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The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [150]

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that he was adding England to his vast Hapsburg family domains. He had been disappointed when, at her death, the English council had politely but firmly told him he wasn’t wanted. Not that you could fault his persistence: he had offered repeatedly to marry Elizabeth, who had played him along for years. But the King of Spain was not to be trifled with. Not only had this English queen spurned him; she made friends and flirted marriage with his rivals the French. Her seafaring buccaneers – they were legalized pirates, really – raided his shipping; she aided the Protestants who rebelled against Spanish rule in the Netherlands. She had proved to be a heretic and the Pope wanted her deposed. When, at the start of 1587 she had executed the Catholic Mary Queen of Scots it was the final excuse he needed. With the Pope’s blessing he prepared a huge fleet.

The Spanish attack upon England would have taken place that very summer if that boldest of English buccaneers, Sir Francis Drake, had not sent fire ships into Cadiz and destroyed half the Spanish fleet. By the end of the summer, as Clement and his mother were contemplating the family wedding in Salisbury, though the danger seemed to be past that year, few people imagined that Philip of Spain had given up. He would surely try again. It was his nature.

‘We shall soon be delivered, Clement.’ It was ‘delivered’ as far as his mother was concerned; not ‘invaded’.

‘You have definite news?’

‘Don Diego’ – this was Catherine’s husband – ‘has risen far. He is to be a great captain in the army that will come.’ She smiled with satisfaction. ‘It will come, Clement, with the banner of the true Church. And then the faithful of England will rise.’

He had no doubt that she believed it. Encouraged largely by contact with people like the Lady Albion, the Spanish Ambassador had assured his royal master that at least twenty-five thousand Englishmen under arms would flock to join the Catholic army as soon as it set foot on English soil. It had to be so. Wasn’t it God’s will? And Queen Elizabeth herself, whatever she might say, was by no means confident of the loyalty of her Catholic subjects. The fact that some of the southern shore defences might be in the hands of Catholic sympathizers had already caused her loyal Secretary Cecil some alarm.

Yet would they rise? Albion’s own estimate was different. English Catholics might not like Queen Elizabeth much, but they had lived under her rule for thirty years, now. Few of them wanted to be subjects of Spain. ‘English Catholics long for the return of their religion, Mother,’ he said. ‘But few of them want to be traitors.’

‘Traitors? We cannot be traitors if we serve the true God. They are afraid.’

‘Doubtless.’

‘So they must be given heart. They must be led.’

He said nothing.

‘You lead part of the muster in the Forest, Clement. Is it not so?’ All along the southern coastal regions, musters of men had been raised in every parish – a local militia to resist the Spanish if they landed. ‘And the muster point for the Forest is down by the shore battery?’

‘Yes.’ He had been quite proud of his work with the muster that spring, even if they were still poorly armed.

‘But you do not mean, of course, to oppose the Spanish when they land?’

‘I?’ He stared at her. Did she imagine he was going to act the traitor – join the Spanish – for the faith?

But now she smiled. ‘Clement, I have news that will bring you joy. I have a letter for you.’ She reached into her black gown and from some secret recess drew out a little roll of parchment which she handed to him in quiet triumph. ‘It is a letter, Clement – a warrant – from your brother-in-law, Don Diego. He gives you your instructions. There may be more in the spring. They are coming next summer, without fail. God’s will be done.’

He took the letter from her in a daze. ‘How came you by this?’ he asked hoarsely.

‘Through your sister, of course. There is a merchant who carries me her letters. And other things.’

‘But, Mother. If this should ever be discovered. Cecil and the council have spies …’ And very good ones;

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