A Thousand Eyes: A Novel of Elizabeth I

Chapter 5

I had been to Westminster on previous visits to London, but each time I entered the towering structure I was humbled. There was a palpable spirituality about it - it was so large, so grand, it could have been carved by God Himself. And yet it glimmered as humanity's greatest pride. Trumpets serenaded my entry, the crowd competed in noise by shouting praises, the sky heralded the ceremony by baring itself completely of any clouds, and I was convinced that for as long as I lived, never in my life would there be a greater moment than this.

As I glided to the altar, followers occupied the hundreds of pews within the abbey. It was so crowded in the audience that people were sitting - or standing, as some of them were - elbow to elbow, craning their necks for a glimpse of me. My reign will be glorious, I promised. I will be a queen worthy of such a ceremony. Not submissive and naive like Edward, nor weak like Mary - I would rule men, and I would be the first woman who could say that.

The road to Westminster was paved with blue carpet, and since my litter was towards the end of the procession, most of it was well dirtied by the time the mules drawn by Lord Giles Paulette and Lord Ambrose Dudley (Robin's older brother, with whom he was very close) clomped on the brilliantly dyed cloth. Makeshift stages sprouted from street corners - at Fenchurch a well-groomed young boy made a darling speech. His gray, almost-transparent eyes were wide with apprehension as I stopped to observe.

"True hearts - " his lip trembled. "True hearts we have which love you from their root, you whose suit is triumph now, and rules the whole game, which faithfulness has won and driven untruth out and which skip for joy whenever they hear your happy name." He was undoubtedly speaking of the restoration of Protestantism, which as a Protestant was expected of me. I smiled, shouted, "May the Lord bless you, my good subjects!" and the boy caught my eye with a deep blush.

We passed houses with faded cloths hanging from the windows, most of which were fanned in the air by hysterical subjects as I passed by. It was as if every scream, every word said in praise of me, lifted me higher and higher. I felt like I could soar through the clouds.

On the next street, actors in costume crooned onstage. They each stood on a level of crates that rose like steps - on the top was a woman sporting a bright red wig and an emerald green down. obviously meant to represent me. On the middle level were my parents - my father on one side, represented as he reportedly was in his prime by a lean actor who smiled with the same cunning that Father always had, and my mother on the other side - raven's-wing hair and reddened lips. On the lowest level were my grandparents, King Henry VII and his queen Elizabeth of York. As I passed, King Henry threw a bouquet of red flowers, and Elizabeth threw white - their marriage had been the union of the Lancasters and Yorks, the warring factions, and the roses represented each house. "Behold Her Majesty!" they called. "Just as Lancaster and York were joined, may their granddaughter now join the people of England as queen!"

"May the English queen join the English!" others cheered. They were referring specifically to my lineage - Mary had been half-Spanish, and with the terror wrought by her Spanish husband, the people were wary of foreigners near the crown. I was English in all possible ways, contrary to my sister.

In the next pageant, several colorfully dressed Virtues appeared on the stage - Religion, Love, Wisdom, and Justice - and as they introduced themselves with flowing movements they trampled vices dressed in dull brown who squirmed away from their powerful feet. A narrator announced each action: "And now Love with her weighty foot tramples Hate, as she will forevermore."

At Cheapside, the next street, the Lord Mayor of London appeared. As the street was wider, those in front of me pulled aside to allow visibility of my litter, and the Lord Mayor in a tightly-fitting purple doublet knelt and presented me with a satin purse. I received it from Lord Paulet, whose mule blocked the mayor's access. "A gift from the city of London!" the mayor announced, and there was cheering.