Gideon felt threatened, even though Thurloe spoke as if genuinely curious about the legal issues. 'It is no intellectual quibble for us, sir. Our difficulty is painful.'
Thurloe stroked his chin. 'I imagine you want Colonel Lovell dead — though that wish is unchristian.'
'My conscience will live with it!' Gideon admitted, his back stiff as a ramrod.
'But he is here, alive — '
And has seized from my custody the boy I love as my stepson, ward, call it what you will — a capture which Lovell is using wickedly. He sent messages that the boy is his hostage.'
'To prevent you assisting me? Will you succumb to blackmail?' This man cannot be married, Gideon thought. (He was wrong; Thurloe married twice and fathered children.) Thurloe continued to press him. 'Marchamont Nedham speaks well of you… I would pay you — we have funds — but I deduce you would not want money for this.' Thurloe spoke of payment matter-of-factly, as if many others did take it.
'For what? Why is Lovell so important?' asked Gideon.
As "Boyes", he is engaged in dangerous business.' In four or five sentences, Thurloe listed the failed plots to shoot the Protector. At that time, they had not been publicised. 'Captain Jukes, do you know Edward Sexby?'
Gideon took a rapid decision to admit it: 'I met him. He was an Agitator then, and a private trooper.'
'When did you last see him?'
'Putney, where I heard him speak. We never were intimate.'
'Miles Sindercombe?'
'Unknown to me.'
'John Cecil?'
'No.'
'Sindercombe was a mischievous, very active army Leveller. He fomented the army plot in Scotland, if you heard about that — you never met him there?'
'I barely saw service in Scotland, sir. I was badly wounded at Dunbar. I can never wield a sword again to good purpose; I was shipped home.'
'I am sorry for your suffering… But you hold the Dunbar Medal?' After the compliment Thurloe asked, not altering his voice, Are you a Leveller?'
'True until death.' Gideon was not ashamed of his past. He reckoned the secretary of state would know his history, and that he had not been active recently. He refused to conceal his opinions.
'So what is your view of the present government, Captain Jukes?'
'I wish for elected representation — as I believe the Lord Protector does himself. When we risked all in the wars, we did it to secure free Parliaments. But I do understand how the present situation has come about. Every man thinks for himself — the fact that every man has such liberty is our great achievement — yet this makes for such contentious Parliaments, they cannot govern.'
'Do you believe His Highness the Lord Protector should be king?'
'I do not.'
That was a risk. Thurloe gazed at Gideon. It was a matter of record, Secretary Thurloe said the only political solution was to return the country into a formal monarchy — headed by King Oliver.
Gideon stuck his neck out as always: 'I believe Cromwell's refusal of the crown is his greatest quality. I trust his word that he accepts being Protector reluctantly, that he still hopes it can be temporary and that he never sought personal aggrandisement. Believing this, I support the present government. I will defend our Commonwealth with my life.'
'Then will you work with me, Captain?'
'I need to know what you are asking, sir.'
'One task: help me to arrest Colonel Lovell.'
Chapter Eighty- Two — The Whitehall Plot, January 1657
'There is several practices in hand to cut off His Highness, and to make a diversion in the commonwealth of England…'
(The State Papers of John Thurloe)
Thomas Lovell saw the great fireworks being made. His father created them, on a table in their lodgings. Tom knew it was seriously dangerous. Orlando, who could airily take risks, even near his children, ordered him with great sternness not to touch any of the parts.
One explosive was built in a hand-basket. This was not just for concealment, but so the big sensitive bombarillo could be lifted and carried gently, without risk to those who handled it. It had not one but two slow fuses — lengths of match extending out on either side, each a yard long.
'Six hours,' said Lovell, groaning, as he gently massaged gunpowder into the matchcord to ensure that, once lit, it kept burning.
'That seems long.'
'Too long, Tom. Sindercombe's ridiculous instructions. To give these ninnies enough time for their terrified gallop to freedom!'
'If the explosion is to bring about a government that they want, why do they need to run away?'
'Good question!' Lovell laughed, proud of his son's intelligence, which he naturally saw as inherited from himself. On the other hand, curiosity was always discouraged.
'Where is it to be placed?'
'We shall see.'
'When will it be done?'
'We shall see that too.'
It was to be like Guy Fawkes's Gunpowder Plot. Lovell talked of that, while he was painstakingly putting together his own explosives. Fawkes's plan had been to blow up the King and Parliament all together at Westminster. Fawkes hired a vault under the Houses of Parliament, and the conspirators stuffed the vault full of gunpowder; the constant problem with gunpowder was that it deteriorated — and in a very short time, if it became at all damp. It had been said that Fawkes's decayed powder would have failed to ignite — although Lovell believed that was wrong; there had been so much powder in the confined vault — thirtysix barrels, say two and half tons — that once the burning match reached the hoarded barrels, they would have gone up in an enormous blast. All the powder would have activated. Not only would Parliament have disintegrated, blowing apart everyone inside, but the huge clouds of flying debris — large and small fragments of stone, glass, lead and rooftiles — would have wrought terrible damage throughout the village of Westminster, killing many others in the old medieval streets and narrow lanes.
'There would have been devastation, Tom. It would have caused terror then and there, plus fear throughout the land for many weeks afterwards. There would have been an ear-bursting, heart-stopping noise — then a terrible silence. After that, darkness, a heavy pall of smoke, acres of ruin.'
'And your devices will do the same in Whitehall?'
'Mine will be different.' Lovell continued to work the pitch and tar he was using. He was meticulous and methodical. Tom was sure these fireworks would behave properly; he could see why the other men viewed his father with respect. Lovell had made himself an expert. 'Vaults under government buildings are no longer hired out to the public, so that avenue is closed. We cannot carry large containers of gunpowder into Whitehall Palace. Some busybody would ask what we were doing. The Protector keeps a parsimonious household; every barrel of whelks is counted in. His office-holders refuse bribes too.'
'That is good?' piped up Tom.
'It is inconvenient for us!' answered Lovell, delighting his son with a fiendish grin.
'So what will you do?'
'This firebomb will be sneaked in and will explode, though not too vigorously. Its purpose is to start a fire, very hot and fast — an uncontrollable conflagration that will burn down those old buildings in spectacular style. There are wooden beams, floorboards, panelling that will take a spark in an instant, dry-as-dust old plastering, all the ancient hangings they have kept from the King's Wardrobe for the Protector's enjoyment, which will blaze from floor to ceiling. The buildings, too, are full of windings and turnings, where a fire can take hold and trap people. Miles Sindercombe calls it the fittest hole for a tyrant to live in -
'Will young King Charles not need a palace? According to Master Sindercombe, he is coming back again.'
'In fact, Sindercombe hopes he will not.'
'They would cut off his head, if they caught him.'
'Ah Thomas, my boy, you worry me sometimes. I believe you have been infected with the rebels' ways of thought.'
'Well, I should like to see this almighty fire
work when it is set off!'
'You will see it go up, and so will all London.'
Lovell still kept the whereabouts of his lodgings secret from the others. In fact Sindercombe did the same, renting a room with a hatter, well away on London Bridge.
Lovell and Tom brought the first of the finished fireworks to an assignation with Sindercombe, then moved the device to John Toope's quarters. This was blatant, since the Lifeguards' barracks and stables were right in the Palace Mews.
Toope took Sindercombe and Boyes to reconnoitre and decide where best to plant their incendiary. They easily found their way into the ramshackle old building, unchecked by guards. They needed a central position, to create maximum damage with the initial blast, but a spot that was sufficiently isolated so the bomb would not be noticed while the long fuses burned. They would have to lay the device close to the Protector's lodgings, when he was sure to be in residence. Sindercombe had in his pocket a skeleton key, which he used to try to open rooms that might be suitable; it failed to work. Boyes was not amused. So they talked about laying the firework on the head of a staircase at the back of the chapel, but that seemed too public. Irritable and havering, they reached no decision.
Sindercombe and Boyes were afraid Toope was uneasy. He told the authorities later that he would have revealed the plan to the Protector, but could not gain private access to Oliver that day.
Sindercombe was so nervous about the Lifeguard's loyalty he recovered the device from Toope's quarters and took it for safety to where Cecil lodged, in King Street. This narrow old street was very close to the palace; it ran from St Margaret's, the Parliamentary church in Westminster, to one of the gates across Whitehall by St James's Park, where the palace buildings began.
The following Tuesday, Sindercombe met Toope at the Ben Jonson tavern in the Strand, at the opposite end of Whitehall. They had further intense conversation about the best way to proceed. Sindercombe gave assurances that he was expecting money from Sexby in Flanders by the next Monday — implying Toope would be given more cash if he continued to co-operate. Toope seemed more at ease. He volunteered to set the firework in the palace himself. Miles Sindercombe brushed aside that idea.
On Thursday, which was the 8th of January, Sindercombe, Cecil and Toope met at the Bear in King Street, where Sindercombe told Toope he and Cecil were now agreed that the device should be placed inside the palace chapel. A meeting was arranged for five o'clock that night when they would finally install the firebomb. Its match would burn until around about midnight, setting off the explosion while people were in bed. They could be confident the Protector would be in his private accommodation close by. He would perish in the initial fireball. The conflagration would be all the more dramatic for taking place at night.
Dusk had fallen when they met outside the chapel. They checked that everything in the area seemed to be as they wanted, then Miles Sindercombe and John Cecil went to fetch the great firework from King Street, lighting its match before they brought it. Being January, there was wintry darkness outside and they moved through the stone-slabbed palace corridors in eerie shadow, their nervous footsteps sounding far too loud. If they had stopped for a moment, they would have heard the faint fizzing of the slow matchcord in the hand-basket.
Cecil had crept here and cut a hole in the heavy chapel door, so he could unbolt it. Once he opened up, he and Toope kept guard to ensure nobody came by and noticed their activity. Sindercombe went in by himself and positioned the device. He nestled the fire- basket in one of the chairs. Afterwards, Cecil relocked the door. It was around six o'clock when they all went their separate ways, walking short distances through cold dark streets, their breath wreathing white in the January chill. In ten minutes they were mostly back in their individual lodgings. Only Sindercombe had farther to go.
What Sindercombe and Cecil failed to see was that despite their money and blandishments, John Toope had changed his mind.
At the chapel, guards had been secretly watching them. As soon as the plotters left, they quickly found the firework. They took it outside and tested it, causing a great flare of fire.
The troops went after the conspirators. Toope, who had revealed the plan to Thurloe earlier that day, handed himself over meekly. Cecil was also easily captured, giving up without a struggle; under interrogation he admitted everything. Only Miles Sindercombe, who took longer to find, put up a desperate fight; the soldiers only just managed to overpower him, after one of them cut off part of his nose. Covered with blood and still struggling wildly, Sindercombe followed Cecil to imprisonment in the Tower of London. He alone refused to answer any questions.
One of the group was not taken that night, nor was he traced in succeeding weeks. 'Boyes' had discreetly vanished.
Chapter Eighty- Three — London: 1657
'I am persuaded to return this answer, That I cannot undertake this government with the title of king; and this is my answer to this weighty affair.
(The Protector's speech to Parliament at the Banqueting House, May 1657)
John Cecil threw himself on the Protector's mercy and revealed everything about the plots. According to him, the others, Boyes in particular, were ruthless men of violence — 'not having the fear of God in their hearts, but moved and seduced by the instigation of the Devil'. In giving their confessions and acting as witnesses against Sindercombe, Cecil and Toope escaped trial and punishment.
Miles Sindercombe stalwartly refused to admit anything. He was tried for treason on the 9th of February, a month after his arrest. Found guilty, he was sentenced to be hanged, drawn and quartered at Tyburn.
Whilst in the Tower of London, Sindercombe was visited by his widowed mother, his sister Elizabeth and an anonymous sweetheart. Somehow, he obtained an unknown toxic substance which he swallowed the night before his execution. Two hours later he was found in a coma, with a note that confirmed he intended to kill himself; he could not be restored to consciousness and very soon died. Before the civil war, Sindercombe had been apprenticed to a surgeon so it was presumed he had used his knowledge of poisons, though the substance was never identified, nor could his inquest decide how he had obtained it. Two post mortems had failed to ascertain anything certain. His suicide note declared, 'I do take this course because I would not have all the open shame of the world executed upon my body' Though he could not be hanged as intended, as a suicide, his body was drawn to Tower Hill on a hurdle, naked; it was buried with an iron stake through the heart.
An unexpected result was renewed pressure on Cromwell to adopt the title of king. Although rumours of the failed fireball circulated almost immediately, Thurloe did not formally announce details of the plot to Parliament for ten days, after a frenzy of speculation had built up. Then he emphasised alarmingly how the assassination attempt had involved not only home-grown radical terrorists but designing foreign powers, all in alliance with the ever-treacherous Royalists. News-sheets relayed frightening stories of armies raised by these enemies, armies that were poised to sail to England at any moment in a flotilla of ships… This overlooked the known facts that Charles II had had a destructive quarrel with his brother the Duke of York; he had no money to pay for a fleet and his armies overseas were dwindling daily.
In the aura of panic, a day of thanksgiving for Cromwell's deliverance was held on Friday the 20th of February, with an enormous public feast in the Banqueting House. All the MPs were invited, as were foreign ambassadors. Four hundred luxurious dishes were served and the regal evening ended with a splendiferous musical entertainment. So great was the crush that a staircase collapsed, causing many injuries, particularly to Cromwell's eldest son Richard; he would eventually be known as Tumbledown Dick, supposedly from his indecisiveness, though perhaps also because in the accident he suffered several broken bones.
It had been assumed by many that the Protector would be offered the crown as he hosted this glittering occasion. This did not happen; perhaps the accident to Richard was an inhibiting factor. The formal request was made the followi
ng Monday, in the austere and appropriate environment of the House of Commons. It was stressed that a new monarchy, with a defined hereditary succession, might preserve Cromwell from further desperate attempts on his life. The offer specifically referred to the Sindercombe Plot: 'the continual danger your life is in from the bloody practices of the malignants and the discontented party… it being a received principle amongst them that nothing is wanted to bring us into blood and confusion and them to their desired ends, but the destruction of your person…'
The first address to Cromwell was probably drafted by John Thurloe. It was repeated by Parliament in a modified form, but it was not universally welcomed; a hundred army officers appealed to Cromwell to reject the idea. Cromwell consistently maintained that kingship was unimportant to him; however, most people assumed he was attracted and would succumb eventually. It was believed that events were being stage-managed by Thurloe, with Cromwell's full approval.
After much private deliberation and prayer, however, Oliver Cromwell took an unexpected decision. After nearly two months' thought, he refused the crown. He conceded that those who had made the proposal were honourable, and that their purpose was to set the nation on a good footing. But he concluded that it would be sinful to take upon himself the title of king.
Cromwell made this surprise announcement to Parliament at a special meeting in the Banqueting House on the 7th of May. At the end of June Parliament would go into recess for six months and he was to be reproclaimed Protector, with much ceremony.
Then a pamphlet hit the streets — literally, for it was scattered there — entitled Killing no Murder. Authorship of Killing no Murder was ascribed to "William Allen" — the genuine name of a New Model Army Leveller, an old associate of Sexby's. Allen denied involvement. Thurloe arrested John Sturgeon, another disaffected member of Cromwell's Lifeguards; whose connections with the Sindercombe plots were known. He had recently returned, secretly, from exile in Holland. Killing no Murder was printed in Holland.
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