by G Lawrence
Drake ran a hand through his dark red hair. The other clutched his cap as though he meant to strangle it. “Their numbers were greater than ours, madam. They rowed out hundreds of men in boats and swarmed upon our ships. The fleet was consumed by hand-to-hand fighting, and the port was in chaos. The Minion took the worst of their invasion, since she was closest to the hulk, but our men managed to repulse them, and hit the Spanish flagship with our guns. The ship exploded, and her hands went into the sea. The Jesus and Minion were grappled, and intense fighting went on for more than an hour. They slipped free of their moorings and turned to fight, inflicting more than sixty shots on the Spanish fleet. But we were in trouble, my lady. They turned land cannons on us and de-masted the Jesus. The Angel was lost and the Swallow and Grace of God were taken by the Spaniards. Robert Blondel, captain of the Grace of God, set his ship on fire before fleeing to join Hawkins on Jesus.
“Jesus was listing, so we took as much of her treasure to the Minion as we could, and managed to save some of our men. Hawkins sent me to the Judith. Spaniards were attempting to separate Jesus from the other ships, as they could see she was in trouble. She sank, with much of her treasure.”
Drake took a deep breath. “Hawkins ordered me to get the Judith out of the port and save as many as I could. The Minion escaped, Majesty, but the Spaniards sent fire ships against us, hoping to bring us down. They did not touch us, but we had to separate. I left the rest of the fleet that night. Hawkins was at my back, but during the night the wind shifted, and although that meant the Spanish could not follow us, I also lost my cousin.” He looked up. “I know not if he and his men are alive, Majesty.”
There were ghosts in his eyes. Drake was haunted, not only by the battle, but by the actions he had taken in order to survive.
“You came to me,” I said, rage burning in my breast. “You did what was necessary, Master Drake, in order to survive, and hear me when I say I understand that. Hard choices had to be made. You made them, and made it back to inform your Queen of the abuses sent against her people.”
“Harder choices still had to be made, madam,” he said. “Our ships were hopelessly overcrowded. I had to leave men in the New World in order that we might sail home. I brought back only sixty men, and although the ones we left volunteered to save their brothers, I fear for them. Many we had to leave in Spanish hands. The Inquisition is not in New Spain at the moment, but they may come to be.”
I nodded grimly. “They attacked you to secure their monopoly on the New World,” I said. “And because they fear us, Drake. They fear our men, for Englishmen are sailors all, whether they have put to sea or not. We are an island race. The oceans are in our hearts, for they, like us, understand the wild freedom of water.”
I gazed down. “I see you are still there,” I said. “Your eyes tell me your heart has not left that battle. Keep that memory with you, Drake. Carry it and bear the weight. You made choices that had to be made. Hawkins will understand as do I. But do not forget. It is a hard lesson to learn, that when one puts trust in another, be it friend, ally or enemy, trust may be betrayed. You have experienced treason in trust. Learn to recognise it, so when it lifts its head again, you will cut it down before it has a chance to strike.”
I breathed in. “I have the same eyes as you, Drake. I understand guilt and pain, for I too have sent men to death. I have had to abandon those I knew I could not save. The men you left behind will haunt you, they should haunt you, for then you will learn from your lessons of failure as much as those of glory. Do not forget how you feel at this moment. Take it into you and swear you will never feel that way again. Promise justice for what was done.”
“I will, Majesty,” said the young man, his eyes burning.
“And rest easy about Hawkins,” I said. “I have a feeling that old pirate has not seen his last days yet.”
I was right, for a month later, Hawkins came home. He had a crew of only fifteen. Having, like Drake, abandoned over one hundred men in New Spain, more had died of starvation and sickness. They had eaten every dog, parrot, cat and rodent on board, and had been forced to consume leather straps and drink sea water. They had stopped at Galicia, and Hawkins had gone to the port officials, telling them that if they did not offer food and drink, his men would simply take it. Food was offered, but Hawkins’ men gorged themselves on it, and more of them died. Tired unto death, defeated and betrayed, Hawkins set sail for England.
My poor fleet limped home, its men half-dead, only fury sustaining them.
“Be of good cheer, Hawkins,” I said grimly when he arrived at court, emaciated even after two weeks of good eating. “We will have our revenge on Phillip of Spain.”
The ruddy, weather-beaten face looked up at me. Hawkins’ eyes were fire. “I hunger for it, Majesty,” he said.
The whole mission had been rather embarrassing. Hawkins had been caught precisely where I had told Phillip he would not be, but the violence of the attack was not to be borne. With the failure of Hawkins’ mission, I decided to step back from the slave trade. In his entire career, Hawkins had transported perhaps one thousand five hundred slaves. We had not taken up the trade in earnest, mostly because we had no plantations where slaves would be of use. Although initial profits had been good, the risks to my ships were clearly large, and to send men out as mere traders was not to my advantage. The New World had not been opened up to legal trade, as Phillip was clearly set on keeping us out.
But there are other ways to make a profit from the sea.
Send men out to become mere traders, I would not, but since Phillip was of a mind to wage private war against me, I would return the favour. State-sanctioned piracy was my plan.
I told Hawkins he would have to be patient. There were concerns about Mary of Scots, refugees flooding in from the Netherlands, and trade sanctions being threatened by Alba, but in time, I would set Hawkins and Drake loose.
The attack on my fleet in San Juan de Ulla sowed a seed. Spain was our enemy in truth, and even if I could not declare war on Phillip I was going to make his life as hard as I could… for my men, and for revenge.
Chapter Eighteen
Richmond Palace
February 1603
Did I know, I am sure you want to ask, if, when I met Drake I knew immediately that I had encountered one of the stars of my reign, a man who would one day be as well-known as me? It is tempting to lie, to make myself appear wise and all-knowing, but the truth is, I did not.
I saw a young man, with some skill in sailing, but not so obviously talented that one day he would disrupt Spain and even save England. No, I had not foresight, but I did see how useful his burning desire for revenge could be.
How could I not understand such a soul? Staring into Drake’s eyes that day was like looking into a mirror. I saw how his choices haunted him, as many of mine did me. I saw fire and zeal for revenge, and his lust to continue living, to make the best of all that others had tried to steal from him. Oh yes… that I saw and that I understood. But as for divining his future, as for knowing he was a bright star in the night’s sky... that took time.
I know not if the stars have always been there, or if they, like us, are born, live and die. If they are born, it is clear their lives are longer than our frail mortal ones. If they are immortal, perhaps they do not note the passing of the ages, or the lives unfolding beneath their hoary light. Perhaps they are not only above us in terms of distance, but above all the petty concerns that vanquish our days.
They have but one purpose, and they hold to it. And for a star to be a star, there must be fire at its source, beautiful and terrible to behold.
Drake was a star; a soul with one, clear mission, which he would never abandon.
Hawkins suffered from the failure of his voyage. He had lost men, money and ships. I promised that in time I would see his losses recouped, and although he did not entirely trust me, we came to terms. But to Drake, I spoke of different things.
Drake was hungry, and hungry men need to be fed. I
wanted revenge. Drake was my means. A darkness within both of us had bonded.
A few months after Hawkins came home, Drake vanished. There were whispers about it everywhere. No one knew where he had gone.
None but me.
Drake had gone to the West Indies, on a reconnaissance mission, gathering information on Spanish shipping routes, defences and trade bases. If we were to claim the seas, we needed more information. I was biding my time, and preparing. Phillip would think the English had been subdued, banished from the oceans, when all the time, we were setting the stage for our grand entrance.
Chapter Nineteen
Westminster Palace
Winter 1568
“Technically, the money is not the property of King Phillip,” I told an enraged de Spes, taking great satisfaction from the abject horror on his face. “It is that of the Genoese bankers from whom it was borrowed. I have sent men to ask if they mind it being transferred to another client now that it is upon my shores.”
De Spes looked set to explode, and I waved a hand. “Your master is wealthy, my lord ambassador. He can send another load of pay to his men from his riches of the New World, but since this money is now in London, I have need of it.”
I had sent for de Spes and told him I was taking charge of the wealth Cecil had pilfered. I had demanded an official explanation of the Spanish attack on my ships in New Spain, and had not been satisfied with the answer. Pocketing Phillip’s payload was a part-payment for his men murdering mine.
“I will write to my master and inform him of your decision, Majesty,” de Spes said from between gritted teeth.
“I fully expect you to, lord ambassador,” I replied in a tone sweet as sugar. “Do send my regards to my good brother at the same time.”
As de Spes departed, he looked as though he might suffer a fit of apoplexy. I sat back and smiled. It was not a happy smile, but one of grim satisfaction. Send fire boats, like a pirate, against me again, Phillip, I thought, and I shall unleash pirates against you. Let us see whose men are the masters of the sea…
We knew Phillip was too busy with revolt in the Low Countries to act against us with military might, and our ally, William of Orange, aided me by issuing letters of marque to English captains, removing the need for me to do it, and offering a chance for my men to gain redress from Spain. A perfect situation.
I spoke out against piracy in the Channel, whilst merrily doing nothing to prevent it. If Phillip wanted to play dirty, I was more than happy to throw him into the mud.
But my willingness to steal from Phillip made Norfolk and his allies furious. They had fully expected me to send Cecil to the Tower for his part in this respectable robbery, so to find me complicit in his thievery was unaccountable. They thought I was a dalcop, and Cecil more so. They entirely missed the point; we had taken on Spain in a game of skulduggery, and won.
*
That Christmas, my cousin of Scots and I entered a stalemate. She would not offer a defence to my court until I met her, and I would not meet her until she offered a defence. Neither of us could surrender. We both had royal dignity to maintain. The trial was suspended, indefinitely.
Mary was now my prisoner in truth. The bars about her cage were not made of iron, but of her reputation.
It was not the result my cousin wanted, and, I believe, the adjournment signalled the moment when she began to earnestly plot against me. I could hardly blame her. She felt betrayed and did not understand my reasoning. Mary thought she could return to Scotland as its Queen and resume her position and power. It was her right, but it would never be. Her resentment for the fate she herself had created fell upon me.
In her many and various prisons over the years that unfolded, the Queen of Scots burned with fury against me. It was a rage that was misplaced, for in keeping her a prisoner, I kept her alive.
I had also protected her. Moray was furious that the tribunal had come to nothing. We had placated him with a loan, but he feared Mary. There was the possibility he might send assassins for her, and so her guard was there as much to protect as it was to hold her. I had done more. The casket letters remained a secret, with all who had seen them sworn to silence. As far as my people were concerned, they did not exist.
She was permitted privileges. Mary had diplomatic representation, use of royal ceremonies and a small court, rights to exercise and hunting, as well as what I thought was a generous allowance. In other ways, she was a prisoner. She was watched, her letters were intercepted, deciphered and read, and my men guarded her. My cousin resented me. She thought I was a coward who had not the nerve to do what was right and restore her.
She was wrong. It would have been far easier, far more cowardly, to kill her. There were ample opportunities. If I did not want to send her to the block, I could have dispatched men to poison, or smother her, as had been done to Darnley. It took more courage than she knew to keep her alive.
This is how you felt about me, I said to my sister. This is how greatly you feared me.
I had to keep my sister’s mercy in mind. She had spared me. I had to do the same for our cousin.
It also meant I had to see Mary as another me. I had not plotted against my sister’s life, but I had been up to plenty in her reign she would not have welcomed. I had to see Mary as another Elizabeth; a cunning vixen, waiting in the shadows.
*
That Christmas, for his good service and my affection for him, I promoted Hatton to the Privy Chamber as a Gentleman Pensioner, one of my personal bodyguards.
Hatton was pleased, but there were others not so content with their lot. Norfolk was growing ever more disgruntled, combining complaints with those of other secretly Catholic lords, such as Arundel, my erstwhile suitor, who also resented not being offered positions of power. Men like Norfolk and Arundel thought the best positions, those Robin and Cecil held, should go to old blood, basing their reasoning on lineage rather than ability. A foolish argument, but one that was not uncommon. Men with spare talent always resent those who possess a surplus, and like to imagine there are other reasons for their lack of advancement. Poor fools. A more worthy use of their time would have been to work on honing their skills, rather than blaming other men… but they who complain long and loud leave no time to better themselves.
Norfolk and Arundel were spending a great deal of time criticising Cecil. The theft of Phillip’s payload was their excuse and fear of Cecil’s power their true reason. They hoped to spread enough gossip about court that I might come to my senses and arrest Cecil for piracy. I had no intention of doing anything so foolish. After hearing Drake’s account, I was only more resolved to keep the treasure Cecil had so deftly pinched.
“I said I would make you a pirate Queen one day,” Robin said, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “It would seem you have achieved this on your own.”
I laughed heartily. I had great admiration for my merchants and pirates. The thought of joining their ranks was pleasing.
“What a life it must be, Robin!” I said, taking his arm. “To take to ship and cast oneself upon the winds of fate.”
“I find it odd that such a cautious, careful woman as you would desire such uncertainty.”
“We all want what we have not.”
A few days later we heard fresh rumours that Norfolk was considering marrying Mary. Despite his past protestations to the contrary, I wondered if he was contemplating it. Mary would seem an ideal choice, in terms of blood and rank, and would further his ambitions, which I was coming to be deeply suspicious of.
“I want an eye on Norfolk,” I told Cecil as we walked in the gardens early one morning. “And on Westmorland, Arundel and Northumberland. Their sympathies lie with Norfolk, and he is related to Westmorland by marriage. Arundel, too, for he once was Norfolk’s father-in-law, due to the Duke’s first marriage to Arundel’s daughter. Northumberland has shown support for Mary already, and the Catholic north sees the Queen of Scots as their figurehead. I want no one getting ideas.”
“I have ma
de a list, my lady, of the perils facing us and their remedies.”
“What a surprise,” I said dryly. “You make so many lists, Spirit, I wonder how you have time for all the tasks you undertake.”
“They are how I have time, Majesty. A list allows the mind to concentrate, and to remember worthy ideas eager to dance through the brain and vanish.”
“And what does your list tell you?”
“That the perils we face are numerous, my lady. There are threats from Rome, France, Spain, as well as those we face from within, mainly caused by your decision to keep the Queen of Scots.”
“I shall not alter my opinion.”
“And therefore, madam, we must prepare for the worst; a combined Catholic invasion from without and rebellion within England.”
“Which is why I want Norfolk watched.”