Now she would keep him by her side. She would make up to him for the loss of his beloved nephew, for the loss of his honor, and for the unfaithfulness of his wife. Dear Robert, once the conquering hero, was now the conquered.
Elizabeth had believed that it would be impossible for her to love a man who was no longer handsome, who was no longer the most perfect, the most virtuous; nevertheless she found that she could not cease to love Robert.
The whole country was in a state of tension.
All along the south coast the watchers were alert for the first sight of a sail. The bonfires were ready. In Plymouth Sir Francis Drake was impatient to get at the enemy. Lord Howard of Effingham was begging the Queen for more supplies. The ships, even in the little harbors, were being hastily made ready all through the nights by the light of flares and cressets. The coastal fortifications were being strengthened at fever-heat; and off the Devon coast Ark and Achates, Revenge and Rainbow, Elizabeth Bonaventure and Elizabeth Jonas with their fellow escorts were waiting.
Burghley and Walsingham were frantically counting the cost of the preparations, demanding of one another whence the money was coming to pay for this and that. The Queen, who was always reluctant to spend money, was refusing permission to victual the ships, refusing the money to pay her seamen.
Elizabeth knew that she now faced the greatest peril of her reign, of her life; if her gallant sailors failed to beat off the invader, England would suffer worse than death. Elizabeth loved her country with a great maternal love, with a passion she had never given to any person. Her one idea had been to bring it through peace to prosperity; and this she had done; and this she would have continued to do had that tyrant of the Escorial allowed men and women to follow the religion of their choice. Let him have his priests and his Holy Inquisition—that unholy band of torturers—let him burn his own subjects at the stake; let him torture them on the chevalet; let him tear their limbs with red hot pincers in the name of the Holy Catholic Church; Elizabeth cared not that this should be. If they chose to follow such a Faith and such a King, let them.
But it was not as easy as that. They were sailing now steadily toward her shores—Andalucian, Biscayan, San Felipe, San Juan, and many others; they brought the Spanish dons, the Spanish grandees, the Spanish soldiers and sailors; but they brought more than these: they brought their priests, their inquisitors; they brought the instruments of torture from their dark chambers of pain. They hoped to bring, not only conquest, but the Inquisition.
She had been afraid, but she would overcome that fear. How could she lose? How could England be beaten? It was impossible. She had her men—her beloved men—who in the service of the goddess, the perfect woman, the Queen, the mistress, the mother, could never fail.
There was Lord Howard of Effingham, that fine sailor; there was the incomparable Drake; there was Frobisher, Hawkins; and there were all her dear friends: her Spirit, her Moor, her old Mutton and Bellwether—all those whom she loved; and above all there was Robert.
She had shown her confidence in him, and the return of all her love in this great emergency. He was forgiven the terrible calamity in the Netherlands for which she knew she must accept part of the blame; for if Lettice had not thought of joining him as his Queen, would Elizabeth have felt so insistent on robbing him of his new office, of destroying Flemish trust in England?
She had appointed Robert Lieutenant and General of her Armies and Companies. That would show everyone what she thought of him. That would make it clear that in adversity they stood together, as they had stood when Amy Robsart had died and he had been accused of her murder.
She trusted him; he was her beloved; he was again her Eyes; he was the only man she would have married if she had decided to take a husband.
Robert had divided his forces into two armies—one of which he had stationed at St. James’s, the other at Tilbury. They would be ready, those soldiers of his, to defend their country if the dons dared to land. But Howard and Drake and their men were determined they should never land. Would English seamen give the victory to English soldiers? Never! England owed her prosperity to her seamen—so said Drake—and he was bent on capturing the credit for himself.
Elizabeth wished to be with her armies at such a time—and was not Robert at the head of those armies? She sent a dispatch to him, telling him of her determination to see and talk with her soldiers.
His answer came back.
“Your person,” he wrote, “is the most sacred and dainty thing that we have in the world to care for, and a man must tremble when he thinks of it …”
He would have preferred her, he said, to have stayed in the safest place in England.
“Yet I will not that in some sort so princely and so rare a magnanimity should not appear to your people and the world as it is …”
She read the letter through many times; she kept it with her; she kissed it often, as she used to kiss his letters in the early days.
When she reached Tilbury, gay with flags, Robert met the barge to the sound of thundering cannon, and rode with her in a coach decorated with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies.
She was truly noble as she went among her soldiers. This she knew to be the greatest moment of her country’s history; therefore it was Elizabeth’s greatest moment. Her fear had left her; she no longer believed in the possibility of defeat. The odds might seem against the English. The Spaniards had the ships; they had the ammunition; but they had not Elizabeth; they had not Drake; they had not—and this was their greatest lack—the calm knowledge that they could not fail.
There at Tilbury she mounted a great horse and, holding a truncheon in her hand, she sat more like a soldier than a woman; and thus she addressed them:
“My loving people, we have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety to take heed how we commit ourself to armed multitudes for fear of treachery. But I assure you, I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and my loving people. Let tyrants fear. I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and goodwill of my subjects; and therefore I am come amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst of the heat and battle, to live or die amongst you all, to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and for my people, my honor and my blood, even in the dust. I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm; to which, rather than any dishonor shall grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I know, already for your forwardness, you have deserved rewards and crowns; and we do assure you, in the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid you.”
This speech of the Queen’s put courage into the hearts of all those who heard it. She was invincible, as she had always known she would be, for, foolish though she might be, vain, coquettish, ill-tempered, selfish—when the occasion arose, she had the gift of greatness.
And the Armada sailed into the English Channel.
It was Spain’s tragedy that, with the finest ships in the world, with the best ammunition and equipment, she was doomed to failure. Her commander had no wish for the task which he had implored the King to give to another. His seamen were afraid of El Draque, the Dragon, that Englishman whom they believed to be no ordinary man, but one possessed of superhuman power, and destined to destroy them. They had seen him in action, and no ordinary man was ever so fearless as El Draque. He had sailed calmly into Cadiz Harbor and burned and pillaged the ships which lay at anchor there; he had delicately referred to this operation as “Singeing the Beard of the King of Spain.” He had sailed the high seas, and he had come back with Spanish treasure rich enough to fortify his country against Spain. The Devil was at work here, and Spaniards feared the Devil.