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.
Therefore she was unprepared for the news Anne Turner brought her. As soon as she saw Anne’s face she knew that something important was wrong and her heart began to pound with terror.
Anne looked over her shoulder to make sure they were alone.
“No one can overhear,” said Frances.
“A most distressing rumor. Winwood is investigating Overbury’s death.”
Frances stared at Anne for the moment, unable to speak, so great was her horror.
“My maid was chattering about it.”
“Maids’ gossip.”
“Her lover serves Winwood. I do not think we can afford to ignore this, even if it is only gossip.”
“But why … in God’s name why … now … after all this time?”
Anne shook her head. “We must act quickly … I think.”
“How?”
“It is certain that Weston will be interrogated. He was his jailer at the time.”
Frances nodded. “You must see him, Anne. You must make sure that he will know exactly what to say, or I fear he will betray us all.”
“Thank God you have good friends.”
Good friends!—thought Frances. Northampton dead. Robert in ignorance of the plot in which he was involved—and Sir George Villiers standing by, ready to snatch his power.
“Go, Anne,” she said urgently. “Go at once and see Weston. Warn him. It is always better to be warned.”
In a tavern some miles from London a lady in a cloak, the hood of which partly concealed her face, impatiently waited in the room which the innkeeper had set aside for her to receive her guest.
A Court lady, mused the innkeeper. One could always tell. And this was a secret assignation with a lover. The innkeeper was not displeased. This might be the beginning of a succession of visits from Court ladies and gentlemen; it would be well to let them know that he was an innkeeper who could be discreet.
When the lady’s guest arrived he proved to be a disappointment for he was a somewhat shabby fellow. Was the lady having a love affair with her groom? Perhaps this was the reason why they must meet well away from the Court.
Anne’s reception of Richard Weston was certainly unlike that of a woman receiving her lover.
“Weston,” she cried, “so at last you are here! I thought you would never come.”
“You are distressed, Madam.”
“So will you be when you hear what I have to tell. We shall all be more than distressed if we do not take the utmost care.”
She then told him of the rumor.
Weston turned pale and began to tremble. “I only acted in this under orders,” he burst out. “It was nothing to me whether Sir Thomas Overbury lived or died.”
“You were eager enough to help when you knew how well paid you would be.”
“I was acting as a paid servant, remember.”
“This is no time for such talk. We have to decide what we shall say if we are questioned, for it is imperative that we all tell the same tale. If anyone asks how you acquired your post in the Tower, you must tell them that Sir Thomas Monson recommended you for it.”
Weston nodded.
“And you must find out how much Sir Gervase Helwys knows of that matter, and when you have done this, send a message to me by way of your son. I will go to order some feathers and he must tell me then. We must be very careful. This may be an idle rumor but should it be more than that we must be prepared. You should in no way mention my name or that of the Countess. Do you understand?”
Weston said he did. He was perplexed. How was he to sound Sir Gervase who, he was certain, knew that there had been an attempt to poison Sir Thomas Overbury? Had he not intercepted Weston when he was actually carrying poison? Had he not taken it from him?
But of course Weston had never told Anne Turner this.
It was all very unsettling.
Sir Ralph Winwood was pondering on the Overbury matter. It was true, of course, that there were always rumors of poison to accompany any death, and Overbury would be no exception—particularly as he had been a man of some standing in Court, had been sent to the Tower on the smallest of accusations and had died there.
He could question Weston, who had undoubtedly been Overbury’s jailer; and if Overbury had been poisoned, could this have happened without the knowledge of Sir Gervase Helwys who, after all, as Lieutenant of the Tower, should know what was happening to his prisoners.
If he were going to look for reasons for Overbury’s death he would more likely find them among the people of some position rather than the underlings.
Sir Gervase had become chief suspect in the mind of Sir Ralph Winwood; and while he was pondering this the Earl of Shrewsbury invited him to his house at Whitehall.
By a strange coincidence, Shrewsbury told him that he wanted him to meet, among others, Sir Gervase Helwys, the Lieutenant of the Tower, a man of many qualities, added Shrewsbury, but stopped short, seeing the expression which crossed Winwood’s face.
“You do not agree?” asked Shrewsbury.
“I am in no hurry to meet that man … at a friend’s table.”
“But what is this? I do not understand?”
“First,” said Winwood, “I would like to know that he is not involved in an unpleasant scandal.”
“What scandal?”
“I am thinking of the death of Sir Thomas Overbury. There is a rumor that he died by foul means and as Helwys was Lieutenant of the Tower at that time it seems likely that he was involved.”
“But this is shocking,” cried Shrewsbury.
And when Winwood left him he called at once on Helwys and told him of his conversation with Winwood.
Helwys was horrified. His one idea was to absolve himself from blame. He knew that there had been something very suspicious about Overbury’s death and had been prepared to keep silent in order to please important people. Now he felt the need to break that silence to please Sir Ralph Winwood.
He went to him and asked to speak to him alone.
Winwood regarded him coldly and Helwys burst out: “Sir Ralph, my lord Shrewsbury has talked to me of your suspicions. This is a terrible thing and I hasten to tell you that I am in no way to blame for the murder of Overbury.”
Ah! thought winwood. He admits it is murder.
“I think,” said Winwood, “that you could best help me and yourself by telling all you know.”
“Weston is the man who can help you,” cried Helwys. “He was sent to work at the Tower for the purpose.”
“It was you who engaged him?”
“Yes, because I was asked to do so by some important people.”
“What people?”
“Sir Thomas Monson, Master of the Armory, asked me to allow the man to wait on Overbury.”
“So the important person was Sir Thomas Monson, you believe?”
“No, no. I meant someone of greater importance. It was the Countess of Somerset—then the Countess of Essex—who asked Monson to arrange this. I believe that while this request came through her it was in truth made by the Earl of Northampton and my lord Somerset.”
Winwood was astounded. He had not expected to hear such names mentioned at this stage.
He was delighted with this revelation and his pleasure showed itself. Misconstruing this, Helwys was relieved. All would be well. The matter would pass over him. After all he had only obeyed the orders of those greater than himself. What more could a man do?
“Thank you,” said Winwood. “You have been of great help to me.”
“If there is anything else I can do …”
“There will be, I have no doubt. I am very grateful.”
Helwys watched his visitor depart, assured that what he had feared would be a dangerous interview had turned out very well for him.
Winwood took barge from the Tower to Whitehall. He felt exultant. Somerset and his Countess! And it fitted so well. Overbury and Somerset had worked closely together. Overbury would be in possession of secrets which Somerset would not want betrayed. They had fallen out. Oh, there was no absence of motive.
What could this mean? The end of Somerset? The end of the Spanish policy? No Spanish Infanta for the Prince of Wales? In his hands he held the key to the future.
He would go straight to the King.
But he must be careful. James was enamored of young Villiers, but he was a faithful man and Somerset was still his beloved friend, for James did not cast off old friends when new ones appeared.
The King must not yet know how far this had gone; he must not know yet that the name of Somerset had been mentioned. That must not come out until it was too late to withdraw.
James received him at once and he told the King that he was greatly disturbed by the confession of Sir Gervase Helwys.
“I think, Your Majesty, that there can be no doubt that Sir Thomas Overbury was murdered.”
James was grave. He felt a twinge of conscience because he had sent Overbury to the Tower for such a small offense. The least he could do now was to avenge his death.
“Let Helwys write down all he knows of this matter,” he said, “and when he has done so bring what he has written to me. We shall then see how to act.”
Sir Gervase, eager now to work in the cause of justice and at the same time save himself, wrote an account of what he remembered; he told of the occasion when he had intercepted Weston with the poison; he told that Weston had admitted to him how Overbury’s death had been brought about by the clyster and that the boy who had poisoned the clyster had been paid twenty pounds. He mentioned that a few weeks ago Mrs. Anne Turner had asked Weston to meet her in an inn and there warned him that investigations were about to begin.
When James read this he was very perplexed. He knew that Mrs. Turner was in the service of the Countess of Somerset. But he did not for one moment believe that Robert could be involved in murder; and he saw no reason why his countess should be.
Winwood was watching him intently.
There must be justice in the realm, thought James. We cannot afford such a scandal at this time—and scandal there would be if it were believed Overbury were murdered and nothing done in the matter.
“We must unravel this mystery,” said James. “I will summon the Lord Chief Justice without delay and will put the matter into his hands.”
It could not be better! thought Winwood. Stern old Sir Edward Coke would never allow any consideration to stand in the way of justice.
