Elizabeth I by Margaret George

one had it in his or her power to command me. He set his mouth in a hard line of frustration and bowed.
    â€œDear cousin, I trust you,” I said. “Keep vigilant at Windsor. And it is time the Earl of Leicester’s army assembled itself at Tilbury. I shall give the orders.”

7
    A fter he had left, Catherine all but wrung her hands. “If he was this grim, it is worse than he told us. My father does not like to cause undue alarm.”
    â€œI know that,” I said. “I knew it when he didn’t resort to his usual oaths and curses.” Hunsdon liked to sprinkle his speech with rough soldiers’ words and didn’t care what the rest of the company thought of it. But today he had been too shocked to speak in his normal coarse fashion. “Who can know what is really happening? That is the cruel part.” Thirty years a queen, and in this hour of supreme test, I was in the dark and could not lead. I looked out the window. The beacons had burned out. They had done their job.

    The next morning a strange sight greeted us: Sir Francis Walsingham in armor. He clanked into the privy chamber, walking stiffly. He carried the helmet under his arm. Approaching us, he attempted to bow but could only bend halfway. “Your Majesty,” he said, “you must transfer to St. James’s in London. It can be guarded better than Richmond. Hunsdon told us of your refusal to take refuge in the countryside. But it is imperative that you move to St. James’s. Hunsdon’s army of thirty thousand can secure the city.”
    â€œMy Moor, why are you got up like this?” I asked.
    â€œI am prepared to fight,” he said.
    It was all I could do not to laugh. “Have you ever fought in armor?”
    â€œNo. But there are many things we have not done before that we must be prepared to do now,” he said.
    I was touched that he would even attempt such a thing—he, the consummate indoor councillor.
    Behind him Burghley and his son Robert Cecil came into the chamber.
    â€œSo, my good Cecils, where is your armor?” I asked.
    â€œMy gout won’t let me into armor,” said Burghley.
    â€œAnd my back—” Robert Cecil demurred.
    Of course. How thoughtless of me. Young Cecil had a twisted back, although he was not hunchbacked, as his political enemies claimed. The story was that he had been dropped on his head as a baby. But that was manifestly untrue, for his head not only was uninjured but contained a brilliant mind.
    Suddenly I had an idea. “Can a breastplate and helmet be made for me, quickly?”
    â€œWhy—I suppose so,” said Robert Cecil. “The Greenwich armory can turn things out fast.”
    â€œGood. I want them by tomorrow evening. And a sword, the right length for me.”
    â€œWhat are you thinking of?” Burghley’s voice rose in worry.
    â€œI want to go to the south coast, head up the levies there, and see for myself what is happening on the water.”
    Walsingham sighed. “Hunsdon has already explained why that is not feasible.”
    â€œI insist I go out among my troops. If not the southern levies, then at Tilbury when the main army assembles.”
    â€œIn the meantime, Ma’am, you must remove to St. James’s,” Burghley said. “Please!”
    â€œI brought you a white horse,” said Robert Cecil.
    â€œA bribe?” I laughed. How odd that I could find anything to laugh about now. “You know I cannot resist a white horse. Very well. Is he—or she—ready?”
    â€œIndeed. And with a new silver-ornamented bridle and saddle.”
    â€œLike the ones that the Duke of Parma ordered for his ceremonial entry into London?” Walsingham’s agents had discovered that fact.
    â€œBetter,” said Cecil.
    Across the river in small boats, then the ten-mile ride into London. Along the road crowds of bewildered, frightened people clustered. I rode as calmly as I