by Jenny Barden
The Queen cast Emme another quizzical stare. ‘You appear to have fared much better with fewer men and a less seaworthy craft.’
Emme looked down at the Queen’s hooped skirts and the toes of her dainty slippers as they appeared briefly with each step. She supposed it must seem barely credible that a small pinnace could cross the ocean crewed by two men and a boy together with a lady-in-waiting to the Queen, but they had done it, over great seas swept by icy winds, past Newfoundland and Terceira.
‘I have been fortunate to return with one of Sir Francis Drake’s men who is a skilled seafarer and navigator.’
The Queen raised her brows.
‘The mariner who waits outside?’
‘The same.’ Emme nodded earnestly. ‘Christopher Doonan, Master Boatswain: a most valiant and excellent mariner.’
The Queen made another wordless sound of acknowledgement. ‘No one else knows of your return from Virginia?’
‘We have told no one where we have come from. The news that I bear of your colony in the New World is for you to hear before all others.’
‘Good. So tell me the nub of it as quickly as you will.’
Emme drew breath, aware of the pressure to distil everything she had been through into a few terse words. She must forget her own concerns, and concentrate on what mattered to the realm and the plight of those she had left behind.
‘The City of Raleigh at Roanoke has been abandoned. It was attacked by the Secotans along with other hostile tribes. Most of the Planters left by boat or canoe travelling north towards the Bay of Chesapeake. They need help …’
‘Were they under attack when they fled?’
The question stopped Emme short, though the Queen carried on walking.
‘No,’ Emme answered, hurrying on without the time to reason what might lie behind the enquiry. She gave the facts as they seemed salient. ‘A decoy of fireworks and gunfire was made at the fort on Roanoke to give the impression that they had not left.’
‘The Planters escaped without pursuit?’
‘Yes,’ she said, realising too late that the Queen had drawn out answers which suggested the colonists were not at risk. She must correct any misapprehension. ‘But they have new born infants with them, women and children. They will need food to see them through the lean months after winter, and help with building new houses. If they encounter aggression …’
‘The savages around Chesapeake are reputed to be friendly, are they not?’
Emme gritted her teeth. The Queen forgot nothing and her mind was like quicksilver. Even now, with the dark clouds of war gathering, she was alert to everything. What could convince her of the settlers’ plight?
‘The Secotans around Roanoke were thought to be welcoming until they turned against us. We offered a truce and peace but our appeals were rejected.’
‘There must have been some association with the savages for that to happen.’
Again Emme sensed her account was being undermined. She fell back to trying to explain, fearful that the Queen would dismiss her before she had even finished her appeal.
‘Approach was made with the Governor’s sanction through Manteo’s people at first; then, after the Governor left for England to beg for help, Master Doonan ventured inland and sought a council with the Choanokes, our former allies. He found the old chief was dead and their new leader in battle was Wanchese, one of the Indians once brought here who now sees us as enemies.’ Her voice rose with a passion she could barely contain. ‘He is intent on killing or enslaving every English man, woman and child. He hates us for the wrongs perpetrated against his kinsmen by Governor Lane …’
‘Pah!’
The exclamation interrupted her, and Emme knew she had caused offence, but there was no time for delicacy. The Queen should know the truth.
‘I am only conveying what I saw and heard …’
The Queen scoured her with a look.
‘Did you hear this Wanchese?’
‘Yes,’ Emme said defiantly. ‘I accompanied Master Doonan to the city of Choanoke. We believed that an alliance was the only chance for the City of Raleigh to survive.’
‘You were taken to parley with the savages?’
The Queen’s voice rose to an incredulous pitch. She must have thought her maid could not possibly have met the warriors face to face. Emme’s blood raced.
‘Nowhere was safe. The fort was under threat. I was at no greater risk at Choanoke than on the island which could have been attacked at any moment.’
They reached the doors leading to the Friars’ Chapel tower and, seeing that she meant to advance, Emme opened them for the Queen, acknowledging the guards who then threw the doors wide on the other side. They entered another closed gallery overlooking the frozen symmetry of the Privy Garden. The long corridor had the hush of disuse, though Emme could remember when it had been thronging with visitors clamouring to watch the play in the tennis courts. She felt like an intruder.
The Queen resumed her brisk pace.
‘What did you see in the Indian city: any evidence of wealth or advancement?’
Emme hesitated for an instant, aware that the Queen wanted to hear of riches but unable to stop thinking of the scenes she had witnessed. They flashed through her mind: the dark of the temple of the dead and the teeth of grinning corpses; the tattooed face of Wanchese contorted with rage, his hands gripping a loaded matchlock that he held to Kit’s head. She grasped at memories that were more positive and saw rainbows from a magnifying glass dancing over high rush-screen walls, and fur-cloaked priests in procession through sunbeams beneath ancient trees. She thought of singing like a wave rising over a sea of river mist. Would the Queen want to know any of that?
Emme pressed on and half closed her eyes.
‘The city is great but built without permanence. Some of the people wear pearls and large plaques of copper …’
‘Copper,’ the Queen murmured meditatively, a smile playing on her thin lips. ‘That might be useful.’ Then she turned to Emme and frowned. ‘So you met with this Wanchese and he let you go?’
Didn’t the Queen believe her? Emme could only tell her what had happened, and offer the conclusions she had arrived at since.
‘Master Doonan told him that his villages near Roanoke would be attacked if he did not, though that was a ruse, and it was probably not the reason for our release. I think Wanchese believed that he could kill us whenever he chose and his pride as a warrior made him prefer to kill in battle. He said he would take me after Roanoke was destroyed. He told us to go back and advise everyone on Roanoke to prepare for death.’
She turned to the Queen. She should not look at Her Majesty, but the retelling had taken hold and the urgency to declare the truth.
‘“Wait in fear,” he said, “for in your agony we will savour our revenge.” Those were his words.’
She saw the Queen’s shock in her glowering eyes.
The Queen raised her fist and shook it.
‘God’s death,’ she railed. ‘I have had my fill of men who rule through force and threaten where they perceive weakness. Only a whipping will check them.’
They turned at the end of the gallery and Emme continued more softly.
‘We came away from the council sure that everyone would die who did not flee straight away, and that escape would be impossible without some dissemblance to conceal it.’
‘You chose to remain at the fort to try and help save the lives of the rest of the Planters?’
For the first time Emme heard a hint of wonder in the Queen’s question.
‘I did,’ she answered. ‘Kit … Master Doonan led the diversion.’
Emme cast her mind back to the terror and beauty of that night and the dreadful morning that followed: the horror of it that she could never have endured were it not for Kit’s love. Everyone had been so brave. They should all be remembered before the Queen.
‘There were four others with us. One of them was a youth from the Christ Church foundling hospital; his n
ame was Thomas Humphrey and he died gallantly in the Indian attack. Another was an Irish soldier called James Lacy who left to join Manteo’s people as we fled from the Secotans.’
‘Who were the other two?’
‘Master Doonan’s page, Rob Little, who is waiting outside with him now, and Jack Tydway, a former debtor from New Gate gaol, without whom we would never have managed to sail back to England. A more trustworthy and courageous man there never was.’
‘Is this Jack Tydway also here?’
‘He is in Plymouth. We left him there at his request to join the fleet that Sir Francis Drake is assembling.’
‘I see. No matter. Master Secretary will be able to find him.’
Apprehension seized Emme again. They passed back through the Friars’ Chapel tower and her thoughts swirled in confusion. Why would the Queen wish for Secretary Walsingham to find Jack Tydway?
‘Do you mean to honour him?’
The Queen moved purposefully around the bends in the passageway.
‘I mean to ensure his silence.’
Emme rushed on behind, heart pounding. How did the Queen mean to silence him? Had she said too much and unwittingly sealed the good man’s fate?
The Queen reached the doors and turned to Emme as she caught up.
‘Let us speak with Master Doonan since he has played such a chief part in this story.’
Emme reached out her hand. Not Kit and Rob too. Let them be spared.
‘No!’ The word escaped from her lips just as the Queen gave a sharp knock.
The guards drew the doors open and the Queen spoke crisply to Lady Howard.
‘Send in the mariner and his page.’
Emme stepped back as Kit and Rob entered, offering their reverence as the best custom of the court demanded, and she could hardly look. What if the Queen was about to condemn them?
But Her Majesty was gracious with them at first. She bade them get to their feet.
‘Christopher Doonan, Master Boatswain, I have been pleased to hear of your bravery in England’s cause in Virginia, and of yours, Robert Little.’
Kit spoke up before the Queen could say any more.
‘His true name is Robert Doonan, Your Majesty. He is my son.’
Emme’s heart gave a lurch. Surely Kit had spoken too soon and too boldly just when Her Majesty had been most generous in welcome. But at the same time she admired Kit’s decency in acknowledging Rob even at risk to himself. The admission was just, but how would the Queen react? Emme stood petrified, looking from Kit to Rob to Her Majesty: from her fair and handsome husband, to the dusky youth she now considered her own child, to the regal splendour of the Queen, Gloriana to them all.
‘Indeed?’ The Queen raised her arched brows. ‘A bastard by a blackamoor from the look of him.’
Kit stiffened and lifted his chin.
‘A finer son I could not wish for, one who has served England well and manfully.’
The Queen’s mouth curved towards a smile.
‘So I gather, from the account Mistress Fifield has given me.’
Emme beamed at Kit and Rob, suffused with a warm glow of pride. Perhaps they would be spared the Queen’s anger and receive some credit after all.
Kit caught her gaze then turned his blue eyes back to the Queen, bowing as he spoke.
‘Mistress Fifield is …’
The Queen cut across him.
‘Are you about to suggest that my maid of honour should also be known by another name?’
Kit looked taken aback, and Emme interjected quickly. Any petition for Her Majesty’s approval had to be made in the right way. She had meant to broach the subject when she judged the time was right, but now there was no choice. She fell at the Queen’s feet.
‘With Your Majesty’s permission, we most humbly request …’
‘Enough!’ The Queen stopped her mid-flow. She cast her gaze over Emme, then Kit and back again. Emme sensed her vision beginning to cloud, her fear for Kit on the point of overwhelming her.
The Queen placed her hand on Emme’s head. ‘Do you think I do not know when two people are in love? If you wish to ask for my consent to wed then you have it for the service you have already given me.’
Emme could barely believe what she had heard. Relief flooded over her. The Queen had offered what she most wanted. At Her Majesty’s beckoning, she got to her feet and moved to stand with Kit and Rob. The Queen spoke commandingly to them all.
‘If half of England is possessed of the courage you three have shown then we may spit at the feet of any prince who dares assail our shores, see off all the armies who fly a papist flag and sink any ships that venture to invade us. You have rekindled my faith in what my people can do, and for that I thank you.’
Kit placed one arm behind Emme and the other behind Rob and stepped back as if they, and not he, were players in some drama worthy of acclaim.
‘We will serve England loyally to that end,’ he said, ‘for the great love we hold for our Queen.’
‘We’ll serve loyally,’ Rob chimed.
‘Yes,’ Emme breathed.
The response seemed to please Her Majesty because she nodded and smiled as much as she ever did when giving an audience.
‘Very good, but I have more to ask of you.’
Kit stepped forwards again.
‘What else would you have us do?’
The Queen moved to one of the window benches and leant against it, taking the weight from her feet while preserving the bell of her farthingale. She regarded them meditatively then turned to face the view outside. She spoke while looking towards the Thames.
‘You must say nothing about Virginia, the whereabouts of the colony or its condition. The Spaniards must not know it has been put in jeopardy. Let them believe the colony thrives and keep them guessing as to where it is. I would have King Philip troubled to think our City of Raleigh is further south; may it remain a thorn to goad and distract him.’
Emme looked at Kit, remembering how he’d told her this could have been Ferdinando’s secret objective. So Ferdinando was Walsingham’s man, not an agent of Spain, and his bullying and apparent duplicity had been no more than a pretence. She’d never doubt Kit again.
The Queen turned round.
‘You will swear your silence to this end?’
Kit clapped his hand to his chest.
‘Upon my faith and all that I hold most dear, I so swear.’
‘I swear this also,’ Rob said.
‘And I swear this too,’ Emme added, ‘as I will swear to anything you ask, though I fear for the Planters.’
Probably, she should say no more, but this would be her last chance to plead for the colony. Had she done enough? She beseeched the Queen with one last glance and dropped to her knees.
‘Will you allow Sir Walter Raleigh to send relief?’
‘Not when every vessel large and small may be needed to guard the coasts of this Isle.’ There was a finality to the Queen’s answer that brooked no argument. ‘The safety of England must come before all else.’
Emme had expected no less, but she still felt the blow even in the midst of her happiness for the dispensation that she and Kit had been granted. She bent her head.
The Queen’s tone became gentler.
‘The colonists have as good a chance now as they did when they undertook the venture. You told me they were not pursued, and they were heading for the destination that was meant for them at first, one reputed to be hospitable, which is not to say that my answer may not change.’ She waited for Emme to look up, and gestured for her to rise.
‘I will consider this matter afresh when Sir Walter is ready to go to the aid of his City. I have no doubt he will do his best to assemble a fleet with provisions for the task. Once that is ready to embark, then we shall see whether the threat to the realm is any less.’
Kit inclined his head.
‘Majesty; in your wisdom we trust.’
The Queen spread her hands.
‘Now go with m
y blessing and say nothing of this to anyone. Go back to Plymouth. I release you from your service at court, Mistress Fifield, but you must keep the identity you assumed when you left. Wed this man, but do so discreetly. And I charge you, Master Doonan, to present yourself to Sir Francis Drake and offer to assist him in any way he thinks fit. Take your son with you. If the time comes for action then I expect you both to fight to your last breath.’
Kit looked at Rob then back at the Queen and his expression was grave.
‘We will.’
Rob grinned.
‘I’ll fight with my father gladly.’
He would, Emme knew, and Kit would fight too, and perhaps war would tear them apart just as good fortune and the Queen’s clemency had brought them together. She bit back tears as the reverences were made before leaving.
The Queen moved to the door.
‘See the Lord Chamberlain before you leave. He will provide you with something in recognition of your loyalty.’
At a nod, the meeting was over. The Queen walked ahead of them and flung the doors wide, surprising the guards who sprang to attention, and startling Lady Howard, who stepped aside in a fluster, while an elderly courtier began hurrying away. Emme had no doubt that both of them had been listening, though the Queen had been careful to speak at a distance. Indeed the Queen seemed unconcerned and not a little amused by their embarrassment. She slammed one of the doors closed and watched the retreating gentleman jump and look back over his shoulder. At that instant Emme’s blood ran cold. She knew who he was: Lady Howard’s clandestine husband; the man who had shamed her and tried to claim her as his duchess.
‘Lord Hertford!’ the Queen called after him. ‘Did I see you turn your back on me?’
Lord Hertford froze mid-step and gingerly retraced it. He turned his head.
‘Ah, Your Majesty! I would never knowingly do such a thing. My delight is always to feast my eyes on your sight.’
He minced back towards her and proffered a perfunctory bow. The Queen moved on, reaching him almost halfway across the covered bridge that led to the Privy Lodgings. She beckoned for Emme, Kit and Rob to follow then swept her hand towards them.