It was said in the Bible that a man should take one wife and cleave to her until death parted them. Ah, but it may well have been that when that had been written the hideous cult of witchcraft had not appeared to sully the Earth. What had happened was that Essex had been bewitched. He was made impotent as far as his own wife was concerned. When they had wiped out witchcraft, cases such as this would never arise.
James was off on his favorite hobby horse. Ever since he believed he had proved that witches had tried to drown the Queen and prevent her reaching Scotland, he had become incensed by the very word witchcraft. On account of his hatred of this, witch-finders were flourishing throughout the kingdom and every day some old woman would be dragged before the judges and put to the tests.
It seemed to James that witchcraft was behind every evil scheme that was ever brought to light; and he believed it possible that witchcraft had made a normal married life impossible now and for ever between the Earl and Countess of Essex, and therefore the best thing that could happen would be to dissolve their marriage and let them both find partners elsewhere.
He reminded the Archbishop of events which had taken place when he was but a lad in Scotland. One concerned a woman who had been forced into marriage and ran away from her husband to whom her father insisted that she return.
“And the result, man. She poisoned him and was burned for it. Ye canna jerk a woman back to a husband and he to her when evil witches have juggled with them. Remember this, and disband the Commission. It shall meet again when you have had time to brood on it. It may be necessary to have a bigger Commission. The more heads to ponder on this the better.”
So there was to be a pause before the new Commission sat; and it gradually became known that the King was ready to reward those who gave the verdict he wished. Honors were given to some who pledged their support; Court wits referred to blessings bestowed as Nullity Honors; and when the Bishop of Winchester—who had shown himself zealous in the cause of Rochester and the Countess of Essex—brought his son to Court to receive an accolade, the young man was jokingly called: “Sir Nullity.”
It was comforting for Frances and Rochester to know that the King was so fervently on their side.
But they were still waiting for the divorce.
In his prison Sir Thomas Overbury was aware of changes. A lassitude had overtaken him; he suffered from sickness and griping pains.
“I shall die of melancholy,” he said, “if I remain here much longer. Prison sickness is already beginning to overtake me.”
His weight had rapidly decreased and his face had lost its once healthy glow; his skin was pallid and damp and there were days when he was too ill to rise from his bed.
He wrote to his parents and told them that his health had deteriorated in the last weeks and that if something was not done to bring him out of his prison he feared he would die.
Sir Nicholas Overbury and his wife were alarmed when they read this letter.
“I cannot understand it,” said Lady Overbury. “Why have they sent him to the Tower? He appears to have done nothing but refuse an appointment. Is this justice?”
Sir Nicholas shook his head and said that they could only guess at the strange behavior of people in high places.
“But Viscount Rochester was so fond of him. Our Thomas was one of the most important men at Court.”
“It is the important men at Court who are the most vulnerable.”
“I don’t intend to let matters rest as they are. We must go to London and see what can be done.”
Sir Nicholas could see that his wife was determined and as he too was growing anxious on his son’s account he agreed that to London they must go.
“I should like to see the King and ask his help,” said Lady Overbury.
That was an absurd suggestion, her husband knew, for humble people such as they were could not call on the King.
“We might send a petition,” he suggested.
“Explaining,” added his wife, “how anxious we are.”
They did so, begging the King to allow some physician to attend their son.
James read the petition and understood the parental concern behind it. He wrote kindly to the Overburys personally, telling them that he was sending one of his own physicians to see their son.
Sir Nicholas felt that he and his wife had already done some good, and when he heard that his son was suffering from some unspecified disease natural in the circumstances, he was very anxious to see him; he wrote to Viscount Rochester begging him to seek the necessary permission for the parents to visit their son.
Rochester, moved by the letter, was about to say he would arrange at once for the parents to see Sir Thomas, but before making a decision he consulted with Northampton.
Northampton knew far more than Rochester; and he was very suspicious of the prisoner’s illness. It could not be long before Overbury began to suspect that the sudden sickness which had overtaken him was not due to natural causes; and then there might be serious trouble. What, wondered Northampton, was Frances up to now? He was certain that she would never let matters take a natural course and she had far more reason to fear Overbury than she had allowed even him to understand.
On no account must Overbury’s parents be allowed to see him.
“My sweet lord,” he said, “Overbury is sick; he has been a prisoner for some weeks; you can be assured that he is angry with you. How can we know what lies he will tell against you? I have heard it whispered that he is in the Tower because he is in possession of a dark secret which involves you, and that it concerns the death of the Prince of Wales. By God and all his angels, Robert, if such a tale were bruited abroad—false as you and I know it to be—it could be the ruin of you. Even James would not be able to save you.”
“I cannot believe that Overbury would so lie about me.”
“Nor would he, when he was your friend. Now he is your enemy and never was an enemy so bitter who was one time a close and loving friend. Overbury is a dangerous man. Nay, Robert, let us get the divorce done with and then we will come to terms with him. We will give him his freedom in exchange for his promise never to utter a word against you.”
“But what of his parents? What can I tell them?”
Northampton considered. “That very shortly he is to be released, and that if you are to bring this about it is better for him to be quiet and say nothing that might jeopardize your plan. At the moment he is in prison and resentful. You do not wish to tell him how near his release is, just in case it should take a little longer than you hope to bring it about. Therefore, let matters rest as they are.”
“Very well, if you think it is necessary.”
“Necessary, my dear fellow. It is essential to your future—yours and Frances’s. Believe me, my greatest desire is to see you two happy together.”
“Then I will write to Sir Nicholas and Lady Overbury.”
“Do so. They will be delighted.”
“Others have asked permission to see him. Some of his kinsmen.”
“Tell them the same. It is the best way. And it is true. For as soon as the divorce has been granted, Overbury shall have his freedom.”
So Robert wrote as directed; and that was all the satisfaction the Overburys and their anxious relations received.
A terrible realization had come to Thomas Overbury.
He would never escape from the Tower.
There were days when he was too ill to think clearly; but these were sometimes followed by periods when, although his body was weak, his mind was active.
Why should he have been imprisoned merely because he refused to take an appointment overseas? It was unreasonable—and it had happened just at that time when he had quarreled with Robert about that evil woman of his.