Armada

The summons had come unexpectedly and Young cursed his unpreparedness. Upon arriving in Madrid, he had been told to continue on the additional twenty-eight miles to the magnificent palace where Philip now spent most of his time and from where he ruled the vastness of his empire. That the King had requested a personal audience was auspicious. Young had never met Philip, despite the longevity of his exile in Spain and his almost constant contact with one or other of the King’s personal advisors.

The sudden change made Young nervous, not least because he was about to meet one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also being presented with an incredible opportunity to advance. Drake’s attack on Cadiz and his piracy off the coast of Portugal had raised the tempo of the conflict. Why else therefore would Philip have summoned him here, if not to consult with him directly and garner his advice on Drake and other matters of national interest relating to England? For the first time Young was about to penetrate the possessive circle of advisors and speak directly to the monarch and as he paced the courtyard he steeled his determination to make a good first impression.

Movement caught his eye and he saw Don Rodrigo de Torres beckon to him from the entrance of the basilica. He hurried across the courtyard, closing his eyes slightly against the glare of sunlight that reflected off every surface.

‘We must hurry, your grace,’ de Torres said as he led Young inside.

The narthex of the basilica was cool and dark, but beyond the interior opened out into a huge space dominated by a dome above the crossing. Light poured in through the windows of the cupola, illuminating the magnificent frescoes and intricate reredos and emphasizing the incredible height of the building. Mass had just ended and Young could see Philip standing at the top of the church speaking with a priest.

In the moment he had taken to look about the interior in awe de Torres had walked on ahead and Young was forced to quicken his step to catch him. They came to a stop some ten yards short of the King and waited. Young took the chance to study the man who reigned over one of the largest empires in the world. Although his physique was slight, he was a handsome man. Young started involuntarily as Philip glanced at him over his shoulder, his gaze penetrating. The King nodded at de Torres and the two men stepped forward, bowing courteously.

Philip dismissed his priest. ‘Don Rodrigo. We are pleased to see you.’

‘Your majesty is most gracious,’ de Torres replied, turning slightly to Young. ‘May I introduce to you, the Duke of Greyfarne, Nathaniel Young.’

‘Ah yes, our English ally,’ Philip said. ‘We have heard much of you.’

Young bowed his head in gratitude.

‘Thank you, your majesty. I am honoured to hear my humble service has come to your attention.’

‘Yes,’ Philip said, drawing out the word, his mouth twisting slightly, ‘it has indeed been noted. As has your lack of service.’

Young blanched at the softly spoken censure.

‘We remain disappointed that the fleet of the Jezebel, Elizabeth, approached our lands unannounced.’

‘I assure you, your majesty, I am doing all I can to secure good intelligence from Plymouth and Dover.’

‘Your assurance will not redeem our ship, the Sao Phelipe, and its valuable cargo,’ Philip said coldly. ‘Or undo the injury to us.’

‘I will redouble my efforts, your majesty,’ Young stammered, unable to avert his gaze from the King’s withering look.

‘See that you do,’ Philip replied, his eyes darting to de Torres before returning to Young. ‘We have little use for those who enjoy the benefits of our protection while contributing nothing in return.’

The King turned on his heel and walked away, his retinue following discreetly behind him. De Torres and Young bowed deeply to his back and as they rose de Torres set off towards the exit once more. Young followed. He was stunned by the brevity of the meeting and deeply shocked by the King’s abrupt, caustic tone.

‘My God, de Torres. I never expected … What must I do?’

‘Not here,’ de Torres hissed. ‘Sound travels too easily in this place.’

They came out into the courtyard and de Torres led Young to the centre. When he rounded on Young, his expression was furious.

‘Curse you, Englishman. Your failure will ruin us both.’

‘I cannot be held responsible for the lack of response from my contacts in England,’ Young countered defensively.

‘You don’t understand,’ de Torres continued, his voice trembling with rage. ‘I knew the King was angry over the losses caused by Drake but I didn’t realize he held you partly responsible, and therefore me by association.’

‘Then what do you suggest?’ Young replied, angrily. ‘I have told his majesty I will redouble my efforts.’