Elizabeth I (45 page)

The faces up and down the table were set in glum acceptance. Several nodded.

“But that does not mean we must sit placidly and wait to be attacked,” he continued. “When we see a snake hatching, we do not wait for it to emerge, but kill it in the egg. We should swoop down and attack the Spanish before they have a chance to sail here.”

“We need Drake and Hawkins for that,” said Burghley.

“The last time Drake led one of his raids, it was a dismal failure,” snapped Essex. “Remember Lisbon in 1589?”

“Yes, but I also remember Cádiz in 1587 and the Armada in 1588. He is the most experienced in this type of action.”

“He isn't here!” cried Essex. “And that's that! What, shall we sit on our hands and wait for him? When he sailed away in 1577 he was gone for almost three years! We can do without him!”

“Young Essex is right,” said Admiral Howard. “We do not have the luxury of waiting. I suggest we attack as soon as possible, striking Cádiz again. It is their premier ocean port, and injuring it will hurt them both commercially and militarily.”

“We will have to exercise extreme secrecy,” said Hunsdon. “Not a word of this can leak out. Drake”—he glared at Essex—“was superb in being able to surprise the enemy. The Spanish did not know he was approaching until they saw his sails. But if we advertise ourselves ...” His voice trailed off with the warning.

“The larger our fleet, the harder it will be to disguise ourselves,” said the admiral. “But we need the strength of numbers if we are to damage the enemy. Sometimes Drake did not have enough men,” he admitted. “Often strength and stealth are incompatible.”

Raleigh stood. “When we get close in hand-to-hand fighting, there is a new weapon we can use that will shock them.”

“Guns with improved aim?” asked Hunsdon. “None of them now are worth a piss. Half the time they explode in your face rather than the enemy's.”

“Just as deadly, and utterly silent.” He took a small jar and put it on the table, then pulled a quill from his pouch and dipped it in the jar. Last he removed a trembling mouse from a wrapping in the pouch, held it, and stuck the quill into its rump. The mouse squealed. “Now watch,” said Raleigh. He put the mouse on the floor.

“Sir, do not loose a mouse in here, to run off and breed!” I said. Had the man no sense?

“He won't get far,” said Raleigh.

Everyone turned his chair to watch. The mouse ran a few steps and then quivered. Next it halted and then fell over on its side. Raleigh picked it up. It was still breathing but paralyzed. “The Indians call it arrow poison. They get it from frogs and certain plants. It is deadly poison, and is most economical to use, as only a minute amount is required to fell the enemy. The paralysis soon turns to death.” He flipped the now-dead mouse back to the floor. “I brought back barrels of it. It can take care of a whole Spanish garrison.”

“But of course, as always in such things, the danger is in wounding yourself with it. How can we keep it utterly safe?” asked Cecil.

“Guns and cannons explode, too. War is full of accidents. But this would strike terror into the enemy, as it is such a gruesome way to die.”

“We can add it to the arsenal, but I would not make it the first line of defense,” said the admiral. “Now, as to the planning, is everyone agreed that we must take the fight to Spain? Is there anyone who wants to be defensive only, rather than offensive?”

“If we strengthened ourselves at home, improved our own fortifications, and expanded our fleet, there is little chance they could harm us, no matter how big their Armada,” said Burghley. “An Armada must find a landing place, and those on our south coast we can defend, as we did in 1588.”

“But they do have a landing place,” said Hunsdon. “Ireland.”

Ireland. The use of Ireland changed everything.

“True, and that could be our undoing,” admitted Knollys.

“Then ... it is to Spain we go?” cried Essex. “Down the Atlantic coast, then turn and hit the soft southern underbelly of the enemy?”

“Aye, and we'll turn Philip back into the king of figs and oranges, like the old-time kings of Spain!” cried Raleigh.

Preparing for the combined military and naval expedition, the largest such venture of the age, took a long time. The Crown could not bear all the expenses, so it was to be largely privately financed. I would supply eighteen warships from the Royal Navy, food and wages for the seamen. But the cost of levying the soldiers and sailors was the responsibility of Admiral Howard and Essex. Others would provide ships, both men-of-war and supply ships. We were to have 150, of which 50 would be fighting vessels, and ten thousand men, divided between land troops and sailors. I wrote to the King of Denmark asking him to lend me eight ships and to forbid his subjects to furnish any to Spain. But he demurred, saying he needed all his ships to defend his own land. I had better luck with the Dutch, who were eager to strike at Spain in revenge for all they had suffered. They agreed to send a fleet to join us, along with two thousand infantrymen.

The fleet's four squadrons were to be commanded by the lord admiral in
Ark Royal
, the ship he had sailed as
Ark
against the Armada, Essex in
Due Repulse
, Thomas Howard in
Mere Honour
, and Raleigh in
Warspite
. The Dutch were under Van Duyvenvoord in
Neptune
.
Mere Honour
,
Warspite
, and
Neptune
were brand-new ships. The land regiments would be led by Francis Vere and Conyers Clifford—the two military men on the Privy Council—Christopher Blount, Thomas Gerard, and John and Anthony Wingfield.

The aim of the mission was precise: first, to attack and destroy ships and supplies in Spanish harbors; second, to capture and ruin towns on the coast; and third, to bring back booty from the towns and catch returning treasure ships. Nowhere did we state the word “Cádiz.” That destination was a secret.

Although he was against war in general, as was I, Burghley drew up a proclamation that was for all intents and purposes a formal declaration of war against Spain. Part of me trembled to have it finally announced—after fifteen years!—but it was necessary. Its title was “Declaration of the Causes Moving the Queen's Majesty to Prepare and Send a Navy to the Seas for the Defense of Her Realms Against the King of Spain's Forces.” It said I was acting only in self-defense. I was on peaceful terms with all other realms and we would not injury any—except if they aided the Spanish. Those we would treat as enemies. The commanders all signed, and it was printed in French, English, Dutch, Italian, and Spanish and distributed in all ports.

In addition, I composed a prayer for the expedition, and it was also printed and distributed widely. I sought to explain to God himself that our motives were pure—when in fact they were murky. I told him that he could surely discern “how no malice or revenge, nor quittance of injuries, nor desire of bloodshed, nor greediness of lucre has moved us to dispatch our new-set army.” I begged him for good winds, “beseeching on bended knees to prosper the work, and with the best forewinds guide the journey, and make the return the advancement of Thy glory, with the least loss of English blood.” I truly hoped he would grant the last.

Burghley was quite taken with it and declared that it “was divinely conceived by Her Majesty in the depths of her sacred heart.”

So. They were to go, mounting a raid fifteen hundred miles away, using sea power to get there. It was daring and imaginative. True, Drake had done it once, and they would be following in his wake, but he had not had the resources of this expedition.

I was blessed to be served by such bold men. I had to remember that when their quarreling, preening, and posturing grew irksome. Audacity and courage, the two indispensable traits in men of battle, were arrayed before me in such profusion, I caught my breath and sent a prayer up to the Lord in thanksgiving.

I
t was here at last. Finally, power was devolving onto my son's head, drifting gently through the sunbeams to crown him with glory. Now he would have the long-sought opportunity to prove himself and vanquish all his rivals. I could hardly believe that the stingy, cautious Queen had authorized the flamboyant long-distance attack on Spain, and done it openly. She had even allowed a proclamation about it to go forth and circulate on the Continent.

Essex House had become a military headquarters, with Robert's companions gathering there daily. He was pleased beyond words to be surrounded by his fellows planning the voyage. Planning is the most satisfying part of any venture, when words stand in for goods and money, and there are never storms at sea or weevil-infested biscuits.

The only things clouding his happiness were sharing his command with Admiral Howard and his rival Walter Raleigh having a new ship. Raleigh had never quite regained his favor of old with the Queen, but with his usual skill at self-aggrandizing, he had turned his South American venture into a hugely popular book,
The Discovery of the Large, Rich and Beautiful Empire of Guiana with a Relation of the Great and Golden City of Manoa
. Now the Cádiz operation might complete the reparation of his fortune and turn him into the people's hero.

But he was in his midforties, although (I had to admit) still a man to make you speculate on what was under his breeches. His chest was often enough on public display. And it was a fine one. But Robert's fifteen years less in age were at this point an advantage. He could outwait him, if nothing else. And people always preferred a younger man. That was the way of things.

That assumed that the competition, and the men, would carry over into the next reign. How much longer could the Queen go on? Everyone who saw her commented on how young and healthy she appeared, how strong and full of purpose, but the woman was over sixty. Even the mighty Elizabeth, Gloriana, Faerie Queen, et cetera, was made of flesh, not gossamer. She would crumble, wither, and die. That day would surely come.

My father was already crumbling, leading the way. I had first noticed how his face had changed after Christmas. His usual florid coloring faded, and something within him seemed to be melting.

I had rebelled against him all my life. He had been a bulwark I could push against. His Puritan rectitude, demanding our exile in Basel and Frankfurt during the reign of Mary Tudor, had been hard to bear. His lecturing and his seeming immunity against most temptations were even harder to bear. (Was that why I gave in to mine so easily?) But the erosion of the mighty walls was frightening beyond words to me. He had always been there. Even opposition can be comforting in its stability. After my mother died, so long ago, he made it difficult to feel compassion or pity for him, because he did not allow it of himself. But now my heart went out to him.

Ah, Lettice, I thought. You grow soft and sentimental in your later years.

No, I answered myself. I have only just now started allowing myself to feel.

And as for my later years ... I was in my midfifties now. I could hardly believe it, and I was told (and chose to believe) that no one else could believe it, either. My hair was still red, with barely any gray, and still thick. My body was still slim and supple. My recommendation to anyone seeking my secret recipe: Forget the oil of hyacinth, the musk from Morocco, and make sure your lovers are at least a decade younger. Or better yet, two decades. Shakespeare and Southampton fit that criterion.

I had been unable to give either of them up. Oh, I had had fine resolutions about it. I had even rehearsed my speeches. To one I would say it was unseemly to have my son's friend as a lover. To the other I would say it was unseemly to have a friend of my lover for a lover. But somehow it had not come to pass. Each time I would tell myself,
This must be the last
. But it never was. For the longest time I managed to keep all four men—my husband, my son, and the two lovers—from knowing about one another. My husband and my son still did not know, but Southampton and Shakespeare had become aware of whom they shared. At first they professed not to care. In fact, they professed to find it erotic, and insisted sophisticated men were not possessive. But that did not last, and now there was bad feeling between them. Shakespeare had started to write unpleasant sonnets about my character, which Southampton made sure I saw, pretending it was accidental.

This expedition would take Christopher, Robert, and Southampton away, leaving only Shakespeare. I anticipated a lush time of playing to my heart's content with him, before letting him go. For once I would not be watched. Essex House would be mine in its entirety, top to bottom—as would he. The fact that he disapproved of me, slightly, only lent a frisson of challenge to me.