Queen of This Realm (67 page)

I had always felt that the savage sea was our ally. It had stood between us and danger many times. It was the reason why no foreign army had ever trodden our shores—except the Norman conquerors, some might say; but we
were
the Normans partly; we were a mixed race of Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Romans, Normans…It was the blood of all these people who made up an Englishman, so I could say with truth that no invading army had ever conquered
us
. And never should!

I prayed for the men in my ships. I said all the names over and over again:
Achates, Aid, Antelope, Ark
… all through the alphabet to
Vanguard, White Bear
and
White Lion
.

“Pray God preserve my men. Give my ships the victory they need so desperately. Take care of my great men. My Howard, my Hawkins, my Frobisher and my incomparable Drake. Give them the wit they need to make good judgment and the strength to carry it out.”

I smiled at myself. Here am I giving instructions to God, treating him as a favored subject.

“Please God,” I prayed. “Thy will be done, but let it be shown in favor of my great men.”

There were the skirmishes, the days when I arose from nights of little sleep and asked for the news. Nothing decided. We had inflicted damage on their ships. They were finding it not so easy as they had thought to. They were failing in their task to defeat the English fleet so utterly that an easy way
might be cleared for Parma to sail in, bringing his troops which would take the country.

The Spaniards suffered more acutely from the weather than our sailors. They were finding their splendid galleons unwieldy. Those who were captured said that the Spanish sailors were in terror of El Draque and only slightly less so of Juan Achines, by whom they meant John Hawkins, who like Drake had in his role of pirate of the high seas struck terror into the hearts of so many.

The battle was a hard one. My men had captured several of the Spanish ships and not one of ours was lost. We had the advantage in spite of our inferior armada. We were in home waters fighting for our own country. We could endure the adverse conditions as the Spaniards could not. My admirals were at liberty to act as they thought best suited to the occasion and to take full advantage of every opportunity which offered itself, Medina Sidonia was acting all the time on instructions from Philip. It was true my admirals did not always agree. It was hardly likely that adventurers like Drake and Hawkins would abide by certain formalities natural to a gentleman of Howard's upbringing. They clashed, and my bold Drake on one occasion disobeyed Howard's orders because he believed it would have been disastrous to have obeyed them.

Drake was proved to be right. He was my finest sailor. I can never think of those most fearful yet most glorious days without seeing Drake.

The greatest advantage throughout was fighting in our own waters while the Spaniards were far from home. When they ran out of supplies they had little hope of replacing them; it was different for us. I supposed this was why they planned to take first the Isle of Wight and thus establish a base from which they could supply their ships.

The Spaniards must have been in a sorry state. Parma had been unable to reach them for he had been blockaded by the Dutch. The Spanish sailors had lost their early euphoria. Where were the angels with the protective wings now?

It was decided to send fireships into the armada. It was not the first time this method had been used with success.

I heard of my captains' hurried council later. There was not time to send to Dover for the little ships they needed; the advantage would be lost by delay, so all the captains offered their ships for the purpose. Drake gave the
Thomas;
Hawkins offered one of his and others were soon provided for the purpose.

There was no moon that night, and there was a breeze blowing in the direction of the assembled armada while the tide was running toward them.
Conditions were ideal. Soon eight blazing ships were making their way straight for the Spaniards, sending out fire and setting them ablaze. The air was full of the sound of exploding ordnance as the fire reached the ships.

Complete demoralization throughout the Spanish armada ensued; they cut their cables and blundered about wildly; their riggings become entangled and they were blocking the way of escape for each other in the desperate attempt to escape from the fire ships. Sidonia fired off his gun trying to get the ships to assemble in some sort of order, but the call was ignored; every Spanish captain was intent on getting his ship out of reach of the fires. Thus the fireships had achieved in a few hours that certain victory for which my brave seamen had been fighting for days.

My men were ready to go in for the final attack when Howard, seeing one of the galleasses was in difficulties and realizing that it would be a rich prize, stopped to take it. It was an error because there were fighting men on the galleass who could give a good account of themselves. By pausing Howard had given Drake the opportunity to be the one who led my ships to victory. Howard's error was such as to rob him of a certain amount of the glory, for having captured the rich prize he left one of the small ships to guard it, but as it was nearer to Calais than England, the French boats came out to take it and although the English put up a good fight, artillery from the shore took part and forced my men to retire. So the entire enterprise had been a waste of time on Howard's part. I do not believe that Drake would have made such a mistake. He must have been laughing to himself as he swept down with all the squadrons on the limping Spanish armada.

The battle was not over immediately as it might have been if Howard had kept with the fleet instead of pausing; but the outcome was now sure.

It had seemed at one time that we should snatch not only victory but great prizes—enough to cover the cost of the campaign. But this was denied us. A squall arose. The weather had been our ally so far—and perhaps some would say still was, but it certainly robbed us of our prizes. Our seamen had to look to their own safety in such weather, and when the wind abated it was seen that many of the ships of the once proud Spanish armada were sinking or drifting along to the Flemish coast.

The wind ended the battle; and if we had lost the prizes we had hoped for, we had gained a glorious victory.

I HAD NOW COME
to the saddest part of my life. Nothing could ever be the same for me again.

Naturally I wanted to reward the saviors of my country. I gave a pension to Howard and I made Essex a Knight of the Garter for he had played a part
in the victory; but the one I wanted to reward most of all was Robert. He had not been at sea but he had been in charge of land defenses and he had worked indefatigably for our safety.

I wanted to make him Lord Lieutenant of England and Ireland, which would have given him more power than anyone in England under me. When I told him, it did me good to see his pleasure, although I was a little anxious about him for he did not look as well as usual. There was a certain pallor of his face, which was the more startling because of his natural high color.

I said: “You are not well.”

He replied that he believed he had caught a fever when he was with the army near the salt marshes in Essex.

I gave him a very special remedy which had been given to me and I told him I had had painful headaches myself of late.

I said: “You must take care of yourself. That's a command, Robert.”

He smiled at me with infinite love, and although I glowed with pleasure I kept that twinge of uneasiness which always assailed me when I thought he was not in good health. I scolded him lightly for neglecting himself and reminded him that that was the easiest way to earn my displeasure.

We were very close at that time. We always had been, but the defeat of the Spanish armada had brought home to us the intensity of our feelings and what we meant to each other.

I might have guessed there would be an outcry concerning the proposed new appointment for Robert.

Burghley was strongly against it and was supported by both Hatton and Walsingham. It was placing too much power in the hands of one man, said Burghley.

It was most unwise, declared Hatton.

“We shall have Leicester ruling us all,” declared blunt Walsingham.

I realized, of course, that in my fondness for Robert I had perhaps gone too far and as the appointment had not yet been confirmed I decided it should be put aside for a while.

Robert was bitterly disappointed, but I did my best to console him.

“You must take good care of your health,” I said. “Get well, Robin, and we will go into this matter then.”

We decided that he should go to Buxton for the baths, which had done him good before, and he said farewell and went off to make preparations for the journey.

A few days after he left I received a letter from him. I read and re-read it and shall treasure it forever. Whenever I see that handwriting it brings him back to me so clearly.

“I most humbly beseech Your Majesty,” he wrote, “to pardon your poor old servant…”

The two “o”s in
poor
were written to look like eyes—my name for him, which he had always loved to hear me use.

“ … to be thus bold in thus sending to know how my gracious lady doeth and what ease of her late pains she finds, being the chiefest thing in this world I do pray for, for her to have good health and long life.

“For my own poor case I continue still your medicine and find it amends much better than with any other thing that hath been given me. Thus hoping to find perfect cure at the bath, with the continuance of my wonted prayer for Your Majesty's most happy preservation, I humbly kiss your foot.

“From your old lodging at Rycott this Thursday morning, ready to take my journey.

“By Your Majesty's most faithful obedient servant,

“R. Leicester.”

That letter was written on the twenty-ninth of August. By the fourth of September he was dead.

When they brought me the news I was stunned. I could not believe it. It was some hideous joke. Death! Not Robert! He had always been so alive. He was fifty-five years old—more or less my own age. Never to see him again! Never to hear his voice! Never to wonder what secrets he was hiding behind those enigmatic eyes!

There was no savor in life. There never would be again for Robert Dudley was dead.

I ordered everyone out of my apartment and shut myself in. I would have no intrusion on my grief. I lay on my bed and thought of everything… right from the time when we were children and had danced at my father's Court; I thought of those weeks when I had been in the Tower and he had been near; I thought of the day he had come to me and laid his gold at my feet, and how he had ridden into London with me at the time of my accession. So many memories. That was all I had left now.

I took his letter and read and read it again. I kissed it. It was wet with my tears. Then I wrote on it “His Last Letter” and put it in a jewel box. I would preserve it forever. Perhaps later I could draw comfort from it, but now it only brought home to me the magnitude of my loss.

Then I took out one by one the presents he had given me over the years. They had all meant something special to me because he had given them. There was the bracelet of gold adorned with rubies and diamonds. He had given me this in a purple velvet case embroidered with Venetian gold in the
year 1572 when I had been fourteen years on the throne. The following year he had given me a collar of rubies and diamonds.

I put them both on and remembered the time he had brought them to me. I could see him with his handsome dark head bent as he fixed the collar about my throat.

Then there was the white feather fan with the two magnificent emeralds on one side of the handle and the inevitable rubies and diamonds on the other.

I brought them all out, his gifts over the years, love-tokens all of them.

And, I thought, there will never be another.

How ironical was life! God had given me this magnificent victory and had taken away the one I loved—shall I say better than anything else. No, that would not be quite true. I loved my country more than anything else, more than my own life or that of Robert. And I had just been given the finest example of God's grace when my seamen with the help of His winds had scattered the mighty so-called invincible armada along the inhospitable coasts of Scotland and Ireland and driven off the Spanish menace forever. But at the same time He had dealt me this most cruel and tragic blow.

He had taken Robert from me.

Time passed, but I did not notice. There were knocks at my door, but I ignored them. I could not bear to look on anyone at this time.

I do not know how long I kept them out. I don't know whether I should have eventually let them in.

Burghley spoke to me from outside, begging me to open the door. But I just sat in stony silence. I cared for nothing. I could think of nothing but: Robert is dead.

Vaguely I heard Burghley's voice outside the door.

“Your Majesty, for God's sake open the door. Are you ill? We beg you to let us in.”

But still I sat there. I could only think of Robert, who had been so alive and now was dead.

There was a whispering outside my door. Then I heard the tremendous noise as the door burst open.

Burghley stood there. He hastened forward and seeing me cried: “Thank God. We feared for Your Majesty.” He was on his knees. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. We were very much afraid. Your Majesty, you must rouse yourself. England needs you.”

And as I looked at him—my dear tired old Spirit, who had been my good friend for so long—I knew that he was right.

I put out my hand. He took it and kissed it.

“You speak truth,” I said. “I must about my business.”

And then I began to live again.