They had hoped for the Bishop of London, but he had declared himself ill. Essex's chaplain, who had the advantage over the Bishop in that he actually believed in God, read the specially written prayer. Heads bowed. Even the horses seemed to sense the occasion, and calmed down. It was so silent that the brisk wind could be heard flapping the pennants tied to the spears.
'Almighty God and most merciful Father…'
The chaplain's voice was thin, half blown away on the breeze.
The vengeful words, asking for destruction to be hurled on the heads of England's enemies, seemed more futile than threatening. The final 'Amen' rolled round the street and its close-packed houses like a subtle roll of thunder.
There was a shouted order and, led by the Earl, the mounted men wheeled round and rode for the embarkation at Chester. Old women, men and boys started to shout and cheer, a gathering crowd crying out their good wishes and blessings, an old woman with tears in her eyes at the sight of the fine Lord on his magnificent charger.
The weather seemed set fine until the party, swelled by even more hangers-on, reached the fields of Islington. There, out of nowhere, black clouds boiled up. Within seconds the fine plumes on the hats of the officers lay slicked down onto wet cloth, horses and men were drenched by the sudden downpour and large lumps of hail bounced off the track, turned instantly into mud.
The old woman who had cried at the sight of Essex had followed the slow-moving train of baggage carts, despite the evident pain in her legs. She stopped now, tears of rain dripping down her lined cheeks.
'It's an omen,' she whispered, 'an omen.'
There was no one to hear her, the driving noise of wet rain on cloth, flesh and ground drowning out all other noises except for the jingle of harness and the squelch of hooves and feet on the roadway.
Chapter 8
April to July, 1599 Ireland
'E can award knighthoods — and is doin' it by the sackload, as it 'appens,' said Mannion. He was referring to the Earl of Essex. 'E can proclaim someone a traitor, 'ang 'im or pardon 'im, as and when 'e wants. 'E can raise taxes — in fact, the only bloody thing 'e can't do is mint money with 'is 'ead on it.' Mannion took another bite at the chicken leg he held in his massive paw, leaving a shred of meat hanging out of his mouth as he carried on. 'And the only other bloody thing 'e can't do is decide what to do!'
The Council of Ireland had been meeting endlessly, while the army kicked its heels.
'I suppose 'e'll ask to see you again,' said Mannion.' 'E usually does. Though God knows why, seein' as 'ow he don't show any sign of listening.'
Gresham shrugged his shoulders, and dropped off' the low stone wall on which he and Mannion had been sitting. George had gone off earlier for a meal.
'He knows what I think…' As if on cue, a man in tangerine livery stepped out from round a corner of the castle and asked
Gresham if he would accompany him. At least Essex's servants were more polite than Cecil's.
Essex had moved from the Council Room to a side chamber. He was without Southampton, Blount or Meyrick, the only other person present a young page with a bruised face. Gresham had heard about that. Apparently the boy had dropped a jug of ale at supper the night before, and splashed the Earl's doublet. Essex had stood up and punched the boy, hard enough to fell him to the ground, then dragged him up by his hair, bent him over the table and thrashed him with a horsewhip. It had shocked many of the Irish there, not least because of the sudden violence of the action. The boy stood, eyes red, trying not to tremble with a jug and two simple pewter mugs on a tray. He had blond hair and pale-blue eyes.
‘Pour,' said Essex, and the page did so without being able to conceal the trembling of his hands. Gresham winked at the boy, feeling sorry for him. No one ever had much time for a page. He would let the dust settle for a day and then get Mannion to take him hawking for an afternoon, give him a decent meal. It usually didn't take much to cheer up a boy like him, and his stripes would heal soon enough.
'They tell me, my Council, very different things from your advice. They say Tyrone is reinforcing rebels in the south, in Leinster and Munster. They say we need to march there and destroy these reinforcements and only then move north and attack Tyrone.'
'There's no evidence of these reinforcements, other than hearsay that could easily have come from men paid to say it. Settlers in the southern counties always stress the danger they're in, to persuade you to give them support. The sight of our army in those provinces is as important to the settlers as any battles we fight. And if Tyrone's unwise enough to reinforce those in the south, it's all the less people to fight if we meet him in his stronghold.'
Gresham was getting tired of saying the same thing over and over again.
'They say there is no transport to resupply us if we take off to the north’ said Essex, undeterred.
'They mean,' replied Gresham, 'that it's far more dangerous to resupply you in the north. They forget how an army can forage for itself, or go on hard rations for a while.'
'What think you of my new Master of Horse?' asked Essex. Had he heard Gresham's earlier replies? For all the attention he paid them Gresham might as well have spent the time mouthing silently. This was getting very boring.
'My Lord, you know what I think of the Earl of Southampton. And he, no doubt, likewise of me. I think he's a piece of shit, with the same ability to rise to the top whatever water he's in. You also know what I think about your appointing him your Master of Horse, despite a direct prohibition from the Queen. You've enough enemies, without making a further one of the person you most need as your friend. And why, oh why do you have to make so many people knights? It infuriates the Queen — and some of the people you've knighted are just plain apologies for humankind!'
Essex had awarded knighthoods in profusion, as was his habit. Gresham knew why he did it. Underneath his bravado the Earl craved popularity; this was a cheap route to it.
Essex's brow furrowed. As usual, he ignored the question he did riot want to answer.
'The Queen is ill-advised, has always been ill-advised.' He looked up at Gresham. 'You know my problem? I have no feel for Ireland. I can't sense it, as I can sense England — its fields, its seasons, its pulse.' At times Essex looked like a little schoolboy, lost and rather forlorn. Yet this was the man who had savagely beaten a page.
'You've decided to take a large party to the southern counties,' Gresham said flatly.
'How did you know?' asked Essex.
'I guessed it a week ago. It'll let you 'sense' Ireland, as you wish and need to do. It will reassure the settlers. It might allow you some easy combat to bed in the army and test the opposition. It'll mean there will be rich pasture in the more barren north when you do move there after Tyrone.'
It will also let you prance ahead of your army on your fine horse and receive the cheers of the settlers as you come into their towns, thought Gresham.
'You've summed up what was said at the Council meeting admirably,' said Essex. 'And still you think I'm wrong?'
'Yes,' said Gresham. 'But when people tell you you're wrong you dig your noble heels in and become even more stubborn, and determined.'
'Your plan? What would it be?' asked Essex.
'Head for Tyrone, force him to fight or to flee. Our intelligence is that he can call on up to twenty thousand men, but they're scattered over the country. If he's sent his men to the south then he's weakened his northern force even more. Yellow River proved how good his men are. But they aren't used to formal battle. Ours are. Now is our time to strike.'
'I dare not.' There was a tone of finality in Essex's voice. 'There you have it. England's noble commander dare not head straight for his enemy. I daren't because I come here to our Irish friends as a man given command firstly only by his link with the Queen and his position as her favourite, and secondly as a man with a reputation for rash and imprudent action. Someone has done their work well,' he added darkly. 'If I'm to retain the support of my
