place with me. I have told you that he has never been a husband to me in anything but name.”

“But that seems incredible.”

“Why should it?” Frances remembered those days at Chartley and the lie came to her lips. It was necessary, she told herself, to placate Robert. And what were a few lies compared with all she had done? She repeated: “Why should it … when he himself is impotent.”

She was unprepared for the effect these words had on Robert.

“Is that so then? He is impotent? But don’t you see how important that is? Since that is the case I do not see why you should find much difficulty in divorcing him.”

“Divorcing Essex….” she repeated.

“Then we could be married. It would be an end of all this distasteful subterfuge.”

An end of scheming! she thought. An end of those journeys to Hammersmith. No longer need she conspire with Savories and Gresham, no longer show her gratitude to women whom she suspected of practicing witchcraft.

Escape from Essex! Marriage with Robert, who himself had suggested it!

She was certain that Robert had become spellbound as a result of all the work that had been done. Success was in sight.

Robert himself spoke to Northampton.

“I have often thought that it is time I married.”

Northampton smiled; he was always ingratiating to the favorite. “I am surprised that James has not found you a worthy bride long ere this.”

“I had no fancy for one … until now.”

“And who is the fortunate lady?”

“Your own great-niece. Oh, I know at the moment she has a husband, but since he is impotent I do not think we shall have any great difficulty in obtaining a divorce. I was wondering whether, as the head of Frances’s family, you would have any objection.”

“Frances, eh!” mused Northampton. He thought: Essex impotent! It’s the first time I’ve heard that. He considered his great-niece’s marriage. The family had been delighted with it when it had been made, for Essex had rank and riches to offer. But, of course, the man who could offer a woman more than any other was certainly Robert Carr who retained such a firm hold on the King’s affections.

“Well?” persisted Robert. “How do you view this?”

“My dear Robert, there is no one I would rather welcome into the family.”

“Then will you speak to the Earl and Countess of Suffolk?”

“I will with pleasure and tell them my feelings.”

“And I will broach the matter to the King.”

Northampton was elated. He knew that there would be no difficulty with Frances’s parents once he made them see what a glorious future awaited her—and the Howard family—when she was married to Robert Carr.

James smiled benignly at his favorite.

“So you have a fancy to a be a husband, eh, Robbie?”

“I think it is time I settled down.”

“Well, well, and I never thought ye had much of an eye for women.”

“I have for this one, Your Majesty.”

James patted Robert’s arm. “And she’s married. It would have been easier, laddie, if your choice had fallen on someone who was free.”

“Your Majesty, the Countess of Essex should be free. She is bound to an impotent husband and has never lived a true married life with him.”

“Is that so? Essex impotent! ’Tis the first I’ve heard of that. Never did much care for Robert Devereux. Too serious without the intellect. He always looks as though he’s in a sulk.”

“Your Majesty will see that the Countess should be freed from such a man.”

“And given to you, Robbie. I see your point. I see her point. What are Northampton and the Suffolks going to say of this?”

“I have already discussed the matter with Northampton.”

“And he is willing?”

“Very willing, Your Majesty.”

“This is going to be an unusual case, lad. I know not whether it is legal for a wife to sue her husband for a divorce. I am not sure whether his impotence will be counted a reason for granting it. It’s an interesting point. I’ll look into it myself.” James laughed. “I’ll enjoy having a talk with the lawyers. Dinna fret, boy, I’ll swear your old Dad will find a way out of the tangle. I’ll swear he’ll give you the girl as he has everything else you have asked him for.”

Robert kissed the dirty hand.

“Your Majesty, as always, is gracious to me.”

“The King is agreeable.” Northampton was walking up and down the apartment while the Earl and Countess of Suffolk watched him. “Good Heavens, don’t you see what great good can come to the family through this?”

“Yes, yes,” put in Suffolk, “providing they’ll grant the divorce. You know how the lawyers like to peck and sniff.”

“Nonsense, man. They’ll do what the King expects them to. Robert assures me that James is taking the matter up himself.”

“What bothers me,” said Lady Suffolk, “is this accusation of impotence. Why Essex was demanding that she live with him when they were at Chartley, and she was locking her door against him. He has pleaded with us ever since to exercise out parental rights to make her share his bed. And you call this impotence!”

“Frances does, it seems,” said Northampton with a sly chuckle.

“Essex might have difficulty in proving otherwise when a girl like Frances is ready to swear to it!”

Lady Suffolk burst into coarse laughter. “Surely it wouldn’t be an impossibility for Essex to prove his potency.”

“You fret over details. Let the King show his eagerness for the divorce and if Essex is a wise man he’ll not interfere. After all, his great desire is to get back to the country. Give him a divorce and a new wife who is ready to live the life he wants her to, and he’ll be amenable.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Suffolk.

“Come, come,” interrupted Northampton. “You meet troubles halfway. Carr is the most influential man in this country. James scarcely ever makes an appointment without consulting him. Think what this marriage is going to mean to the Howards. All the important posts in the country can fall into our hands. You have reason to rejoice that you produced your daughter Frances.”

“I am thirsty,” said the Countess. “Let us drink to the marriage of Robert Carr and Frances Howard.”

A messenger from Hammersmith arrived at the Court; he asked to see the Countess of Essex without delay.

Frances, in a state of bemused joy since Carr had suggested the divorce, and her family had taken up the idea with such enthusiasm, took the note to her apartment and read it twice before she realized the urgency behind the words.

It was from Mrs. Turner, who asked that she come to Hammersmith without delay. It was imperative that they meet for Mrs. Turner had discovered something too secret to put to paper.

At the first opportunity Frances accompanied by Jennet rode over to Hammersmith.

Anne Turner was waiting for her, and Frances saw at once that she was distraught.

“I had to see you,” said Anne, and her hands trembled as she embraced Frances. “A terrible thing has happened.”

“Pray tell me quickly.”

“Do you remember Mary Woods … but of course you don’t. She was one of several. You gave her a ring set with diamonds and she promised in return to give you certain powders.”

“I do not need the powders now that I am to divorce Essex. I no longer care what happens to him.”

“But listen, my sweet friend. Mary Woods has been arrested and a diamond ring found on her person. When she was questioned she said it was given her by a great lady in an effort to persuade her to supply poison, that the lady might rid herself of her husband.”

“She mentioned names?”

Anne nodded anxiously.

“But this is terrible. She said that I—”

“She said the ring had been given her by the Countess of Essex.”

“Where did she say this?”

“In a court in the county of Suffolk where she was brought before the justices.”

Frances covered her face with her hands. It could not be—not now that she was going to be divorced from Essex, not now that Robert was eager to marry her and they would settle down together and live happily and openly for the rest of their lives.

“Oh, Anne,” she moaned, “what shall I do? There will be such a scandal.”

Anne took her hands and held them firmly.

“There must not be a scandal,” she said.

“How prevent it.”

“You have influential friends.”

“Robert! Tell Robert that I have met such people! He would be horrified. He wouldn’t love me anymore. There would be no need for a divorce for he would not want to marry me.”

“I was thinking of your great-uncle. He wants the marriage. He is the Lord Privy Seal. I’ll swear that he could put an end to proceedings in a small Suffolk Court if he wished.”

Frances looked at her friend with wide, frightened eyes.

“You should lose no time,” advised Anne. “For if this case went too far, even the Lord Privy Seal might not be able to stop its becoming known throughout the country.”

Northampton looked sternly at his frantic great-niece.

“So you gave the woman the ring?”

“Yes, I gave it to her.”

“In exchange for a powder?”

“No, that she should procure the powder.”

“Did you know the woman was a witch?”

“I know nothing of her except that I was told she could find me this powder.”

Northampton was seeing his kinswoman afresh. Good God, he thought, there is nothing she would stop at. She had been trying to poison Essex!

Well, he knew what it meant to have an ambition and see others in the way of it. It was because she was young, so beautiful a woman that he was shocked.

She would never forget that she was a Howard; she would work for the family when she was married to Carr. And marry Carr she must; for now the project was as important to him as it was delightful to her.

“Leave this to me,” he said. “The case must go no further. Let us hope it has not gone too far.”

He did not wait to say more; he must send orders at once to Suffolk. It was only a matter of time. If the message reached the Court before sentence was pronounced he could rely on everyone concerned carrying out his wishes.

The woman must be freed and sent away. An eye could be kept on her and a witch-finder sent to incriminate her later, for she was undoubtedly a witch. But this ring which she had said was a gift from the Countess of Essex must be forgotten.

That was an anxious time, but eventually Northampton was able to send for his niece and told her that the affair had been hushed up. The woman’s case had been dismissed and she had gone off with the ring.

“Let us hope, niece,” he said grimly, “that you have not committed more acts of folly which will come home to roost.”

Frances was uneasy for a few days; but she could not persist in that state.

She was too happy; all impatience to finish with Essex, all eager desire for marriage with Robert Carr.

Overbury could not believe it. When he had been told the news he had laughed at it.

“Nonsense,” he had said, “Court gossip, nothing more. Essex impotent! Look at him! That young man is as normal as any wife could wish.”

“Not as normal as the Countess of Essex wished, evidently” was the rejoinder.

Overbury went to his apartment which adjoined that of Robert Carr.

If it were indeed true, and he feared it was, there could be one reason for it. The Countess of Essex hoped to marry Robert Carr.

If that should ever come about it would be the end of the friendship between Robert Carr and Tom Overbury, for he, Overbury, would never endure her insolence. He thought of all those occasions when he had criticized her to Robert and how his friend had shrugged aside his insinuations.

Robert was so guileless: he did not see behind that mask of beauty. Overbury was ready to grant the lady her attractions; he was ready to admit that she might well be reckoned the most beautiful woman at Court. But he saw beyond the beauty. He saw wantonness, lust, ambition, selfishness and cruelty.

Robert must be made to understand what sort of woman this was and that if he wished to retain his high position he must not marry her.

In the heat of rage against the Countess and anger at the folly of his friend he waylaid the latter on his way from the King’s apartments and said he must speak to him without delay.

“What has happened to you, Tom?” asked Robert. “You look distraught.”

“I have just heard some disquieting news which I want you to tell me is false.”

“Oh? What is that?”

“That the Countess of Essex is planning to divorce her husband on the grounds of impotence.”

A cautious look had come over Robert’s face. “I believe that to be true.”

“The Countess’s motives are clear.”

“To you?”

“Yes, and to anyone else who knows what has been going on during the last months.”

“You are over-excited, Tom.”

“Of course I’m over-excited. I see you on the brink of ruin. Isn’t that enough to excite me?”

“You’ve been drinking too much.”

“I am quite sober, Robert. Do you realize that that woman is dangerous?”

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t want to discuss her with you, Tom. I have told you that before.”

“You’re going to discuss her with me, Robert,”

“You forget your position.”

“Nay, I forget nothing. I am the one who wrote the letters, do you remember? I am the one who wrote the poems. I know what has been taking place between you two all the time you have been professing friendship with Essex.”

Robert flushed angrily; it was a point on which he was very vulnerable. He had never been able to dismiss the thought of Essex from his mind even at the peak of satisfaction; and he was so happy now that Frances had explained about the fellow’s impotence because that changed everything. He could not feel the same shame at making love to a man’s wife when that man was incapable of doing so. And when the divorce had gone through and they were married, they would be quite respectable. That was what he was looking forward to and Tom was spoiling it. He wished he had never allowed Tom to write those letters. Tom knew too much.

“Essex is impotent,” began Robert.

“That’s the tale she tells. Why, at Chartley she had to lock her door to keep him out. Ask Wilson.”

“Who is Wilson?”

“Not high and mighty enough for the noble lord’s acquaintance, of course. Wilson is a scholar and a gentleman who serves Essex and is his friend.”

“I am glad he has such a friend.”

“Having robbed him of his wife you wish him to have some small comfort I see. Generous of you, Robert.”

“Don’t let us quarrel about this, Tom.”

“Quarrel. Robert, you are bemused by that woman. You cannot see clearly. You cannot think. I tell you this: if you marry her she will be your ruin. I am as certain of it as I ever was of anything in my life.”

“You have taken a dislike to her. It is not the first time you have sought to turn me against her.”

“It’s not the last time either. Robert, I shall not rest until I have made you see what a noose you are putting your head in. There is something evil about that woman. I do not know what, but it is there. I swear on my solemn oath that I shall work with all my might to stop this marriage. I hope to God the divorce is never granted.”

Robert’s habitual calm broke and he showed his anger.

“You presume too much, Overbury,” he said. “You forget that you would not be in the position you are today, did you not enjoy my favor. You have told me much. Now let me tell you something: if you continue in this way you will no longer enjoy that favor.”

“What? Would you write your own letters? I do not think they would be much admired. And forget not this: You have helped me, but consider how I have helped you. Consider too what I know about you and the lady. I wonder what the King will say when all the Court is laughing at the manner in which Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, has stolen away from His Majesty’s side whenever possible to satisfy his lust with that wanton who now asks us to believe that the husband, who had been clamoring to live a normal life with her, was impotent all the time. I know too much, Robert Carr. Go and tell the lady that. She’ll understand, perhaps more than you do.”

Robert strode from the room.

He went straight to Frances and told her all that Overbury had said.

She listened, her eyes narrowed, her mind busy. There was so much truth in what the odious creature had said; Robert might not realize it, but there was much he could do to harm them. What if he began to pry into her activities. That affair of Mary Woods had been a great shock to her.

She realized that she would never feel really safe while Thomas Overbury was free to ferret into her past, while he seemed to delight in defaming her character.

There was one weapon which Overbury had used with success all his life: his pen. He now decided to use it. He was certain that it would be the end of the career he had planned for himself if Carr should marry the Countess of Essex. The woman hated him and would seek to destroy him. Moreover, he believed that, since she was an associate of Anne Turner, she was in touch with men such as the late Dr. Forman. He had heard from Wilson, whose acquaintance he had cultivated, of mysterious powders discovered among the clothes of the Countess’s husband. It was possible that the Countess in her ruthless way had made other enemies besides Overbury. There had been a strange allegation from a woman in a Suffolk court. Overbury could see that marriage to the Countess might easily ruin Robert Carr. Perhaps the young simpleton did not realize how easy it was for those who had been at the very peak of success to fall into obscurity—or even worse. In the case of Carr his triumphs did not even rest on his own mental ability. A handsome face, a charming manner and an easy-going nature were the assets which had carried him where he was—with Overbury’s help.

No, thought Overbury, I am not to be thrust aside by Madam Countess. I am far more important in this affair than they seem to realize.

Since he had whispered the secret of his relationship with Robert Carr to his friends at the Mermaid Club, they had treated him with even greater respect than they had given him for his writing talent. He had heard it said again and again in his hearing that he was the real ruler of England.

Was he going to stand aside, therefore, and watch this disaster take place?

Certainly he was not. So he took up his pen. He wrote with fire and venom and the verses he produced were called “The Wife.”

These were aimed at the Countess of Essex, and anyone with a slight knowledge of her background and history would know this.

These verses were circulated, not only at the Mermaid Club but throughout the Court.

When Frances read the verses she was furious. Soon he might be openly talking of her. He was a clever man; he had shown that he had already begun to ferret into her past, and there was too much that was unsavory to be discovered there.

She had little to fear from Essex. While they were at Court he had discovered that his wife was conducting a love affair with Carr, and at last understood that her repulsion to living as his wife had nothing to do with her innocence; it was simply that she wished to be the mistress of another man. He had learned too that the Prince of Wales had been her lover, and it was no innocent virgin whom he had taken to Chartley.

Disillusioned, feeling he had been rather foolish, having listened to vague warnings from Wilson whose judgment he trusted, he had come to believe that he would be well rid of such a woman. He had found comfort in hunting and other outdoor sports with friends of his own sex, and when he heard that Frances was desirous of divorcing him, he shrugged his shoulders and thought that it might be good to be free of her and in time find a wife who was ready to lead a normal life with him.

They had scarcely seen each other for some little time, and now that she believed she would soon be free of him, Frances rarely thought of him.

But another ogre had risen in his place: Sir Thomas Overbury.

She could not tell her lover of her fears because he would laugh at them, not understanding what harm Overbury might do if he discovered too much. Robert would not know how much there was to be discovered. But there was one she knew who would not be shocked by her villainies, providing they could be suppressed and did not cause open scandal; and now that he was working with her, would be ready to use his great power to suppress them. This was her great-uncle, the Earl of Northampton. So to him she went.

He read through “The Wife” and regarded his great-niece severely.

“Yes,” he said, “this man could make trouble—great trouble.”

“It is for us to see that he does not,” answered Frances.

“You have been very indiscreet.”

“Perhaps. But I am where I am, and it is not for you to reproach me, for you are glad that I am there.”

What a wild creature she was! thought Northampton. Young and inexperienced as she was, and old and experienced as he was, he would not care to have her for an enemy.

“H’m,” he said after a pause. “We must put an end to this man’s activities.”

“I have already tried to do this.”

Northampton’s eyebrows shot up. “What?” he cried.

“I offered a certain man a thousand pounds to engage him in a duel and kill him.”

“My dear niece, you are too impulsive. What man?”

“Sir David Woods, who I knew hated him because he was sure that it was due to Overbury that Robert refused him a post he coveted.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said it was too dangerous, and that only if Robert himself commanded him to do it and would promise him his patronage when it was done, would he undertake it.”

“And Robert?”

Frances laughed. “It is clear that you do not know Robert. He is so innocent. There is much he does not understand.”

Northampton looked intently into his great-niece’s face. “I believe that,” he said.

She shook herself impatiently. “Oh, come, it is not for you to preach to me. Do you think I do not know you take bribes from Spain?”

“Hush, niece, hush.”

“Then do not look as though I am the only sinful member of the family. My mother takes bribes and lovers. And you—”

He held up his hand and looked over his shoulder. “My dear Frances, be discreet if you can. I am not blaming you for what you have done. I am only asking you to observe the decency to see that you are not found out.”

“That is what I am trying to do. That is why I want an end of Overbury.”

Northampton was thoughtful.

“We must, I think,” he said at length, “find some means of sending him to the Tower. Safely there he would have little hope of making mischief.”

“Robert would never agree.”

“Robert has quarreled with him, I believe.”

“Oh, yes, but Robert is still grateful to him. He says he is his friend. The quarrels take place when that snake Overbury reviles me. Robert refuses to listen—and for that I must be thankful. Robert thinks Overbury is jealous and you know how indulgent he always is. Please understand this: Robert must be made to see that some action should be taken against Overbury. That is where you come in. If I try to explain he will think I am afraid of the slander Overbury is spreading about me. You must make Robert understand.”

“How?”

“That is for you to decide. After all, you stand to gain a great deal from this marriage, do you not?”

Northampton had to admit that that was true.

Northampton made sure that none could overhear their conversation when he opened the subject with Robert in the latter’s apartments.

“This man Overbury alarms me,” admitted Northampton.

“Tom? Oh, he has got a little beyond himself, I’ll grant you,” said Robert with a laugh. “He’ll calm down.”

“I believe he has uttered insults against my great-niece.”

“For which,” went on Robert, “I find it hard to forgive him. But he has been a very close friend of mine and I fear he is a little jealous.”

“Robert, you are too good-hearted. You look at evil and see it for good.”

“There is nothing evil in Tom Overbury.”

“It depends on what you call evil. I hear he boasts of his activities and tells his friends that your rise to fame is due to him.”

“We must not take too seriously what he says at this time.”

“But it is serious, Robert. He is against the divorce and your marriage and he has said that he will stop at nothing to prevent it.”

Robert looked shaken. “Has he said that then?”

“More. He is circulating lies about Frances. That is something I cannot forgive.”

“Nor I,” added Robert quickly.

“In fact, he is dangerous. I know he has been a good servant to you in the past, but he is so no longer. I think we should teach him a lesson. He should have his anger cooled.”

“I will speak to him.”

“You will but fan the flames, Robert. There is one other matter that I have in mind. There were unpleasant rumors at the time the Prince of Wales died; and it was well known that you and he were not fond of each other.”

“He seemed always to seek to bait me.”

“And people whisper that not long before his death he was a strong and healthy man. How was it, they say, that he took sick and died so suddenly?”

“He died of a wasting disease aggravated by a fever.”

“There are some people in London, not far from Whitehall, who know how to make a victim appear to die of a wasting disease.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I speak of rumors that have come to my ears. If Overbury gave the word, those rumors would carry a great deal of weight.”

“You cannot think that I had a hand in the Prince’s death?”

“I do not think so. Rumor does not always have to be truth, Robert. At one time the Prince was in love with Frances; the Prince died and she became your mistress. That is not generally known. The King does not know it. He believes that you and Frances have fallen in love because her husband is impotent. He is sorry for you and wants to help you. A little scandal now and who knows what would happen? Who knows who would be accused of what? Overbury is in the mood to make that scandal. He is an arrogant self-opinionated man, Robert. We have to be careful of him. I suggest that if we could put him away … oh, only for a week or two … just while he cools down … well then life would be a great deal happier for all of us.”

Robert was thoughtful. “If he is going to make mischief—”

“He is making it fast. It should not be difficult to get him a spell in the Tower.”

“But he was my friend … still is. I feel I should explain to him.”

“Robert, this is not a matter to be explained. Let us endeavor to get him into the Tower. When he comes to his senses it will be an easy matter to have him released.”

Robert’s expression was unhappy. Northampton laid his hand on his arm.

“Think about it,” he said. “But do not delay too long.”

Robert could not reconcile himself to the plot to get Overbury imprisoned in the Tower. He could not forget their friendship and was certain that Overbury would eventually give up this ridiculous plan to prevent the divorce.

An idea came to him when James was sending new ambassadors to the Low Countries and France. Why not send Tom? It would be good experience for him; he was fully qualified to make a success of the mission; and it would remove him from the scene while the divorce was being arranged.

When Robert suggested this to Northampton he thought it an excellent idea and lost no time in putting it before the King.

James had never greatly liked Overbury. He felt he had too much influence with Robert and was overbearing; Robert had found him a useful secretary, but James had heard how the man boasted of his own importance.

“We shall appoint Sir Thomas Overbury to the Low Countries,” said James. “Or if he would prefer it, to France. I think he should do well in the post.”

As a result Overbury was summoned by the Lord Chancellor, Lord Ellesmere and the Earl of Pembroke to come to them to hear the King’s wishes.

Overbury, rather startled by the order, was unprepared for the suggestion which was offered.

“Ambassador to the Low Countries or France!” he cried. “No thank you! I prefer to remain in my own country.”

The eyebrows of the Lord Chancellor were raised in astonishment. “But it is the King’s wish that you should undertake this office.”

“My health is not good enough for me to undertake it.”

“I am surprised,” said the Chancellor, “for I thought that you were in excellent health.”

“I should not be for long if I went abroad.”

Pembroke said: “Sir Thomas, you would be ill advised to refuse this offer. I do believe it to be a prelude to a post in the royal household, perhaps Treasurer. The King wishes to satisfy himself that you would serve him well.”

“The King knows I would serve a master well.”

“Then why do you not give him this further assurance?”

“Because I have no desire to leave England at this time.”

“Is that your final word?”

“You may take it as that.”

When an account of this interview was taken back to the King, he was annoyed.

“I like not the stiff carriage of his fortune,” grumbled James. “This is an arrogant man. He boasts that he rules the Court and country. He has boasted too often. This is a matter of contempt and punishable by imprisonment. He should not think that I shall allow this to pass.”

Overbury was writing at his table when he heard the tramp of feet outside his door.

He looked up surprised when the door was flung open and he saw the guards there.

“Sir Thomas Overbury,” said the leader. “I come on the King’s command to arrest you.”

Overbury was on his feet spluttering his indignation. “On what charge?”

“Contempt of the King’s royal person” was the answer.

“I protest. You cannot do this. Call Viscount Rochester.”

The answer was to show the warrant for his arrest.

There was nothing to be done. He could only follow them, out of the palace, down to the waiting barge.

Along the river they went to the grim gray fortress.

Overbury’s heart was heavy with foreboding as he entered the precincts of the Tower of London.

“Overbury is in the Tower!”

The news spread through the Court.

And could not Rochester save him? Did this mean that Rochester was losing his place? Who would step into his shoes?

Robert was dismayed. It had happened so quickly. He wished that he could have saved Overbury from that. It seemed strange because it was exactly what Northampton had wanted to happen. But it was disconcerting to think of poor old Tom in a cell.

He would speak to the King. James had surely acted in a moment of anger, for Tom was too arrogant; he did have too high an opinion of his importance; he really should have taken the post in the Low Countries. He could have come home after a reasonable time.

Robert would have spoken to the King but Northampton who made a point of seeing him at once, advised him not to.

“Why, Robert,” he said, “this is the best thing that could have happened. Let him cool his heels against a stout stone wall for a while. It’ll do him good. We’ll go ahead with the divorce and when that little matter is done with, Tom Overbury shall come from prison, a wiser man, I’ll promise you.”

Robert could see the reason in that; so he did not speak to the King of Sir Thomas Overbury.

Frances called on Anne Turner at Hammersmith. She looked radiantly beautiful as she embraced her friend.

“Good news, Anne,” she cried. “Overbury is exactly where we wanted him to be. In the Tower.”

Anne clapped her hands with pleasure. “That’s the best news I’ve heard for a long time.”

“And not before it was necessary,” went on Frances. “The man was becoming a menace, I can tell you.”

“That scum of men!”

“Yes, he was determined to make trouble. He had his spies. He was ready to malign me. Anything to turn Robert from me. And that is something I should not endure.”

“I should think not—after all you have done to win his love and keep it!”

Frances sighed. “I must have more charms, for he is ready to be deterred at the slightest trouble.”

“My poor sweet lady! What trials are yours! Yes, you must continue to hold him.”

“I fear that Robert may visit him there. I fear that he may bring about his release. I also fear what he has discovered. I suspect him of bribing the secrets from people who are willing to sell them. He could stop the divorce. He intends to. Why, if he brought to the King’s notice—”

Anne shivered. “He must be prevented.”

“The King hates and fears witchcraft.”

Anne nodded.

“If he thought that I—”

“My sweet lady, you are over-wrought. He shall never know.”

“How can we be sure?”

“By keeping Overbury in the Tower until he dies.”

“Until he dies,” repeated Frances.

She was staring with wide eyes at her friend. She had made up her mind then. Overbury must not leave the Tower alive.