Elizabeth I Read Free

William Cecil, Lord Burghley, my chief minister, wished to see me on urgent business.
    It must be urgent. He knew I did not conduct business before noon.

    I welcomed him, while dreading his news. He was dear to me; if anyone must bring bad tidings, I wished it to be Burghley.
    “Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing as low as his rheumatic spine would permit. “But it was imperative that you see this.” He thrust a rolled-up scroll into my hand. “It’s from Philip.”
    “Addressed to me? How thoughtful!” I clutched the parchment in my hand, feeling its importance in its very weight.
    “Hardly, Your Majesty.”
    “He used the best vellum,” I said, trying to joke.
    Burghley did not smile.
    “I meant to be witty,” I said. “Have I lost my touch?”
    He forced the corners of his mouth up. “No, Your Majesty. I marvel that you can find humor even in such as this.” He took the scroll from me. “Hundreds of them, loaded in the holds of the Armada. Like seeds of evil, to be sown here in England.”
    “Unlike dandelion down that floats by itself in the wind, these cannot be planted unless Spanish boots walk the land. And they will not.”
    “Secretary Walsingham’s agents managed to steal this one, and also a copy of a letter drawn up by one of King Philip’s advisers. It almost seems there is nothing he can’t procure, or uncover.”
    I took the letter. It was in Spanish, of course, but that was no problem for me. As I read it, however, I almost wished I could not have understood. It was a carefully thought-out memorandum and recommendation to the Spanish king about what should be done once they had conquered England. I was to be taken alive and conveyed to the pope.
    “I do not need to guess what His Holiness would decree,” I said. “The Bull states that”—I twitched my fingers, signaling Burghley to hand it back to me, and my eyes found the quote—“that my deeds and shortcomings are such that ‘some of them make her unable to reign, others declare her unworthy to live.’ He pronounces that he deprives me of all authority and princely dignity, declaring me to be illegitimate and absolving my subjects from obedience to me. So, His Holiness—the former Grand Inquisitor of Venice—would prepare a fine bonfire for me.” I shuddered. It was no joking matter. It went on to order everyone to ally with the “Catholic army” of the Duke of Parma and of the “King Catholic”—that is, Philip II of Spain. He concluded by promising a plenary indulgence for all those who helped to overthrow me.
    At the last, I did laugh. “Indulgences! Now there’s something the world still wants!” It was the abuse of indulgences that had led Martin Luther to start his rebellion against the Catholic Church. “They are not very creative in finding new rewards, are they?” I flung the Bull down.
    “He has also offered a million ducats to the Spanish as an incentive for invading England.”
    I stared at Burghley. “He is putting a bounty on us?”
    Burghley gave a dismissive cock of the head. “The Peasant Pope, as he likes to be known, is a clever haggler. The money will not be awarded until the Spanish actually set foot here. There is no payment in advance.”
    “So either way, he wins.” Shrewd old bird. Did he hope to make England into carrion he could scavenge? Never! “Call Secretary Walsingham and the Earl of Leicester to a meeting. We should discuss the situation before the full Privy Council meets. You three are the mainsprings of the government.”
    Burghley shook his head.
    “No false modesty. You know it is true. You are my Spirit, Leicester my Eyes, and Walsingham my vigilant Moor. Call the meeting for this afternoon.”
    I rose, signaling that our talk was ended. I carefully put the damning papers in my correspondence box and turned the key.

    It was time for the midday dinner. Ordinarily I ate in the withdrawing chamber with a few attendants, although a ceremonial table was always set