clock. It had seemed an age since the bell had struck seven.
‘Make way there!’
The shout rang out across the courtyard, prompting a chorus of murmurs as everyone looked towards the thickset guard who was pushing his way through the crowds. Behind him, Frances could see a procession of finely dressed dignitaries. She recognised Thomas Clinton, the new Earl of Lincoln, and Raleigh’s old patron Robert de Vere, Earl of Oxford, who had tried to stir up resistance to the Scottish King in the last days of Elizabeth’s reign. Frances craned her neck, hoping to see Bacon, but he was not among them. He had confided to her that he had no stomach for such things and that he would be spending the day in prayer for his old friend. Neither was Buckingham present, much to her surprise. She had expected him to take pride of place at the gruesome spectacle. Perhaps he meant to show, by his absence, how little Raleigh’s death mattered.
She was reflecting on this bitter thought when she saw Thomas at the end of the procession. Her heart leaped. He was staring at the ground, grim-faced, but looked up just as he drew level with her. Their eyes met for a moment before the crowds closed in behind him.
A loud cheer rose and all heads turned back towards the gateway where the lords had just entered. Frances stood on tiptoe but for several moments she could see nothing except the waving arms and hats being thrown into the air. Then at last Raleigh came into view. He was dressed all in black, and as he drew closer Frances was shocked to see that he was wearing his nightgown. A matching black velvet cap covered his scalp and he doffed it now and again, acknowledging the adoration of the crowds. It was as if they had come to see him crowned, not have his head smitten off.
He was so close to her now that she could have reached out and clasped his gown, as many others were doing.
‘God save you, Sir Walter!’ a bald man cried, tears streaming down his face.
Raleigh flashed him a smile, then took off his cap once more.
‘Thou hast more need of it than I,’ he replied, holding it out to the man, who gazed at it in wonder, as if it had been given to him by Christ Himself.
As the crowds surged behind her, Frances found herself being pushed forward. At that moment, Sir Walter turned towards her.
‘Forgive me,’ Frances mouthed, her eyes imploring.
He stared back at her for a long moment, then the lines at the corners of his eyes wrinkled with accustomed good humour. Reaching out, he took her hand and quickly pressed something into it. The gesture was so discreet that nobody seemed to have noticed. She looked up at him and he gave the slightest of nods before moving on into the throng. Frances glanced down and saw a tiny, exquisite prayer book. Her eyes filled with tears and she pressed her lips to it, then placed it carefully in her pocket and followed with the rest to the scaffold.
Sir Walter had already mounted the steps by the time she came within view of it. A guard stepped forward and took the black velvet gown from his back. As he stood to survey the crowds, dressed only in his linen nightshirt and breeches, his head uncovered, he looked like the frail old man she had seen on her last visit to the Tower.
‘Good people.’ Raleigh’s voice rang out across the now silent courtyard. ‘If I appear to tremble, I beg that you do not put it down to cowardice on my part, but rather to a strong and violent fever that is hindering me in what I intend to say.’
A murmur of dissent ran through the crowds. Frances heard several people around her mutter, ‘Shame,’ and ‘God save him.’ It gladdened her heart. The King might have denied Raleigh a public trial, but her friend was going to make the most of this opportunity. He had always known how to play to the crowds.
‘I thank God that I came out of the darkness of my imprisonment in the Tower to die in the light,’ he continued. ‘As for the matter that caused the King to take so great offence against me, I must confess that there was probably some cause, yet it is far from the whole truth.’
Very far, Frances mused, knowing that few of those present would guess