The Autobiography of Henry VIII_ With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers - Margaret George [253]
Spring, 1545. The French invasion was even now being equipped, and it would certainly come before Midsummer’s Day. To ready our coastal defence system, which stretched from Deal to Pendennis, guarding our entire southern flank, I had to extract more money, in the form of loans and taxes, from the people. I expected them to grumble and resist, but they did not.
WILL:
Hal’s enemies expected them to rebel, and were sorely disappointed. The theory went like this: the English people were brutalized by a bloodthirsty, rapacious monarch who denied them the religion they desired (Catholic or Protestant, depending on the speaker); made them sign oaths which they detested; repressed them and robbed them. They but awaited the opportunity to rise up and free themselves from his oppressive yoke. gner, and the Scots traitors. King Hal was right in fighting them, and they would join him in sacrificing to protect their country. Had not the King gone in person to fight? Had he not spent the winter inspecting and fortifying his southern coastal defences? Did he not intend to captain a warship against the Frenchies? Could his countrymen offer less? Gold, jewels, coin, even touching personal possessions like crosses from Jerusalem, ivory combs, and wedding rings arrived every day at Whitehall. Far from revolting against the “tyrant,” the people supported him in his hour of extremity.
HENRY VIII:
I stood prepared for war, to the best of my ability. In the south of England, I had almost a hundred thousand men in arms, divided under three commands: one in Kent under the Duke of Suffolk; one in Essex under the Duke of Norfolk; and one in the west under the Earl of Arundel. My fleet of over one hundred ships lay anchored near the Solent.
In the North, against Scotland, Edward Seymour commanded an army poised right beside the Borders. And standing offshore, the Lord Admiral John Dudley was at sea with twelve thousand men, waiting to grapple with the enemy.
At Boulogne, which the French had vowed to recapture, I had put Henry Howard in charge, to fill the position vacated by Brandon. I prayed that when the time came, his valour would not melt into hotheadedness and bravado.
July 18. It was just after the second anniversary of my marriage, and I had prepared a special celebration for Kate. We would dine aboard Great Harry, my flagship, which was waiting in the Solent, that channel between the Isle of Wight and Portsmouth, on our south coast.
Great Harry had gone through many refurbishings and refittings since her launching in 1514. At the time she was built, navies were but “armies at sea” ... floating platforms carrying soldiers to grapple with enemy soldiers at sea. But now ships were converted into fortresses, stocked with rows of cannon, and the job of sailors was not to engage in hand-to-hand combat with enemy sailors, but to man the killer guns and destroy entire ships. Great Harry, although a bit clumsy and old-fashioned in her overall design, had adapted herself well to the renovations, which pleased me. I did not wish to scrap her, as others had urged. Her sister ship, Mary Rose, had likewise made the transition and was ready to do battle, as soon as the French were sighted. Our information was that Francis had bade his fleet of two hundred thirty-five ships adieu near Rouen some days ago.
Two hundred thirty-five ships ... and we but one hundred. Truly, the hour of testing had come.
Nonetheless I was proud of my forces, proud of my fleet, in a way one can be only when one has offered one’s best. We had poured every sacrifice into our defence and readiness for war; we had stinted nothing. Now God would have to make up the rest.
Lamps were being lighted in the July twilight when Kate and I arrived at the pier to board Great Harry. Kate had dressed in what she laughingly described as her most nautical costume, and I was touched by her efforts to join in the spirit of the occasion.
Stepping on board, I felt a great surge