it.”
“Beware what you promise, Walter,” I said. “Remember the old saying ‘He who sups with the devil must use a long spoon.’ ”
He bowed. “I hear,” he said.
That night my newly fashioned breastplate, helmet, and sword were delivered to me. I fancied I could still feel the heat in them from the forge. I ran my hands over the exquisitely designed pieces, then gingerly tried them on. If something of metal did not fit, there was no help for it. But they did. They fit perfectly.
“You look like an Amazon,” said Marjorie in admiration.
“That was my intent,” I said. I felt different with them on—not braver, but more invincible.
The next morning I got my response from Leicester at Tilbury. The fort was some twenty miles downstream on the Thames, where Parma’s ships were sure to pass en route to the conquest of London. By massing the main army there, we meant to block his access to London, and we had put up a blockade of boats across the river as well.
I ripped it open, sending the seal flying.
“My most dear and gracious Lady, I rejoice to find, in your letter, your most noble disposition, in gathering your forces and in venturing your own person in dangerous action.”
There. He understood better than old Hunsdon!
“And because it pleased Your Majesty to ask my advice concerning your army, and to tell me of your secret determination, I will plainly and according to my knowledge give you my opinion.”
Yes, yes.
“As to your proposal to join the troops drawn up at Dover, I cannot, most dear Queen, consent to that. But instead I ask that you come to Tilbury, to comfort your army there, as goodly, as loyal, and as able men as any prince could command. I myself will vouchsafe the safety of your person, the most dainty and sacred thing we have in this world to care for, so that a man must tremble when he thinks of it.”
Oh. But the way he put it ... Perhaps it was best to let the main army see me. My presence should be used to strengthen others, rather than to satisfy my own curiosity about seeing the battle.
The Privy Councillors were aghast. Burghley all but stamped his gouted foot, Cecil tut-tutted and stroked his beard, Walsingham rolled his eyes. The others—Archbishop Whitgift and Francis Knollys—murmured and shook their heads. “This is a foolish, dangerous fixation you have,” said Burghley. “And how like my Lord Leicester to encourage it!”
“It is too close to the expected invasion,” said Walsingham. “And worse than that—the danger of going out among the people. Have you forgotten that the Papal Bull says anyone who kills you is performing a noble deed? How do we know who is hidden in the troops? It only takes one!”
“I am not a Roman emperor, to fear assassination by my subjects,” I said. “So far the Catholics have proven themselves loyal. I do not want to start mistrusting them now.”
“Even good emperors and kings get assassinated,” he said.
“God has brought me this far, and it is up to him to protect me.” I turned to them. “Gentlemen, I am going. I honor your care for me, but I must go. I cannot miss the highest moment of crisis of my reign. I must be there.”
I wrote Leicester that I accepted his invitation, and he replied, “Good, sweet Queen, alter not your purpose if God give you good health.” I did not intend to alter my purpose.
That night I ordered the Spanish riding whip, long since put away, to be brought to me. I would use it now, and the very feel of it in my hand would harden my resolve. We would not lose!
I stepped onto the state barge from the water steps of Whitehall at dawn to travel to Tilbury. This time the red hangings, the velvet cushions, and the gilded interior of the cabin seemed to be mocking me. I was surrounded by the trappings of majesty, but I was on my way to defend my realm. As we slid past the London waterfront, then on past Greenwich, and finally toward the sea, I sent out blessings on these places and
“Beware what you promise, Walter,” I said. “Remember the old saying ‘He who sups with the devil must use a long spoon.’ ”
He bowed. “I hear,” he said.
That night my newly fashioned breastplate, helmet, and sword were delivered to me. I fancied I could still feel the heat in them from the forge. I ran my hands over the exquisitely designed pieces, then gingerly tried them on. If something of metal did not fit, there was no help for it. But they did. They fit perfectly.
“You look like an Amazon,” said Marjorie in admiration.
“That was my intent,” I said. I felt different with them on—not braver, but more invincible.
The next morning I got my response from Leicester at Tilbury. The fort was some twenty miles downstream on the Thames, where Parma’s ships were sure to pass en route to the conquest of London. By massing the main army there, we meant to block his access to London, and we had put up a blockade of boats across the river as well.
I ripped it open, sending the seal flying.
“My most dear and gracious Lady, I rejoice to find, in your letter, your most noble disposition, in gathering your forces and in venturing your own person in dangerous action.”
There. He understood better than old Hunsdon!
“And because it pleased Your Majesty to ask my advice concerning your army, and to tell me of your secret determination, I will plainly and according to my knowledge give you my opinion.”
Yes, yes.
“As to your proposal to join the troops drawn up at Dover, I cannot, most dear Queen, consent to that. But instead I ask that you come to Tilbury, to comfort your army there, as goodly, as loyal, and as able men as any prince could command. I myself will vouchsafe the safety of your person, the most dainty and sacred thing we have in this world to care for, so that a man must tremble when he thinks of it.”
Oh. But the way he put it ... Perhaps it was best to let the main army see me. My presence should be used to strengthen others, rather than to satisfy my own curiosity about seeing the battle.
The Privy Councillors were aghast. Burghley all but stamped his gouted foot, Cecil tut-tutted and stroked his beard, Walsingham rolled his eyes. The others—Archbishop Whitgift and Francis Knollys—murmured and shook their heads. “This is a foolish, dangerous fixation you have,” said Burghley. “And how like my Lord Leicester to encourage it!”
“It is too close to the expected invasion,” said Walsingham. “And worse than that—the danger of going out among the people. Have you forgotten that the Papal Bull says anyone who kills you is performing a noble deed? How do we know who is hidden in the troops? It only takes one!”
“I am not a Roman emperor, to fear assassination by my subjects,” I said. “So far the Catholics have proven themselves loyal. I do not want to start mistrusting them now.”
“Even good emperors and kings get assassinated,” he said.
“God has brought me this far, and it is up to him to protect me.” I turned to them. “Gentlemen, I am going. I honor your care for me, but I must go. I cannot miss the highest moment of crisis of my reign. I must be there.”
I wrote Leicester that I accepted his invitation, and he replied, “Good, sweet Queen, alter not your purpose if God give you good health.” I did not intend to alter my purpose.
That night I ordered the Spanish riding whip, long since put away, to be brought to me. I would use it now, and the very feel of it in my hand would harden my resolve. We would not lose!
I stepped onto the state barge from the water steps of Whitehall at dawn to travel to Tilbury. This time the red hangings, the velvet cushions, and the gilded interior of the cabin seemed to be mocking me. I was surrounded by the trappings of majesty, but I was on my way to defend my realm. As we slid past the London waterfront, then on past Greenwich, and finally toward the sea, I sent out blessings on these places and
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