It Might Have Been: The Story of the Gunpowder Plot
CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.
"Better to have dwelt unlooked for in some forest's shadows dun, Where the leaves are pierced in triumph by the javelins of the sun! Better to be born and die in some calm nest, howe'er obscure, With a vine about the casements, and a fig-tree at the door!"
The Earl of Salisbury sat in his private cabinet in Whitehall Palace.He was Robert Cecil, younger son of the great Earl of Burleigh, and hehad inherited his father's brains without his father's conscientiousnessand integrity. The dead Queen had never trusted him thoroughly: sheconsidered him, as he was, a schemer--a schemer who might pay to virtuethe tribute of outward propriety, but would pursue the scheme no less.Yet if Robert Cecil cared for any thing on earth which was not RobertCecil, that thing was the Protestant religion and the liberties ofEngland. [Note 1.] The present Sovereign was under pre-eminentobligation to him, for had he not cast his great weight into the scalein his favour, the chances were that James might very possibly, if notprobably, have been James the Sixth of Scotland still. Lord Salisburywas in person insignificant-looking. When she wished to put him down,his late mistress had been accustomed to address him as "Little man,"and his present master termed him "my little beagle." His face wassmall, with wizened features, moustache, and pointed beard; and thoughonly forty-five years of age, there were decided silver threads amongthe brown.
He looked up in surprise at the announcement that Lord Monteaglerequested permission to speak with him quickly. What could this youngRoman Catholic nobleman want with him at nine o'clock in the evening--atime which to his apprehension was much what midnight is to ours?Perhaps it was better to see him at once, and have done with the matter.He would take care to dismiss him quickly.
"Show my Lord Monteagle this way."
In another moment Lord Monteagle stood by the table where Salisbury wasseated, his plumed hat in his hand.
"My Lord," said he, "I entreat your Lordship's pardon for my latecoming, and knowing your weighty causes, will be as brief as I may. Aletter has been sent me which, in truth, to my apprehension is but theprating of some fool; yet seeing that things are not alway what theyseem, and that there may be more in it than appeareth, I crave yourLordship's leave to lay it before you, that your better judgment maypronounce thereupon. Truly, I am not able to understand it myself."
And the nameless, undated letter, on which the fate of King andParliament hung, was laid down before Salisbury.
The Lord High Treasurer read it carefully through; scanned it, back andfront, as if to discover any trace of origin: then leaned back in hischair, and thoughtfully stroked his moustache.
"Pray you, be seated, my Lord. Whence had you this?"
Lord Monteagle gave such details as he knew.
"You have no guess from whom it could come?"
"Never a whit."
"Nor you know not the writing?"
"It resembleth none hand of any that I know."
There was another short pause, broken by Lord Monteagle's query, "Thinksyour Lordship this of any moment?"
"That were not easy to answer. It may be of serious import; or it maybe but a foolish jest."
"Truly, at first I thought it the latter; for how could the danger bepast as soon as the letter were burnt?"
"Ah, that might be but--My Lord, I pray you leave this letter with me.I will consider of it, and if I see cause, may lay it before the King.Any way, you have well done to bring it hither. If it be a foolishjest, there is but a lost half-hour: and if, as might be, it is anhonest warning of some real peril that threatens us, you will then havemerited well of your King and country. I may tell you that I havealready received divers advices from beyond seas to the same effect."
"I thank your Lordship heartily, and I commend you to God." So saying,Lord Monteagle took his leave.
The Sunday passed peacefully. Thomas Winter, in his chamber at the signof the Duck, laid down a volume of the writings of Thomas Aquinas, andbegan to think about going to bed; when a hasty rap on the door, and thesound of some one being let in, was succeeded by rapid steps on thestairs. The next moment, Thomas Ward entered the room.
"What is the matter?" said Winter, the moment he saw his face.
"The saints wot! A warning letter is sent to my Lord Monteagle, andwhereto it may grow--Hie you to White Webbs when morning breaketh, withall the speed you may, and tell Mr Catesby of this. I fear--I verymuch fear all shall be discovered."
"It's that rascal Tresham!" cried Winter. "He was earnest to have hissister's husband warned, and said he would not pluck forth not anotherstiver without our promise so to do."
"Be it who it may, it may be the ruin of us."
"God forbid! I will be at White Webbs with the dawn, or soon after."
Before it was light the next morning Winter was on horseback, and wassoon galloping through the country villages of Islington, Holloway, andHornsey, on his way to Enfield Chase. In the depths of that lonelyforest land stood the solitary hunting-lodge, named White Webbs, whichbelonged to Dr Hewick, and was let in the shooting season to sportsmen.This house had been taken by "Mr Meaze" (who was Garnet) as a veryquiet locality, where mass might be said without being overheard byProtestant ears, and no inconvenient neighbours were likely to gossipabout the inmates. In London, Garnet was a horse-dealer; at White Webbshe was a gentleman farmer and a sportsman. Here he established himselfand somebody eke, who has not yet appeared on the scene, and whom it istime to introduce. And I introduce her with no feeling save one ofintense pity, as one more sinned against than sinning--a frail,passion-swayed, impulsive woman, one of the thousands of women whoselives Rome has blighted by making that sin which was no sin, and so inmany instances leading up to that which was sin--poor, loving, unhappyAnne Vaux.
The Hon. Anne Vaux was a younger daughter of William Lord Vaux ofHarrowden, and Elizabeth Beaumont, his first wife. Like many another,she "loved one only, and she clave to him," whose happy and honourablewife she might have been, had he been a Protestant clergyman instead ofa Jesuit priest. That Anne Vaux's passionate love for Garnet was forthe man and not the priest, her own letters are sufficient witness, andGarnet returned the love. She took a solemn vow of obedience to theSuperior of the Jesuit Mission in England, in order that she might bewith him where he was, might follow his steps like a faithful dog, thathis people should be her people, and his God her God. But where he diedshe could not die. To "live without the vanished light" was her sadderdestiny.
At White Webbs, she passed as Mrs Perkins or Parkyns, a widow lady, andthe sister of Mr Mease. She received numerous visitors, beside MrMease himself,--Catesby, who does not appear to have assumed any alias,Mr and Mrs Brooksby (the latter of whom was Anne's sister Eleanor),Tresham, the Winters, and two dubious individuals, who passed under thenames of Robert Skinner and Mr Perkins. The former was accompanied byhis wife, real or professed; the latter professed to be a brother-in-lawof "Mrs Perkins," and is described as "of middle stature, long visage,and somewhat lean, of a brown hair, and his beard inclining toyellow,"--a description which suits none of the conspirators whosepersonal appearance is known.
At White Webbs, accordingly, Thomas Winter alighted, and broke in on theparty there assembled, with the startling news that--
"All is discovered! There is a letter sent to my Lord Monteagle, andour action is known."
The party consisted of Anne Vaux, Fawkes, the Brooksbys, and Catesby,who had presented himself there a few days before, with the avowedobject of joining the royal hunting-party at Royston the next day, butin the morning resolving to "stay and be merry with his friends," hesettled down comfortably, sent his man for venison, and took his ease.
The ease and comfort were broken up by this sudden and startling news.
"Pray you, flee, Mr Catesby, while you have time!" said Winter,anxiously.
"Nay, I will be further as yet," was the resolute answer.
"What shall we now do? How say you?"
"Make sure how m
uch is truth. Go you to Town, Mr Fawkes, to-morrow, assoon as may be, and bring us word what time of day it shall be with us.Try the uttermost; for if the part belonged to myself I would try thesame adventure."
Fawkes obeyed, on the Wednesday, returning at night, to the great reliefof the conspirators, with reassuring news. There was no appearance ofany attempt to meddle with the cellar; all seemed quiet in London: noexcitement among the people, no signs of special precaution by theauthorities. They might safely go on with the work.
On the following day, Thomas Winter returned to London, and Fawkesfollowed in the evening, arriving at the Chequers, in Holborn, justbefore it grew dark. He did not stay here, but proceeded to the housenext to the House of Lords, where he slept that night in its solitarybed, turning out his supposed master, as the one bed would notaccommodate both, and "when Mr Percy lay there, his man lay abroad."
Percy, meanwhile, had not been idle. His vocation as gentlemanpensioner gave him easy access to any part of the Palace; and theprevious day had seen him making himself very agreeable in theapartments of the young Prince, playing with the child, and chatting ina very affable manner with his nurse.
The youthful Prince's nurse, happily for him, was a shrewd Scotchwoman,and Percy took little by his motion, "Pray you, Mrs Fordun, whitherleads that door?"
"Out o' the chalmer, Sir," said Agnes Fordun.
"What time doth his Highness ride forth commonly?"
"When it likes the King's Majesty."
"How is his Highness attended?"
"Atweel, 'tis maistly by them that gang wi' him."
"Is his Highness a brisk, lively child, or no?"
"He's what a Prince suld be," stiffly said Agnes.
Percy gave her up as impracticable, and reported to his colleagues atWhite Webbs that the Duke could not be compassed.
"Comes the Prince, then, to the Parliament?" asked Catesby.
Percy and Winter agreed that on this head rumour was assuming a negativeaspect.
"Then must we have our horses beyond the water," said Catesby, "and morehorses and company to surprise the Prince, and let the Duke alone."
The King returned from Royston on the 31st of October. The nextmorning, Salisbury requested a private audience, and in the Long Galleryof Whitehall Palace, laid before his Majesty the mysterious letter. Theastute Salisbury, and also the Lord Chamberlain, had already fathomedthe meaning of the "terrible blow," and the means by which it was to beeffected; but the former would scarcely have been a Cecil had he notalso read his royal master. His Majesty must have the matter socommunicated to him that he should be able to believe that his ownsupernatural sagacity had solved a mystery impenetrable to thecommonplace brains of the Lords of the Council. It might be reasonablyanticipated that such a warning should be no mystery to the son of LordDarnley--that his thoughts would fly rapidly to that house in the Kirko' Field, where his own father had received his death-blow, and had notseen who hurt him. That the one word "Gunpowder!" should drop fromwhite, stern lips was to be expected. But do people ever do what isexpected of them by others? In this case, at any rate, nothing half sodramatic took place.
"His Majesty made a short reply,"--which it may be was then thoughtsuch, but which now would assuredly be set down as long, wordy, andsententious.
"The incertainty of the writer, and the generality of theadvertisement," began the royal orator, "besides the small likelihood ofany such conspiracy on the general body of any realm, gives me lesscause to apprehend it as a thing certain to be put in execution.Considering that all conspiracies commonly distinguish of men andpersons, yet seeing the words do rather seem (as far as they are to beregarded) to presage danger to the whole Court of Parliament (over whommy care is greater than over mine own life), and because the wordsdescribe such a form of doing as can be no otherwise interpreted than bysome stratagem of fire and powder,--I wish that there may be specialconsideration had of the nature of all places yielding commodity forthose kinds of attempts: and I will then deliver my further judgment."
The man who could deliver his judgment in this stilted style of pompousword-building, in such circumstances as were then existing, would haverequired a powdered footman in spotless plush to precede him out of ahouse on fire. I must confess to a little misgiving as to theauthenticity of this speech. It looks much more likely to have beendeliberately penned by my Lord Salisbury in the calm of his officialstudy, when the smoke had cleared away from the battlefield, than tohave been fired off by King James in haste and trepidation--which he wassure to feel--at the moment when the letter was laid before him. Theevidence that the Government account of the circumstances was drawn upwith due regard to what they might and should have been to produce theproper effect on the docile public, and not very much as to what theywere, is irresistible. But as no other narrative exists, we can buthave recourse to the stained-glass article before us.
His Sacred Majesty having thus exhibited his incomparable wisdom, andbeen properly complimented and adored on account thereof, my LordSalisbury left the gallery with a grave face, and hastily summoning theLords of the Council, went through the farce of laying the letter beforethem.
"Sire," said he, when he returned to the King, "the Lords of theCouncil, subject to your Majesty's gracious pleasure, advise that myLord Chamberlain shall straitly view the Parliament House, and my LordMonteagle beseecheth leave to be with him."
"Gude!" said his Majesty, who to the day of his death never lost hisScottish accent. "I wad ha'e ye likewise, my Lord Salisbury, ta'e noteo' such as wad without apparent necessity seek absence frae theParliament, because 'tis improbable that among a' the nobles, thiswarning should be only gi'en to ane."
"Sire, your Majesty's command shall be obeyed."
"Atweel, let the search be made, and report to me," said the King, as heleft the gallery.
The following Monday, which was the day before the opening ofParliament, was appointed for the search.
On the Friday, Catesby, Thomas Winter, and Tresham met at Barnet, whenCatesby angrily accused Tresham of having sent the warning to LordMonteagle, and Tresham vehemently denied it.
"Marry, it must be you!" said Catesby. "The only ones that harried ustouching the saving of persons were you and Mr Keyes, who would fainhave saved his master, my Lord Mordaunt; all other were consenting tothe general issue that the Catholic Lords should be counselled to tarryaway on account of the new statutes."
"I never writ nor sent that letter, on my honour!" cried Tresham.
Did he speak the truth? No man knows to this day.
On the Saturday, the conspirators had another scare. In Lincoln's InnWalks, Thomas Winter met Tresham, who told him in a terrified whisperthat Lord Salisbury had been to the King, and, there was grave reason tofear, had shown him the fatal letter. Winter hastened away to Catesby,to whom he communicated the news. For the first time Gatesby's heartfailed him.
"I will be gone!" said he. "Yet--nay, I will stay till Mr Percy come,without whose consent will I do nothing."
But money was wanted; and one of the moneyed men, who had been drawninto the conspiracy for that purpose, could alone supply it. Tresham,that one who was at hand, took Winter to his apartments in Clerkenwell[Note 2], where he counted out a hundred pounds.
The same night a letter was brought to Salisbury which had been founddropped in the street. A few words of it were in cipher. It purportedto be written by E.F. Mak to Richard Bankes: and in it these wordsoccurred:--"The gallery with the passage thereto yieldeth the best ofassurance, and a safety of the actors themselves."
"I hope to behold the tyrannous heretic defeated in his cruelpleasures." These mysterious hints, coming so quickly after theMonteagle letter, still further alarmed and excited the Council.
The conspirators gathered on Sunday night in the house behind SaintClement's--Fawkes, Catesby, Thomas Winter, and the two Wrights. Theywere shortly joined by Percy. It was late when they parted--parted, tomeet all together in this world never any more. Cates
by had made up hismind to go down into the country the next day; Percy and the Wrightswere preparing to follow; all were ready to escape the moment thenecessity should arise, except Fawkes, who was to fire the powder, andThomas Winter, who said he would tarry and see the end. Some hadalready departed--Sir Everard Digby to Coughton, the house of MrThrockmorton, which he had borrowed--where Garnet already was.
Percy spent the Monday in a visit to the Earl of Northumberland at Syon;Christopher Wright and Thomas Winter in buying articles needful for thecoming journey. In the morning Rookwood accidentally met Catesby, whosespirits had risen. There was no need to fear things would go on well.
Three o'clock in the afternoon saw Lord Suffolk, the Lord Chamberlain ofthe Household, accompanied by Lord Monteagle, descending into the vaultsof the House of Lords. They glanced into different parts, and coming tothe cellar immediately under the House, the Lord Chamberlain noticedthat it was apparently filled with stacked faggots.
"Whose are all these?" said he.
A tall, dark man, who had unlocked the cellar for their Lordships'entrance, and was now standing by with the key in his hand, gave theanswer, with an air of rustic simplicity.
"An't like your Lordships, 'tis my master's provision for the winter."
"Who is your master?" asked the Lord Chamberlain.
"An't please you, Mr Percy, one of his Majesty's pensioners, that hathhis lodging this next door."
"I thought none dwelt next door. How long hath your master had thehouse?"
"Under your Lordships' leave, about a year and an half; but hathdeferred his lying there by reason of some occasions which caused him tobe absent."
"Well, he has laid in a good stock of fuel," said the Chamberlain, as ifcarelessly; and their Lordships turned and remounted the stairs.
Arrived at a place where they might speak unheard, the noble searcherslooked each into the other's face with the same question on the lips ofboth.
"What thinks your Lordship of all this stock of fuel below?"
"Nay, what think you, my Lord?"
"Truly, I am very suspicious thereof."
"My Lord, the more I do observe the letter," said Lord Monteagle,earnestly, "and meditate on the words thereof, the more jealous am I ofthe matter, and of this place. Look you, this Mr Percy the pensionerand I had great dearness of friendship between us at one time; he is anear relative of my Lord Northumberland, and a Catholic. Were I you,that cellar should be thoroughly overhauled."
"Well, let us go to the King."
It was between five and six o'clock, and the short November daylight wasover, when the searchers brought back their report to his Majesty,recounted their suspicions, and asked what they were to do.
"Gi'e me a man wi' his heid on his shoulders," said his Majesty, "and yeha' that, my Lord Monteagle. Noo, I'll just tell ye, I ay held anemaxim, to wit, Either do naething, or do that quhilk shall make a' sure.So ye'll just gang your ways, and ha'e a glint ahint thae faggots inthe bit cellar."
"If it please your Highness, is there no fear that so we may give roomfor murmurings and evil rumours? If we search this cellar and findnothing, may not men say the Government is unduly suspicious?"
"And, under your Highness' leave, shall it not place my LordNorthumberland in jeopardy?--he being akin to Mr Percy, and his greatfriend."
"Ay, is there twa heids weel screwit on? I jalouse, my Lord Monteagle,ye're saying ae word for my Lord Northumberland and twa for yoursel'.Be it sae: a man hath but ane life. My Lord Chamberlain, can ye noraise a bit rumour that a wheen o' the hangings are missing that suldha'e been in the Wardrobe in Wyniard's keeping? Then gang your ways,and turn out the faggots."
"And, if it might please your Majesty," suggested the Lord Chamberlain,"were it not best some other made the search--one of the gentlemen ofyour privy chamber,--so as to rouse less suspicion?"
"Ay, gang your ways, and send auld Knevet down, wi' a pair or twa o'younger hands to toss the faggots."
"Might it not be well also, Sire, to extend the search to the housesadjoining the Parliament House, and so make examination of the lodgingwhere Mr Percy lieth?"
"Do sae, do sae," responded the King. "I affy me in you: only heedthis, What you do, do throughly."
Just as the Abbey clock struck eleven, Fawkes came out of Percy's rooms,and went down into the vault by the door which had been made theprevious Easter. He carried in one hand a dark lantern, lighted, and inthe other a piece of touchwood, and a match eight or nine inches inlength. As he set the lantern down in the corner of the vault, he felta touch upon his shoulder, and looked up in alarm until he met the eyesof Robert Keyes.
"Mr Fawkes, take this watch, which Mr Percy sends you, that you maythe better know when to fire the train."
Keyes spoke in a very low tone, so that he might not be heard outside.Fawkes took the watch, and secreted it carefully. Watches were rare andprecious things, not carried by every gentleman even when wealthy; andPercy had bought this one for its special purpose.
Keyes departed, and Fawkes opened the door of the vault for a breath offresh air. He had scarcely come out, and closed it behind him, whenanother hand grasped his shoulder, not with the light touch of hisconfederate.
"Who are you?" asked the voice of an old man.
"My name is John Johnson, my master; I am Mr Percy's man."
"Make stay of him," said the voice; "and you, come after me into thevault."
Into the vault went Sir Thomas Knevet, and with his men began a searchamong the carefully-stacked wood. It did not take long to lay bare thesix-and-thirty barrels, and by drilling a small hole into two of them tomake sure of the nature of their contents. Spread before them, in thefull magnitude of its horror, lay the "gunpowder treason and plot,"which through the coming ages of English history, should "never beforgot."
A slight noise overhead alarmed the searchers, who feared lest "MrPercy's man" might be endeavouring to escape. Sir Thomas sent up one ofhis men, named Doubleday, to make sure of him till his return. Fawkes,however, was still in the hands of the watchman, but on Doubleday'sappearance, he requested permission to go to his own room in theadjoining house. This Doubleday allowed, posting himself as watchmen atthe door. No sooner was Fawkes alone than he took the opportunity torid himself of the chief evidences against him, by flinging the matchand tinder out of his window, which overlooked the river. In anotherminute Sir Thomas Knevet and his men entered the chamber.
"Know you what we have found in your master's cellar?"
"You have found what was there, I suppose," was the cool reply.
"Search the man," was Sir Thomas Knevet's order. But this indignityFawkes resented, and opposed with all his strength. The struggle wassevere, but short. He was overpowered, and bound with his own garters.They found on him the watch which Keyes had brought from Percy.
"How could you have put fire to the gunpowder," asked Knevet, "withoutdanger to yourself?"
"I meant to fire it by a match, eight or nine inches long; as soon as Ihad set it I should have fled for mine own safety. If I had been in thecellar when you took me, I would at once have blown up all."
"Keep a strong guard on this caitiff," said Sir Thomas, "and you,Doubleday, see to the cellar. I will to his Majesty."
As he left Percy's house, midnight tolled out on the clock of the Abbey.The fifth of November had begun.
Sir Thomas Knevet left his prisoner under guard, and returned to theKing. Late as it was, his Majesty had not retired. The members of theCouncil who were at hand--for some always slept in the Palace--werecalled in, the gates secured, a cordon of troops set across King Street,and another at Charing Cross. The remainder of the Council in Town hadbeen sent for, and as soon as they arrived, about one o'clock a.m., theKing sat at their head in his bedchamber, and Fawkes was brought in andplaced before them.
Nothing quelled the spirit of Guy Fawkes. The councillors were eager,impatient, vehement: he was calm as a summer eve, cool as the midnightsnow. To their hurried queri
es he returned straightforward, unabashed,imperturbable answers, still keeping up his character of an ignorantrustic.
"Tell us, fellow, why that store of gunpowder was laid in?"
"To blow up the Parliament House," said Fawkes. "When should it havebeen executed?"
"To-morrow, when the King had come, and the Upper House was sitting."
"Of whom?"
"Of myself."
"How knew you that the King would come?"
"Only by report, and the making ready his barge."
"And for what cause?"
"For the advancement of the Catholic religion."
"You are a Papist?"
"Ay."
"And wherefore would you be a party to the destruction of so many ofyour own religion?"
"We meant principally to have respected our own safety, and would haveprayed for them."
"Your name and calling?"
"John Johnson, and Mr Percy's man."
"Was your master a party to this treason?"
"You can ask him when you see him."
"Who were your accomplices?"
Then the dark eyes shot forth fire.
"You would have me betray my friends!" said Guy Fawkes. "The givingwarning to one hath overthrown us all."
It was found impossible to obtain any further information from Fawkes.Neither fear nor coaxing would induce him to name his accomplices. Hewas sent to the Tower, which he entered by Traitor's Gate.
"Well, to be sure! Whatten a thingcum's [what sort of a thing] this?Has summat happened sin' we went to bed? Rachel! I say, Rachel, lass!come here."
Rachel heard the exclamation when Charity opened the front door, andcame running with a wooden spoon in her hand.
"See thou, lass! dost thou see all them soldiers drawn right across th'street? Look, they're turning folks back 'at goes up, and willn't let'em pass. There's summat up, for sure! What is it, thinkst thou?"
"Thou'd best ask somebry [somebody] as comes down from 'em," suggestedRachel: "or send in next door. Eh, Mistress Abbott will be some mad[greatly vexed], to think hoo's missed th' news by lying abed."
"Ah, hoo will. Here--I say, Master! What's up, can you tell us?"
The man addressed stopped. He had been up to the cordon, and had beenturned back by them.
"Why, there's a plot discovered," he answered: "one of the worst everwas heard. The Parliament House should have been blown up this verymorning, and you should have been in danger of your lives."
"Lord, have mercy!" cried Rachel.
"Thanks be, that 'tis found out!" said Charity. "Be the rogues catched,think you?"
"One of 'em--he that should have fired the mine. They have learnednought of the rest as yet."
"Well, for sure! Happen [perhaps] he'll tell o' t'others."
"They'll make him, never fear," said the man, as he passed on.
"Why, my maids! are you both so warm this November morrow, that youstand at the street door?" said Edith's voice behind them. "Pritheeshut it, Charity; my mother comes anon."
Charity obeyed, while Rachel hastily poured the astonishing news intoEdith's ears. The latter grew a shade paler.
"What be these traitors?" she said.
"They're Papists, for sure!" said Rachel, decidedly. "Nobry else'dthink of nought so wicked."
"Ah, I reckon they are," added Charity, clinching the nail. "They'reright naught [Note 3], the whole boilin' of 'em."
The news was broken to Lady Louvaine more gently than it had been toEdith; but she clasped her hands with a faint cry of--"Aubrey! If thesebe they with whom he hath consorted, God keep the lad!"
"I trust, Mother dear, God will keep him," responded Edith, softly."Would you have him hither?"
"Truly, I know not what to say, daughter. Maybe he is the safest withmy Lady of Oxford. Nay, I think not."
Now came Temperance with her market-basket, and she had to be told. Herfirst thought was of a practical nature, but it was not Aubrey.
"Dear heart, you say not so? How ever am I to get to market? Lancasterand Derby! but I would those Papist companions were swept clean away outof the realm. I don't believe there's a loyal man amongst 'em!"
"Nay, Temperance, we know not yet if they be Papists."
"Know not if they be! Why, of course they are!" was the immediatedecision of Temperance. "What else can they be? There's none othersort ill enough to hammer such naughty work out of their fantasy.`Don't know,' indeed! don't tell _me_!"
And Temperance and her basket marched away in dudgeon.
The previous evening had been spent by Christopher Wright, Rookwood, andKeyes at the Duck; and they were the first among the conspirators tohear of the discovery and arrest. At five o'clock in the morning,Christopher Wright made a sudden appearance in Thomas Winter's chamber,where that worthy was sleeping, certainly not the sleep of the just.
"Rise up, Mr Winter!" he cried excitedly. "Rise and come along toEssex House, for I am going to call upon my Lord Northumberland. Thematter is discovered, by a letter to my Lord Monteagle."
Thomas Winter sat up in his bed.
"Go back, Mr Wright," said he, "and learn what you can about EssexGate."
Off dashed Christopher, and Winter dressed hastily. He was scarcelyready when his friend returned.
"Surely, all is lost!" cried Wright, "for Leyton is got on horseback atEssex door, and as he 'parted, he asked if their Lordships would haveany more with him, and being answered `No,' is rode as fast up FleetStreet as he can ride."
"Go you, then, to Mr Percy," urged Winter, "for sure it is for him theyseek, and bid him be gone. I will stay and see the uttermost."
Away went Wright again, and Winter followed more slowly. He found theCourt gates "straitly guarded," so that he was not allowed to enter.Then he turned and went down towards the Houses of Parliament, and inthe middle of King Street he found the guard standing, who would not lethim pass. As Winter passed up King Street again, Silence Abbott cameout of her door, having just published herself for the day, and accostedRachel, who was busy with the doorsteps.
"Why, whatever's all this to-do?" said she, in considerable dismay. Hadshe been wasting daylight and precious material for gossip, by lying inbed half-an-hour longer than usual?
"Why, there's a treason discovered," said Rachel, wringing out herflannel.
"Lack-a-day! what manner of treason?"
"Biggest ever was heard on. The King and all th' Lords o' th'Parliament to be blown up."
Winter hesitated no more. Evidently all was known. To save himself--ifit might be--was the only thing now possible. He went straight to thelivery-stable where he kept his horse, mounted, and set forth forDunchurch, where the hunting-party was to meet. If all were lost inLondon, it was not certain that something might not be retrieved in thecountry.
It was a grievous blunder, and grievously they answered it. Had theyinstantly gone on board the vessel which lay moored in the river, readyto carry Fawkes away when the mine was fired, and set sail for Flanders,every one of them might have fulfilled the number of his days. It seemsalmost as if their eyes were holden, that they should go up and fall atthe place appointed.
The first to fly had been Catesby and John Wright. Keyes followed ateight o'clock, going straight to Turvey; Rookwood at eleven, overtakingKeyes three miles beyond Highgate, and Catesby and Wright at Brickhill.As they rode together, Wright "cast their cloaks into a hedge to ridemore speedily."
Percy had spent the night in the City, but Christopher Wright soon foundhim, and they galloped after their colleagues. At Hockliffe Percy'sservant Story met them with fresh horses, and overtaking the othersfurther on, they at last reached Ashby Saint Ledgers in safety.
Robert Winter, the elder brother of Thomas, was then at Grafton, theresidence of his father-in-law, stalwart old John Talbot, whither he andhis wife had ridden on the last day of October. He was among the moreinnocent of the plotters, and had taken no active part in anything butthe mining. Riding from Grafton, o
n the 4th, he spent the night at theBull Inn, Coventry, and next day reached the Hall at Ashby SaintLedgers, where the widowed Lady Catesby held her solitary state. LadyCatesby (_nee_ Anne Throckmorton) and her worthy son were not on thebest terms, having found it necessary or amusing to sue one another inhis Majesty's Law Courts; and shortly before this, Lady Catesby had beento Huddington to request Robert Winter's assistance in making peace withher son. He was now on his way to advise her, and had heard nothing ofthe proceedings in London. But soon after his arrival at the Hall, fourweary, bemired men arrived also. These were Percy, the Wrights, andRookwood, Keyes having left them on the way.
"Lost, lost!" cried impetuous Percy, as he came, booted, spurred, andcovered with mud, into the very neat drawing-room where Lady Catesby andher young daughter Elizabeth were engaged on their embroidery. "All islost! the whole plot discovered. I cast no doubt proclamations shall beout by morning light to seize us all, with a full relation how short orhow long we be."
Lady Catesby exerted herself to provide for the refreshment and comfortother very unexpected guests, and they were soon on their way across thehall to supper, when one of the servants came up with a message that"one at the base door prayed speech of Mr Winter." Robert Winterexcused himself to his hostess, and going to the back-door, he therefound Martha Bates, wife of the Bates who was his fellow--conspiratorand Catesby's servant.
"Pray you, Sir," said Martha with a bob of deprecation mingled withdeference, "to come into the fields by the town's end, where is onewould speak quickly with you."
"Who is it?"
Martha glanced round, as if afraid of the chestnuts overhearing her.
"Well, Sir, to tell truth, 'tis Mr Catesby; but I pray you, let not myLady Anne know of his being here."
Robert Winter took his way to the place appointed, and found a group ofsome twelve horsemen awaiting him.
"Good even! Well, what news?"
"The worst could be. Mr Fawkes is taken, and the whole plotdiscovered."
"Ay, you have heard it, then? Here are come but now my cousins Wright,with Mr Percy and Mr Rookwood, bringing the same news. What now dowe?"
"What say you?"
"Well, it seems to me best that each should submit himself."
"We've not yet come to that. Bid them every one follow me to Dunchurchwithout loss of time. Only--mind you let not my mother know of my beinghere."
"To Dunchurch--what, afore supper? We were but just come into thedining-chamber, and I smell somewhat uncommon good."
"You may tarry for jugged hare," said Catesby contemptuously. "I shallride quickly to Dunchurch, and there consult."
"Well--if you must, have with you."
"Bring some pies in your pocket, Robin, and then you'll not fall tocannibalism on the way," called Catesby after him. "And--hark! ask ifany wist the road to Dunchurch, for I know it not."
The question was put in vain to all the party. It appeared, when theycame up with Catesby, that nobody knew the road to Dunchurch.Guide-posts were a mystery of the future.
"We must needs have a guide," said Catesby; "but I am fain at thismoment not to show myself in Ashby. Robin, wilt thou win us one? Gothou to Leeson, the smith, at the entering in of the village as thoucomest from Ravensthorpe--"
"Ay, I know."
"Ask him if he will guide us to Dunchurch, and he shall be well paid forit. He is safe, being a Catholic. We will follow anon."
Bennet Leeson, the blacksmith at Ashby Saint Ledgers, had given up workfor the day, and having gone through some extensive ablutions and thesubsequent supper, now stood at his cottage door, looking out on thegreen and taking his rest. He was not enjoying a pipe, for that was asyet a vice of the city, which had not penetrated to rustic and primitiveplaces such as Ashby Saint Ledgers. A horseman came trotting up thestreet, and drew bridle at his door.
"Give thee good den, smith! Dost know the road to Dunchurch?"
Bennet Leeson took off his leather cap, and scratched his head, as if itwere necessary to clear a path to his brains before the question couldpenetrate so far.
"Well, I reckon I do, when 'tis wanted. What o' that?"
"Wilt guide me thither?"
"What, this even?"
"Ay, now."
Bennet's cap came off again, and he repeated the clearing process on theother side of his head.
"I will content thee well for it," said the stranger: "but make up thymind, for time presseth."
A dulcet vision of silver shillings--of which no great number usuallycame his way--floated before the charmed eyes of the blacksmith.
"Well, I shouldn't mind if I did. Tarry while I get my horse."
The stranger waited, though rather impatiently, till Bennet reappeared,leading a rough Dunsmoor pony, with a horsecloth tied round it, on whichhe mounted without saddle.
"Now then, my master. Nay, not that way! You're turning your back onDunchurch so."
The horseman checked his hasty, start with a smile, and followed hisguide. As they reached the other end of the village, and came out intothe open, Catesby and his companions emerged from the trees, and joinedRobert Winter.
"Him's growed!" said Bennet Leeson to himself, as he glanced round atthe increased sound of horses' hoofs. "First time I ever see one mansplit his self into thirteen. The beast's split his self too. Wonderif them'll ha' come to six-and-twenty by the time us gets at Dunchurch!"
The company, however, grew no further, and Bennet led them up to thedoor of the Lion at Dunchurch without any more marvels. It was nowabout "seven or eight o'clock in the night." Catesby, the only one whomhe knew by sight, said to the smith as he dismounted--
"Here, smith, wilt walk the horses a few moments? It shall not beforgot in the reckoning."
The whole party then went into the Lion, where Sir Everard Digby andothers awaited them. A hurried, eager discussion of future plans tookplace here. The drawer was called to bring bottles of sack and glasses,and before he was well out of hearing, impetuous Percy cried, "We areall betrayed!"
"Softly, an't like you!" responded the cooler Catesby.
"We must go on now," cried Percy: "we shall die for it else."
"But what must we now do?" asked Rookwood. "Go, even yet, to CombeAbbey, and seize on the Lady Elizabeth?"
"We wait for you, Mr Catesby," said Sir Everard. "You have been ourleader from the beginning, and we of your following will not forsake younow."
"Too late for anything of that sort," was Catesby's decision. "Thereare scarce enough of us, and word will sure be sent to my LordHarrington, quicker than we could reach the place. Remember, they willgo direct, and we have come round. Nay, our only way is to gather allour friends together, and see what manner of stand we can make. Innumbers is our safety."
"Every Catholic in the realm will rally to us," said Sir Everard.
"And many Protestants belike," suggested Robert Winter.
"Marry, we shall have brave following, ere we be twelve hours older,"said Percy. "But which way go we now?"
"Let us first cross over to Grant's; we shall maybe increase our numbersthere: then go we to Coughton, pressing such as will join us on theway."
"Done!" said Percy, always the first to agree to anything which wasaction, and not waiting for events.
Outside, in the meantime, Bennet Leeson was walking the horses, as hehad been requested.
"Tarry a bit, Leeson: thou hast not yet handled all thou mayest gainthis night," said a voice the smith knew.
"Why, whence came you, Tom Bates?"
"You've good eyes, Bennet. I've been behind you ever since we leftAshby."
"By the same token, but I never saw you."
"Well, let be seeing me or no--wilt guide me to Rugby and back here foranother shilling?"
Bates and Leeson accordingly rode away to "a little town called Rugby,"where at the bailiffs house they found nine more worthies, who hadfinished their supper, and were playing cards. One of these gentry wasJohn Winter--the half-broth
er of Robert and Thomas,--whose mother wasthe daughter of Queen Mary's redoubtable Secretary, Sir John Bourne[Note 4]. He was either very simple or very clever, and at thisdistance of time it is not easy to say which.
Bates delivered the message with which he was charged, that "thegentlemen at Dunchurch desired their company to be merry," and the ninecard-players accordingly returned with him to that place. Having paidthe promised shilling to Leeson, Bates took his new convoy into the inn,whence the whole party emerged in about a quarter of an hour.
"That is for thy pains, smith, and I thank thee," said Catesby, stoopingfrom his saddle to put two shillings in the hand of his guide.
The whole party now rode away in the direction of Coventry.
"Well, that's a queer start!" said the blacksmith to himself, lookingfirst after the horsemen, and then down at the money in his hand. "Ifit hadn't a-been Muster Catesby, now, and Tom Bates, might ha' thoughtus 'd been out wi' the fairies this even. You're good silver, aren'tyou? Let we see. Ay--an Edward shovelboard [Note 5], and a newshilling o' King James, and three groats o' Queen Bess--that's not fairysilver, I 'count. Come along, Yethard!" [Note 6] as he scrambled onthe back of his shaggy friend. "Thee and me'll go home now. Us hasdone a good night's work. They shillings 'll please she, if her's notin a tantrum. Gee up wi' thee!"
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Note 1. Sicklemore, one of the priests, said with a sigh, "The Divellis in that Lord of Salisbury! All our undoing is his doing, and theexecution of Garnet is his only deed." (Additional Manuscript 6178,folio 165.)
Note 2. Clerkenwell was a suburb wherein many Roman Catholics dwelt."There were divers houses of recusants in Saint John's Street," amongthem those of Sir Henry James and Thomas Sleep, at the last of whichFawkes was a frequent visitor. Mrs Wyniard bore witness that whenFawkes paid her the last quarter's rent, on Sunday, November 3rd, he had"good store of gould in his pocket."
Note 3. Modern writers are apt to confuse nought and naught. At thistime they were quite distinct, the former signifying _nothing_, and thelatter (whence naughty is derived) _wickedness_.
Note 4. This is the gentleman described by the Hot Gospeller as comingto the door of the council-chamber, "looking as the wolf doth for alamb; unto whom my two keepers delivered me," and "he took me ingreedily." (Narrative of Edward Underhill, Harl. Manuscript 424, folio87, b.)
Note 5. The shilling of Edward the Sixth acquired this popular namefrom being so large and flat, that it was found convenient for use inthe game of shovelboard.
Note 6. The Northamptonshire pronunciation of Edward.