The trumpets and drums sounded a stirring flourish as the cavalcade appeared before the army. The royal party, after riding forward a little distance, stationed themselves on the bound of the area, about half way to Tilbury Hills. There, bowing to the pommel of his saddle, Lord Hunsdon took a temporary leave of the Queen, and, together with his staff, spurred to the front, and advanced to the immediate vicinity of the troops.
The army was drawn up in a line, in order of battle. On the approach of the general, however, the trumpets sounded for a new evolution, and the whole body immediately wheeled into companies. The trumpets and drums then broke into a march, and the gallant army, still ordered in companies, simultaneously moved forward, and marched round the area before the Queen.
It was a brilliant spectacle, and there was not one person present, among the countless thousands of spectators, that it did not inspire with the noblest determination. The martial music was itself inspiriting; but the glittering arms of the soldiers, their varied costumes, and their gallant and fearless bearing, made the heart bound again, and one derived ardour and courage from the mere exhibition of war.
Having marched round the area, the army was, by another flourish of trumpets, wheeled once more into line. It formed close at first, but quickly took open order. As it did so, the Queen and her train, attended by Lord Hunsdon, galloped to the front, and rode along before the first rank. Thus passing forward, she came to the end of the line, and then, wheeling about, turned between the open files, and proceeded to inspect the rear rank. This, though not so select, appeared to satisfy her no less than the foremost one, and she spurred to the front again with a bright smile.
A loud flourish was sounded as she once more appeared in the front. A dead pause ensued, when the Queen, raising her voice to its highest pitch, broke the silence.
“Soldiers!” she cried—“You have heard that the enemy you are to meet, from his surpassing numbers, and long acquaintance with war, is deemed invincible; but let not that give you discouragement. I, a woman, here throw by my sex, and all care for my own person, to be your leader. Yes, I myself, your Queen, will be your general, your judge, and the rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. Your alacrity has already deserved its rewards, and, on the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid to you. Persevere, then, in your obedience to command; and we shall soon have a victory over those enemies of my God, my kingdom, and my people.”
Her words fell on the ears of the soldiers like an electric shock; there was a pause for an instant; then rose one tremendous shout, from the whole fifty thousand voices, of—“We will! we will.” The shout was caught up by the surrounding spectators; it was reverberated from the opposite shore; and from the summit of Windmill Hill, above two miles distant, thousands of voices were heard in chorus, saluting their sovereign with hearty hurrahs.
But the popular enthusiasm suddenly sustained an unexpected check. As the Queen, after receiving the greeting of the army, turned her horse to retire, the acclamations of the people startled the horse, and caused him to rear furiously in the air. Dropping his feet again, he was about to throw the Queen off, when two cavaliers, quick as lightning, sprang from the rearward, and secured his rein. The Queen recovered herself instantly; but, being seated sideways, she saw but one of the cavaliers who had rescued her, and supposed that he had done it alone.
“Now, fair befall thee, Raleigh!” she cried, smiling. “Since thou hast been so prompt, be my equerry as far as the fort, and thou shalt afterwards, in requital, be my master of the horse.”
“Let me say but a word, my gracious liege,” said Sir Walter Raleigh. “My Lord Essex”—