Queen of This Realm

Complete demoralization throughout the Spanish armada ensued; they cut their cables and blundered about wildly; their riggings become entangled and they were blocking the way of escape for each other in the desperate attempt to escape from the fire ships. Sidonia fired off his gun trying to get the ships to assemble in some sort of order, but the call was ignored; every Spanish captain was intent on getting his ship out of reach of the fires. Thus the fireships had achieved in a few hours that certain victory for which my brave seamen had been fighting for days.

My men were ready to go in for the final attack when Howard, seeing one of the galleasses was in difficulties and realizing that it would be a rich prize, stopped to take it. It was an error because there were fighting men on the galleass who could give a good account of themselves. By pausing Howard had given Drake the opportunity to be the one who led my ships to victory. Howard's error was such as to rob him of a certain amount of the glory, for having captured the rich prize he left one of the small ships to guard it, but as it was nearer to Calais than England, the French boats came out to take it and although the English put up a good fight, artillery from the shore took part and forced my men to retire. So the entire enterprise had been a waste of time on Howard's part. I do not believe that Drake would have made such a mistake. He must have been laughing to himself as he swept down with all the squadrons on the limping Spanish armada.

The battle was not over immediately as it might have been if Howard had kept with the fleet instead of pausing; but the outcome was now sure.

It had seemed at one time that we should snatch not only victory but great prizes—enough to cover the cost of the campaign. But this was denied us. A squall arose. The weather had been our ally so far—and perhaps some would say still was, but it certainly robbed us of our prizes. Our seamen had to look to their own safety in such weather, and when the wind abated it was seen that many of the ships of the once proud Spanish armada were sinking or drifting along to the Flemish coast.

The wind ended the battle; and if we had lost the prizes we had hoped for, we had gained a glorious victory.

I HAD NOW COME to the saddest part of my life. Nothing could ever be the same for me again.

Naturally I wanted to reward the saviors of my country. I gave a pension to Howard and I made Essex a Knight of the Garter for he had played a part in the victory; but the one I wanted to reward most of all was Robert. He had not been at sea but he had been in charge of land defenses and he had worked indefatigably for our safety.

I wanted to make him Lord Lieutenant of England and Ireland, which would have given him more power than anyone in England under me. When I told him, it did me good to see his pleasure, although I was a little anxious about him for he did not look as well as usual. There was a certain pallor of his face, which was the more startling because of his natural high color.

I said: “You are not well.”

He replied that he believed he had caught a fever when he was with the army near the salt marshes in Essex.

I gave him a very special remedy which had been given to me and I told him I had had painful headaches myself of late.

I said: “You must take care of yourself. That's a command, Robert.”

He smiled at me with infinite love, and although I glowed with pleasure I kept that twinge of uneasiness which always assailed me when I thought he was not in good health. I scolded him lightly for neglecting himself and reminded him that that was the easiest way to earn my displeasure.

We were very close at that time. We always had been, but the defeat of the Spanish armada had brought home to us the intensity of our feelings and what we meant to each other.

I might have guessed there would be an outcry concerning the proposed new appointment for Robert.

Burghley was strongly against it and was supported by both Hatton and Walsingham. It was placing too much power in the hands of one man, said Burghley.

It was most unwise, declared Hatton.

“We shall have Leicester ruling us all,” declared blunt Walsingham.

I realized, of course, that in my fondness for Robert I had perhaps gone too far and as the appointment had not yet been confirmed I decided it should be put aside for a while.

Robert was bitterly disappointed, but I did my best to console him.

“You must take good care of your health,” I said. “Get well, Robin, and we will go into this matter then.”

We decided that he should go to Buxton for the baths, which had done him good before, and he said farewell and went off to make preparations for the journey.

A few days after he left I received a letter from him. I read and re-read it and shall treasure it forever. Whenever I see that handwriting it brings him back to me so clearly.

“I most humbly beseech Your Majesty,” he wrote, “to pardon your poor old servant…”

The two “o”s in poor were written to look like eyes—my name for him, which he had always loved to hear me use.

“ … to be thus bold in thus sending to know how my gracious lady doeth and what ease of her late pains she finds, being the chiefest thing in this world I do pray for, for her to have good health and long life.

“For my own poor case I continue still your medicine and find it amends much better than with any other thing that hath been given me. Thus hoping to find perfect cure at the bath, with the continuance of my wonted prayer for Your Majesty's most happy preservation, I humbly kiss your foot.

“From your old lodging at Rycott this Thursday morning, ready to take my journey.

“By Your Majesty's most faithful obedient servant,

“R. Leicester.”

That letter was written on the twenty-ninth of August. By the fourth of September he was dead.

When they brought me the news I was stu

There was no savor in life. There never would be again for Robert Dudley was dead.

I ordered everyone out of my apartment and shut myself in. I would have no intrusion on my grief. I lay on my bed and thought of everything… right from the time when we were children and had danced at my father's Court; I thought of those weeks when I had been in the Tower and he had been near; I thought of the day he had come to me and laid his gold at my feet, and how he had ridden into London with me at the time of my accession. So many memories. That was all I had left now.

I took his letter and read and read it again. I kissed it. It was wet with my tears. Then I wrote on it “His Last Letter” and put it in a jewel box. I would preserve it forever. Perhaps later I could draw comfort from it, but now it only brought home to me the magnitude of my loss.

Then I took out one by one the presents he had given me over the years. They had all meant something special to me because he had given them. There was the bracelet of gold adorned with rubies and diamonds. He had given me this in a purple velvet case embroidered with Venetian gold in the year 1572 when I had been fourteen years on the throne. The following year he had given me a collar of rubies and diamonds.

I put them both on and remembered the time he had brought them to me. I could see him with his handsome dark head bent as he fixed the collar about my throat.

Then there was the white feather fan with the two magnificent emeralds on one side of the handle and the inevitable rubies and diamonds on the other.