Ships! That was what we needed. Thanks to our foresight over the years we had a considerable navy, but Drake had said that we needed more ships and he was right.

I asked my people for ships and how heartening it was when the City of London, being asked for five thousand men and fifteen ships, immediately offered ten thousand men and thirty ships. That was the spirit of the people when we went out to face the armada.

The Spaniards were boastful. They said there would be one battle at sea and one on land and England would be theirs. I did not boast. I had a feeling that it was dangerous to do so, tempting the fates; but I was supremely confident. Walsingham's men were indefatigable in secret places and I was elated when I heard of the death of the Marquis de Santa Cruz, the Spanish admiral in charge of operations against England, for he was also one of the ablest seamen living. But for him the attack would have been launched earlier, but he, having been greatly impressed by the daring and reputation of El Draque, advised caution. He wanted his armada to be invincible and he needed time to assure himself that it was so.

Philip had upbraided him for sloth, which deeply wounded Santa Cruz, for his zeal was as keen as that of his master, but he was a wiser man. Then suddenly he became ill—no doubt through acute anxiety—and died. It was a great loss to Spain but a benefit to us.

I wanted to say: God is on our side. But I did not. I would not be boastful before victory was won and, whatever good fortune came our way in the end, no one was more conscious than I of the bitter battle which lay ahead.

Philip showed then that he was out of touch with reality when he appointed the Duke of Medina Sidonia as commander of his armada, not because of his skill and experience—he had little of either—but because he belonged to one of the noblest houses in Spain.

It was true that I had chosen Howard of Effingham, scion of one of our noblest families, but he was an able man who had been brought up in a naval tradition. His father, Lord William, and his grandfather Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, had held the post of Lord High Admiral with distinction; and my Vice Admiral was the bold Sir Francis, whose very name struck terror into the Spaniards.

I believed I was better served than Philip, and my men were defending their country which always gives an added zeal and often triumphs over the lust for conquest.

Not only were we preparing our navy but our land defenses also. Vulnerable places like Gravesend were fortified, and we put out barges to block the mouths of rivers to prevent a hostile fleet getting through. All over the country we were preparing for invasion should the gallant sailors fail to hold back the enemy at sea. It was a great joy to me to see the spirit of the people and to know that they were with me.

I was Commander-in-Chief of my army and under me was Robert as Lieutenant-General of the two armies—Lord Hunsdon in command of the second. Robert wrote to me from Tilbury—a letter which I have always preserved for it seemed to me to have been written not only by a soldier but by a lover. In it he set down his views as to how we should proceed if the Spaniards succeeded in setting foot on English soil, but through it all came his great concern for me. After setting out details of how we should march if we had to without much warning, he wrote of me.

“Now for your person, being the most dainty and sacred thing we have in this world to care for, much more for advice to be given in the direction of it, a man must tremble when he thinks of it, specially finding Your Majesty to have that princely courage to transport yourself to your utmost confines of your realm to meet your enemies and to defend your subjects. I cannot, most dear Queen, consent to that, for upon your well doing consists all and some, for your whole kingdom; and, therefore, preserve that above all. Yet will I not that so princely and so rare a magnanimity should not appear to your people and the world as it is. And thus far, if it may please Your Majesty, you may do; withdraw yourself to your home at Havering and your army, being about London, as at Stratford, East Ham, Hackney and those villages thereabout, shall be not only a defense but a ready supply to those counties in Essex and Kent if need be. In the meantime, Your Majesty, to comfort this army and people of both these counties, may, if it please you, spend two or three days to see both the camps and the forts. Tilbury is not fourteen miles at the most from Havering Bower…

“Lastly for myself, most gracious lady, you know what will most comfort a faithful servant; for there is nothing in the world I take that joy in, that I do in your good favor…”

I read and reread that letter. I kissed it; I folded it and put it away.

And I prepared to leave for Tilbury.


* * *

SO I INSPECTED MY troops at Tilbury. Beside me rode Robert, as fine and handsome a figure as ever was, and before me the Earl of Ormond, carrying the sword of state, while a page followed holding my plumed helmet. I was bare-headed and wore a polished steel corselet and a voluminous farthingale. When they saw me my troops broke into prolonged cheering and I was so moved that I was near to tears. I knew that since my accession I had enjoyed a love from my people rarely experienced by a monarch. I had worked hard to preserve it and to appear well in their eyes. They forgave me my faults and remembered my virtues—and that, of course, is the meaning of true love.

They waited for me to address them, which I did in loud ringing tones.

“My loving people, we have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes for fear of treachery; but I do assure you, I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and 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 good will of my subjects; and therefore I have come amongst you as you see at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live or die amongst you all—to lay down for my God and for my kingdoms, and for my people, my honor and my blood even in the dust. I know I have the body of a weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king—and of a King of England too— and think foul scorn that Parma of Spain or any Prince of Europe should dare invade the borders of my realm; to which rather than any dishonor should grow by me, I will myself 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 on the word of a prince, that they shall be duly paid to you. For the meantime my Lieutenant-General shall be in my stead, than whom never prince commanded a more noble and worthy subject; not doubting by your obedience to my General, by your concord in the camp, and your valor in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over the enemies of my God, of my kingdoms, and of my people.”

The cheers rang out. I had never felt so proud, so determined to do well by them. My love for them was as great as theirs for me.

One man shouted: “Is it possible that any Englishman can abandon such a glorious cause or refuse to lay down his life in defense of this heroic Princess?”

That was the mood of the people. And it was the mood to bring about victory.

The events of that time are engraved on my heart forever so that I shall never forget them; nor, I venture to think, will the world. They will be talked of whenever men talk of England and will stand forever as a monument to us and an example to all other nations forevermore. Freedom is worth fighting for; it is worth paying a high price for, because to die for freedom is to leave this life in a blaze of glory which destroys our weaknesses of the past and makes us at one with the heroes.

It was a fine Friday afternoon of the nineteenth of July of that year 1588 when Captain Fleming's pinnacle arrived in haste in Plymouth Harbour with the news that the Spanish armada had been sighted off the Lizard. The whole town was agog—except its Admiral, Sir Francis Drake, who was playing a game of bowls on the Hoe.

Perhaps I was a little impatient when I first heard the story of how he had refused to abandon the game, declaring in his nonchalant way that there was plenty of time to finish the game and beat the Spaniards.

But I knew that was Drake's way. It was that in him which inspired his men with respect and the enemy with terror. Whatever his feelings, he was going to behave as though it were impossible that there could be anything but victory over the enemy.

On Saturday, the churches all over the land were full of people praying for victory. It was a solemn country on that morning, for there was not a man or a woman in England who did not know what it would mean to them if the Spaniards were victorious. Their prayers were earnest; their thoughts were with our sailors. Oh God, we prayed, never, never let the invader touch our shores.

And if they came we must be ready. But they would first have to win the battle at sea.

I had always felt that the savage sea was our ally. It had stood between us and danger many times. It was the reason why no foreign army had ever trodden our shores—except the Norman conquerors, some might say; but we were the Normans partly; we were a mixed race of Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Romans, Normans…It was the blood of all these people who made up an Englishman, so I could say with truth that no invading army had ever conquered us. And never should!