He began by conveying Philip's friendly feelings toward me.

“He has ever been kindly disposed toward Your Grace,” he said. “You will remember that it was through his persuasion that you came to Court.”

“I remember it well,” I replied.

“Moreover, it was he who advised the Queen to make you her heir and you must feel gratitude toward him for this.”

There was nothing which annoyed me more than to be told that my sister had had to be persuaded to give me that to which I had a right, and I felt my anger flaring up. I said coldly: “This was no matter of persuasion. I am the heir to the throne by right of birth. As my father's daughter, I am so named in his will. Therefore no matter what your master said to my sister, my right to the throne is my own, and I believe the people of England will see right done.”

“I am sure you will be grateful for the continued friendship of my master.”

“Friendship is always to be preferred to enmity and I shall remain friendly with all those who mean well to my country.”

“Through his marriage my master became King of this country.”

“He was the Queen's consort it is true, although he spent very little time with her.”

“He had so many duties in Spain…”

“And now he will be even more engrossed in his duties,” I said, referring to the death of the Emperor Charles which had occurred the previous month.

De Feria could not deny that. I was smiling, inwardly wondering what he would report to his master.

I went on: “As you know the King, your master, urged me more than once to marry Philibert of Savoy. Ah, if I had, where should I be now? Not here, most certainly. I should have been ill advised to have listened to him.”

“My master believed at the time that it would have been an excellent match for you. He was eager for your good.”

That was too much and I need not be subservient now.

I said sharply: “Your master has the good of his own country ever at heart, and that is all that can be expected of a ruler. My sister lost favor with her people when she married a foreigner and brought him to these shores.”

De Feria was nonplussed. I wondered if he had been told to sound me out about marriage with Philip. If he had, he evidently decided that this was not the moment to raise the matter. Nor was it, with Philip's poor wife, my sister, not yet dead, certain though it was that her end was imminent.

He went away somewhat crestfallen and I felt I had handled the situation very well.


* * *

THE TENSION WAS MOUNTING. I wanted to be alone to think. Mary was dying. It could not be many days now. I went into the gardens and as I was there I heard the sound of horses' hoofs. A party of riders were close. I stood still, my heart beating fast. Then I saw them.

They were members of the Council and they could only be here on one mission.

They dismounted and came toward me. They fell to their knees.

“God save Queen Elizabeth!” they cried, and they took my hand and, in turn, kissed it and swore to serve me.

I listened to them and was exultant. This was the greatest moment of my life.

I was overcome with joy but perhaps because of the vicissitudes through which I had passed I felt strangely humble.

Often during my most dangerous moments I had made Kat read Psalm 118 with me and I knew it by heart.

“It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in princes.

“Thou hast thrust sore at me that I might fall; but the Lord helped me.”

Often I had repeated those words and they came once more into my mind and I cried aloud: “This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.”


* * *

EVERYONE WAS NOW converging on Hatfield, all eager to proclaim me Queen.

Nicholas Throckmorton arrived with the gold and ebony ring, and he was a little put out because the Council had reached me first. I thanked him for his good service, which I promised I should not forget.

There was one other who came riding at full speed on a magnificent white horse.

I was delighted to see him and when he knelt down, kissed my hand and cried: “God save the Queen!” I almost wept with an emotion which I had to conceal.

“I would I had been the first to reach you,” he said. “As soon as I heard the news, for which I was earnestly waiting, I took my fastest horse. I wished to be the first to call you Queen and offer my life in your service.”

“I forget not that you came earlier,” I said. “Rest assured, Lord Robert, that you will not be forgotten.”

“My lady…so young…so fair… and a crown to carry!”

“Do not fear for me,” I answered. “I have long been prepared.”

“Fortune is smiling on England this day,” he said.

“Perhaps too it will smile on Robert Dudley,” I said. “I offer you the post of my Master of Horse. What say you?”

He was on his knees again. His eyes sparkled with pleasure and all the time they watched me. I was young…so was he. We were of an age.

“Master of the Queen's Horse,” he said slowly. “There is nothing I could have wished for more… because it will bring me close to Your Majesty. I shall be beside you for as long as you need me.”

Oh, glorious day! Dull November perhaps, but for me no day could have been brighter.

Truly it was marvelous in our eyes. At last I had my crown. I had the homage of my subjects, the love of my people—and the passionate admiration of Robert Dudley.

Vivat Regina

ALTHOUGH THIS WAS A TIME OF GREAT TRIUMPH FOR ME, I must not forget that it had come about through my sister's death and I thought it would be proper to show a little sorrow for her. I did not have to feign this entirely. I had often thought of Mary and the tragic failure of her life. I had looked on it as an outstanding example of how not to act. The people did not mourn her. How could they when they could smell the smoke from Smithfield? But that was in the past. This was the time for rejoicing. Young Elizabeth had taken the place of aging Mary, and the ties with Spain, that hated enemy, were broken. They looked forward to golden days and they must not be disappointed.

I had decided that I should remain a few days at Hatfield House out of respect for my sister. It was two days after her death before I was formally proclaimed Queen at the gates.

The next day I held my first Privy Council. Hatfield House had become a Court. People were gathering there all hoping for some place in my service. But I already knew whom I should employ. The trials through which I had passed had given me a good idea of whom I could trust and who had the ability to serve me as would be necessary. Therefore I was delighted to welcome William Cecil to Hatfield for I had never forgotten his help and was well aware of his astuteness. I had made up my mind that when I formed a government, he should be part of it.

At that first Council meeting I got some inkling of the state of the country, and it was decidedly depressing. We were sadly weakened; our exchequer pitiably lacking; food was dear; we were at war with France and Scotland, and the French had recaptured Calais so that we no longer had a foothold in France. But there was one thing I had always known and that was that wars brought no good to either side. Perhaps because I was a woman I had no desire to indulge in them. I had no glorious dreams of riding into battle; my victories should be those of diplomacy. I remember William Cecil's once saying that a country gains more in a year of peace than by ten years of war. I agreed with that sentiment, and I made up my mind that my country should not go to war unless it was absolutely necessary to do so.

The more I thought of it the more I knew that Cecil was the man for the most influential post in the government, and at the first meeting of the Council I announced that I had chosen him for my chief Secretary of State. I did keep certain members of Mary's Council in office. The Earl of Arundel and Lord William Howard were two of them, and another was William Paulet, Marquess of Winchester, whom I made Lord Treasurer. Nicholas Bacon was Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, and Sir Francis Knollys, who was a second cousin by marriage, became Vice Chamberlain. He was a firm Protestant and had found it necessary to leave the country during Mary's reign, but I knew he was a good honest man, and I liked to favor my mother's relations, provided they had the ability.

I was satisfied that I had built up a strong government, and it suddenly occurred to me that none of the members I had chosen was young. Cecil, oddly enough, was the youngest, and he was thirty-eight. I was glad of this for I was a great believer in experience—a valuable asset which few people have the wit to appreciate. But being aware for so long that sooner or later I could become Queen, I had many times planned which men I would choose to serve me. It was exhilarating to be in the position to make those plans reality.

We were no longer going to be ruled by priests. I had a company of able and trustworthy men and I intended to turn my country from debt and bankruptcy into a great state when every man and woman in it should be proud to be English.

I had to give Kat a post to keep her close to me so I made her my first Lady of the Bedchamber and her delight in her new dignity greatly amused me.

“It will make no difference to me, queen or not,” she told me. “You'll still be my Elizabeth and I shall say what I please.”

“You will have to be careful, Kat,” I warned her. “Only fools anger princes.”

“Well, you have always said I was a fool, mistress.”