by Tracy Borman
‘No,’ Kate said firmly, before her friend could respond. Beneath her composure, Frances knew that, like herself, she was shaken to the core. Buckingham dead? It could not be true. He had blighted their lives for so many years that she had come to believe they would always be enslaved to him, that his was an evil even God could not vanquish. His declining fortunes in the new reign had only made him seem more deadly: Frances had known he would stop at nothing to regain his former dominance.
‘Tell me what happened, Your Grace.’
Kate’s words interrupted her racing thoughts.
The King took a breath. ‘The duke’s late expedition against France excited widespread opposition in this kingdom and left us with a war that we neither want nor can afford. It also made some dangerous enemies for your husband among my militia. It seems that one officer decided to act upon his grievance.’
Frances tried to swallow but it was as if she was being choked.
‘He was lying in wait for the duke when he left his lodgings this morning,’ he went on, his voice quiet but steady. ‘Your husband was stabbed in the heart before he could defend himself. He died a few moments later.’
Frances pictured Buckingham’s lifeless body slumped on the ground, his fine linen shirt steeped in blood. But it was soon replaced by an image of the duke as she had last seen him, mocking her and his wife with an ostentatious bow of farewell.
Kate ran her tongue along her lips, which were as pale and dry as stone. ‘Who was it?’
Frances saw the King dart a look at Thomas before replying.
‘John Felton.’
She had known the name before he spoke it. Kate’s brow creased for a moment, then recognition dawned.
‘The gentleman who was in attendance at Theobalds when . . .’ Her words trailed off. Frances knew that she, too, was replaying that scene in her mind, Buckingham’s dagger pressed to Felton’s throat, the look of disbelief on the officer’s face when his royal master let the duke walk free.
You must trust me in this.
Charles’s words came to her now.
I am not so foolish – or so forgiving – as you suppose.
All at once Frances understood. The King had sanctioned this – ordered it, even. He had bided his time these past three years, waiting until the duke was so universally despised that nobody would think it amiss if an officer in his army decided to avenge Buckingham’s many sins in an act of summary justice.
‘What will become of him?’ Frances asked, hoping that even now Felton was aboard a ship bound for the Continent, where he could live out his days in safe obscurity.
‘He has already been arrested and brought to London.’ Charles’s face was ashen, his voice faltering. ‘He did not attempt to flee. There was such confusion that he might easily have made his escape, as . . .’
As we had planned.
‘But he remained there, steadfast, and was seized by one of the duke’s men,’ the King finished.
Her husband tightened his grip on her shoulders, as if willing her not to react. She stared at Charles in disbelief. Surely he would not see his faithful servant hanged for carrying out his wishes. The look on his face made her blood run cold, despite the stifling heat of the chamber. At that moment, she knew. Felton had knowingly surrendered his own life to end Buckingham’s. Frances understood that, as a man of conscience, he could not have hidden from his crime as the King had no doubt urged him. Tears sprang to her eyes and she saw that Kate, too, was struggling to master her emotions.
‘I will leave you to your grief,’ the King said softly, resting his hand lightly on Kate’s arm as he rose. ‘But, please, draw comfort from the knowledge that I will always protect and support you – your children too,’ he added, glancing at the cradle.
As if prompted, the baby gave a small, fretful cry. Kate was on her feet at once. She swept a deep curtsy as the King and Thomas made to depart. Frances’s eyes met her husband’s briefly before he bent to kiss her hand, then followed his royal master from the room.
The sound of the door closing echoed into silence. Frances watched as Kate rearranged her son’s coverlet, then walked slowly back to her. Tears were streaming down their faces as they gazed at each other. It was over.
‘Felton cannot be pardoned, can he?’ Kate murmured. ‘Even though he was carrying out the King’s wishes – the nation’s too.’
Frances stroked a stray tendril of hair that was clinging to her friend’s cheek. ‘May God preserve him – in the next life, if not in this,’ she said, then moved to embrace her.
‘Let us pray for him – and for my husband’s soul,’ Kate said, when at last her sobs had subsided.
Frances stared at her friend, humbled by her goodness and mercy. Then they sank to their knees and closed their eyes. As Kate began to murmur the words of the prayer, imploring God to forgive her husband’s manifold sins, Frances was filled with a profound sense of peace, such as she had not experienced since coming to court. She closed her eyes and mouthed her thanks, for she knew, with a searing certainty, that the old King’s angel had fallen into Hell.
Acknowledgements
With each of the novels in this trilogy, my debt of gratitude to my wonderful editor, Nick Sayers, increases. He has been a gentle, steady source of guidance and inspiration throughout and has been a joy to work with. I am also deeply thankful to my amazing agent, Julian Alexander, for all of his insights and wisdom, both in shaping the book and helping me keep a sense of perspective. My US editor, George Gibson, has provided another steady hand on the tiller, and I am so grateful for his sage judgement and experience.
The supporting team at Hodder have, as ever, been fantastic. Hazel Orme has done another wonderful job with the copyedit, and Will Speed has designed a stunning cover. Huge thanks are again due to Becca Mundy and Caitriona Horne, as well as Amy Batley, and to John Mark Boling at Grove Atlantic. I have also been lucky enough to have the support of the Soho Agency, in particular the ever-efficient Ben Clark and Isabelle Wilson.
In researching the novel, I was able to draw upon the work of numerous scholars. These include Deborah Roil and Melita Thomas of Tudor Times, whose excellent Tudor Book of the Garden provided invaluable material on contemporary herbs and medicine. Benjamin Woolley vividly evokes Buckingham’s character in The King’s Assassin and also provides intriguing evidence that he may indeed have poisoned his royal master to death. Ronald Hutton is the author of several seminal works on the period in general and witchcraft in particular. His latest book, The Witch, is one of the finest. I am also deeply indebted to my fellow historians Alison Weir, Sarah Gristwood, Nicola Tallis and Kate Williams for their continued support and encouragement.
My research took me to a range of archives, libraries and historic sites, and I would like to extend particular thanks to the staff of The National Archives, The British Library, Calke Abbey and Historic Royal Palaces. I am also thankful to colleagues and members of Historic Royal Palaces who have been kind enough to read and give feedback on the other novels in this trilogy. I do hope they will enjoy this one too. I would particularly like to mention the Hampton Court legend that is Ian Franklin, whose knowledge of the palace and its residents is both encyclopaedic and inspirational. Also James Peacock, who alongside his duties at the palace finds time to run the wonderful Anne Boleyn Society. I value their support and friendship greatly.
As with all of my previous books, fiction and non-fiction, my friends and family have been fantastic throughout. Stephen Kuhrt was again the first person to read this novel (in weekly instalments, as before) and his wonderfully positive and timely feedback gave me the confidence to keep going – even on the days when sorting out my paperclips seemed a more alluring prospect. On the other side of the Atlantic, the enthusiastic feedback and encouragement of my friend and colleague Susan Mathieson has meant a great deal. I was chuffed to bits that my lovely friend and fellow Hull alumni Alice Burton chose The King’s Witch as one of her all-time favourite novels and do hope she’ll app
rove of this latest one.
Heartfelt thanks go to my parents for their steadfast support, which has extended beyond just childcare and now covers pet management. I am also deeply grateful to my sister Jayne for being such a cheerleader for my books and other work. Finally, huge thanks to my wonderful husband for all of his help and encouragement, and to my daughter for asking questions to which I rarely know the answer.
Author’s note
As with the first two books of this trilogy, my narrative is based upon real events and characters. I have stayed as close to the known facts as possible, weaving in quotes from original sources where appropriate.
The last ten years of James I’s reign were just as turbulent as those that had gone before. Although there was no repeat of the Gunpowder Plot or anything on that scale, the Catholic threat remained very real. The legislation introduced after 1605 had driven most Catholics underground but their networks were still strong. The prospect that Arbella Stuart might make fresh trouble, even from the Tower, remained potent until it was finally extinguished by her death in September 1615. She and her husband, William Seymour, had never seen each other again after he had fled to exile in Flanders four years earlier. He eventually returned to England and became a prominent opponent to James’s son and successor, Charles.
International relations became increasingly fraught after 1619, when James’s daughter Elizabeth and her husband Frederick, the Elector Palatine, rashly accepted the offer of the Bohemian crown. A league of Catholic forces, including those supplied by the King of Spain, was soon ranged against them. This put James in the difficult position of deciding between family loyalty and maintaining his fragile alliance with one of the most powerful monarchs in Europe.
Burdened by the cares of state and suffering from increasingly frequent bouts of ill health, James spent ever more time away from court on hunting expeditions or in the company of his favourites. Foremost among these was George Villiers, later Duke of Buckingham. My characterisation of him is inspired by contemporary descriptions. One of the most charismatic, sexually promiscuous and ruthless men of the age, his villainy was more real than imagined.
The second son of a sheep farmer and his beautiful but penniless wife Mary (with whom Buckingham had a close but stormy relationship), Buckingham enjoyed a meteoric rise to fortune thanks to the patronage of Sir John Graham, a gentleman of the King’s privy chamber. Upon being introduced to the King at Apethorpe in August 1614, he made an immediate impression. Soon after their first meeting, James appointed Buckingham his cupbearer, which gave the new favourite frequent access to the royal presence. In April 1615, he was made gentleman of the bedchamber, knighted and given an annual pension of £1,000 (equivalent to around £135,000 today).
The flirtation between the King and Buckingham almost certainly developed into a sexual relationship – one that would dominate the rest of the reign. During the 1615 summer progress, they caused a scandal by sharing a bed. Although this did not necessarily imply physical intimacy, it was obvious to everyone that their relationship had entered a new phase and that Robert Carr had been supplanted as royal favourite.
In 1616, Carr and his wife Frances were arrested upon suspicion of having Carr’s former servant, Sir Thomas Overbury poisoned. They were swiftly convicted and imprisoned in the Tower for the next six years. Although Buckingham appeared to play no part in it, he took full advantage of his rival’s absence. He was always quick to capitalise upon the misfortune of others, even erstwhile allies such as Sir Francis Bacon.
Despite being passionately attached to Buckingham, the King expected him to take a wife, as all his high-ranking courtiers did. He had little cause for jealousy in his favourite’s choice: Katherine Manners, a rather plain young woman whose attraction lay solely in the fact that she was heiress to the Earl of Rutland. Far from creating a rift between James and ‘Steenie’, the marriage made them even closer and the King doted upon the couple’s four children.
Katherine gave every appearance of an adoring wife, and Buckingham seemed to love her, in his way. But, as I describe in the novel, his father-in-law, Lord Rutland, strongly opposed the match, and there is evidence that his youngest son died by Buckingham hand – or at least at his orders. Certainly, Buckingham had most to gain by the boy’s death, given that the Rutland fortune subsequently passed to his wife Katherine. Joan Flower and her two daughters (known as the ‘Belvoir witches’) were convicted for bewitching both of Lord Rutland’s sons to death. Joan died on her way to captivity in Lincoln, and Margaret and Philippa were hanged there in 1619.
Buckingham’s protégé, the notorious astrologer-physician, John Lambe, was said to have used sorcery to further his patron’s ambitions. Buckingham’s favour with the King helped protect Lambe from conviction for witchcraft. He had narrowly escaped such a conviction in 1608, when he had been arrested for bewitching a Worcestershire gentleman. Within two weeks of his trial, forty people who had been present in the courtroom were dead. The true cause was probably gaol fever, but such was Lambe’s reputation that he was transferred to London’s King’s Bench prison. It was during his time there that he met and became a protégé of Buckingham. Thereafter he was commonly known as ‘the Duke’s devil’. Lambe was also consulted by Buckingham’s mother about her son’s fate. He was said to have shown Mary in a glass the figure of a large man with a dagger who would murder her son.
In June 1623, Lambe was indicted for the rape of an eleven year old girl, but was pardoned and released a year later. Further charges of sorcery were raised against him in 1627, and in the same year he was examined by the College of Physicians and found to be ignorant of the practice of medicine. On 13 June 1628, Lambe was ambushed by an angry mob of Londoners, who stoned and clubbed him into unconsciousness. He died the following day.
Amidst all this villainy, there was a need for more sympathetic characters. Foremost among them is Sir Francis Bacon, the greatest philosopher and statesman of the age. He rose to prominence during the later years of Elizabeth I’s reign but did not receive the hoped-for promotions until James came to the throne. He was immediately knighted and later made Lord Keeper, Attorney General and Lord High Chancellor. But Bacon’s literary and philosophical genius was largely lost on the King, who made no attempt to defend him when he was charged with corruption in 1621 and thrown out of office. I have woven in as many details of Bacon’s life and works into the narrative as possible, although the latter were so prolific that it was impossible to do justice to them all. As I have hinted, he may have been gay. He and his much younger wife Alice had no children and it was rumoured that she was unfaithful to him.
The other dominant character of both the Elizabethan and Jacobean age was Sir Walter Raleigh. A prisoner in the Tower since the early days of James’s reign, he was released in 1616 to embark upon an expedition to Venezuela in search of the fabled El Dorado, City of Gold. His fleet finally set sail in June 1617 and after an arduous voyage it reached Guiana in November. During the expedition, a detachment of Raleigh’s men attacked the Spanish outpost of St Thomé. This was against Raleigh’s explicit orders and those of King James, who had made it a condition of Raleigh’s release that he should avoid any hostilities against Spanish colonies or shipping. The notion that Raleigh plotted to ally with Spain and force James from the throne is fiction.
Upon Raleigh’s return to England, the Spanish ambassador, Count Gondomar, demanded that Raleigh’s death sentence be reinstated. James, who had never liked the famous adventurer, had no qualms about agreeing. Raleigh was arrested a few weeks earlier than I have it in the narrative, but his date of entry to the Tower was 10 August, as given. The scene of his execution is drawn from eyewitness accounts.
The period covered by this novel witnessed another notable death: that of Queen Anne. James and his wife had lived as virtual strangers after the birth of their short-lived last child, Sophia, in 1607. Anne spent most of her time at Greenwich Palace and Somerset House, which she renamed Denmark House after her native coun
try. Her health deteriorated steadily and in late 1618, she fell seriously ill with consumption and dropsy while staying at Hampton Court Palace. Her devoted son Charles had his bed moved to an adjoining room and was by her side when she died on 2 March the following year. Anne was buried in Westminster Abbey, but her husband chose not to erect a tomb in her memory. Her jewels, which she bequeathed to Charles, were indeed worth a fortune, and it was rumoured that some of them were stolen by one of her ladies after her death.
Anne’s son Charles continued to honour his mother’s memory. As the sole surviving male heir, he was closely guarded and his activities strictly controlled. On 3 November 1616 he was created Prince of Wales in a lavish ceremony at Whitehall Palace. Naturally shy and physically weak since childhood, he nevertheless showed greater discernment than he is often given credit for. He seemed to be as in thrall to Buckingham as the King and signed his letters ‘your constant, loving friend’. But there is evidence that he was not quite so beguiled as he appeared. The incident I refer to when the prince played a trick on Buckingham by soaking him with a jet of water from a fountain in Greenwich Park actually happened, much to the fury of both James and his favourite.
In 1623, Charles and Buckingham went on a covert expedition to Spain at the King’s behest to negotiate the prince’s marriage to the Catholic Infanta Maria, sister of King Philip IV. There is no hint that Buckingham was a closet Catholic, although his elder brother John made little secret that he was attached to the ‘old faith’. They reached an agreement, but Charles was averse to the match and quickly repudiated it once he and Buckingham were back in England. The expedition had given the prince a taste of independence, which made his relations with the King increasingly strained. James also quarrelled with Buckingham and the scene in which they have a public spat upon his return is based upon original sources.