Franklin looked ready to argue but I got to my feet and stood between them. He stuck out his chin but did not persist. Grumbling quietly, he shuffled on weak legs to the door. Brutus leaped from Frankie’s lap but she pulled the leash and scooped him up, rubbing her cheek against his downy head.

“I shall go behind to be sure he steals nothing,” I said.

“He hopes to make more out of us than that,” said Frankie. She picked up the vial in two fingers, examining it before a candle. “What company we keep these days,” she said.

“We will join that company for all eternity.”

I thought she would argue with me but she looked up and nodded. “I have searched for a different way. I visited my great-uncle to hear his response to Overbury’s letter, to be rebuked ferociously and at great length for allowing such gossip to arise. He thinks it is more important than ever to bring Robin into our family, to constrain my ever-more-belligerent husband, but is at a loss about Overbury. Robin saw me briefly; he is overwhelmed by the King’s business. He wants Overbury released to keep him close. I told him it was too late for that, but Robin would not listen. I was sure it was right to take matters into our own hands, but now that I have met Franklin and see you so pale and unsure…”

The candles had burned down and we were in darkness but for the embers of the fire.

“I am no Judith,” Frankie said, very quietly. “I am not saving my people. I save only myself and those who depend on me.”

“Can you persuade one of your brothers to fight him?”

“Overbury is too ill and too low in rank for my brothers to fight. If we wait any longer, the King may release him. We must decide tonight.”

In the early hours, in an apartment that was silent save for a parrot’s chatter and a tiny dog sniffing the air that blew in under the door, she held the vial toward me. I could have refused it, and for a long moment thought to do so. If used, we could both die.

With the greatest reluctance, I took the vial and wrapped it carefully in my handkerchief before putting it in my pocket. Neither of us smiled. It was not an occasion for smiling.

“I will send word when it is done,” I said. “We will need to pay Richard Weston to administer it.”

“With what?”

“Give him a position in your household. Pursuivant? How much is that worth a year?”

“Two hundred pounds; it is a good post. Is he not too old?”

“Frankie, we want him to risk his neck for us. That is surely worth your accommodating a pursuivant who is not so nimble on his legs.”