There was one other who came riding at full speed on a magnificent white horse.

I was delighted to see him and when he knelt down, kissed my hand and cried: “God save the Queen!” I almost wept with an emotion which I had to conceal.

“I would I had been the first to reach you,” he said. “As soon as I heard the news, for which I was earnestly waiting, I took my fastest horse. I wished to be the first to call you Queen and offer my life in your service.”

“I forget not that you came earlier,” I said. “Rest assured, Lord Robert, that you will not be forgotten.”

“My lady…so young…so fair… and a crown to carry!”

“Do not fear for me,” I answered. “I have long been prepared.”

“Fortune is smiling on England this day,” he said.

“Perhaps too it will smile on Robert Dudley,” I said. “I offer you the post of my Master of Horse. What say you?”

He was on his knees again. His eyes sparkled with pleasure and all the time they watched me. I was young…so was he. We were of an age.

“Master of the Queen's Horse,” he said slowly. “There is nothing I could have wished for more… because it will bring me close to Your Majesty. I shall be beside you for as long as you need me.”

Oh, glorious day! Dull November perhaps, but for me no day could have been brighter.

Truly it was marvelous in our eyes. At last I had my crown. I had the homage of my subjects, the love of my people—and the passionate admiration of Robert Dudley.

ALTHOUGH THIS WAS A TIME OF GREAT TRIUMPH FOR ME, I must not forget that it had come about through my sister's death and I thought it would be proper to show a little sorrow for her. I did not have to feign this entirely. I had often thought of Mary and the tragic failure of her life. I had looked on it as an outstanding example of how not to act. The people did not mourn her. How could they when they could smell the smoke from Smithfield? But that was in the past. This was the time for rejoicing. Young Elizabeth had taken the place of aging Mary, and the ties with Spain, that hated enemy, were broken. They looked forward to golden days and they must not be disappointed.

I had decided that I should remain a few days at Hatfield House out of respect for my sister. It was two days after her death before I was formally proclaimed Queen at the gates.

The next day I held my first Privy Council. Hatfield House had become a Court. People were gathering there all hoping for some place in my service. But I already knew whom I should employ. The trials through which I had passed had given me a good idea of whom I could trust and who had the ability to serve me as would be necessary. Therefore I was delighted to welcome William Cecil to Hatfield for I had never forgotten his help and was well aware of his astuteness. I had made up my mind that when I formed a government, he should be part of it.

At that first Council meeting I got some inkling of the state of the country, and it was decidedly depressing. We were sadly weakened; our exchequer pitiably lacking; food was dear; we were at war with France and Scotland, and the French had recaptured Calais so that we no longer had a foothold in France. But there was one thing I had always known and that was that wars brought no good to either side. Perhaps because I was a woman I had no desire to indulge in them. I had no glorious dreams of riding into battle; my victories should be those of diplomacy. I remember William Cecil's once saying that a country gains more in a year of peace than by ten years of war. I agreed with that sentiment, and I made up my mind that my country should not go to war unless it was absolutely necessary to do so.

The more I thought of it the more I knew that Cecil was the man for the most influential post in the government, and at the first meeting of the Council I announced that I had chosen him for my chief Secretary of State. I did keep certain members of Mary's Council in office. The Earl of Arundel and Lord William Howard were two of them, and another was William Paulet, Marquess of Winchester, whom I made Lord Treasurer. Nicholas Bacon was Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, and Sir Francis Knollys, who was a second cousin by marriage, became Vice Chamberlain. He was a firm Protestant and had found it necessary to leave the country during Mary's reign, but I knew he was a good honest man, and I liked to favor my mother's relations, provided they had the ability.

I was satisfied that I had built up a strong government, and it suddenly occurred to me that none of the members I had chosen was young. Cecil, oddly enough, was the youngest, and he was thirty-eight. I was glad of this for I was a great believer in experience—a valuable asset which few people have the wit to appreciate. But being aware for so long that sooner or later I could become Queen, I had many times planned which men I would choose to serve me. It was exhilarating to be in the position to make those plans reality.

We were no longer going to be ruled by priests. I had a company of able and trustworthy men and I intended to turn my country from debt and bankruptcy into a great state when every man and woman in it should be proud to be English.

I had to give Kat a post to keep her close to me so I made her my first Lady of the Bedchamber and her delight in her new dignity greatly amused me.

“It will make no difference to me, queen or not,” she told me. “You'll still be my Elizabeth and I shall say what I please.”

“You will have to be careful, Kat,” I warned her. “Only fools anger princes.”

“Well, you have always said I was a fool, mistress.”

I boxed her ears playfully. I made her husband Keeper of the Jewels and my dear Parry was Treasurer of the Household. I was not one to forget my old friends.

Even aged Blanche Parry, whose learning I had always valued and who had taught me to speak the Welsh language, was not forgotten. Indeed why should she be? She was very clever and erudite and quite worthy to hold the post of Keeper of the Royal Books at Windsor Castle, an honor which delighted her.

There was another side to my glorious position and that was one—such was my nature—which I awaited with eager anticipation: my ride through my capital city, my acclamation by the people, and my coronation which must take place as soon as possible for there is a belief among the people that a monarch is not a true one until she—or he—has been crowned.

An added delight to these preparations was that they would be supervised by my Master of Horse, and that gave me an excuse to have many consultations with the man in whose company I took such delight.

Robert Dudley was for me the ideal companion. He showed me in a hundred ways that he adored me… and not just as a queen. He had graceful manners so that while he was bold he always remembered who I was. For me it was the perfect relationship. I had always been susceptible to admiration; I greatly enjoyed compliments even when the wiser side of my nature told me they were not true; and in spite of the fact that the thought of marriage was repulsive to me, courtship I found exhilarating. And this was the relationship which was springing up between Robert Dudley and me. He admired me; his looks, his gestures, his words, implied that he was in love with me. He was particularly eligible because he was already married and for that reason I could dally with him to my heart's content.

A week after Mary's death I came to London. What a glorious day it was when I rode through my capital city, and how the people rejoiced! I was deeply moved by their trust in me. They looked to me to bring happiness and prosperity back to the country and I vowed I would do so. This was the end of the Smithfield fires. This was the beginning of the great era which I vowed would be known forever as Elizabethan. I swore to myself that I would never betray them. I loved these people with their honest faces and their shining belief in me. I would show them my love for them. I felt as Joan of Arc must have felt riding into Orleans. She had been sure she had God's blessing—and so was I.