by Connie Mason
Feeling in need of prayer and consolation, Luca dressed and hurried to the Jesuits’ chamber. She found them in the midst of packing their meager belongings. Father Pedro greeted her with an air of distracted concern.
“Daughter, come in, come in. The time has come for us to leave. We received a message just today that the armada is finally within sight of English soil, and the queen’s navy still sits idle at Plymouth.”
“The queen will move quickly now,” Luca surmised.
“The queen is a dithering old fool,” Father Bernadino said scornfully. “We must leave immediately. A boat is waiting at Dover to carry us across the channel to Calais. From there we will travel by coach to Brest and board a ship for Lisbon.”
“You must come with us, daughter,” Father Juan urged. “We know you were forced into marriage and could never love an Englishman. It won’t be safe for you at court once your husband leaves to join the English fleet. You must trust us, just as we trust you.”
Luca looked at him in astonishment. “How do you know Morgan is leaving?”
“Ah, we have our ways, daughter. We know your husband carries warrants from the queen to the fleet. We expect the fleet will move against the armada very soon.”
“We also know something not even the queen is aware of,” Father Juan confided. “Once the armada enters the English Channel it will stop at Dunkirk. The Duke of Parma has amassed twenty-five thousand troops from the Spanish Netherlands. They will join the twenty-five thousand troops already deployed aboard the ships in Spain. The troops carry sufficient arms and powder to ensure victory.”
Luca was dismayed by the numbers Father Juan had just quoted. “So many?”
“The size of the forces involved and the nature of their armament are unprecedented in either Spanish or English history,” Father Pedro bragged. “Spain will emerge victorious, for God is on our side.”
Luca’s heart froze. The number of ships, men, and arms was mind-boggling. But even more frightening was the fact that Morgan could be rushing toward his death. Did he know what the English fleet was up against? She had to tell him before he left London. She knew nothing would change his mind but her information could be extremely valuable. Her love for her husband far surpassed her love for her homeland.
“How soon must we leave London?” Luca asked.
“Tomorrow,” Father Pedro said. “Your suffering is nearly over. I will loan you one of my robes—no one will recognize you garbed as a priest. I will contact you later with the details.”
“I must pack,” Luca said, anxious to find Morgan and tell him what she had just learned.
“Go in peace, daughter,” Father Pedro said. “Soon you will know the comfort of your father’s home.”
Luca hurried down the corridors, which had become quite familiar in the weeks she’d been at court, arriving in the queen’s Presence Chamber out of breath. The chamber was crowded and, from what she could glean from snippets of conversation she overheard, the approaching armada was being widely discussed. A visual search of the room revealed no sight of Morgan. Then she spied Lady Jane and, swallowing her pride, approached the woman with chin held high.
“Have you seen my husband, my lady?”
Lady Jane gave Luca a dismissive wave. “Does Morgan tell you nothing of his plans? Everyone knows he left to join the fleet at Plymouth Sound.” Her voice was cool and patronizing. “He asked me to wait for him. He said he had reached an important decision about his marriage and was anxious to tell me. Unfortunately he had no time to elaborate.”
Her words had the desired effect on Luca. She knew she shouldn’t believe Lady Jane for she probably spoke from jealousy, but it still hurt. Besides, it might be the truth.
“I am not here to argue about Morgan. I want to know if you’ve seen him in the last few minutes.”
“You are too late,” Lady Jane informed her. “He left over an hour ago.”
Uttering a cry of dismay, Luca turned and fled. When she reached the front gate she questioned a footman stationed nearby. Her worst fears were confirmed when the footman told her that Morgan had left some time ago. It was useless to follow, for according to Stan Crawford, the Avenger was waiting only for Morgan to step aboard before hoisting sail.
Nothing was left to Luca now but prayer. If God was merciful, Morgan would return unseamed. She had to believe it, even though she would never know for certain. She and Morgan had no future together. Lady Jane could give him what she couldn’t—an heir whose English blood was as pure as Morgan’s. The child Luca carried might not be what Morgan wanted, but she would cherish the only part of him she was ever likely to have.
The following day five Jesuit priests were seen leaving Whitehall. The queen was happy to be rid of them. In fact, she breathed much easier knowing they were gone. If they hadn’t left of their own accord, she would have politely asked them to leave the country. When they filed through the corridors of Whitehall and out the gate into the waiting coach that would take them to Dover, all five had their cowls pulled low over their foreheads.
Luca hesitated before stepping inside the coach, close to changing her mind. Leaving Morgan was the most difficult thing she would ever be called upon to do, and perhaps the noblest Her motives were pure and in the best interest of Morgan and their child. She could not bear the thought of raising their child in a hostile atmosphere. She prayed she had built enough memories of Morgan to last a lifetime. The terrifying thought that she hadn’t done so brought a moment of panic, and she froze. Once she left London her relationship with Morgan would be irrevocably severed. There would be no turning back.
“Hurry, daughter,” Father Pedro urged. “The boat won’t wait forever.”
Luca hesitated. That final step was so traumatic she was paralyzed, unable to think, unable to move. The decision was taken from her when Father Juan and Father Bernadino, who were waiting inside the coach. grabbed her arms and pulled her inside. Father Pedro quickly entered behind her and slammed the door. The coach left Whitehall behind in a rattle of hooves and wheels.
“You do not belong among these heretics,” Father Pedro said when Luca started to protest.
“Your father will be grateful to have you home safely. Perhaps grateful enough to endow our order.”
Too numb to reply, Luca gazed wistfully out the window, recalling how tenderly Morgan had made love to her the day he had left. Everything had seemed so wonderful for a short time, until he had shown his contempt for her by releasing his seed onto the bedclothes. That one simple act had ended their relationship as effectively as if he had severed it with his sword. Morgan had made it abundantly clear that he would hate their child. Sighing in resignation, she turned her dismal thoughts to the future, no matter how bleak it might be without Morgan Scott in her life.
Morgan reached Plymouth with the queen’s warrants and delivered them to the admirals. Two days later, after a spell of foul weather, a fair, fresh wind sprang up from the northeast. The admirals halted the loading of stores and ordered the fleet out for a quick run to intercept the armada. The Avenger joined the ninety-odd armed ships, great and small, which comprised the gallant and valorous fleet
Five days later they were back in Plymouth Sound. In the middle of the Bay of Biscay, the wind perversely hauled round to the south, and they were forced to turn back. During the following week the fleet encountered problems with the same kind of rough weather that had plagued the Spanish Armada. Some of the merchantmen had strained themselves and sprung leaks, and some needed new spars and cordage. And as with most ships too long at sea, mere was much sickness. During the lull the commanders did what could be done in the short time they had, replenishing their ships with fresh water, stores, ammunition, and provisions.
Morgan chafed impatiently. The delays were proving disastrous to men and ships. Morgan wanted to defeat the Spanish Armada as quickly as possible, rush home to Luca, and tell her that he loved her. Not even the queen’s disapproval could convince him to give up Luca. Not for all t
he Lady Janes in England.
Just as talk circulated that the Spanish Armada had given up the expedition for this year, the Golden Hind, one of the ships assigned to cruise in the mouth of the Channel, arrived to report that a large group of Spanish ships had been sighted near the Stilly Isles with sails struck, apparently waiting for the rest of their fleet to come up. Word was immediately sent to the queen, and finally, on July 19, the order was given for the main army to assemble at Tilbury and the second army to report to St. James for the purpose of defending the queen’s person.
At ten that night the fighting English fleet sailed out of Plymouth. The next day the wind freshened from the southwest and the fleet, including the Avenger, began to beat out to sea to avoid being caught by the enemy on a lee shore.
The armada, somewhat spread out but still making haste, bore away westward to get sea room. Morgan stood at the helm of the Avenger, tracking the armada’s progress through the glass.
“My God, Stan, look at them!” he said, handing the glass to his first mate. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Holding its course up the Channel, the armada of over one hundred and thirty vessels hove into sight. In front sailed the main fighting force, in line abreast; behind it the smaller and less defensible ships; and on each flank and somewhat to the rear moved a smaller fighting squadron.
“I can’t believe the armada survived intact given the inclement weather they’ve encountered these last weeks,” Morgan commented, amazed.
“Where do you think they’ll make landfall?”
“Hard telling. Drake’s last message indicated that we were to let the Spanish pass to their destinations. Then we will hit them with everything we’ve got.”
For seven breathtaking days the floating army plodded on toward its imaginary goal, continually harassed by Drake’s fleet but not brought to a halt by its nimble foes. Two days later off the Isle of Wight, a general action took place on July 23. The armada made for the opposite coast, anchoring at Calais, hoping to establish contact with Lord Parma and his promised army. It proved to be their undoing. The English fleet attacked, scattering them for miles along the coast. That day proved to be the decisive battle of the campaign.
The Avenger was in the midst of the fray, holding its own against the mighty armada. It sustained minor damage and lost a few good Englishmen, but on the whole escaped virtually unscathed. Neither Morgan nor Crawford was hurt
When the armada tried to escape to a friendly haven, they found only a hostile coast. There was nothing left for them but to return home in defeat. It became clear that returning by way of the Channel was out of the question, for the battered ships would be picked off one by one by the English navy. In a desperate move the admirals took the only route open to them, north around Scotland and Ireland. Less than half the ships of the armada, and perhaps one-third of the men, returned home. Many of the survivors died later of injuries or sickness, having endured everything and achieved nothing.
Chapter 18
The Avenger sailed up the Thames and docked at Billingsgate on August 15, after several days of sea battles in which the fleeing armada had been consistently battered by English ships following doggedly in their wake. But once it became obvious that the armada was broken and taking a northern route home, the English fleet backed off and returned to their home port to celebrate their victory. The entire country was in a jubilant mood. The navy and their commanders were hailed as heroes, and the queen’s popularity rose to an all-time high.
Though happy to have been a part of the glorious victory, Morgan eagerly anticipated a joyful reunion with Luca. He had missed her dreadfully. He had been at sea nearly six weeks, most of that time spent waiting for the enemy rather than engaging in battle, until the final days of July and early August when the English fleet and Spanish Armada clashed repeatedly.
The defeat of the armada was a stunning personal victory for Morgan. His decisive triumph over his lifelong enemy banished for good his vendetta against Spaniards. For the first time in years he felt free to follow his heart. His future with Luca had never looked brighter. He felt at peace with his decision and capable of dealing with Luca’s Spanish heritage with complete honesty.
He loved Luca. He d loved her for a very long time but had sealed his heart against everything but his need for revenge. He prayed she would forgive him for his many sins against her and hoped that one day she would come to love him as much as he loved her. By some miracle he had emerged unscathed from battle and looked forward with relish to the life and to the children he and Luca would create together.
Stan Crawford approached Morgan quietly, hating to interrupt his reverie but finding it necessary. The ship had already docked, and Crawford was awaiting instructions. He cleared his throat, waiting for Morgan to acknowledge him. Morgan heard him and turned abruptly.
“Is the ship in order, Mr. Crawford?”
“Aye, Captain. In order, and awaiting your instructions.”
“Give the men shore leave, all but a skeleton crew. They deserve it. And see that the wounded are cared for.”
“What about the damage the Avenger sustained in battle?”
“Make a list of the damage. I’ll return after I’ve seen Luca. Meanwhile you can hire carpenters and sailmakers to begin repairs.”
Morgan arrived at court in the midst of a joyous celebration honoring the defeat of the Spanish Armada, the greatest naval flotilla in history. Just the size and magnitude of the huge armada was incomparable. Had things gone as planned and the weather had not been a factor, the Spanish Expedition might have succeeded. Those who sailed the ships realized it, but the majority of Englishmen failed to comprehend the very real danger that had threatened their shores.
Queen Elizabeth, her regal, black-clad form striking amid the peacock-hued clothing of her courtiers and ladies, was holding court in the Presence Chamber. Morgan scanned the room for Luca but failed to find her. He was on the verge of leaving the chamber to search for her when Lady Jane saw him and called out his name. Heads turned and Morgan found himself surrounded by well-wishers, congratulating him on the victory and demanding details. He drew so much attention that the queen noticed him and sent a page to summon him.
Morgan frowned in annoyance. The queen and her court dandies were the last people he wanted to see right now. He wanted to find Luca. He wanted to hold her, make love to her, tell her what a fool he’d been to deny what his heart had known all along. But when one was summoned by the queen, one did not refuse. The crowd cleared a path for him as he approached Elizabeth’s carved throne. Lady Jane clung tenaciously to his arm.
Before Morgan could shake himself free, they had reached the dais. He executed a bow, and the queen gave him a brilliant smile.
“We are most pleased with you, Sir Scott. As We are with all our brave men and their admirals. You are the first to return Tell us what transpired.”
Finding no way to escape gracefully, Morgan spent the next hour relating details of the battles fought and file armada’s route of escape, which would take them around Scotland and Ireland.
“The Spanish won’t have an easy time of it,” Elizabeth predicted. “They are likely to encounter dangerous weather this time of year in northern waters and along the Irish coast.”
The queen’s prediction proved all too true. It was later reported that countless ships had piled up on the rocky Irish shores with few survivors.
“We have received reports that our losses were minor compared to those of the enemy. We have brave men like you to thank. We will think of an appropriate reward,” Elizabeth said grandly.
I desire no reward,” Morgan said, “except the freedom to claim my wife and retire to my estate.”
Elizabeth scowled her displeasure, and the room grew unnaturally quiet. Morgan felt a chilling premonition and fought the urge to find Luca and flee London in all haste. He waited for Elizabeth to speak and instinctively knew he wasn’t going to like what he heard.
“We fear that
is the one thing We cannot grant you. Your wife no longer resides at court.”
Morgan gasped in outrage and disbelief. “You sent Luca away?”
“Nay, We aid not send her away. She disappeared a day or two after you sailed to join the fleet. No one knows exactly when she left, only that she is no longer with us.”
“Is this how you keep your promises?” Morgan lashed out “You said you would protect Luca. What have you done to her?”
“We have done nothing!” the queen said indignantly. She was unaccustomed to being addressed in so disrespectful a manner, and her temper flared dangerously. “We suggest you hold your tongue and remember to whom you are speaking.”
“Morgan, please,” Lady Jane urged, “say no more. You are incurring the queen’s ire and that is not wise.”
Morgan shook free of Jane’s clinging grip, his expression hard and resentful. “Where is my wife? you and your ladies made her life a living Hell, and your courtiers considered her fair game for their vile attentions.”
Elizabeth rose majestically from her chair, her rage daunting. “You go too far, Sir Scott! We do not know where your wife went and had no hand in her disappearance. We intended to fulfill our promise to you. After her disappearance was noted We sent a messenger to Scott Hall to inquire after her. But she was not there. It is our opinion that she has returned to Spain.”
“Alone?” Morgan scoffed. “Luca had no money; she knew no one in London to ask for help. How could she have gone to Spain?”
“The priests,” Elizabeth said with haughty disdain. “The Jesuits left the day after you sailed. Though no one can verify it, We believe your wife accompanied them. ‘Tis for the best.”
Morgan’s hands clenched into fists, wanting to hit someone or something. “I will go to Spain immediately and bring her back. Luca would not leave without good reason.”
Morgan blamed himself as much as Elizabeth for Luca’s disappearance but couldn’t hide the fierce resentment he felt for the English court Everyone in the Presence Chamber had heard him insult the queen, and they waited expectantly for Elizabeth to exact retribution