“Why,” he said, “did ye no understand that the man is sick? He’s suffering from the same fever that carried off the Prince. He’s in need of doctors, not lashes.” He tried to soothe the man whose mind was clearly wandering. “Don’t ye fret, laddie. You’ll be taken care of.”
He gave orders that the man should be cared for and inquiries made as to who he was.
It was soon discovered that he was a student of Lincoln’s Inn who had left his bed, deposited his clothes in an open grave and wandered on to the Palace.
On the King’s orders he was looked after in the porter’s lodge; and one evening when his nurses went to his bed, they found he had disappeared.
It was presumed that he had wandered out of the lodge, perhaps in an effort to find his way back to the grave which he believed he had left.
Some boatmen thought they saw him at the river’s edge and, as he was never seen again, it was believed that he had drowned himself in the Thames.
The rumor of poison died down; but it was not entirely forgotten. Rather was it laid away to be brought out in the future when people were reminded of it.
INTRIGUE AT CHARTLEY CASTLE
When Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, traveling from Court with his reluctant bride, was within two or three miles of Chartley Castle he found that the people of the neighborhood had come out to welcome him. He acknowledged their greeting with bows and smiles and felt wretchedly uncomfortable when he saw their astonished looks directed toward the beautiful but sullen girl riding beside him.
Frances stared straight ahead of her as though she did not see these people. She was not going to pretend that she was a happy bride.
Her beauty must attract attention, for although it was a little marred by her thunderous looks it was no less remarkable.
When they entered the old castle and found the servants lined up, waiting to pay homage, she walked past them and did not glance at one of them, so that it was clear to all that there was something very unusual about their master’s marriage.
“The Countess is weary with the long journey,” said Essex. “Let her be shown her apartments without delay so that she may rest.”
“I am not in the least weary,” retorted Frances. “While at Court I have been in the saddle for hours without feeling the slightest exhaustion. But let them show me my apartments.”
A dignified manservant signed to two young women, both of whom hurried forward, curtsied afresh to the Countess and turning, made their way up the wide staircase.
“Come, Jennet,” said Frances; and without another glance at her husband, followed the two serving girls.
“What a draughty place this is,” complained Frances. “One might as well have lodgings in the Tower. They could not be more uncomfortable. Where are you taking me? Is it to the apartments occupied by the Queen of Scots, when she too was a prisoner here?”
“I am not sure, my lady, where the Queen of Scots had her apartments,” said the elder of the servants.
Frances shuddered. “Poor lady. How she must have suffered!”
They had reached a corridor and were confronted by a spiral staircase. When they had mounted this they came to the apartments which had been prepared for the Earl and his Countess.
The rooms were luxuriously furnished, and from the windows was a view of the lovely Staffordshire countryside.
Frances looked at the big bed and her eyes narrowed.
She turned to the serving girls.
“You had better tell me your names.”
The elder, a girl of about twenty, said: “I am Elizabeth Raye, my lady.” She turned to her companion who appeared to be about sixteen. “And this is Catharine Dardenell. We have been selected to wait on you.”
Frances surveyed them intently, trying to assess how loyal they would be to the Earl. It might well be that she would need them to perform special services for her. She decided to try to win their confidence.
“I am sure you will do all you can to help me,” she said; and her face was transformed by the smile she gave them.
They curtsied in a rather embarrassed fashion.
“We shall do our best, my lady,” murmured Elizabeth Raye.
“Go now and bring me food. I am hungry. Bring enough for my maid here, too.”
“Yes, my lady. But a supper is being served in the great hall and the cooks have been planning for days what they would give my lord and lady on this day.”
“I shall not eat in the great hall. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“When you bring the food, knock on the door. It will be opened to you, if the two of you come alone.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Go now, because I am hungry.”
When they had gone, Frances turned to Jennet.
“Take the key from the outside and lock the door from the inside.”
“My lady …”
“Do as I say.” Jennet obeyed.
“Of one thing I am certain. He shall not come into this room.”
“Do you think that you can hold out against him, here in his own castle?”
“I must hold out against him.”
Jennet shook her head.
“You think he will force me? I have a dagger in this sheath. See, I wear it about my waist as some wear as pomander. I will kill him if there is any attempt at force.”
“Have a care, my lady.”
“Jennet, I am going to be very careful indeed.”
The Earl rapped on the door.
Frances went to it and called: “Who is there?”
“It is I, your husband.”
“What do you want?”
“To see you. To ask if you are pleased with the apartment.”
“I am as pleased as a prisoner can be with a prison as long as you do not share it with me.”
“Do you understand, Frances, that there will be a great deal of scandal if you behave like this?”
“Do you think I care for scandal?”
“I care.”
“Care all you wish.”
“Frances, be reasonable. My father lived here before me. It is my family home.”
“What of it?”
“I am asking you not to cause a scandal.”
“I’d be hard put to it to provide a greater scandal than your father did.”
“Frances, let me come in, only to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“You are my wife.”
“Alas!”
“What have you against me?”
“Everything.”
“What have I done to deserve your contempt?”
“Married me.”
“Frances, be reasonable.”
“I am ready to be. It is you who will not be. Leave me alone. Let me go back to Court. If you are so fond of your draughty castle stay and enjoy it. I would not attempt to tell you where you should be—as long as it is not with me.”
“I shall not endure this state of affairs. You are my wife and my wife you shall be … in every way. Do you understand me?”
“You make yourself coarsely clear.”
“Let me come in and talk.”
“I repeat, there is nothing to be said.”
He was silent. He sighed deeply and then said in a sad voice: “Perhaps by tomorrow you will have come to your senses.”
She did not answer, but leaned against the door listening to his retreating footsteps.
She went back to Jennet. “You talk of his forcing me. He never would. He has no spirit, that man. He’s as mild as milk. Oh, why did they marry me to such a one, when, if I were free …”
Jennet shook her head and turned away.
Frances caught her arm and gripped it so tightly that Jennet cried out.
“What are you thinking, eh? Answer me at once.”
“My lady, you’re hurting my arm.”
“Speak then.”
“I was thinking that you are not free, and my lord Rochester did not seem to be as desolate as you were when you left London.”