by Haynes, Alan
It has been noted already that many of those who had participated with ill-directed energy in the Essex revolt were involved again in this treason. It is just this aspect of continuation which persuades the Jesuit historian Francis Edwards to reject absolutely the authenticity of the second plot. But this time there was no strong evidence of a would-be Essex in the offing as the days of political meteors were over and it was both easy and essential to be on the right side. In fact there were just too many earls for any of that rank to soar to the perilous isolation of Essex and when a duke later in the reign did reach such heights he was assassinated, rather as if Jacobean theatre had reached bloodily into politics. Even so, in 1605 there were definite long-term suspicions circulating about Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland, who had been ill-regarded for some time. When Thomas Percy went to dinner at around midday with his distant relative at Syon House on Monday 4 November, a day of extreme anxiety for the plotters, as minute by minute slipped by without further discoveries, the unfortunate earl was rendered so suspect that he would never free himself from the abominable taint of powder. Suspicion, too, fell on his associate, the scientist of genius Thomas Hariot, who had been persuaded to cast King James’s horoscope. This auspicious act led to the ransacking of his papers and a period of imprisonment, during which time the ailing man was questioned by Salisbury himself as to whether his employer was aiming at the throne. Despite testimony from a number of sources it was too hard for the government in the circumstances to believe that the time at table and thereafter had been devoted simply to convivial talk. According to Sir William Lower, the earl’s stepson-in-law, Thomas Percy had prepared a discussion paper on the proposed union of England and Scotland, and given his vehement antipathy to all things Scottish no doubt his tone was not cordial. Also at the table were a Mr Fitzherbert and Edmund Whitelocke.9 The latter was a shameless sponger in society well known for the breadth of his interests; his patrons, required to have deep pockets, included the Earls of Rutland and Northumberland. After the exposure of the plot Whitelocke was arrested for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but after a long period in gaol he was released since the investigators found nothing against him. The Venetian ambassador, Nicolò Molin recorded the government’s view after 5 November that ‘it seems impossible that so vast a plot should have been hatched unless some great Lord was interested in it, and there is not the smallest indication against anyone except this nobleman. Percy is his relation and his intimate, and as late as Monday last is known to have been in long conversation with him.’10
On the afternoon of 4 November the Lord Chamberlain, Thomas Howard, Earl of Suffolk, went on a tour of inspection of the parliament buildings. He was accompanied by Monteagle, whose curiosity was high, and Whynniard, who must have felt a pinch of apprehension. After viewing the Lords’ chamber they moved downstairs for a watchful stroll through the lower-floor lumber room. Isolated in one area and hence remarkable they came upon an uncommonly large pile of billets and faggots, which they walked around before spotting a loitering serving man. He was asked who claimed it and Guy Fawkes (it was he) replied that it was Thomas Percy’s in whose employment he worked. The court investigators then moved away and if Monteagle queried the reply, then Whynniard would have been able to confirm Percy’s options on space. When they had gone to report their findings Fawkes had to quit his post to find Percy who could at that very moment of near discovery have been close by in the house Henry Ferrers had rented from Whynniard. If Suffolk had been adequately briefed by Salisbury and James perhaps he too left a watcher in the afternoon’s shadows. Coming up on a deadline and with Suffolk’s findings to guide them, the king and his advisers decided to make a thorough search below stairs by pretending to hunt for hangings and other ‘stuff’ if they were outnumbered and such a bluff was required. This time a Westminster magistrate and gentleman of the privy chamber, Sir Thomas Knyvett, was to lead a strong and armed group. The future Lord Knyvett of Escrick was the brother of the Countess of Suffolk and well known to Salisbury since as young men they had taken their seats in Parliament together some twenty years before. Using him was a sign too of the many links between the Secretary and the Howard family.
Just before midnight on 4 November, Guy Fawkes had occasion to open the door to the under room. Whatever caused this – the furious barking of dogs close by perhaps, or the sound of a sword scraping the outer wall – Knyvett took advantage of the moment to order his arrest, an action without witnesses other than the guard. As Fawkes was pinioned Knyvett advanced into the black space with a lantern and then probed the vast heap of kindling until he came upon the barrels of gunpowder. Having made this extraordinary discovery he ordered then a search of the silent prisoner upon whom was quickly found ‘a watch, matches and touchwood’; an item that on examination (16 November) Fawkes said would have burned for fifteen minutes – the time he needed to get clear to safety. The suggestive juxtaposition of all these things sent Knyvett urgently into the vastnesses of Whitehall Palace to meet his superiors. Those members of the privy council who could be found in the building were alerted to prepare for an immediate meeting in the king’s bedchamber, and it was there that Fawkes was brought before them for preliminary questioning at about four in the morning of 5 November.
EIGHT
After Midnight
It soon proved impossible to withhold news of the discovery and arrest, and by five o’clock on Tuesday morning Thomas Winter was alerted by the younger of the Wright brothers. Winter sent him to the Essex Gate to glean what further information he could, which when Wright rehearsed it on his return seems to have amounted to no more than before. Winter then sent him off to Thomas Percy bidding him to leave London although he meant himself to stay ‘and see the uttermost’. The situation was not yet clear so Winter now went to the Court Gates and found them heavily guarded so that no one could enter. From there he went briskly to Parliament and in the middle of King Street had an encounter with a guard who would not let him pass. Making his way back to the Duck in the Strand where he was staying, he overheard someone say ‘There is a treason discovered, in which the King and the Lords should have been blown up’, which confirmed in essence Wright’s prediction that ‘all was known’.1 Winter must have had an unshakeable faith in the ability of Fawkes to resist interrogation because he remained in London far into the morning, concerning himself with the fate of his fellow-plotters. As it happened, his assessment was well judged because the interrogation proved to be a difficult one for the cluster of councillors about the king. Fawkes (using his alias of John Johnson) appeared quite self-possessed, calm in aspect and lucid, if gruff, in speech. There was no immediate revelatory babble from him; the martial spirit held for a precious few days and gave his confederates more than enough time to quit London. Perhaps he even hoped that they could successfully regroup in the Midlands to initiate the revolt there; associates of theirs on the spot did not remain idle over the days of the crisis.
On Sunday 3 November, Grafton Manor, near Bromsgrove, the seat of (Sir) John Talbot, saw assemble a large company of his kinsmen and friends. From Huddington, some nine miles away, had come Robert Winter, whose reluctance months before to follow his own brother and Catesby has been noted. His companions now were Robert Acton* and his two sons, and the quartet stayed the night at Grafton, before departing on the morning of 4 November with Talbot who probably left them at Bromsgrove to ride on to his other estate at Pepperhill, near Albrighton, in Shropshire.2 Robert Winter’s servants had brought along several remounts, horses just recently sent to Huddington by Sir Everard Digby, and the party now went on to Coventry where they spent the night at the Bull Inn in Smithford Street. Here they were joined by Winter’s cousins, the Littletons, Stephen and Humphrey, and together they left the town on the morning of 5 November to join the rendezvous at Dunsmore Heath, the party picking up more horsemen as they went. At Dunchurch Winter left the Littletons and rode on to Ashby St Legers, some six miles further east, where it was expected that Ca
tesby would call on his way from London. At about six o’clock when Winter had just sat down to supper with Lady Catesby, a messenger arrived for him. The man came with an urgent message from Catesby, who did not dare approach his mother with the truth and so was waiting for Winter just outside the village. Quitting London at about eleven he had ridden eighty miles in seven hours, the relays of horses being provided by Ambrose Rookwood, one of the last plotters to leave London. Having a superior mount he overtook Robert Keyes about three miles beyond Highgate and then picked up Catesby and John Wright beyond Brickhill. A little further on they came upon Thomas Percy and Kit Wright, and the little cluster of five now rode ensemble, Percy and John Wright dumping their cloaks in a hedge ‘to ride the more speedily’. I doubt if the ‘fair scarf’ Rookwood had had made was tossed aside so unceremoniously since it may have had some sort of emblematic significance in the decoration or pattern. Writing at the end of the month Waad drew attention to these items: ‘I perceive there were very fair scarves made for divers of them.’ He was evidently impressed and a little envious that Rookwood had too a Hungarian-style horseman’s coat ‘lined all with velvet’; a beguiling image of a young man’s vanity.3 Still, I doubt that even he would have worn such an eye-catching item for a mud and sweat-lathered retreat.
Catesby could hardly dissemble with Robert Winter in such a situation – ‘Mr Fawkes was taken, and the whole Plot discovered.’ Winter asked him what he meant to do, suggesting that all should throw themselves on the king’s mercy ‘and by God’s grace, his Majesty would yield the least deservers some favour’. Catesby, of course, would have none of it and said he would ride to Dunchurch to consult. At the Lion they joined the company assembled which at first numbered about one hundred, but on hearing the desperate news some began to withdraw and by ten o’clock only about forty remained to concert measures for their escape.4
Among those who stayed was John Winter. He had spent Monday night with his brother-in-law John Grant at Norbrook, and the next day they had ridden on to Rugby where as they were preparing for bed in an inn a messenger from Dunchurch summoned them. After a hasty meal and a short rest the cavalcade left Dunchurch before eleven and travelled to Warwick where at about midnight they raided the stables at Warwick Castle and took nine or ten horses belonging to Mr Benock, leaving him their tired ones. The proceeding dismayed Robert Winter who told Catesby to desist since ‘it would certainly make a great uproar in the country’, and it would further blacken their reputations in the eyes of the king. Catesby’s answer was a brisk ‘some of us may not look back’. Robert Winter evidently hoped otherwise and said so, to which Catesby’s sardonic response was: ‘What, hast thou any hope, Robin? I assure thee there is none that knoweth of this action but shall perish.’5 Fresh horses – a new destination – John Grant’s house at Norbrook, about four miles away, near the village of Snitterfield. While there Digby wrote to his wife who was still at Coughton (near Alcester), a distance of about ten miles, so quite easily covered by Bates who was able to detail the story of the failure to her and the two Jesuits Garnet and Greenway. Then the large company of fugitives was on the move again, armed now with between fifty and sixty muskets and callivers and a good supply of powder and shot laid on by Grant. Their course was still westward and passing through Snitterfield they forded the Alne before reaching Alcester where they were joined by Greenway. Catesby greeted him warmly as a gentleman who would ‘live and die’ with them, a notion that proved quite incorrect because Greenway eventually managed to escape abroad. It was but a reminder of Catesby’s bravado in the face of compelling evidence that fewer and fewer would be willing to sacrifice themselves for a lost cause.
Their route now probably took them through the village of Arrow and then along the Worcester road before shifting to the by-lanes to Huddington which they reached at about two o’clock on Wednesday afternoon in a state of exhaustion. Towards evening Thomas Winter arrived having ridden alone from London across country, and his brother John then set guards at the corners of the roads. The rest of the shrinking company (now down to about thirty) slept until three o’clock in the morning (Thursday 7 November) when they were roused by the women in the house to attend the Mass administered by Father Nicholas Hart, who heard their confessions. Then in the hall they helped themselves from arms, armour and ammunition laid out on long tables, before loading carts with the remainder. At about six on that chilly November morning the time came for the final parting, and they moved off intending to make for Wales where they hoped to receive assistance from their numerous Catholic friends. The gloom of the morning as they made their way to Hanbury and across Bentley Heath, seems to have matched that of the horsemen, because before they reached Hewell Grange, the Worcestershire home of Lord Windsor, Catesby had to box in the servants by having four of the principals at the head of the cavalcade, and four gentlemen at the rear (Thomas Percy, John Grant, Henry Morgan and one of the Wright brothers). At the Grange, according to a servant of Digby – William Handy – ‘while some few sat on their horses to watch who should come into the house, the rest went into the said house, and broke into the armoury, took out the armour, and caused themselves all to arm themselves, and the rest of the armour they put into a cart, and carried away with them, and they also helped themselves to a supply of powder, and, finding a trunk containing from £1,000 or £1,200, they took away £60.’ Such a large posse of horsemen drew in intrigued villagers in some numbers, but no one seems to have taken the opportunity for some looting and no one joined the insurgents.
They now took off with their plunder, going through Burcot, Lickey End, Catshill, Clent and Hagley to Stourbridge. Autumn rains had made the road exceedingly difficult, and the fording of the Stour, at a seasonal high, led to the unfortunate wetting of the gunpowder. Such conditions also provided opportunities for servants to desert and despite the efforts of the gentlemen the party was further diminished by the time it had reached Holbeach House, near Kingswinford the home of Stephen Littleton, at about ten o’clock. It had taken them some sixteen hours to travel twenty-five miles, and they needed rest and food, as well as an opportunity to disuss their dismal situation. Not one Catholic had thought to join them and news arrived shortly that they were being trailed by Sir Richard Walsh, sheriff of Worcestershire. A general understanding seems to have been reached at this point that they needed to make preparations to resist an assault on the house. They were extravagantly well provided with weapons and armour but sorely lacking in numbers, so their thoughts turned to John Talbot, who as we know, was on his way to his Shropshire estate at Pepperhill which was ten miles from Holbeach. The obvious delegate to go to Pepperhill was Robert Winter, Talbot’s son-in-law, but he refused saying that Talbot was certain to look after his daughter when she became a single parent. So it was Thomas Winter who volunteered to go, in company with Stephen Littleton, and long before dawn they were in the saddle again bound for Pepperhill. The house was situated on a high promontory of land with extensive views over the country, and Talbot had too a bowling green close to his door.6
At about eight o’clock on Friday morning, Talbot was out of the house going to the green when he spotted Winter approaching on foot. From his later testimony Talbot did not greet him at all warmly but baldly asked him what he was doing there. Winter replied: ‘Why should I not come hither?’ The next exchanges revealed why – Talbot wanted him off his property – ‘I pray you get hence’, to which Winter replied: ‘If you like my company no better, God be with you.’ Rebuffed, Winter and Littleton disconsolately retraced their journey back to Holbeach where news of a further calamity awaited them. Not only had Digby found an opportunity to flee, but the rest were in some disarray because having set some wet gunpowder on platters to dry before a fire, an ember had fallen onto one and caused an explosion. It was a pitiful replica on a small scale of what they had intended in London; Catesby and Rookwood were both badly burned, and it settled for Robert Winter and Stephen Littleton what they had to do in these dire circumstances. Bo
th quit the house singly before subsequently meeting in an adjoining wood. A more purposeful Thomas Winter remained and he dressed the wounds of his friends as best he could before defining measures for the defence of the house. There was little to do and the sheriff’s force surrounded the house around eleven, started a fire and stormed the building. In the mêlée Thomas Winter was shot in the shoulder; the Wright brothers were killed and Rookwood further wounded. Catesby, Thomas Percy and Thomas Winter stood close together in a defensive knot before the former two died (as it seemed to Winter, himself piked in the stomach) shot with one bullet. In a more lurid version of this climax to the plot, Catesby was shot outside but dragged himself inside to kiss a picture of the Virgin Mary, before dying with it in his arms. Purists will doubtless prefer the more austere first version, but most will flinch at the immediate plundering of the corpses. Kit Wright’s boots were heaved off in order to secure his silk stockings, and someone certainly spotted the special swords of some of the gentlemen.* (See Appendix II.)