We did sleep a little, me and Sarah sharing the little cot, and Olwen on a pallet, with poor Masou by the door. But we had to wake up again at about two in the morning because we were nearly there.
As we sailed back into Tilbury, Drake had his gig ready to go up the Thames, and we came to Greenwich watersteps before it was light. Obviously, the great watergate was closed and locked, but there was a boat unloading loaves of bread by the kitchen steps already.
Lady Sarah and Olwen were muffled up in cloaks, and I led them in—still disguised as a page—telling the Yeoman that they were friends visiting Lady Sarah. I could tell he didn’t believe me, though. He probably thought there was something scandalous going on with the courtiers.
We went through some of the rarely used back passages that Masou knew of, and slipped into our own bedchamber, while Masou kept watch. Then he went off to his own sleeping place to rest.
“I am utterly exhausted,” Sarah said loudly, as Olwen helped her off with her stays. “I am sure it will take me several days to recover from such a terrible ordeal.”
Mary Shelton woke up, and sighed in relief when she saw that we had all returned safely. She was looking quite ill herself, with red eyes and bags under them as well.
Ellie awoke, too, and sat up looking ever so much better—no fever, rosy cheeks. I’d say she was even a little less thin.
Mary climbed out of bed. “What happened to you, Grace?” she demanded, clasping her hands. “Where have you been? I was so desperately worried! I’ve been praying and praying for your safe return. I nearly went and told the Queen when you weren’t back by last night!”
“Good thing I had the sense to stop you, eh?” said Ellie. “I know Grace.” She gave me a big hug, and squawked with laughter at how I looked with my hair short, and in boys’ clothes. I took them off and bundled them up for her to take back to the tumblers’ tiring room. Then I changed my shift and got into bed, with every bone in my body aching with relief and tiredness.
Mary Shelton was so kind, she even said she’d wait to hear the whole story until I had slept. And then my eyes closed by themselves, as Lady Sarah got on with telling of her adventures.
Before I knew it, it was midday and Mary Shelton was shaking me awake for dinner. She had brought a tray of food, which we demolished. I was absolutely starving, and even Ellie was impressed at how much I ate.
I have spent the afternoon writing everything I could remember of my adventures in my daybooke. After all, I was ill with a quinsy, wasn’t I? And so was Lady Sarah. It was essential that nobody find out where Sarah had really been, for even though she was kidnapped and taken against her will, her reputation would still be ruined if the truth came out. So we stayed in our chamber and let it be known that we couldn’t possibly attend the Queen when we were both still so ill.
When I’d written down my adventures (thank goodness I’d been able to make some notes or I’d never have remembered everything), I read selected bits out to Mary and Ellie, and Sarah and Olwen, and they laughed and gasped and oohed, just as if I were a proper storyteller.
By then, Ellie was so much better that, when the coast was clear, she crept out of the bedchamber and went back to the laundry.
Mary Shelton went to fetch my Uncle Cavendish this evening, so that he could examine Sarah and me, and pronounce us recovered from the quinsy. He came and looked at our throats, felt our pulses and foreheads—then solemnly pronounced our quinsies quite abated, thanks to his care.
Masou came creeping in to see us, too, and I had to read my account to them all again, with Masou adding comments when he thought I had forgotten something important. Mary, Sarah, and Olwen all listened and gasped in disbelief and clapped. I’ve even started to wonder myself if I really did all that—did I really climb a mast, fight in a battle?
THE ELEVENTH DAY OF MAY,
IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1569
I think Her Majesty is wonderful, the way she understands.
This morning Mrs. Champernowne came bustling in: Sarah and I were to attend the Queen in the Presence Chamber, now we had been pronounced well again.
Lady Sarah helped me to pin up my short hair with a hairpiece, to make it look as if I still had it long, and then, damasked and pearled, off we all went to the Presence.
Lady Jane gasped when she saw Lady Sarah, who ignored her with great aplomb as she sailed past. “Are you recovered of your illness now, dear Lady Sarah?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you,” said Sarah. “My quinsy is quite gone.”
“It has been very quiet without you.” Lady Jane’s arched eyebrows went up a bit when she said this.
“How kind of you to say so …” Sarah was positively simpering.
The trumpets blared and we all rose to curtsy and dispose ourselves neatly. Her Majesty was staring hard at me—which worried me a little—but then she smiled, and I thought she probably wasn’t angry.
And then in came Captain Drake himself, followed by Mr. Newman, who was carrying a bolt of beautiful samite silk, which he placed in front of the Queen on the dais.
“Your Majesty,” said the Captain with a bow. “With your permission, I would like to present this bolt of silk to my Lady Sarah Bartelmy, as a compensation for the gown that was ruined when she fell—” He’d turned to smile at Lady Sarah, and seen me sitting demurely with my needlework. “That was … er … ruined by sea water …” He trailed off, still staring at me.
“Ah yes, Captain,” the Queen replied smoothly, “perhaps you remember my Lady Grace Cavendish, our youngest Maid of Honour. She turned the winch for the most notable contest between the Spanish galleon and the purposed English race-built ship.” And she gestured for me to come forward.
I stood up and went to Her Majesty.
Drake looked from me to the Queen and his mouth was opening and shutting like a codfish. “She … ah … Do you have a brother, my lady?” he asked.
I curtsied to him and looked demurely at the floor. “No, sir, I am an only child.”
“Perhaps a cousin named Gregory?” he pressed.
“No, sir.” I stared straight up at those vivid blue eyes and I couldn’t resist it. I winked. Then I looked at the Queen, who had a very peculiar expression on her face—half disapproval, half amusement. She knows! I thought at once.
I’d wager all London to a turnip that, last eventide, Captain Drake had told Her Majesty the tale of what happened, as a wild romantical sea captain’s tall tale. The Queen will have formed her own conclusions about that enterprising pageboy, Gregory. And she dearly loves to tease a handsome man.
“Ah … And what have you been doing these last few days, my lady?” Captain Drake asked me, recovering swiftly.
“Oh, sir, I have been in bed with a terrible quinsy,” I replied, and then felt reckless: “Why, I had such a fever I dreamed I was in a sea battle and that a cat brought her kittens up to the fighting top while the cannons were firing!” Just for a second I caught the Queen’s eye and nearly ruined all by laughing—for I could see that she was near to bursting, too.
The Queen can be most subtle and tactful when she wants. She would have stopped me going if she had known in advance, just as Ellie said, and I would have been in terrible trouble if I had been caught. But to bring off such a venture with no mishap, and save Lady Sarah from disgrace as well—that pleased her. If ever she should ask me whether I was Gregory, I will tell her the truth, of course. But I’ll wager she never will—and will be most careful not to find out about it, either … officially.
Drake was staring at me, blue eyes boring into mine—but I didn’t mind a bit, and just stared him right back. I’m a Maid of Honour. Only a madman would accuse a Maid of Honour of being in a sea battle.
Suddenly Drake shouted with laughter and bowed to me and the Queen together. “By God, Your Majesty,” he said. “By God, when we have Maids of Honour such as these in England, no wonder all the world is in awe of us!”
And for the rest of the audience, while the Queen thanked
him for his gift of treasure and a prize ship for the rebuilding of the Navy, he would look at me every so often, and grin suddenly, like a boy.
Meanwhile, Lady Sarah sat with a satisfied little smile on her face like a cat at a cream bowl, while Lady Jane scowled down at her blackwork with a face of thunder.
And I smiled secretly to myself, for here was another mystery successfully unravelled by Her Majesty’s own Lady Pursuivant—with not a little help from Masou—and Gregory the page, of course. …
GLOSSARY
alchemist— a name given to a kind of chemist who sought to turn ordinary metals into gold. Some alchemists also sought the key to eternal life and a universal cure for disease.
Allah akhbar— an Islamic war cry. It means “God is great.”
Allemayne— Germany
aqua vitae —brandy
banshee— a spirit in Irish folklore well known for wailing loudly
Bedlam —the major asylum for the insane in London during Elizabethan times—the name came from the Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlehem
biggin cap —a child’s hat
blackwork —black embroidery on white linen
bracer— an arm or wrist protector used by an archer
brig— a small ship with two square-rigged sails, often used for piracy
brocade— a rich, gold-embroidered fabric
bumroll— a sausage-shaped piece of padding worn round the hips to make them look bigger
buttery— confusingly, this was where barrels of beer, wine, and brandy were kept for people to fetch drinks from
cable tiers— the area on a ship where the anchor chain (or cable) was stored
capstan— a large winch, often used for hauling up the anchor or anything else that was particularly heavy
Chamberer— a servant of the Queen who cleaned her chamber for her, which the Maids of Honour and Ladies-in-Waiting, of course, could not be expected to do
citron— a citrus fruit similar to a lemon but with a very thick rind
close-stool— a portable toilet comprising a seat with a hole in it on top of a box with a chamber pot inside
Cloth of Estate— a kind of awning that went over the Queen’s chair to indicate that she was the Queen
Clown’s All-Heal— a plant, also known as St. John’s wort
codpiece— a flap or bag that concealed the opening in the front of a man’s breeches
copper— usually a copper saucepan or cauldron used for cooking
damask— a beautiful, self-patterned silk cloth woven in Flanders. It originally came from Damascus—hence the name.
daybooke— a book in which you would record your sins each day so that you could pray about them. The idea of keeping a diary or journal grew out of this. Grace uses her daybooke as a journal.
dottle— partly burned tobacco in the bowl of a pipe
doublet— a close-fitting padded jacket worn by men
Duke of Alva— the Spanish ruler in the Netherlands during Elizabethan times
false front— a pretty piece of material sewn to the front of a plain petticoat so that it would show under the kirtle
farthingale— a bell- or barrel-shaped petticoat held out with hoops of whalebone
fighting top— a platform halfway up a ship’s mast where a Navy man could stand and shoot
fire pot— a clay pot, filled with material that would easily catch fire, used as a missile in battle and to carry hot coals
fletching— the feathers on an arrow
forecastle— the foremost part of the upper deck of a ship
French cut— fashionably tight and curvy
galleon— a heavy square-rigged sailing ship used for war or trade, especially by the Spanish
galley— the area of a ship where the crew’s meals were cooked. In Elizabethan times the galley was deep down in the ship’s bilges, where there was maximum stability and where the cooking fire could be put out easily if necessary.
gig— a long, narrow rowing boat
grappling irons— large hooks on ropes. These were thrown from one ship onto another to pull it closer so that it could be boarded and captured.
Habsburg— the family name of Philip II and one of the great ruling dynasties of Europe
halberd— a weapon consisting of a battle-axe and pike mounted on a long handle
harbinger— a courtier who went ahead to announce the monarch
henbane of Peru— also known as tobacco. In Elizabethan times it was regarded as a great cure for phlegm.
Henchman— a young serving man, often related to the person he was serving. His work might well involve acting as a bodyguard.
hose— tight-fitting cloth trousers worn by men
jakes— an Elizabethan term for an outside toilet
jerkin— a close-fitting, hip-length, usually sleeveless jacket
kirtle— the skirt section of an Elizabethan dress
Lady-in-Waiting— one of the ladies who helped look after the Queen and who kept her company
lateen— a narrow, triangular sail on a very long yard set at an angle to the mast
lye— a strongly alkaline ingredient in soap
Maid of Honour— a younger girl who helped to look after the Queen like a Lady-in-Waiting
man-of-war— a warship
marmelada— a very thick jammy sweet often made from quinces
Mary Shelton— one of Queen Elizabeth’s Maids of Honor (a Maid of Honor of this name really did exist; see below). Most Maids of Honor were not officially “Ladies” (like Lady Grace), but they had to be born of gentry.
merchant venturer— a person who invested in overseas trade
merchanter or merchantman— a trading ship
Muscovy— the kingdom of Moscow; Old Russia
Mussulman— an old name for a Muslim
Narrow Seas— the English Channel
New Spain— South America
New World— South and North America together
on progress— a term used when the Queen was touring parts of her realm. Such travel was a kind of summer holiday for her.
Parlour— a room off the Hall that was just beginning to be used for eating, among other things
penner— a small leather case that would attach to a belt. It was used for holding quills, ink, knife, and any other equipment needed for writing.
pitch— a black substance similar to tar
poop deck— a deck right at the stern of a ship
popinjay— a parrot
posset— a hot drink made from sweetened and spiced milk curdled with ale or wine
potherbs— vegetables
pottage— a thick soup
Presence Chamber —the room where Queen Elizabeth would receive people
pursuivant— one who pursues someone else
Queen’s Guard— these were more commonly known as the Gentlemen Pensioners, young noblemen who guarded the Queen from physical attacks
quinsy— very bad tonsillitis
raiment— clothing
Royal Standard— Queen Elizabeth’s flag (not the Union Jack)
samite— a heavy satin fabric
sea beggars— a derogatory term for the Dutch rebels who fought the Spanish at sea
Secretary to the Admiralty— the man in charge of the Navy (as it existed then)
shipworm— teredo worm; a wood-boring beetle that rendered most ships unusable after twenty years, until copper-bottoming came in during the eighteenth century
shipwright— a carpenter expert in shipbuilding and repair
slow match— rope soaked in saltpeter to make it burn slowly and steadily
snips— an early form of scissors without the pivot—a little like small sheep shears
Spaniels— a mispronunciation of Espagnols (Spanish) by the English
statute cap— a blue woollen cap worn by all apprentices to support the woollen industry
stays— the boned, laced bodice w
orn around the body under the clothes. Victorians called the stays a corset.
sterncastle— the back of a warship, built up to allow the crew to board other ships
stomacher— a heavily embroidered or jeweled piece for the center front of a bodice
tinder box— small box containing some quick-burning tinder, a piece of flint, a piece of steel, and a candle for making fire and thus light
tiring room— a room for dressing or changing clothes in
tiring woman— a woman who helped a lady to dress
topman— the aristocrats of the lower deck, these were the sailors who worked high up on the mast and in the yards
tumbler— an acrobat
vein or open a vein— a cut made in a vein to let out “bad” blood. This was used as a cure for almost anything!
Verge of the Court— anywhere within a mile of the Queen’s person
vittles— food
waterman— a man who rowed a ferry boat on the Thames; he was a kind of Elizabethan cabdriver
watersteps —steps leading down to the river
wherry —a Thames boat
willow-bark tincture —a solution made from willow bark, which was good for pain relief but very bad for the stomach. It was later developed into aspirin.
Withdrawing Chamber —the Queen’s private rooms
yard— a long pole on which a sail hangs
A NOTE ABOUT SHIPS AND SAILING …
Forget everything you thought you knew about sea battles and pirates, because in Elizabethan times, war at sea wasn’t as clear-cut as you might imagine!
In the sixteenth century there were no naval uniforms, no press gangs (men who later forced civilians into joining the army and navy), and only a few purpose-built warships, which often doubled as privateer vessels. A privateer was a pirate who preyed upon the ships of one or two countries, as allowed by his sovereign in a letter of marque.
At this time, the Royal Navy was basically a random collection of privateers and armed merchants who volunteered to serve the Queen whenever it was necessary. Very often they weren’t paid unless they captured another ship, and then they received prize money for it.