1587. England is at war with Spain. The people of Devon wait in terror for King Philip of Spain’s mighty armada to unleash untold devastation on their land.
Roberda, daughter of a French Huguenot leader, has been managing the Dartington estate in her estranged husband Gawen’s absence. She has gained the respect of the staff and tenants who now look to her to lead them through these dark times.
Gawen’s unexpected return from Ireland, where he has been serving Queen Elizabeth, throws her world into turmoil. He joins the men of the west country, including his cousin, Sir Walter Raleigh, and his friend Sir Francis Drake, as they prepare to repel a Spanish invasion. Amidst musters and alarms, determined and resourceful Roberda rallies the women of Dartington. But, after their earlier differences, can she trust Gawen? Or should she heed the advice of her faithful French maid, Clotilde?
Later Roberda will have to fight if she is to remain Mistress of Dartington Hall, and secure her children’s inheritance. Can she ever truly find fulfilment for herself?
Excerpt
William Putt, the Dartington steward, tells how Sir John Gilbert rallied his men on Warborough Common to repel an invasion, but they watched the Spanish fleet sail on.
The next morning, somewhat refreshed, we gathered in the parlour, eager to hear William’s account.
‘You should have seen Sir John on his white horse! We stood in ranks across the common. Over a thousand of us, there were. Though we weren’t all well equipped, we all stood ready to fight. The lucky few wearing your jack-o’-plates were the envy of them all, ma’am.’
‘Did you see them, William? Did you see the Spanish ships?’ Arthur’s eager face shone, but in stark contrast, William’s expression turned grave. He gave a slow, deliberate nod.
‘That I did, young master. That I did. I hope I never see anything so terrifying again.’ He shook his head from side to side.
‘Did you see my husband?’ Clotilde gave me a black look but I Couldn’t contain my anxiety any longer. William shrugged his shoulders.
‘He was beside Sir John at the start. But then a messenger came – oh my, there were so many of them flying around at such a rate! Post horses commandeered and ready for the riders to change everywhere from here to London and back again. They carry word almost as fast as the beacons.’
I scowled and set my hands on my hips.
‘But what of my husband?’
‘Once the threat of a landing was over, Master Gawen led all his mounted men away. Bound for Tilbury, where Lord Leicester assembles his forces in case the Spanish should succeed and join up with Parma. There’s concern they may launch an attack from Kent or Essex. Or so I believe, ma’am.’
‘As I feared! May God protect him!’ Feeling light-headed, I sank onto the settle, waving Marie away as she thrust a cushion behind me. Margery Searle, the midwife, on hand as my time drew near, gave me a long stare as she took Marie’s place at my side. I ignored her pursed lips and furrowed brow.
‘Tell us more about the ships, William,’ Arthur piped up. ‘What colour were their sails? Could you see the guns?’ Arthur’s cheeks had a feverish glow.
‘Their sails are black as the night sky – like an endless line of black ants, they came crawling across the horizon – all the way from Berry Head to way beyond Hope’s Nose, as far as I could see. They say they sail in convoy, all grouped tight together in a shape like the horns of the new moon. Each of their great ships protects another.’ He took a long draught from the mug and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before he went on.
‘Another rider came from Plymouth, said he’d heard the guns. Sir Francis and Lord Howard had to wait for the tide before they could give chase. They engaged the enemy in fierce fighting. It sounds like they harried the Spanish fleet, but could not stay them, nor break their formation. Those great galleons sailed on to meet the Duke of Palma and his army. Then they’ll likely unleash a multitude of Papist soldiers on our shores.’
Even Arthur fell silent when he heard the chilling truth confirmed by William’s words. While imminent danger no longer threatened Devon, the war was far from done. My mouth was dry with fear as the child wriggled and squiggled inside me.
‘So they sail on to threaten our land!’ I said, my voice shrill. ‘I pray they will keep a close guard on our Queen. God alone knows what world this boy will be born into!’ Margery’s scrutiny bore into me, noticing every detail, until her eyes came to rest on my feet.
‘It would be best if you would sit down, ma’am,’ she said, eyeing my ankles.
‘Nonsense… William has more to tell us. Go on.’ He set down his empty mug with a sigh.
‘Our Devon men have come home. I doubt Sir John could have kept them any longer – they drifted away as soon as those devilish ships had passed Torbay. There’s a lot of muttering about pay – or the lack of it! Yet our English soldiers must still stand ready at Dover or Tilbury or wherever they gather. Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I pray the Queen has the sense to pay those men and see them well fed.’
We were all quiet, digesting the depressing news. At last William spoke in a more encouraging tone.
‘Yet there’s some cause for hope. Our English ships are faster and can turn about. They’re nimble and they can tack into the wind. And we have the finest commanders. Perhaps they’ll catch them before they reach Flanders.’
‘So we have captured no prizes yet, William? Not put any of those Papist fools to the sword?’ Arthur asked. William shook his head, and Arthur collapsed onto a bench, his young face twisted into a frown.
‘Well, now, that’s not quite true, young master,’ William said, and the boy sat up, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. ‘There’s one of them won’t trouble us any more. The Nuestra Senora del Rosario, flagship of Don Pedro de Valdés, who had command of some other great ship.’
‘What do you mean? Has Sir Francis blasted her out of the water?’ Arthur’s face brightened at the prospect.
‘They say Sir Francis took her – but not before some of the damned English Papists she had on board had slipped away! Traitors, the lot of ’em!’
‘Amen to that!’ The words burst out from Marie as she snapped her sewing basket shut. She stared at William as he continued his tale.
‘Sir Francis had the Rosario brought into Torbay. Saw it myself, I did. They say Don Pedro’s taken up and any Spaniards that might fetch a ransom. They took a few more of the crew and some English Papists up to London. May they hang and rot!’ That brought out a ripple of agreement amongst the servants.
‘The Spaniards they didn’t take to London – well, Lord alone knows what they’ll do with them. Taken ’em to Torre Abbey, I heard. Locked ’em up in the barn.’
Although my back ached from standing so long, I rallied my dwindling store of strength and spoke up to cheer them all.
‘The prisoners are not our problem. William, I’m glad to have you back and the other men too! Let us all go about our business as we await more news.’
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