CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The two opposing parties at court, the Howards and Carr versus Pembroke, Ellesmere and the Archbishop were now united for once in planning the downfall of Sir Thomas Overbury, who knew too much and was too clever for his own good. He was bitterly opposed to a marriage between Carr and Frances Essex, which old Henry Howard now sought as the next best thing to a royal union. The Protestant party took a longer view and wished the marriage to take place as a means of bringing the King's favourite down, together with the Howard party, yet, they too, required the removal of Overbury. Our family, though we did not know it then, stood betwixt and between, ready to be crushed as if by two mill stones.
The joint plan was as cold-blooded as if Cecil were still at work. Pembroke and Ellesmere went to Overbury with an offer from the King of an Embassy abroad, which they knew he would refuse, since to be away from court was to be out of the world. He dared to gainsay the King for he was certain that his friend Carr (or Rochester, as he now was) would stand by him, which proved not to be the case for the Scot was set on marrying Frances and, indeed, thought himself in love with her. On a second refusal, Overbury, to his horror, was sent to the Tower for contempt.
To make easy the machinations of the Howard party, Cecil's old ally, the strict Wade, was removed from his place as Lieutenant of the Tower. You will remember that Lady Arbella Stuart was imprisoned there for her foolishness in trying to elope, and there was some trumped up charge of Wade stealing her jewels. His replacement was Sir Gervase Elwes, a friend of Sir Thomas Monson; a good man,but weak, who trusted to Thomas Campion two thousand pounds as the price of the place. Elwes was much in awe of the great Henry Howard, who twisted him round his little finger.
Now our poor Annie returns to the story. Her husband had employed as bailiff one Richard Weston, who, in her reduced circumstances, she kept as general handyman. He had served as a messenger between Carr and Frances Howard when Annie's house had been used for their assignations. Silly girl, Annie was no bawd, as they later tried to make out, simply blinded by the idea of true love, as she had been in the affair with Prince Henry, and, moreover, flattered to be taken into the confidences of great ones. When it was suggested that Weston should live in the Tower and be Overbury's keeper, she was only too glad to save his wages and obtain him a better position.
Overbury was still pitifully certain that his Scottish friend (maybe his catamite) would help him escape from the Tower. He had a plan in which he was sure Rochester would join him. They were both to take vomits and in this way so sadly reduce their health that the King would restore the prisoner to his pining friend. Overbury dosed himself faithfully but Rochester did not keep to his part of the bargain for long. The Essex divorce was in train and nothing must prevent its success.
Here Annie was involved again. Through her work with Forman she was well acquainted with the London apothecaries and some less reputable than they and was the very person to obtain the vomits and deliver them to Weston. Sir Gervase Elwes, however, became suspicious, so ill did Overbury appear, and, having thoughts of poison, intercepted the emetics, though he allowed letters and the dishes of food in which they were hidden to be brought to the prisoner. In despair that his plan was not working, Overbury wrote to Rochester, saying, "Drive me not to extremities, lest I should say something that you and I repent."
When Lady Frances heard of this threat, she was certain, I am sure, that Overbury knew the circumstances of Prince Henry's death and, believing all was lost, hastened for advice to her great uncle Henry, from which time Overbury's life was forfeit. Old Henry's kitchens provided poisoned dainties supposed to be a kind gift from Overbury's false friend but sent in by Lady Frances. But, Sir Gervase continued his good offices in saving his prisoner from harm, which led to his own downfall. In the end it was a poisoned clyster that ensured Lady Frances' safety, as she thought.
There was still a difficulty in that lady's way. To nullify her marriage to Essex, she must be proved virgin and this she was not since the Spanish Fly had stirred Prince Henry's blood. Annie was called in to dress one of Sir Thomas Monson's ill-favoured daughters in her mistress's attire, hiding her hair and face 'for modesty' with a thick veil, so that a panel of matrons passed 'Lady Frances' as undefiled.
~
One day at court, to my great surprise, Robert Sidney, Lord Lisle, sought me out.
"A word with you, Dowland," he said haughtily. "It was bad enough when your son dared to dedicate a trifling work to me without permission, presuming upon the fact that, long ago, my proxy stood gossip to him. Now it has come to my notice that he is spreading a rumour abroad to the effect that I am more than his father in God, which is not to be borne. Tell him that if he wishes to keep his ears, he had best stay in Heidelberg. Your daughter, Susanna, I see is flaunting herself at court as a purveyor of fallals and I advise her also to keep her lips sealed, if she knows what is good for her."
I hastened to assure him that Annie had always regarded me as her true father.
"Nevertheless," he threatened, "ill will befall you if any word is ever spoken again of a connection between my family and yours. I believe you have grandchildren and would not wish them to come to harm." He turned on his heel and walked heavily away.
My first thought was that he knew about Barbara and myself and was going round about to promise ill to us. Gazing on my portrait, my love might have been seen - it was a more dangerous form of communication than the easily concealed ring. Yet, I would have been the victim of his unconcealed rage if that were so. Annie's adherence to the Howard party was the danger. Lord Robert was a member of the opposing faction and dared have no connection with the enemy. We were apprehensive for a while. A quick knife thrust in a dark alley happened every day.
We said nothing to Annie, who seemed to be avoiding us, which grieved Suzanne for she now seldom saw her grandchildren. We supposed Annie was busy with the arrangements for the forthcoming wedding of Frances Howard and Rochester, now promoted to the Earldom of Somerset to make him equal in rank to his bride. Not badly done for the younger son of a Border laird, his brogue as thick as the day he left Scotland! I, too, was busy rehearsing the wedding music, though all the practice I needed was to accommodate myself to the out-of-time playing of the rest of the consort.
The great event took place on December 26th, on the selfsame day, eight years later, that the lady had married Essex. The guests were agog to see how the bride wore her hair. (There had been much prurient gossip over the nullity suit.) She duly appeared as a virgin with her fair tresses hanging almost to her feet - not the first bride to feign innocence. There was a sulky look on her lovely face. It must have irked her to be wedded to this oaf when, not much more than a year ago, her hopes had been so high.
All was brilliance (at the King's expense) except for the Archbishop, who sat like a skeleton at the feast, and Sir Ralph Winwood, garbed entirely in expensive black, as if, I later thought, in mourning for the prospects of the Howard faction. He was certainly not in funeral weeds for Overbury, who had prevented his appointment as Secretary. His present of plate and a splendid pair of matched horses went some way to ensuring the bridegroom's support, or so he hoped.
The wedding night masque was, of course, by Thomas Campion. We were now on polite speaking terms but the admiring friendship was now a thing of the past. His involvement with Monson and the Howards was grander than mine had ever been. It was a bitter irony that I, who, out of love for the name he bore, had guided his first, faltering steps in composition was now the hopeless cripple.
The usual practice of the King when he lost a bedmate to a new wife was for his affection to dwindle into a kind of friendship, as with Montgomery (the Countess of Pembroke's younger son, Philip) whose boorishness James cherished for a while. However, Somerset remained in high favour and, when Henry Howard died, the King turned to him even more. Old Henry's death was as revolting as his life. A swelling that was lanced turned gangrenous and the surgeon, infected by the poisonous almost died also. The pity was that Howard's death was rapid - he should have lingered in prolonged torment. As it was he was fortunate to die when he did.
~
Somerset's continued power was a thorn in the flesh of the Protestant party, until they found his successor in the person of another penniless younger son, George Villiers, or Steenie, as the King nicknamed his beautiful new possession. The former favourite, instead of dwindling gracefully, put up a fight and, in his jealous rage, behaved so badly to his master that he hastened his own downfall.
The Howards were a hopeless crew without that arch-plotter, Henry, and their enemies could choose their moment to strike. Two years after the death of Overbury, the tale came to light that a young apothecary's apprentice in Brussels had made a deathbed confession that he had obtained poison for the Countess of Somerset which was administered to the prisoner in the Tower as a clyster. This led to an investigation whose whole purpose was to trap and bring down Robert Carr through his wife.
If Lord Robert Sidney had known of the plan when first conceived, small wonder he wished to cut all ties with Annie whose doom was now sealed. In cases of this sort, the small fry took the punishment and the great ones escaped lightly. Barbara confirmed our misgivings. "Tell Annie to beware," she warned in one of our magical meetings. "My husband's party has evidence against the Somersets and means to bring them down."
I decided to visit Annie's house after dark to give her Barbara's warning, though I had been very careful previously to avoid an open meeting. The streets seemed empty but I had the feeling of a presence at my back, though, when I turned, there was none to be seen. I reached the house safely, when, just as I raised my hand to the knocker, I felt my arms pinioned from behind and the sharp prick of a knife at my throat.
"This is your last warning," growled a voice. "You are never more to come to this house or speak with its owner or it will be the worse for you and your family."
I was bundled along the street from which I had come for some long way, until a blow on the back of my head caused me to know no more until the watch discovered me, taking me for a late reveller. A large bribe persuaded them to set me on my way home, where an anxious Suzanne awaited me.
"Robert Sidney will stop at nothing to keep us apart from Annie, but there is a way." And Suzanne ran to fetch a portrait of her daughter as a child, which she had always treasured. I objected at first, saying that, without preparation, hearing my voice in her head, the poor girl might think she had run mad.
"If you communicate by night, she will think it a warning dream. What else may we do to help the child?"
So I persisted, night after night, first trying to gain Annie's confidence, then sending Barbara's warning, begging her to hold her tongue and keep away from Lady Frances and her associates. I asked her to smuggle the children out of the house and send them to Fetter Lane. When one day, after dusk, they arrived with a servant, our joy knew no bounds for, at last, we knew our messages had been understood.
How to keep the children safe? My thoughts turned to Henry Peacham, who, after Prince Henry's death, had gone to Sussex to act as tutor to the sons of Lord Arundel while he was travelling in Italy. I wrote asking him if there was a small cottage on the estate where Suzanne and the children might live until it was safe to bring them home. Before we thought it possible, Henry arrived in a coach with the Arundel arms displayed to ensure a safe passage. The children climbed in, full of excitement at the adventure, but their grandmother shed many tears and my own eyes were wet as I promised to send her news of Annie.
Barbara's generosity gave me fresh hope, when she sent me this message. "One known by me to be safe will call on Annie in the guise of a pedlar and he will sing to her from one of your songs. The line 'My trifles come as treasures from my mind' will be the password, as you will advise her. With her small purchases he will pass to her a packet containing your miniature which I have hung on a chain so that she may wear it at all times inside her bodice. You will describe to her how she may now answer your nightly messages. I shall still keep in touch with you through Arthur Dee's drawing which I have kept hidden away. I pray that all goes well with Annie but fear that you must prepare yourself for the worst."
To hear Annie's voice in my mind was a great solace. Even the worst tidings are better than to live in ignorance. She told me that the King had now commanded enquiries to be made into Overbury's death of which she swore to me she was innocent. However, at the behest of her lady, she had gone against my express wishes, left the house and met her former servant, Weston, to charge him that he must say nothing to involve Lady Frances. Of course, she was followed and later paid for her indiscretion.
That beast, Edward Coke, was appointed to lead the investigation. As Lord Chief Justice, he was not too proud to undertake nearly three hundred examinations of suspects in what he called 'The Great Oyer of Poisoning'. Such a bully could get what he liked out of his victims, then use their ramblings as evidence against them. Moreover, he belonged to the party pledged to destroy Somerset by proving that he and his lady had murdered Overbury. Little people would be trampled underfoot until that aim was accomplished and among them, our Annie.
~
Coke began with Annie's former servant, Weston, the only one who could in law be charged with having administered poison to Overbury, having had opportunity as his keeper. At first, he denied all but, the next day, admitted that Elwes' tale of poisoned cordials was true. Later, he gave more details, implicating Annie and the Countess of Somerset but he would admit nothing against her lord.
Although ignorant of Weston's confession at the time, Annie was reduced to hysteria as the day of her examination approached. I attempted to calm her fears with the assurance that the King would never permit the Countess to be convicted and that she would never allow harm to come to her sweet Turner. Annie was to repeat that she had been falsely and injuriously accused and stand by that. However much Coke bullied her, she was to think of her family's love for her and hold onto the miniature which proved that she need never feel alone. Poor girl, after two years, she was not yet recovered from the horror of Prince Henry's death and the defection of her lover and was in no fit state to withstand Coke's barrage of accusations. At Winchester, I had heard his insulting attacks on Raleigh, who had the wit to turn his accuser's words against him, though that had not saved him from a death sentence. Oh, Christ, let me not foresee Annie's doom! I kept my letters to her mother as brief and cheerful as possible, leaving it to Henry Peacham to give what support he could. I needed all my strength for our poor prisoner.
The night after her examination, I could hear from Annie's dejected tones that she was fast losing hope.
"They have the letters, Papa. After Prince Henry's death, I went to collect them from Simon Forman's house and Lady Frances found some were missing. I recently sent my maid to search again (Oh, Annie, Annie!) but she found nothing. Mistress Forman was always willing to do me ill and must have kept them. What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do?"
I could only advise her to keep calm. Coke's story might be a lie to trap her - he was quite capable of manufacturing evidence. What did Annie's life count for when the prize was the fall of Somerset and the Howards and the triumph of the Protestant party led by the son of Sir Philip Sidney and his supposed sister, my dear Lady Mary. Nothing in this life was clear, nothing was just - only music brought comfort. I played for Annie until I could hear from her quiet breathing that she slept.
The following night, Annie was incoherent. At last, I made out that the Earl and Countess had tried to send her a message, or so her jailer said, but it had been intercepted and, for their pains, they were now under separate house arrest.
"How may they help me now?" sobbed Annie. "And Lady Frances with child and I not there to serve her."
Even in her own extremity, she thought of that wretched woman, who had brought her to this pass. If the worst came to the worst, Lady Frances could plead her belly until James took pity on her, but who would speak for Annie? I longed to harm these great ones, to shout that Pembroke was a bastard and had no right to his title; that the great Lord Lisle was Annie's father; that, in his hot lust, he had begotten one who would soon stand trial for murder! A conversation with Barbara calmed me but added to my fears.
"They know how Prince Henry died and are determined on revenge for that. As his death was pronounced natural, they dare reveal nothing to the King, who is riddled with guilt because his son's demise was to his advantage. Annie and Lady Francs are to be punished for Overbury's murder instead, though the chief intention is to involve Somerset and dispose of him for ever."
We took for granted that there was little hope for Annie. Once under arrest, you were as good as dead. How would Annie stand up at her trial against the railings of Sir Edward Coke? Even a lawyer, had such defence been allowed, would have stuttered and stammered, quite put out of countenance by that great bully, and done her no good at all. The next night was even more of a torment.
"Weston has betrayed us all! Oh, Papa, I am too young to die! Yet I know in my heart it is a just punishment. Oh, poor Prince Henry!"
"Keep that name from your mind," I urged. "Refuse to admit any crime and say nothing of Somerset. The worst may not befall."
In truth, there was better news and I began to hope again. Weston, at his trial, took back all former confessions and refused to plead to the indictment of murder. Some clever lawyer, employed by the Howards, advised him to say neither Yea or Nay when charged but refer himself to God and stand mute. The law held that if the principal would not stand trial, the accessories might not be accused. Coke argued for an hour but the prisoner stood firm. Even the threat of being left naked near the prison with weights of increasing heaviness crushing his body did not move the sixty year old Weston, who stood silent while the prosecutors attacked the 'Machiavellian' accessories, (Annie and the Earl and Countess of Somerset) who were safe as long as he refused to plead.
They brought in the men of religion in the end to break Weston as they had done Robin Devereux, Earl of Essex, in his day. After arguing for hours that it would be for the good of his soul to hang, rather than be crushed to death, he submitted, saying he hoped they would not make a net for the little birds and let the great ones go. Alas! our little bird would not now escape.
The trial was heard again and the earlier evidence in which Weston had refused to involve Somerset was suppressed. It was said that he had taken money for iniquitous purposes and had received poisons from Annie which had come from the Countess. There was no proof that he had administered them. Nevertheless, he had to be found guilty in order for the trials of the accessories to proceed.
~
Henry Peacham came up from Arundel with messages from the children and from Suzanne, who, knowing little of Annie's plight, had made her a new gown with the yellow-dyed ruff and cuffs which had been her trade-mark at court. Henry returned to Sussex with instructions not to tell her mother of Annie's imprisonment. Luckily, news travelled slowly. Had Lord Arundel been at the Castle it might have been a different matter but he was settled for the time at Greenwich.
Weston was kept alive for five weeks after his trial and still did not confess or incriminate Somerset, going to the gallows with the words 'I die not unworthily' on his lips. Now it was Annie's turn. Her questioning by the Lord Chief Justice went on relentlessly day after day and, night after night, I heard her tearful confidences, giving her what comfort I might. She still proclaimed her innocence and would say nothing of the Earl and Countess.
I disguised myself in order to attend her trial, shaving off my beard, darkening my pale skin and dyeing my hair black to match the clergyman's garb which I assumed. I crept from my house after dark and lurked about until early morning when they began to admit spectators into court. The place was later crowded with great ones and their ladies who had come to enjoy the show at King's Bench, Westminster, and had paid handsomely for their seats.
Annie had dressed her hair becomingly and wore her new gown. Coke told her rudely to remove her hat, she was not in church, which disconcerted her. She begged for a speedy trial, not knowing how long she could put a good face on her troubles, to which Coke sarcastically agreed. What followed was not so much a trial, since evidence of crime was lacking, but a most cruel defamation of character.
The two lost letters from Lady Frances were read out, one addressed to Annie as 'Sweet Turner' and one to Simon Forman, calling him 'Sweet Father'. Annie was visibly shaken, since these were the letters for which she had searched in vain, in which Lady Frances told of refusing to sleep with her husband, Essex, and asked Forman to send the galls. Next, the tricks of the magician's trade, provided by his wife, were displayed - pictures, dolls and spells. In craning forward to feast their eyes on these enchanted exhibits, the crowd shifted their weight and the wood of the scaffolding let out a resounding crack. You could smell the rank fear of the onlookers, who thought that the Devil had come among them to demand why his secrets were there unveiled.
I had kept my eyes fixed on Annie and I could see that, with each passing moment, her courage failed her, yet there was nothing I could do to help her, except to repeat in my mind the words, 'Courage, it will soon be over.'Now, Mistress Forman, a youngish woman, witnessed how Annie had been to her house and had burnt some papers concerning the Somersets. The examinations of Weston and other prisoners were read out so that Annie could have no doubt in what danger she stood. As she trembled and was silent, Coke first attacked the Somersets, then the poor girl herself, shouting that she had the seven deadly sins, being a whore, a bawd, a sorcerer, a witch, a Papist, a felon and a murderer, the daughter of the devil, Forman. This unexpected onslaught was too much and Annie burst into a passion of sobs, begging the Lord Chief Justice to be kind to her as she knew not that there was poison in any of the things sent to Sir Thomas Overbury. In a state of collapse, she heard the jury bring in the verdict, 'Guilty'.
Now it was the turn of the divines to threaten her with the torments of hell. "But I have told them nothing, Papa," she affirmed, "and if they say I have, it is all lies. I never knew the wickedness of this world till now. The lawyers twist the truth and the courtiers, who were my clients and, I thought, my friends came only to make sport of me. I am none of those evil things of which Sir Edward Coke accused me. What I have done for Lady Frances felt right to me because I loved and wished to serve her. Is loyalty a sin? Soon I shall meet with God who will judge me more kindly than all the courts of this world."
Our nightly talks ended with music until sleep came to poor Annie but I could take no rest. What was I to tell Suzanne and the children when the time came? My only comfort was to hear Barbara's voice, though the tidings she gave me were disheartening.
"I must tell you this, Jean, though it breaks my heart to do so. When the end comes, they will not let you take Annie's body. My husband has paid one Norton to claim he is her brother and he will see to her burial, which will not be a Catholic one, as Suzanne would have wished. If you attempt to interfere, it will be your death, as Lord Robert will stop at nothing to conceal the fact that Annie is his daughter. He is so distraught he even confides in me, which has happened seldom in our years together. If I can do aught to help with the future of his grandchildren, I shall be most happy to do so. Pray God our Rob knows nothing of this tragedy and that we shall have news of him soon."
Annie was now at the end of her tether. The clergymen's questions and exhortations were driving her out of her mind. Instead of giving her peace so that she might prepare to make a good death, they harassed her to such an extent that, in the end, she whispered, "If you will have me say so, I will." But she only said of Somerset that his Scottish accent was so marked, she had never been able to understand his speech.
~
As the day of Annie's execution approached, what snatches of sleep I had were bedevilled by nightmares of Father Campion's journey to the gallows. All at once I knew what I must do. Gathering together all the small coins I could find, I put them in a bag and presented myself in disguise at the prison gate. My hope was that a large bribe to the turnkey would bring the money into Annie's hands. That night, I told her that she must be careful to placate the crowd as she was taken to Tyburn.
"Smile all the time and wave to them, even bow from side to side and, above all, throw a coin or two as you go. Make yourself as fine as you can so that they gape at you in admiration and, above all, show no fear. When you reach the scaffold..." and, at that dread word I had to swallow hard, "smile at the hangman and give him your rings and the miniature so that...he will be kind to you. Think all the way of those who love you and who are with you in spirit."
My hands were shaking, as I took up my lute. Music brought the most comfort and the song that Annie loved best brought me solace also.
Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast...?
You know the rest, Rob. I played to Annie for the last time until she slept.
Mall insisted on accompanying me that chill November day to witness Annie's end. As we trudged our way to Tyburn, she guided me, for I kept my eyes on the child's picture, concentrating on my daughter's journey from Newgate, endeavouring to give her courage and reminding her of how she must act to escape the savagery of the mob.
On arrival, we edged our way as near to the scaffold as possible, our feet crunching on nut shells and slipping on apple cores, for the onlookers had assembled early. My clergyman's disguise stood me in good stead so that the crowd parted to let us pass. I averted my eyes from the gaily dressed courtiers, gathered for a morning's amusement, and closed my ears to the cries of the broadsheet hawkers, come to profit by poor Annie's tragedy.
At long last, there was a lull in the chatter of the crowd, and the rumbling of the cart told us the prisoner was near. Thankfully, I saw that she stood erect, smiling, waving with one hand while the other clasped the miniature. White knuckles were the only sign of strain. Never taking my eyes from her face, and concentrating as hard as I could, her thoughts came into my mind.
"A steep step down. Be careful not to stumble. Walk firmly to the scaffold and show no sign of fear. See, Papa, now the time has come, I know how to be brave. I will not look at the hangman as I take off my rings. No, not the miniature yet, I would keep that to the end. Now I must repeat the speech they taught me. Wait for silence. Now begin."
Her voice was so low I could not hear all the words - somewhat of how not to rejoice at her fall but to take example by her.... I averted my eyes as Mall's tight grasp on my arm warned me that the hangman held the noose. I inhaled deeply, then, from the depths of my being, issued a strong, high voice, surely not my own, and the words of the Orphic hymn soared, bearing away brave Annie's spirit.
Shaking uncontrollably, I opened my eyes to see her body swaying in the autumn wind - a black-clad puppet merely. I fixed my gaze on her small feet and, turning to Mall, my eyes asked her a question, to which in answer she nodded solemnly. For the first time, I dared look at the hangman. He was swinging the chain of the miniature and round his wrists and neck he wore huge, yellow cuffs and an enormous ruff of the same hue, in mockery of the Howard family for whom Annie had died in silence.
As I gazed, his face became apelike and, when I stumbled off and the superstitious mob drew back from the weird singer, I saw each one headed as an ape..... The darkness came down as Mall led me away, whither I knew not.
