Her Last Assassin (4 page)

‘Of course,’ she agreed impatiently, and settled herself at the table. Lucy knelt to straighten the folds of her silver and white gown, which had become entangled, then stepped back out of the way, hands meekly by her side.

Yes, Lucy was a strange and unsettling creature, and not quite the same as Elizabeth’s other women. Yet it could not be denied that she had served both queen and country well since entering service at court. Sometimes it was best not to question a servant’s character when their loyalty had proved useful to the throne.

But Robert! She smiled up at him, and saw the answering smile in his eyes. ‘How was it?’

Her favourite knelt and kissed her hand as though for the first time, his upward glance one of admiration. ‘You were magnificent. My men saw a great prince today, Your Majesty, at the height of her powers.’

‘
Your
men?’

Robert gave a little chuckle. ‘Forgive me, I forget sometimes who I’m speaking to.’ He rose, then nodded to the men in the doorway to enter. ‘Are you hungry? I have arranged for us to take a light meal. I must admit to being famished, will you permit me to sit and eat with you?’ Without waiting for her nod, her general drew out the chair opposite and threw himself into it, all legs, his lazy smile for her alone as he dragged off his dusty gloves. ‘I was up before dawn, preparing this place for your arrival, with no time to take a bite except the merest crust.’ He smiled at the steaming dishes being laid out for her inspection, then nodded to the taster. ‘I take the precaution of having all my food tasted now, do you mind? Since we are so openly at war, one cannot be too careful. I know you have your own man, under Sir Francis’s command, but while you are away from court …’

She waited until the dishes had been pronounced safe, then nodded Helena to set aside a small selection to cool on a trencher. She disliked eating her food too hot these days, for her teeth were easily inflamed by an excess of heat or cold. While she waited, her glance secretly devoured her general. War became Robert Dudley, where peace had left him bored and forever embroiled in pointless arguments at court. His face was more bronzed from the sun, it was true, but she did not find that unhandsome. Indeed, the deepening colour of his skin set off his dark eyes, that sombre gaze which had earned him the soubriquet of ‘Gypsy’ as a youth.

So now they sat together, Queen and Gypsy, monarch and general, while outside the tent their men dug and swore and sweated in the sun for her sake, and that of England.

‘Robert,’ she ventured quietly while her women were busy with their own meal, ‘if Parma should come down the Thames …’ She hesitated, almost not wishing to ask the question, though she knew he at least would not lie to her, where her other councillors had been at pains to conceal the truth at every turn. ‘That barrier you have erected across the river … It will hold his fleet back, will it? And then these men here …’

‘Will in all likelihood be slaughtered where they stand,’ he muttered, and stabbed his knife into a chicken quarter. ‘We have done what we can. The river approach to London has been blocked, though how long our barrier will last, I could not say. One good storm might break it apart, and you have seen for yourself how the wind has risen today. We have locked up all the Catholics we can find to prevent a rising from within the country. But Parma’s men will be trained, they will possess strong, modern weapons – not spades and cudgels like the bulk of the rabble out there!’

‘But their hearts are stout.’

‘Aye, stout enough to die in your defence.’ He drained his ale, then wiped his mouth. ‘Swear truth, it makes me rage to see them so poorly clothed and equipped. Not a coward among them. But they need weapons, and hot food in their bellies …’ He stared gloomily at the meal before Elizabeth. ‘Some of the men arrived here footsore and starving.
Starving!
Sent here by their lords to swell our numbers but with no provisions and little attempt at furnishing them with proper weaponry. It was all I could do to have bread and ale brought in daily for so many thousands, let alone meat. And as for steel …’

Elizabeth sat and watched him in silence for a moment. Robert looked across at her, resentment in his eyes. She said, ‘You blame me for having delayed so long. You think I should have accepted months ago that war was inevitable.’

‘You have always done as you see fit, and you are the Queen,’ he managed stiffly.

‘Yes, I am.’

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at her gentle emphasis. ‘Though in this case, Your Majesty, an earlier decision might at least have improved our munitions, if not our chances of defeating Parma and Spain if they choose to invade.’

‘Which you believe they will.’

He nodded sombrely. ‘I fear so, yes. And this is the likeliest point they will choose for an invasion. Tilbury is where we will resist them, Your Majesty. Or die in the attempt.’

She picked in a desultory fashion at a dish of wildfowl. It smelt good, but her nerves had been so delicate since leaving court, she was not sure she could keep any food down. She saw Robert watching her though, a frown in his eyes, and made an effort to eat a tiny sliver of meat. He had already chided her for refusing to come down to dinner last night in the small manor house in which she was staying, but in truth she could not have faced either the meal or the company. All she seemed able to think of these days was the threat of invasion, and what it would mean to surrender herself to King Philip in the event of his victory. That, and her own weakness as a prince in failing to avert this war with Spain.

‘God willing, it will not come to that. Our own fleet may yet drive them back.’

Robert met her gaze. ‘Your Majesty, we both know they outgun us. The descriptions of their ships … like floating fortresses. We are like David sent against an entire fleet of Goliaths, with nothing but a rough catapult in our hands. No, our chances of routing their great Armada at sea are barely worth spitting on, though I grant we may do some small damage there. But most of their ships will get through, and then—’

He glanced sharply at the entrance to the tent, for there was some commotion there that could be heard even above the shouts and clamour of the busy camp.

A dark-suited servant came to the doorway and bowed to the earl. His face was concerned. ‘My lord …’

‘Yes, Furley, what is it?’

‘A messenger, my lord. He swears it’s urgent.’

Robert stood, knocking his cup over with a clatter and seeming not even to notice it rolling away under the table. ‘Then do not delay but tell him to approach at once, man.’ He turned to Elizabeth, frowning. ‘Forgive me for disturbing your meal, but—’

She pushed away her trencher and shook her head, suddenly aware of a sick fluttering in her belly. What urgent news could this be? Had the fleet been spotted on the Thames?

‘No, we are at war. Let him come in.’

A man stumbled in, travel-stained, his hose besmirched with mud. He saw the Queen and dropped to his knees, yet delivered his message to Leicester, as general of the army. ‘My lord, the Spanish fleet …’ he began breathlessly, then dissolved into a paroxysm of coughing. ‘The Spanish … fleet …’

Elizabeth clicked her fingers and Lucy hurried to her side. ‘A cup of ale for the messenger.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

The man drank gratefully, then began to relay his message again, this time more slowly. ‘The Spanish fleet has been put to rout.’

‘
What?
’

He turned to the earl, nodding. ‘The message I was set to bear, my lord, is that Lord Howard’s fleet engaged the enemy a week since and the Spanish Armada was broken up. Some ships were wrecked in bad weather, others burned, and those that remained … Well, some say they have been chased away up the east coast and will not come back.’

‘Where was this engagement?’

‘Gravelines, my lord.’

Robert’s face lit up with rare laughter. ‘So Howard’s done it! I would never have believed it could be done, but by God, I owe the man an apology.’

The messenger did not seem to share his joy, however. Still on his knees before them, he looked from the earl to the Queen, his face apologetic. ‘Forgive me, my lord, Your Majesty, but … there is more.’

She waited, suddenly tense. ‘Speak, man. What else? This is no time for squeamishness.’

‘No, Your Majesty.’ He swallowed, then said, ‘There is a rumour that more ships are already on their way from Spain to join those which wait in the Low Countries. And that a great force of thirty thousand men and horses waits only for the signal to sail for England and invade.’

Leicester’s smile had vanished. ‘Rumour?’

‘That is all I know, my lord. But a detailed report follows me. It was being written even as I left the coast to bring this message. The Earl of Cumberland—’

Rising from her chair, Elizabeth dismissed him with an impatient gesture. ‘Enough! Go now and take food, rest yourself a while, then come back and speak with his lordship here about your return message. You have done well and will be rewarded.’

The man bowed and left the tent.

She looked at Robert. ‘A force of twenty or thirty thousand men? How are so many to be resisted?’

He shook his head, speaking as though in a daze. ‘I do not know. But it will be done, Your Majesty. It
must
be done. More soldiers must be found to fortify our coast against the Spanish and their allies. There are still nobles at court who have not sent men as requested, but kept them back to guard their own lands. I shall write tonight to demand they be sent. Every man must be spared, and quickly. Yes, even the men from the fields, the grandfathers and the young boys too. If they can dig and hoe, they can hold a pike.’

Fool that she was. She had delayed so long, and now look. Yes, Howard had triumphed, it would seem, and put the mighty Spanish fleet to rout. But to what avail, if more followed, and in greater number than before? This war had been disaster heaped on disaster from the first, and never any help to be had, except what God might yet send out of His great mercy.

That it should come to this. Scratching about for a handful of straw-chewing villagers to stand at arms and guard England’s shores …

Her own head could be on a pike by this time next month, paraded about the streets by some crowd of cock-a-hoop Spaniards with gold earrings and oily beards, her vanquished people grovelling beneath the boot of the invader.

‘Oh Robert, what have I done?’

She sank down on the floor, her legs no longer able to support her. Helena and Lucy came to her at once, horrified, trying to lift her back to her feet, but she thrust them away.

‘I do not need your help. Leave us!’ Still they hesitated, glancing uncertainly at the Earl of Leicester, who had stood motionless throughout. ‘Get out, I say!’

When the women had gone, Robert knelt before her, the sword by his side scraping along the sandy floor. The tent roof rippled above him, the intimate space so warm and close, she could scarcely breathe. She remembered another summer’s day in a tented hunting pavilion, long afternoon shadows on the tent walls, and Robert’s voice outside, asking when the Queen would rise. Many years ago now, she thought, yet she could still remember how Lettice had risen in her place and gone outside to speak with him, their heads close together, two shadows entwined on the wall of the tent.

He is still mine, she told herself fiercely. Still my creature.

‘Your Majesty,’ he murmured, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. ‘None of this is your doing. Dismiss that thought from your mind. King Philip has been planning this since the day your sister died and lost him the English throne. He has kept his followers in your service for many years, men like Sir William Stanley, who we know now to be traitors. You cannot prevent a man like that from betraying his queen and country if he is intent on doing so.’

‘I had the chance to move against them first.’

‘Let us dwell instead on what must be done now. You are not well, I shall call your ladies back.’

‘No, not yet. A moment longer.’ She saw the concern in his dark eyes and loved him for it. ‘Robert,’ she said, and watched how his gaze narrowed on her face. ‘I am well enough. But this heat …’

He stood and fetched ale from the table. ‘Here.’ He put the cup to her lips and she drank obediently, like a child again, looking up at him with wide eyes. The tent swayed in a gust of wind. Outside someone was shouting. The Spanish, come already? A wave of panic seized her, but when she looked, he was calm, paying it no heed.

She shuddered, coming back to herself slowly, and held out the cup. ‘Take it, take it. Help me up, Robert. I would not have them see me like this.’

The earl supported her to her knees, and thence carefully to her feet. His arm was tight about her waist, still narrow as a girl’s. She wondered if his wife had grown stout in middle age. The thought amused her, but only for a second. Death was too close to them all these days.

She looked into his face and smiled. ‘Thank you, old friend.’

Robert hesitated, then bent his head to kiss her. His lips brushed hers in a dry mimicry of what they used to have. But she felt his affection and accepted it in place of burning passion. The only burning passion she had time for now was the desire to rid her seas of their enemies.

‘But now you must return to the safety of the court,’ he told her, his eyes serious. ‘It is too dangerous, Your Majesty. If Parma should essay the Thames, as so many have told us he must, there will be no protection for you here. We have the beacons in place, you will be kept informed of any invasion.’

‘As you wish.’ She stroked his cheek, and smiled when he turned his head, tenderly kissing her palm. ‘Whatever danger threatens, I know you will do your best for me and for England. What would I do without you, my Robin?’

Two