'How goes it?' Philip asked.
'Well. Our preparations are almost complete and we will be ready to sail by the end of April.'
'Parma's forces are not as great as we once hoped, but he still has a good seventeen thousand men,' Philip said, 'comprising eight thousand Germans and Walloons, four thousand of our own men, three thousand Italians, one thousand Burgundians, and even a thousand English exiles, ready to heap disaster upon their own land. Parma has made plans to protect our flanks in Flanders, and he will be ready to lead his men onto English soil as soon as you have done your work.'
'I have made arrangements for the blessing of the standard in Lisbon on the twenty-fifth of April, the Feast of Saint Mark the Evangelist,' Medina Sidonia said. 'Will you come to oversee the launch of this magnificent enterprise?'
Philip felt a sudden pang of panic. He could not leave El Escorial, and the secret pleasures it held, not even for a night. 'My viceroy, the cardinal archduke, will represent me on that day.'
Medina Sidonia was unhappy with this response, but he bowed and said, 'As you wish. My men would have taken some pleasure in seeing you, but they will understand there is much to do at this momentous time.'
Philip gave a reassuring smile. 'La Invencible is all you need. Once Elizabeth sees the mighty fleet you have amassed, she will surrender without a shot being fired.'
Philip was eager to return to his private quarters and barely noticed the unease in Medina Sidonia's face. 'There are many across Europe who question the wisdom of the coming battle,' the duke began hesitantly. When Philip didn't respond unfavourably, he took strength and continued, 'Our Catholic allies in the Vatican, and Venice, and Prague all fear an emboldened Spain. They believe we are too strong already.'
'One can never be too strong.'
'True, true,' Medina Sidonia responded hastily. 'However, I have heard word that Henri in France is afraid that he will be the next to be crushed. Once England is ours, we can starve the Dutch rebels into submission and then move on his country. And once Western Europe is ours, he says angrily to anyone who will listen, Spain will sweep away the Protestant rule in the German states, in Switzerland, and across Scandinavia.'
'Henri is very wise.' Philip smiled, but when he saw Medina Sidonia become more troubled he added, 'We are strong, too strong for any of them to attempt to throw obstacles in our way, whatever their fears. Wherever we travel-here or in the New World-we see victory. We have a brilliant military commander in Parma with a great force, filled with fury. And the fleet you have amassed will tear through England's sad band of pirates and adventurers. There is no doubt here.'
Medina Sidonia would not be deterred. Now the dam had broken, longheld anxieties were rushing out. 'In thirty years, all our fortune and our might have not subdued the Netherlands. How, then, can we hold England? Even if we take London and remove Elizabeth's head from her shoulders in revenge for what she did to Mary, the rest of that damned country is near lawless. We could be fighting in the North, and the Fens, and Wales, and Cornwall forever.' He caught himself, afraid he had overstepped the boundary. 'And there is the prophecy of Cyprianus Leovitius,' he added quietly.
Philip sighed. 'A prophecy that is in our favour.'
'Based on the numerology hidden in the Revelation of Saint John-'
'It speaks of the year of wonders. The beginning of the final cycle. Upheavals for all. The end of empires. The end of England.'
Medina Sidonia was not convinced. 'Some say-'
'I say!' Philip shouted. 'The end of England! Do not question me!' Steadying himself, he studied the weakness in Medina Sidonia's face before trying to bolster his commander. 'God is on our side. He will not allow us to be defeated. There is much you do not know, much that must be kept secret from you if our plans are to succeed. We have a secret ally, and a weapon of great power that will be at your disposal. England will fall, and such destruction will be wreaked on that country and its people that there will be no doubt to whom the prophecy refers.'
Curtly, he waved his hand to dismiss Medina Sidonia, and then hurried from the reception room as quickly as his gout-ridden feet would carry him. By the time he reached his quarters he had already forgotten the duke, the Armada, and the invasion.
Malantha waited for him, naked, sprawled on the divan, so brazen in her sexuality that he could barely look at her, yet could not look away. As much as he desired her, he was unsettled by the way she watched him; and sometimes, when she fell into the corner of his vision, he was convinced he saw something white and cold and predatory, not Malantha at all.
'I have good news,' she said, without warmth. 'I have spoken with my brother Cavillex, and our plans proceed accordingly. Don Alanzo brings the Silver Skull to Spain.' A brief narrowing of her eyes was replaced by a seductive smile. 'As you acquiesced to his request.'
'He deserves that at least for all his sacrifices.'
'And after that brief respite,' she continued, 'the Skull will be readied to travel with the Armada.'
'And the Shield?'
'Not yet under our control, but that is a trifling matter. It is unnecessary, in the end. England will still be devastated by disease.'
'I worry about so many deaths upon my conscience.' Trembling, he collapsed onto the divan and covered his face.
Sliding next to him, Malantha breathed into his ear, 'God will forgive that, for the great works you do in His name.' Gently, she pressed her breasts against his arm. The heat rose in Philip rapidly. 'The High Family will ensure no other country stands in your way.'
'You are sure?' He slipped a hand onto her thigh, his remorse already evaporated.
'My brothers have the ears of the greatest in Europe.'
'You spin your web well.'
'All for you, my love. All for Spain.'
Another flash of chalky skin and red-rimmed eyes that held no compassion. He screwed his eyes shut and drove the image out, allowing himself to be pushed back as she climbed astride him. Within seconds he was lost in her lips and her perfume, like honeysuckle, and all his troubles and doubts and fears were washed away.
CHAPTER 29
ilthy from the road and exhausted after nearly two weeks' hard riding, Nathaniel guided his foaming, sweat-flecked horse through the dirty, crowded streets of London. It was not long after noon, the sun unseasonably hot for early April. He had found the city abuzz, as always, but for the first time there was a pervading uncertainty in the faces of the people he passed. In the time he had been away, the fear of the Spanish invasion had magnified, visiting merchants from the European ports spreading dark rumours and gossip as quickly as they distributed their wares.
At the gates of the Palace of Whitehall, Nathaniel could barely believe he had reached his destination. Since he had left Edinburgh as dawn broke all those long days and nights ago, he felt his life had hung by a thread many times. Within hours of his journey beginning, five hooded raiders had swept down from the hills to pursue him along the valley between the high summits that stretched south along Scotland's lowlands, and he was only saved by a small group of the king's men who had been sent to accompany him to the border. The fighting had been ferocious and many of James's men had died; Nathaniel had heard their death-screams echoing among the hillsides, and when he glanced back he had seen flashes of mysterious fire.
Once he had crossed the border into England, the attacks were not so overt, but he had been shadowed by riders near the moors as he passed Carlisle, and again as he made his way through the high peaks that formed the spine of the country. Someone had attempted to break into his room during a terrifying night in an inn, when every time he locked the door it would mysteriously open whenever he was distracted.
