Gunpowder, Treason and Plot

by Lettice Cooper

  Guy Fawkes came back from the Low Countries without much to report. Sir William Stanley had gone off to Spain. Captain Owen, to whom Guy Fawkes revealed the secret, did not think it likely that Stanley, who was hoping to receive a pardon from King James, would take any part in the conspiracy. Captain Owen was not eager to come back to England himself. He was fully engaged in fighting for Spain in the Netherlands.

  There was other discouraging news for the plotters. During this summer another child, Princess Mary, was born to the King and Queen. This meant that the conspirators would have to seize her as well as Princess Elizabeth and Prince Charles. They would not be able to risk leaving one of the King’s children free, perhaps to be brought up as a Protestant and some day to claim the throne.

  Guy Fawkes went back to Whyniard’s house, and took up his role again as John Johnson. Tom Percy came back to the Earl of Northumberland’s London house. They had some money now, provided by Ambrose Rookwood. They bought more barrels of gunpowder, being careful to buy them here and there, a few at a time. They stored them all by night in the vault under Parliament House, and covered them with the logs of wood.

  At the end of July, a Royal Proclamation was issued to announce that the Opening of Parliament had been postponed from October 7th to November 5th. This further change of date shook the nerves of the conspirators. Why was the Opening always postponed? Had the King any idea, however vague, that the opening of the next Parliament might be a dangerous occasion for him? Tom Percy was asked to find out through his cousin, but he could not hear of anything to suggest that the King was uneasy about the Opening of Parliament.

  James I was never in a hurry to see Parliament again, he preferred ruling without them. But he had probably made this postponement because it fitted in better with his plans for the hunting season.

  Robert Catesby rode to see Sir Everard Digby, who lived at Gothurst in Buckinghamshire. Everard Digby was young, handsome, dashing, married to a beautiful and very rich wife, the father of promising young children.

  Digby was one of the richest landowners in the Midlands. His house contained the most cunningly concealed priest’s hiding hole in the country. A secret passage from the hall led to a small room with floorboards which could be moved easily, that covered pivots. An opening in the floor could be made immediately, and any threatened priest could drop down into a cubbyhole below, pulling the floorboards into place behind him.

  Digby was devoted to Robert Catesby, who trusted him so completely that he did not even ask him to swear the usual oath. When they were out riding together, Catesby held out his dagger to Digby so that he grasped the cross-shaped hilt.

  “Take this cross in your hand, Everard, and swear never to reveal what I shall now tell you.”

  Digby swore but when Catesby told him about the gunpowder plot, he was horrified.

  “I will have no part in it!” he exclaimed. “I will take no part in such a violent deed!”

  “I do not ask you to take part in it,” Catesby retorted. “You will not be there. You will see nothing of it. All I ask you to do is to arrange a hunting party near Combe Abbey and to invite your Catholic friends to it. Then, when you get the word, you will ride to Combe Abbey, seize the Princess Elizabeth and hold her in safe keeping. You will take her easily enough if you collect a strong party. There will be no bloodshed. To protect a child during the disturbances that will follow the sudden destruction of King and Parliament, that is all I am asking you to do; that and to help us with some money for we are all poor men, and have already spent what we have.”

  At first, Digby would not hear of taking any part in the conspiracy nor of contributing a penny to it. He could not bear the idea of helping to send so many warm, vigorous, living people to a sudden death. However like the other young men he could not stand firm against Catesby. He resisted for a few days but, before he fully realized what had happened, he was as deeply involved in the plot as any of them. He undertook to seize Princess Elizabeth when the day came; and he handed over fifteen hundred crowns.

  It was he who suggested to Catesby that gunpowder which had been stored for so many months, first in the cellar of Whyniard’s house, then in the vault below Parliament House, might be getting damp. Guy Fawkes was instructed to look at it and found that some of the barrels that they had bought first were damp. He and Tom Winter disposed of them and bought fresh supplies with Digby’s money. They took the new barrels by night into the vault, and covered them with wooden blocks.

  Meanwhile, Robert Catesby was enrolling the last of the conspirators, Francis Tresham.

  Tresham, who was thirty seven years old, was Catesby’s first cousin. He came of a devoted Catholic family who had been fined for refusing to give up their faith. Francis Tresham himself had taken part in a rebellion against Queen Elizabeth I. He was reckless, hot-tempered and impulsive. Catesby found him much easier to persuade than Everard Digby had been. Tresham was ripe for mischief. He contributed money and promised to take part in the uprising.

  There were now thirteen conspirators. And as it happened, by chance, it was the thirteenth man, the last one to join, who ruined them.

  It was arranged that some days before the 5th of November, Guy Fawkes should lay the mine in position in the cellar. It was he who was to fire the fuse that would set off the mine. He was to use a slow match that should give him a quarter of an hour before the explosion during which to make his own escape.

  As soon as Parliament House blew up, Catesby, who would be in London, would ride to the Midlands to take command of the uprising. Tom Percy, who being often at court, knew his way about the Palace of Whitehall, would seize the young Prince Charles. Digby would assemble his supposed hunting party, and ride to Combe Abbey and take Princess Elizabeth. Some of the conspirators would seize the baby Princess Mary. All the Catholic gentry who had been warned to expect an uprising would ride to London where they would proclaim Princess Elizabeth Queen.

  The plan was complete by the last week in October. Guy Fawkes, still playing the part of that sober and almost unnoticeable servant John Johnson, went quietly to and fro between Whyniard’s house and the vault below Parliament House. Everybody in the area was used to seeing him about in his servent’s livery, with his expressionless face which never seemed to show any kind of feeling. No one could have guessed that in a few days’ time he expected to play the central part in a wholesale murder at great risk to his own life.

  Chapter 8

  The Thirteenth Conspirator

  As the time drew near, Robert Catesby and Tom Winter made their headquarters in a house called White Webbs, which was near Barnet, on the outskirts of London. It was not too far for Guy Fawkes to ride out and join them sometimes, when there was anything they wanted to discuss with him. White Webbs had another advantage. It was equipped with several hiding holes and secret passages. If by any chance anybody should become suspicious and should come to look for Catesby and Winter, they could hide themselves in a few minutes.

  One morning in the last week of October, they were sitting in the hall of White Webbs with Guy Fawkes, who had arrived late in the evening of the previous day. The three of them were putting the finishing touches to their plans.

  Suddenly, they heard the sound of a horseman galloping up the avenue. Everyone moved quickly to the window. Their nerves were on edge; they were afraid that this might be a messenger with bad news, somebody come to warn them that the vault had been searched or the Opening of Parliament was postponed again.

  The approaching rider was a fair-haired young man with a rich fur-lined cloak falling back from a doublet of slashed cloth and velvet. His horse was lathered with sweat although it was a cold morning. He dismounted at the door, flung the reins to a servant, and ran into the house.

  “It is only Francis Tresham,” Catesby said, in tones of relief.

  Guy Fawkes stroked his beard but made no answer. He would never have invited Francis Tresham to join them. He thought him a very unstable man, rash and careless in his talk
.

  Tresham was pale and his eyes looked wild. “Robin,” he said to Catesby, “I must speak to you privately.”

  “You can safely speak before Tom Winter and Guy Fawkes. Everything that I know is known to them.”

  “No, I must speak to you alone. This is a family matter.”

  “You will excuse us.” Catesby led Francis Tresham into another room. “Now tell me what is troubling you, Frank.”

  “Robin,” Tresham said earnestly. “This must not be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This gunpowder plot. We cannot blow up Parliament House on the day of opening. Both my brothers-in-law will be there. My sisters—I cannot do this to them. I should have thought of it before.”

  Catesby regretted that Tresham had thought of it now. He realized that this needed very careful handling if it was not to ruin the whole plan.

  “Sit down, Frank. Calm yourself. Tell me what is in your mind.”

  “You know that one of my sisters is married to Lord Mounteagle, the other to Lord Stanton. Both lords will be at the Opening of Parliament on November 5th. And I myself love Mounteagle as a brother. I cannot go on with this. We must abandon the plot.”

  “You are bound to the plot by your oath, Francis.”

  “I did wrong to swear such an oath.”

  “But you did swear it. We have all sworn it. You are bound to us and to the enterprise. And everything is ready. For the sake of all the Catholics in this country who suffer constant persecution, we must go through with it now.”

  “Then at least I must warn Mounteagle.”

  Catesby thought that it would be impossible to devise any kind of warning that would not betray their secret. But he saw that Tresham was in a dangerous state of excitement. He had always been reckless; in his present mood he might do anything; he might even break the oath to save his sisters’ husbands.

  “I understand your feeling,” Catesby said slowly, “perhaps we can find a way.”

  “I can only think of one way to save both of them Robin, let us give up the plot. I do not like it. I do not want to destroy so many people. Why, the Lords are nearly all known to us or to our friends. Let us abandon it, and think of another way.”

  “How can we abandon our purpose with the vault below Parliament House stocked with barrels of gunpowder? How could we move them when the time of the Opening is so near? You must be mad, Frank.”

  “I think it is you who are mad, Robin. Fool that I was not to see it before.”

  Catesby was thinking quickly. Tresham was no longer to be trusted, that was clear. Would it be better to call in Guy Fawkes and Tom Winter? The three of them could overpower Tresham, and shut him up in the priest’s hiding hole until after November 5th. But suppose Tresham had told friends that he was riding out to White Webbs and they came to look for him when he did not return? And was the priest’s hiding hole strong enough to hold him? Not unless one of them stayed behind to keep guard, which, as they planned to leave the house before November 5th, they could not do. Catesby wished that he had never told Frank Tresham anything about the plot. True he had contributed money but it looked as if they might pay dearly for the loan.

  “I wish I had never heard of your gunpowder plot,” Tresham cried. He added, “You asked me the other day for more money. I will give you none, no more till after November 5th.”

  Catesby determined to use all his powers of persuasion. Had he not enlisted the whole group by the charm of his own personality? He did not think that it would fail him now. He put a hand on Tresham’s arm.

  “Frank, hear me a minute. You are bound by your oath as we all are. It is too late to draw back. You are too good a friend and companion to leave me now. I understand your concern for your brothers-in-law, but many men have died for the Catholic faith and, if we do not take violent action, many more will suffer. You would be ready yourself to die for your religion?”

  “Most certainly.”

  “Then you must be ready, if necessary, to kill for it.”

  “But not my sisters’ husbands. I cannot do that to my dear Mounteagle.”

  “I will talk about this to Winter and Fawkes, and between us we will devise some way of preventing Mounteagle and Stanton from going to the House for the Opening. But it must be done at the last minute.” Catesby laid his hand again on Tresham’s arm, and smiled into his sullen face.

  “I have always loved you, Frank. Do you not trust me?”

  “I trust you in most things, Robin,” Tresham said rather doubtfully. “And I love you too. But I must be sure that Mounteagle and Stanton are safe.”

  “So you shall be. I am going back to London tomorrow. Come to me at my lodging, Frank, on the day before the Opening, November 4th, and I will tell you what plan I have been able to make to warn the two lords. Will that content you?”

  Tresham nodded but he did not look entirely satisfied.

  “You will swear to me, Frank, that you will speak of this to no one? As you love me, you will keep our secret till the day?”

  “I am not a traitor,” Tresham said stiffly.

  “I know you are not. I know you are true.”

  Tresham, refusing to stay for wine or food, ran out of the house, mounted his horse and rode off. Catesby went back to Guy Fawkes and Tom Winter, and told them what had happened.

  Guy Fawkes was dismayed. He thought that it would have been much safer to clap Tresham into the priest’s hiding hole and keep him there till after November 5th, but it was too late to do that now. He said emphatically, “There must be no question of giving any kind of warning to Mounteagle or Stanton. When Tresham comes to your lodging on November 4th, he must be put out of the way if you are not sure of him. He must be knocked on the head and carried by night to your house in the Lambeth marshes, and locked in the cellar and left there until after the explosion. His brothers-in-law must share the same fate as all the enemies of our religion.”

  Chapter 9

  The Unsigned Letter

  Lord Mounteagle, a handsome, lively young man in his early thirties, had been a great friend of Robert Catesby’s and had taken part with him in the Essex revolt against Queen Elizabeth. He had been a Catholic, but lately he had written to the King to tell him that he had been converted to the Protestant religion; perhaps his conversion was real, but he was probably influenced by the knowledge that so few opportunities were open to Catholics.

  Mounteagle’s conversion had naturally made a coolness between him and Catesby, who was also far too preoccupied with the gunpowder plot to have time for anyone whose sympathies would be against it. Lord Mounteagle, who had married Elizabeth Tresham, lived at Hoxton in a house which she had lately inherited from her father. Hoxton, though only four miles from London, was in those days a country village surrounded by green fields.

  On the evening of October 26th, Mounteagle, who had been staying with friends in the country for the hunting, arrived back at his own home. He sent one of his servants out on an errand to the village, and sat down to his supper.

  While he was being served with the first dishes, the servant came back bringing a sealed letter.

  “This was given me, my Lord, by a man who came up to me in the street. He asked me to put it into your hand without delay.”

  Lord Mounteagle glanced at the letter. “A man who came up to you in the street! What was he like?”

  “I could not see in the dark, my Lord, except that he was a reasonably tall man. He must have seen me in the light from a doorway and recognized your livery.”

  Mounteagle opened the letter and saw a cramped, unfamiliar handwriting. He was tired and hungry after a day’s hunting and a long ride. He tossed the letter to a young gentleman of his household, Thomas Warde, who was sitting at table with him.

  “A begging letter by the look of it. Read it aloud to me,”

  Warde slowly read:

  My Lord. Out of the love I bear to some of your friends I have a care of your preservation, therefore I would advise you as you tende
r your life to devise some excuse to shift your attendance at this Parliament, for God and man hath concurred to punish the wickedness of this time, and think not slightly of this advertisement but retire yourself into your country where you may expect the event in safety, for though there be no appearance of any stir yet I say they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament, and yet they shall not see who hurts them. This counsel is not to be contemned, because it may do you good and can do you no harm, for the danger is passed as soon as you have burnt the letter, and I hope God will give you the grace to make good use of it, to whose holy protection I commend you.

  Thomas Warde stopped reading.

  Lord Mounteagle frowned. “Well? Who has written this letter?”

  “My Lord, it is not signed.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Mounteagle read the letter through again. “Odds my life!” he muttered. “Who can this man be? Someone who supposes himself to be my friend, and warns me not to attend the Opening of Parliament if I value my life? ‘I say they shall receive a terrible blow this Parliament, and yet shall not see who hurts them.’ The danger, whatever it may be, will pass as quickly as a letter can be burnt. Is this some madman, or is there a real danger threatening the Opening of Parliament? How do you interpret it, Tom?”

  “Perhaps, my Lord, some jest?”

  “I do not think so. At least I am very sure that I will try to find out.”

  “How will you do that, my Lord, when you do not know the name of the writer?”

  “I will place the letter in the hands of those whose business it is to find out, and who have the power and the means to do it.”

  Lord Mounteagle drank his glass of wine and pushed his chair back.