“I will be as lenient as I can,” returned Salisbury; “but in a matter of this kind little favour can be shown. If your lordship will enable me to discover the principal actors in this affair, I will take care that no innocent party suffers.”
“You ask an impossibility,” replied Mounteagle. “I know nothing beyond what can be gathered from that letter. But I pray your lordship not to make it a means of exercising unnecessary severity towards the members of my religion.”
“On that you may rely,” returned the Earl. “His Majesty will not return from the hunting expedition on which he is engaged at Royston till Thursday next, the 30th. I think it scarcely worth while (considering his naturally timid nature, with which your lordships are well acquainted) to inform him of the threatened danger, until his arrival at the palace. It will then be time enough to take any needful steps, as Parliament will not meet for four or five days afterwards.”
In the policy of this course the Privy Councillors agreed, and it was arranged that the matter should be kept perfectly secret until the King’s opinion had been taken upon the letter. The assemblage then broke up, it being previously arranged that, for fear of some attempt upon his life, Lord Mounteagle should remain within the palace till full inquiries had been instituted into the affair.
When the two confederate nobles were left alone, Salisbury observed, with a slight laugh, to his companion,
“Thus far we have proceeded well, and without suspicion, and, rely upon it, none shall fall on you. As soon as all is over, the most important post the King has to bestow shall be yours.”
“But what of Tresham?” asked Mounteagle. “He was the deliverer of this letter, and I have little faith in him.”
“Hum!” said Salisbury, after a moment’s reflection, “if you think it desirable, we can remove him to the Tower, where he can be easily silenced.”
“It will be better so,” replied Mounteagle. “He may else babble hereafter. I gave him a thousand pounds to send in his own name to the conspirators the other day to lure them into our nets.”
“It shall be repaid you a hundred-fold,” replied Salisbury. “But we are observed, and must therefore separate.”
So saying, he withdrew to his own chamber, while Lord Mounteagle was ushered to the apartments allotted to him.
To return to Guy Fawkes. Arriving at Southwark, he stationed himself near Lord Mounteagle’s residence. But he observed nothing to awaken his suspicions, until early in the morning he perceived a page approaching the mansion, whom, from his livery, he knew to be one of Lord Mounteagle’s household, (it was, in fact, the very youth who had delivered the mysterious letter,) and from him he ascertained all that had occurred. Filled with alarm, and scarcely knowing what to do, he crossed the river, and proceeding to the cellar, examined the marks at the door, and finding all precisely as he had left it, felt certain, that whatever discovery had been made, the magazine had not been visited.
He next repaired to the house, of which he possessed the key, and was satisfied that no one had been there. Somewhat relieved by this, he yet determined to keep watch during the day, and concealing himself near the cellar, remained on the look-out till night. But no one came; nor did anything occur to excite his suspicions. He would not, however, quit his post till about six o’clock on the following evening, when, thinking further delay might be attended with danger, he set out to White Webbs, to give his companions intelligence of the letter.
His news was received by all with the greatest alarm, and not one, except Catesby, who strove to put a bold face upon the matter, though he was full of inward misgiving, but confessed that he thought all chance of success was at an end. While deliberating upon what should be done in this fearful emergency, they were greatly alarmed by a sudden knocking without. All the conspirators concealed themselves, except Guy Fawkes, who opening the door, found, to his infinite surprise, that the summons proceeded from Tresham. He said nothing till the other had entered the house, and then suddenly drawing his dagger, held it to his throat.
“Make your shrift quickly, traitor,” he cried in a furious tone, “for your last hour is arrived. What ho!” he shouted to the others, who instantly issued from their hiding-places, “the fox has ventured into the lion’s den.”
“You distrust me wrongfully,” rejoined Tresham, with more confidence than he usually exhibited in time of danger; “I am come to warn you, not betray you. Is this the return you make me for the service?”
“Villain!” cried Catesby, rushing up to him, and holding his drawn sword to his breast. “You have conveyed the letter to Lord Mounteagle.”
“It is false,” replied Tresham; “I have only just heard of it; and, in spite of the risk I knew I should run from your suspicions, I came to tell you what had happened.”
“Why did you feign illness, and depart secretly for town, instead of joining us at Coughton?” demanded Catesby.
“I will instantly explain my motive, which, though it may not be satisfactory to you on one point, will be so on another,” replied Tresham unhesitatingly, and with apparent frankness. “I was fearful you would make a further tool of me, and resolved not to join you again till a few days before the outbreak of the plot. To this determination I should have adhered, had I not learnt to-night that a letter had been transmitted by some one to Lord Mounteagle, which he had conveyed to the Earl of Salisbury. It may not convey any notion of the plot, but it is certain to occasion alarm, and I thought it my duty, in spite of every personal consideration, to give you warning. If you design to escape, there is yet time. A vessel lies in the river, in which we can all embark for Flanders.”
“Can he be innocent?” said Catesby in a whisper to Garnet.
“If I had betrayed you,” continued Tresham, “I should not have come hither. And I have no motive for such baseness, for I am in equal danger with yourselves. But though the alarm has been given, I do not think any discovery will be made. They are evidently on the wrong scent.”
“I hope so,” replied Catesby; “but I fear the contrary.”
“Shall I put him to death?” demanded Fawkes of Garnet.
“Do not sully your hands with his blood, my son,” returned Garnet. “If he has betrayed us, he will reap the traitor’s reward here and hereafter. If he has not, it would be to take away a life unjustly. Let him depart. We shall feel more secure without him.”
“Will it be safe to set him free, father?” cried Fawkes.
“I think so,” replied Garnet. “We will not admit him to our further conferences; but let us act mercifully.”
The major part of the conspirators concurring in this opinion, though Fawkes and Catesby were opposed to it, Tresham was suffered to depart. As soon as he was gone, Garnet avowed that the further prosecution of the design appeared so hazardous, that it ought to be abandoned, and that, in his opinion, each of the conspirators had better consult his own safety by flight. He added, that at some future period the design might be resumed, or another planned, which might be more securely carried out.
After much discussion, all seemed disposed to acquiesce in the proposal, except Fawkes, who adhered doggedly to his purpose, and treated the danger so slightingly, that he gradually brought the others round to his views. At length, it was resolved that Garnet should set out immediately for Coughton Hall, and place himself under the protection of Sir Everard Digby, and there await the result of the attempt, while the other conspirators decided upon remaining in town, in some secure places of concealment, until the event was known. Unmoved as ever, Guy Fawkes declared his intention of watching over the magazine of powder.
“If anything happens to me,” he said, “you will take care of yourselves. You well know nothing will be wrung from me.”
Catesby and the others, aware of his resolute nature, affected to remonstrate with him, but they willingly suffered him to take his own course. Attended by Bates, Garnet then set out for Warwickshire, and the rest of the conspirators proceeded to London, where they dispersed, after appoint
ing Lincoln’s Inn Walks as their place of midnight rendezvous. Each then made preparations for sudden flight, in case it should be necessary, and Rookwood provided relays of horses all the way to Dunchurch.
Guy Fawkes alone remained at his post. He took up his abode in the cellar, resolved to blow up himself together with his foes, in case of a surprise.
On Thursday, the 31st of October, the King returned to Whitehall, and the mysterious letter was laid before him in the presence of the Privy Council by the Earl of Salisbury. James perused it carefully, but could scarcely hide his perplexity.
“Your Majesty will not fail to remark the expressions, ‘a terrible blow’ to the Parliament, and ‘that the danger will be past as soon as you have burnt the letter,’ evidently referring to combustion,” observed the Earl.
“You are right, Salisbury,” said James, snatching at the suggestion. “I should not wonder if these mischievous Papists mean to blow us all up with gunpowder.”
“Your Majesty has received a divine illumination,” returned the Earl. “Such an idea never occurred to me; but it must be as you intimate.”
“Undoubtedly — undoubtedly,” replied the monarch, pleased with the compliment to his sagacity, though alarmed by the danger; “but what desperate traitors they must be to imagine such a deed! Blow us up! God’s mercy, that were a dreadful death! And yet that must evidently be the meaning of the passage. How else can it be construed, except by reference to the suddenness of the act, which might be as quickly performed as that paper would take to be consumed in the fire?”
“Your Majesty’s penetration has discovered the truth,” replied Salisbury, “and by the help of your wisdom, I will fully develop this dark design. Where, think you, the powder may lie hidden?”
“Are there any vaults beneath the Parliament House?” demanded James, trembling. “Heaven save us! We have often walked there — perhaps, over a secret mine.”
“There are,” replied Salisbury; “and I am again indebted to your Majesty for a most important suggestion. Not a corner in the vaults shall be left unsearched. But, perhaps you will think with me, that, in order to catch these traitors in their own trap, it will be well to defer the search till the very night before the meeting of Parliament.”
“I was about to recommend such a course myself, Salisbury,” replied James.
“I was sure you would think so,” returned the Earl; “and now I must entreat you to dismiss the subject from your thoughts, and to sleep securely; for you may rely upon it (after your Majesty’s discovery) that the plot shall be fully unravelled.”
The significant tone in which the Earl uttered the latter part of this speech, convinced the King that he knew more of the matter than he cared to confess; and he contented himself with saying, “Well, let it be so. I trust all to you. But I at once divined their purpose, — I at once divined it.”
The Council then broke up, and James laughed and chuckled to himself at the discernment he had displayed. Nor was he less pleased with his minister for the credit given him in the affair. But he took care not to enter the Parliament House.
On the afternoon of Monday, the 4th of November, the Lord Chamberlain, accompanied by the Lords Salisbury and Mounteagle, visited the cellars and vaults beneath the Parliament House. For some time, they discovered nothing to excite suspicion. At length, probably at the suggestion of Lord Mounteagle, who, as will be recollected, was acquainted with the situation of the magazine, they proceeded to the cellar, where they found the store of powder; but not meeting with any of the conspirators, as they expected, they disturbed nothing, and went away, reporting the result of their search to the King.
By the recommendation of the Earl of Salisbury, James advised that a guard should be placed near the cellar during the whole of the night, consisting of Topcliffe and a certain number of attendants, and headed by Sir Thomas Knevet, a magistrate of Westminster, upon whose courage and discretion full reliance could be placed. Lord Mounteagle also requested permission to keep guard with them to witness the result of the affair. To this the King assented, and as soon as it grew dark, the party secretly took up their position at a point commanding the entrance of the magazine.
Fawkes, who chanced to be absent at the time the search was made, returned a few minutes afterwards, and remained within the cellar, seated upon a barrel of gunpowder, the head of which he had staved in, with a lantern in one hand, and petronel in the other, till past midnight.
The fifth of November was now at hand, and the clock of the adjoining abbey had scarcely ceased tolling the hour that proclaimed its arrival, when Fawkes, somewhat wearied with his solitary watching, determined to repair, for a short space, to the adjoining house. He accordingly quitted the cellar, leaving his lantern lighted within it in one corner.
Opening the door, he gazed cautiously around, but perceiving nothing, after waiting a few seconds, he proceeded to lock the door. While thus employed, he thought he heard a noise behind him, and turning suddenly, he beheld through the gloom several persons rushing towards him, evidently with hostile intent. His first impulse was to draw a petronel, and grasp his sword: but before he could effect his purpose, his arms were pinioned by a powerful grasp from behind, while the light of a lantern thrown full in his face revealed the barrel of a petronel levelled at his head, and an authoritative voice commanded him in the King’s name to surrender.
Guy Fawkes arrested by Sir Thomas Knevet and Topcliffe
* * *
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FLIGHT OF THE CONSPIRATORS.
On the same night, and at the same hour that Guy Fawkes was captured, the other conspirators held their rendezvous in Lincoln’s Inn Walks. A presentiment of the fate awaiting them filled the breasts of all, and even Catesby shared in the general depression. Plan after plan was proposed, and, as soon as proposed, rejected; and they seemed influenced only by alarm and irresolution. Feeling at length that nothing could be done, and that they were only increasing their risk by remaining together longer, they agreed to separate, appointing to meet at the same place on the following night, if their project should not, in the interim, be discovered.
“Before daybreak,” said Catesby, “I will proceed to the cellar under the Parliament House, and ascertain whether anything has happened to Guy Fawkes. My heart misgives me about him, and I reproach myself that I have allowed him to incur this peril alone.”
“Guy Fawkes is arrested,” said a voice near them, “and is at this moment under examination before the King.”
“It is Tresham who speaks,” cried Catesby; “secure him!”
The injunction was instantly obeyed. Tresham was seized, and several weapons pointed against his breast. He did not, however, appear to be dismayed, but, so far as could be discerned in the obscurity, seemed to maintain great boldness of demeanour.
“I have again ventured among you, at the hazard of my life,” he said, in a firm tone, “to give you this most important intelligence; and am requited, as I have ever been of late, with menaces and violence. Stab me, and see whether my death will avail you in this extremity. I am in equal danger with yourselves; and whether I perish by your hands, or by those of the executioner, is of little moment.”
“Let me question him before we avenge ourselves upon him,” said Catesby to Rookwood. “How do you know that Guy Fawkes is a prisoner?”
“I saw him taken,” replied Tresham, “and esteem myself singularly fortunate that I escaped the same fate. Though excluded from further share in the project, I could not divest myself of a strong desire to know how matters were going on, and I resolved to visit the cellar secretly at midnight. As I stealthily approached it, I remarked several armed figures beneath a gateway, and conjecturing their purpose, instantly concealed myself behind a projection of the wall. I had not been in this situation many minutes, when the cellar door opened, and Guy Fawkes issued from it.”
“Well!” cried Catesby, breathlessly.
“The party I had noticed immediately rushed forward, and se
cured him before he could offer any resistance,” continued Tresham. “After a brief struggle, certain of their number dragged him into the cellar, while others kept watch without. I should now have flown, but my limbs refused their office, and I was therefore compelled, however reluctantly, to see the end of it. In a short time Guy Fawkes was brought forth again, and I heard some one in authority give directions that he should be instantly taken to Whitehall, to be interrogated before the King and the Privy Council. He was then led away, and a guard placed at the door of the cellar. Feeling certain I should be discovered, I continued for some time in an agony of apprehension, not daring to stir. But, at length, summoning up sufficient resolution, I crept cautiously along the side of the wall, and got off unperceived. My first object was to warn you.”
“How did you become acquainted with our place of rendezvous?” demanded the elder Wright.
“I overheard you, at our last interview at White Webbs, appoint a midnight meeting in this place,” replied Tresham, “and I hurried hither in the hope of finding you, and have not been disappointed.”
“When I give the word, plunge your swords into his breast,” said Catesby, in a low tone.
“Hold!” cried Percy, taking him aside. “If we put him to death in this spot, his body will be found, and his slaughter may awaken suspicions against us. Guy Fawkes will reveal nothing.”
“Of that I am well assured,” said Catesby. “Shall we take the traitor with us to some secure retreat, where we can detain him till we learn what takes place at the palace, and if we find he has betrayed us, despatch him?”
“That would answer no good purpose,” returned Percy “The sooner we are rid of him the better. We can then deliberate as to what is best to be done.”
“You are right,” rejoined Catesby. “If he has betrayed us, life will be a burthen to him, and the greatest kindness we could render him would be to rid him of it. Let him go. Tresham,” he added, in a loud voice, “you are free. But we meet no more.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 208