Betrayal Read Free

the Queen goes anywhere, it was quite a procession. The harbingers and trumpeters led the way with the Royal Standard, blasting away on their trumpets, banging drums and shouting, “The Queen! The Queen! Make way for theQueen’s Majesty!” It wasn’t really necessary, because the people looked as if they had been camping out all night to see the Queen, but it did serve to wake a couple who were still asleep, wrapped in blankets, as we went past.
    After the trumpeters marched half the Gentlemen of the Guard in their red velvet, carrying their halberds and looking miserable because their smart red hose was getting badly splashed with mud. Then came the Queen in her litter, then more Gentlemen of the Guard, then us, then the courtiers, and, at the very back, boys and dogs running along, shouting and barking.
    Everybody was waving and cheering, and the Queen was smiling and waving back and blowing kisses. It’s wonderful to watch her whenever she processes anywhere. She lights up and seems somehow bigger and more Queenly—and she never minds how muddy the road is or how smelly the people might be (though she might complain about it afterwards).
    A little girl ran out with a posy of flowers for her. But as Mr. Hatton reached out to take it from her, the Queen stopped him and gave an order for the procession to stop. Mr. Hatton then dismounted andlifted the little girl up for the Queen herself to take flowers from her sticky, outstretched paw. The Queen then gave the little girl a kiss. All the people roared at that. The Queen pinned the posy to her bodice with a flourish.
    I watched Mr. Hatton put the little girl back down on the ground. She curtsied and then, with a shining face, rushed back to tell her mamma and grandmamma all about it.
    Her Majesty then smiled and waved and bowed as the procession moved on.
    Mrs. Champernowne sighed. She was uncomfortably squashed in next to me at the back of the litter. “Tut. We’ll be needing to burn a stick of incense inside that bodice to have all the fleas and lice and nits out of it now,” she moaned.
    We eventually arrived at the dockyards, where they build merchantmen to sail to Spain and New Spain and the Netherlands, and France and Muscovy. All the workmen were lined up in front of the ships, wearing their Sunday best to meet the Queen.
    Mr. Hatton helped the Queen down from her litter. Mr. John Hawkins was there to greet her. I recognized him from the time he had come to Court toask the Queen, personally, to visit her Royal Dockyards.
    “Oh!” Lady Sarah gasped in front.
    Mary Shelton and I craned our necks to see if anybody was slapping anybody.
    Typical Lady Sarah: she was simpering and batting her eyelashes because there were two handsome young men standing behind Mr. Hawkins. One was tall with fair hair and a slightly receding chin. The other was shorter and broader, with a cheerful round face and disarmingly bright blue eyes. They looked to be good friends for I caught the shorter one exchanging appreciative looks with the taller one, who winked back.
    “Your Majesty,” said Mr. Hawkins, “may I present Captain Hugh Derby?” The tall man bowed low. “And Captain Francis Drake.” It was the stockier one’s turn.
    The Queen let them kiss her hand and then stepped onto the planks they had put down to preserve her from the mud. She walked along the line of workmen as they all doffed their blue statute caps and bowed. Mr. Hawkins moved along beside the Queen, introducing and explaining.
    Mrs. Champernowne beckoned Mary and me forwardto help with the Queen’s train, which was wider than the walkway she was standing on.
    “Hold it high, the mud is terrible!” growled the Queen. Then she glanced at Lady Sarah and Lady Jane. “Whatever are those two ninnies at now?” she snapped, frowning at them.
    I looked at the two ninnies. Lady Jane had a very haughty expression on her face, in spite of the fact that she had her foot in a muddy puddle. It was a pity she was