As each month passed there was more and more talk of the growing strength of Spain. The captive Queen of Scots was a perpetual menace. There were constant rumors of plots to set her on the throne and bring the Catholic Faith back to England.

The Queen honored her sailors. The news of the great fleet of ships which Philip of Spain was building was constantly discussed. People cheered the English ships when they came into the Hoe as though they looked to them to save us from the terrors which the Spaniards would thrust upon us.

Old sailors on the Hoe chatted together about the Spaniards. One or two of them had been captured by them. There was one man who had been taken before the Inquisition, tortured and somehow escaped before they had been able to burn him at the stake. He had many a tale to tell. The people had to understand that the ships of the Spanish Armada would bring not only guns and fighting men but instruments of torture which would make the rack and thumbscrews and even the Scavenger’s Daughter look like children’s toys.

John Gregory, who was still with us, was clearly afraid. I wondered what would happen to him if he were taken by the Spaniards a second time.

It was almost open war between England and Spain at this time. Philip declared that he would seize all ships found in Spanish waters. Elizabeth replied that reprisals would be taken. She equipped twenty-five ships to avenge the wrongs done to her and her brave seamen. Who should be in charge of this venture but the great Sir Francis and he set forth in the Elizabeth Bonaventure with vengeance in his heart?

We heard stories of his exploits; how he had raided Spanish harbors and carried off treasure. Drake sailed on to Virginia, where he had a conference with the colonists who had been sent there by Sir Walter Raleigh.

Very soon after that two very interesting products were brought to England. The potato, which we found very good to eat and which we began to serve with meats to great advantage. The other was tobacco, a weed, the leaves of which were rolled and smoked, and from these, oddly enough, many people began to find a certain solace.

These were uneasy times. We could never be sure when we would look from our windows and see the Spanish Armada bearing down on us. Jake said this was nonsense. We should have warning of their coming. Sir Francis Drake and men like himself were ever watchful. We need have no fear. The Spaniards were not ready yet and when they did come, by God’s Death, we would be ready for them. He had decided that he would not go far away until the matter was resolved. He was putting his ships at the disposal of the Queen. He would make forays into Spanish harbors, but he was going to be at hand when the great confrontation took place.

Jake had changed a little. He seemed to enjoy being at home. He was becoming more domesticated. He took no notice of Damask, but he was very watchful of Linnet and the fact that she scorned him seemed to amuse him. He was Penn’s hero and the boy would follow him about at a discreet distance until Jake either roared at him to be off or had a few words with him.

Jake was mellowed, I believed; there seemed a certain contentment about him. He had accepted the fact that we were not going to have a son.

On my birthday he gave me a cross studded with rubies. It was a beautiful piece. I wondered whether he had taken it from some Spanish home, but I did not ask him because I did not wish to question a birthday gift.

He liked to see me wearing it so I did often.

A few weeks after he had given me the cross I began to suffer from an occasional headache and when this was so I used to take my food in my room. Jennet would bring it to me because in spite of our differences I had always wanted her to be my personal maid.

Jake had little sympathy for physical ailments. He never suffered from any himself and his lack of imagination made it impossible for him to understand other people’s feelings.

When I was not feeling entirely well I liked to be by myself and these were the occasions when I remained in my room. Linnet would come and talk to me. She was always tender toward me and had taken up a protective attitude, which amused me, because I had always been well able to look after myself.

On this occasion Jennet brought me a kind of soup dish which contained that novelty, the potato, and some kind of mushrooms and meat.

It was tasty and I enjoyed it, but in the night I began to feel ill. I was very sick and feverish and I wondered whether there had been something in the dish which had not agreed with me.

I went to see the cook who told me that others had had the dish and suffered no ill. They were fearful, I could see, lest I had contracted the sweat after all.

I said it contained mushrooms and there were toadstools which looked very like mushrooms. Could it be that one of these had been used?

The cook was indignant. Had she not been cooking for twenty years and if she didn’t know a toadstool from a mushroom she ought to be hung, drawn and quartered, that she did.

It took me some days to recover my health, but in a week or so I had forgotten the incident until it happened again.

I had eaten in my room half a chicken with a loaf which I had washed down with a tankard of ale, and as I was drinking the ale I was aware of a strange odor about it. I had drunk little of it but was determined to drink no more, for it was at precisely this time that a horrifying notion came to me.

I had eaten of the soup dish. So had others. I had been ill. Mine had been brought to me in my room. What had happened to it on the way up?

I smelled the ale. I was becoming more and more convinced that something was wrong with it.

Somebody had tampered with it on its way to my room. Who?

I found a bottle and poured some of the ale into it. I threw the rest out of the window.

I felt mildly ill and I was certain that the ale had been poisoned.

Could it possibly be that someone in this house was trying to poison me?

I took the bottle out of the drawer in which I had hidden it. I smelled it. There was a sediment.

Oh, God, I thought. Someone is trying to kill me. Someone in this house. Who would want to do this?

Jake!

Why should he immediately come to mind? Was it because when someone wished a woman out of the way it was usually her husband? Jake had chosen me. Yes, to be the mother of his sons. Could it be that he wanted sons so much that… I would not believe it.

Life was cheap to men like Jake. I saw a vivid picture in my mind of that scene when he had run his sword through Felipe’s body. How many men had he killed? And did his conscience ever worry him? But they were enemies. Spaniards! I was his wife.

Yet if he wanted me out of the way…

I sat at my window looking out. I could not face him. For the first time I felt unable to stand up to him. Always before I had been conscious of his great need for me. Now I doubted it.

I went to the mirror and looked at myself. I was no longer young. I was in my mid-forties and getting too old to bear sons. One does not notice one is growing old. One feels as one did at twenty … twenty-five, say, and imagines one is still that age. But the years leave their marks. The anxieties of life etched lines around the eyes and mouth.

I was not a young woman anymore. Nor was he a young man. But men such as Jake never feel their age. They still desire young women and think they should be theirs by right.

I went back to the window and sat down.

The door opened softly and Linnet was there.

“Mother,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

“I was looking out of the window.”

“You are not well.”

She came and looked at me searchingly.

“Are you ill?”

“No, no. A little headache.”

I took the bottle of ale to the apothecary in one of the little streets close to the Hoe.