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been to deny my parents and to reject my assigned destiny.
    I had seen firsthand what that meant—I had seen my sister do it. In submitting to our father and agreeing that her mother’s marriage was invalid and herself a bastard, she trampled on her deepest-held beliefs. Hating her weakness in surrender, she later sought to quiet her conscience and undo the damage. The result was her unhappy attempt to reimpose Catholicism on England. It led to much cruelty, yet she was not by nature a cruel woman. A ruler’s wounded conscience exacts too high a price on his subjects.
    Fate had cast me as a figurehead of Protestantism. Therefore it was only a matter of time until the champion of the old faith would take me on.

6
    T he night seemed interminable but the dawn came too early. This day I must call my attendants in and send them back to their homes, without distressing them. Little by little I was stripping myself for battle.
    There were normally some twenty women of all different ages and stations who attended me. Some were much closer to my person than others. The ladies in waiting were the most ceremonial; they came from noble families and were more ornamental than functional. They were not in regular attendance but were called upon to be present for formal occasions when foreign dignitaries were visiting. But I did not plan to welcome the Spaniards with a state reception, and none were on duty today.
    Some ten women were serving now as gentlewomen of the privy chamber, and out of those, only four senior ones personally served me in my bedchamber. Being a lady of the bedchamber was the highest honor my attendants could have. Three of those four, my Crow and my Cat and my Blanche, I would keep with me now. The fourth, Helena van Snakenborg from Sweden, I would send home to be with her husband.
    I had six maids of honor, unmarried girls from good families who served in the outer chamber and slept together in one room, the maidens’ chamber. All of them must depart.
    If the ladies in waiting were the ornamental regalia of my entourage and the ladies of the privy chamber a mix of companions and assistants, the maids of honor were the youthful jewels that shone and sparkled for a season or two. They were apt to be the most winsome and tempting of the small number of women at court. A king’s eye was often drawn to them. My mother had been a maid of honor, and so had two other of my father’s wives. Here, however, there was no king’s eye to catch, only those of predatory courtiers.
    They lined up obediently, tremblingly. Excitement vied with apprehension. “Ladies,” I said, “it saddens me that, for your own safety, I must send you away. It may be that I will have to move quickly to a secret location, should the Spanish land, and I will not need your services. I pray that this is an unnecessary precaution. But I could not expose any of you to the dangers of enemy soldiers.”
    One of the maids of honor, Elizabeth Southwell, tall and graceful, shook her head. “Surely our lives are not more precious than yours. We should be with you when—when—” Her large blue eyes brimmed with tears.
    â€œAs Charmian and Iras were, when Cleopatra took her last stand against the Romans!” said Elizabeth Vernon, shaking her abundant reddish curls.
    â€œI don’t plan to kill myself with an asp,” I said. “Nor would I require you to follow suit. I wish you to go home, for now. Do you understand?”
    â€œIs the danger very great?” asked Bess Throckmorton. She was the daughter of a late favorite councillor. But Bess always had a hint of insolence about her, and the other maids of honor seemed to admire it.
    â€œThat depends on how close they manage to get,” I said.
    The older ladies of the privy chamber said little, merely nodding.
    â€œYou may pack this afternoon, to be gone by morning,” I said.
    Bowing, they took their leave. All except young