Elizabeth I (5 page)

It took Francis Drake the better part of a week to travel the two hundred miles separating Plymouth and London. But now he stood before the full Privy Council, and me, in the meeting room at Whitehall. He had wanted not to rest but to come straight to us.

The sight of him always made me feel safer. He had such buoyant optimism that he convinced anyone listening that his plans were not only attainable but reasonable.

The group had expanded beyond the inner three—Burghley, Leicester, and Walsingham—to include Sir Francis Knollys; Henry Carey, the Lord Hunsdon; and John Whitgift, the Archbishop of Canterbury, as well as Charles Howard, the new lord admiral.

“We welcome you,” I told Drake. “Your feeling about our situation?”

He looked around. He was a stocky man, barrel-chested. It was fitting for the man who had destroyed the barrel staves for the Armada last year. His sandy hair was still thick, and although his face was weathered, it looked young. He was sizing up the possible opposition in the council before he spoke. Finally he said, “We knew it would come, sooner or later. Now is the hour.”

No argument there. “And your recommendation?” I asked.

“You know my recommendation, gracious Queen. It is always better to attack the enemy and disarm him before he gets to our shores. An offensive is easier to manage than a defensive action. So I propose that our fleet leave English waters and sail out to intercept the Armada before it gets here.”

“All of it?” asked Charles Howard. “That would leave us unprotected. If the Armada eluded you, they could slip in with no resistance.” He lifted his brows in consternation. Charles was an even-tempered, diplomatic man who could handle difficult personalities, making him an ideal high commander. But Drake was hard to control, or to appease.

“We'll find them,” he said. “And when we do, we do not want to be short of ships.”

Robert Dudley—Leicester in this formal setting—chafed at this. “It makes me nervous,” he said, “to send out all the ships at once.”

“You sound like an old woman!” scoffed Drake.

“Then there are two of us,” said Knollys. He was notoriously cautious and scrupulous. Had he been a monk, he would have worn a hair shirt. As it was, his militant brand of Protestantism was a good substitute.

“Make that three,” weighed in Burghley. William Cecil always favored a defensive strategy, wanting to keep everything within English bounds.

“It would depend on getting the accurate information about when the Armada leaves Lisbon,” said Secretary Walsingham. “Otherwise it is a fruitless, and dangerous, venture.”

“I thought that was your job,” said Drake.

Walsingham stiffened. “I do the best I can with the means at my disposal,” he said. “But there is no method for instant transmission of facts. The ships can go faster than my messengers.”

“Oh, I can see faraway ports,” said Drake with a laugh. “Didn't you know that?”

“I know that the Spanish credit
El Draque
—the Dragon—with that feat,” said Walsingham. “But they are credulous simpletons in general.”

“Granted,” I said. “Enough of that. What of the other defenses?”

“I would propose that we divide the fleet into two—a western squadron to guard the mouth of the Channel, an eastern one to guard the straits of Dover,” said Charles Howard.

“I see what the enemy's plan is,” announced Drake, interrupting. “The Armada isn't coming here to fight. Parma's army of Flanders will do that, and the Armada will escort them across the Channel. They will guard the flat barges loaded with soldiers as they make the short trip. It's only twenty or so miles. The entire army could cross in eight to twelve hours.
That's
their scheme!” He looked around, his clear eyes taking in the councillors' doubts. “We must disable the fleet. We must prevent them docking on the shore of Flanders. Our Dutch allies will help. Already they have kept Parma from securing a deep anchorage port, and they can harass him as he tries to use the smaller waterways. The great size of the Armada, meant to ensure a safe crossing, can be its very undoing.” He paused. “Of course, an alternative plan for them would be to capture the Isle of Wight on our side of the Channel and make a base there. But if they pass it by, there are no more ports for them until they reach Calais. It is up to us to hurry them along. That is, of course, assuming they even get up here. Now, if we follow my original plan to intercept them—”

I held up my hand to quiet him. “Later. For now we must decide on the deployment of our overall resources. So, Admiral Howard, you recommend two separate squadrons of ships? Would it not be better to station all of them at the entrance of the Channel?”

“No. If they got past us there, they would have clear sailing the rest of the way. They would own the Channel, unless we are already waiting for them farther east.”

“I don't think—” said Drake, out of turn.

“Quiet!” I silenced him. “What of our land forces? What say you, cousin?” I spoke to Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon.

He was a big man who always made me think of a bear. Like a bear, he seemed to belong outdoors. He was warden of the East Marches and stationed near the Scottish border. “I will be responsible for your safety,” he said. “I will have forces based at Windsor. Should things become more ... uncertain ... I can secure a safe place for you in the country.”

“I shall never hide in the country!” I said.

“But, Your Majesty, you must think of your people,” said Walsingham. “You must appoint deputies to oversee the administration of supplies and control the defensive preparations, while taking care of your most precious person.”

“God's death!” I cried. “I will oversee it all myself!”

“But that is not advisable,” said Burghley.

“And who advises against it?” I said. “I rule this realm and I shall never delegate its high command to anyone else. No one cares more for the safety of my people than I myself.”

“But, Ma'am, you are not—” began Leicester.

“Competent? Is that what you think? Keep your opinion to yourself!” Oh, he maddened me sometimes. And only he would have felt safe in voicing his low opinion of me as a war leader. “Now, what of the rest of the forces?” I turned to Hunsdon. “How many men can we raise?”

“In the southern and eastern counties, perhaps thirty thousand. But many of those are boys or old men. And hardly trained.”

“Defensive measures?” I asked.

“I will see to it that some of the old bridges are demolished, and we can put up barriers across the Thames to stop the Armada from sailing down it to London.”

“Pitiful!” broke in Drake. “If the Armada gets that far, it will only be because I, John Hawkins, Martin Frobisher, and the good admiral here are dead.”

This was a turning point. I motioned with my hands downward for them to be quiet. I closed my eyes and brought my thoughts to bear, trying to sort everything I had been told. “Very well, Sir Francis Drake,” I said. “You shall have your experiment. Sail south to take on the Armada. But return the instant you feel we are in danger. I want all the ships here to face the enemy if she comes.” I looked at the other faces, ringed around me. “You, Admiral Howard, shall command the western squadron, to be based at Plymouth. In addition, you will be overall commander of both the land and the naval forces. Your ship will be the
Ark.
Drake will be your second in command. Do you hear that, Francis? Admiral Howard is your commanding officer.”

Drake nodded.

“Lord Henry Seymour, whose usual post is admiral of the narrow seas, will command the eastern squadron at Dover.” I looked at Hunsdon. “Lord Hunsdon, you will command the forces responsible for my safety, based near London. I will appoint the Norrises, Sir Henry the father and his son Sir John, alias “Black Jack,” as general and under-general of the southeastern counties. Young Robert Cecil shall serve as master of ordnance for the main army. And you”—I looked straight at Robert Dudley—“Lord Leicester, shall be lieutenant general of land forces for the defense of the realm.” He appeared stunned, as did the others. “See that you do it better than you did in the Netherlands.” There, that was my reply to his earlier insult.

As they left my presence, I noted they looked surprised—and relieved—to have had all the appointments settled. Good warriors all, their thoughts were already with the battlefield and the work ahead.

Now, evening having finally fallen, the quietness of night descending like a gentle rain, I could rest at last. My bedchamber, facing the river, bathed in reflected light for a few moments before the gold faded. It caressed a painting of my late sister, Queen Mary, hanging on the opposite wall. I had kept it to remind me of her sorrows and, while taking heed of her mistakes, not to judge her soul. I had always thought it sad, the hopeful little glint in her eyes, her mouth curling as if she had a secret. Dangling from a brooch on her bosom was the creamy, tear-shaped pearl that her bridegroom, Philip, had presented to her. But now—was it a trick of the light?—her eyes seemed not wistful but sly. The curve of her mouth seemed a sneer. The whole picture pulsated with a reddish glow, as if fiends were backlighting it. She had brought the evil of Spain to our shores, entwined us with that country. Philip's wedding entourage, in its Armada, had arrived in July thirty-four years ago, as it would again, coming to finish what it had started with the 1554 marriage to Mary: returning England to the papal fold.

I would store the painting away. And as for the pearl—costly though it was, it had brought a curse with it. Back to its owner it must go. Even selling it would not rid me of it. When this was over ... When this was over, let Philip have his cursed pearl back. It had killed my sister and now it was tainting the room.

The sunset glow ebbed away, and the painting returned to normal, its demonic tint gone. My sister's face reverted to that of the proud, hopeful girl who had welcomed Philip as her bridegroom.

Marjorie and Catherine were standing behind me, tactfully quiet but most likely wondering what I was doing. I turned. “We may make ready for sleep now,” I said. “I wish to keep you two close by, but I shall send the younger ones away until the danger is past.” I had made Marjorie's husband and her son, the Norris soldiers, head of the land forces in the southeast, and I had appointed Catherine's husband to be overall commander of both land and sea forces. In addition, her father, Lord Hunsdon, was to see to our personal safety. “I fear we are all bound together in this. My Crow. My Cat.” Under duress, I reverted back to my old nicknames for them: Marjorie, with her dark eyes and hair and her raucous voice, I called Crow. My gentle, quiet, purring Catherine, my Cat.

I lay in the darkness that in early summer is never true darkness. The usual sounds of merrymaking had vanished from the river flowing past the palace. The realm was holding its breath. Nothing was moving on the water or on the land.

It had come down to this moment. Was there any way I could have avoided it, taken a different path that would have led elsewhere, to a safer destination? Not if I had remained true to what I was. My birth itself sanctioned the bringing of Protestantism to my country. To abjure it once I reached adulthood would have been to deny my parents and to reject my assigned destiny.

I had seen firsthand what that meant—I had seen my sister do it. In submitting to our father and agreeing that her mother's marriage was invalid and herself a bastard, she trampled on her deepest-held beliefs. Hating her weakness in surrender, she later sought to quiet her conscience and undo the damage. The result was her unhappy attempt to reimpose Catholicism on England. It led to much cruelty, yet she was not by nature a cruel woman. A ruler's wounded conscience exacts too high a price on his subjects.