The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [191]
‘What then?’
‘They will rise.’ He beamed. ‘They will understand that we have come to liberate them from the witch Elizabeth, that murderess who has them in thrall.’
Albion thought of the simple men of the musters, who had just been told that the main cargo of the Spanish galleons was the torture instruments of the Spanish Inquisition. ‘They may not all rise,’ he said cautiously.
‘Oh, a handful of Protestants. I know.’
Albion did not reply. One thing was becoming clear to him. If his brother-in-law was even half correct about the Spanish strategy the dreaded invasion was unlikely to succeed. And he was considering this, and its implications for him personally, when he realized that his brother-in-law was speaking excitedly.
‘… such an opportunity. You and I together. The moment Parma lands we can lead the trained bands from here and sweep up to London to join him.’
‘You want us to put ourselves at the head of a great rising?’
‘It will bring you even further glory, brother. And as for me.’ Don Diego shrugged. ‘Even to ride with you would be a great thing for me.’
Albion nodded slowly. It was a piece of glorious insanity worthy even of his mother. ‘Raising a great force’, he said tactfully, ‘is not so easy in England. Even if the Faith were stronger …’
‘Ah.’ Don Diego looked at him gleefully. ‘That is just the wonder of what has occurred. That is where God’s providence is so clearly seen. Our own Spanish troops’, he added reassuringly, ‘are no better. They have all been promised huge plunder in England. But this, my brother, is just the point. God has placed in our hands all that is needed to do His will. We can pay the troops.’ And seeing Albion’s look of astonishment he waved towards the sea. ‘When I was shipwrecked, all alone, I supposed it was a punishment. But it was not. That ship out there. Under the waterline, the whole hull is filled with silver!’ And he laughed with joy at the wonder of the thing.
‘You had no companions at all?’
‘No. You and I alone, brother, are in possession of this silver. It has been placed in our hands.’
Albion became very thoughtful again.
Motioning the Spaniard to remain where he was, he stood up and moved to the edge of the cliff. The ship had settled down. It would not budge. Not even the high tide would float it off now. As he gazed at the stranded hulk the silver morning sun started to break over the Forest horizon in the east.
He turned to look down at Don Diego. What a strange thing fate was. That he should have encountered the Spaniard in such circumstances, after so many years, and find, moreover, that he liked him. For there was not the least question: this well-meaning, middle-aged Spaniard was a very nice man. Albion sighed.
His mind was going over the ground carefully. He thought of his sister, he thought of himself; he thought of Don Diego with his belief in the Catholic cause and of his mother. He thought of the council, of Gorges, of their suspicions about him. And he thought, very carefully, about the silver. That, he realized, made the situation very interesting. After a while he began to form a plan. As he considered its several aspects it seemed to him that it would work. Meditatively he glanced back, towards the rising sun.
Then he saw her. She was riding alone across the ridge by Lymington. Her cloak was flapping behind her, black and crimson. Her hat was at a mad angle. She looked like some wild apparition, a mounted witch who might canter clean off the ridge and sail up into the air. At the same instant the thought struck him, with a sudden, cold panic: what if she saw him and found Don Diego now?
He threw himself to the ground in terror, realized that the Spaniard was looking at him in astonishment, waved him to be silent and peeped over the tussock in front of him. The Lady Albion was still up there. She had not seen him. She had halted and was staring out to sea. He continued to observe her for a moment or two, then slid back into the hollow to join the Spaniard.
‘Is everything all right?