Day Four
The Anglo-Spanish War, c.1588
The roar of cannon fire emanates one-hundredfold in the air, leaving a sharp ringing sensation in the ears of the English soldiers as dozens of them hastily slam another cannonball into the chamber from their fortified positions along the coastline; shots impact upon the water's surface, spraying reams of seawater upon the nearby ships of the Spanish Armada.
The Spaniards returned fire, volleys of metal hurtling through the air at an unexpectedly greater volume than the English forces anticipated from galleons of that calibre, cannonballs crashing into the coastal fortifications; the forces on the homeland were besieged with little hope of holding out if reinforcements failed to arrive.
"Stand fast, men!", Sir John Norreys cried, the patriotic furor in his voice evident even above the cannons,
"the cavalry's here!"
A single galleon came hurtling over the horizon with the full force of the wind in her sails; the Golden Hind had arrived at last, with both the English coat of arms and the Jolly Roger flying high upon her mast. The appearance of the lone ship seemed to have a profound effect on the bombarding Spanish forces, who immediately turned their ships around and retreated to safer waters before the rest of the English navy could appear.
"What is the situation in the Netherlands? When will the troops be ready?"
Alonso Pérez de Guzmán looks out from the deck of his flag-ship, but there was little more to see than the vast expanses of the sea; he would feel more comfortable if he could rely on the thirty-thousand strong Spanish army currently fighting in the United Provinces.
"My Lord", a Spanish naval officer stammered,
"Governor Alejandro Farnesio and his loyalist forces are still fighting against the rebels of Mauricio de Nassau!"
The commander-in-chief of the Armada stamped his foot upon the decking; he knew that Felipe II had interfered somehow, and while the eve of battle was no time for questioning the orders of his sovereign, Alonso knew that even with naval superiority, the Armada lacked a sufficient landing force to overturn the English defenders.
"See to it that Farnesio learns of our predicament!", he continued,
"we will need those forces to return the heathens to the yoke of the Catholic Church!"
Queen Elizabeth paced quickly across the courtyard of the Tower of London, her regal gown billowing behind her, guards struggling to keep step; she clutched her staff and orb tightly in hand... there was much to be getting on with.
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Ends 00:00 GMT, 11/03/2011.
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