by Ann Turnbull
The girls went upstairs together, almost too weary to talk. Except that Eliza said, “I do hope Mouser is not in danger.”
8
A Midnight Raid
There was a strange atmosphere in the house the next day. The girls’ parents talked together in low, troubled tones. They sounded shocked and fearful.
Eliza and Lucy longed to know what was going on, but Mistress Perks kept them busy with lessons, and no one would tell them anything.
They were sent to bed early.
Hours later, in the dead of night, Eliza was woken by voices in the street outside. Then came the sound of tramping boots and the clink of metal.
Soldiers! she thought.
She got up and opened the window.
A group of soldiers was approaching – and they had a prisoner with them.
“Lucy!” she whispered.
But Lucy was already awake and sliding out of bed. She leaned beside Eliza on the windowsill.
“It’s John Johnson,” she said.
As the group came closer Eliza saw that she was right. Two of the soldiers held lanterns and their light fell on the face of John Johnson. The man did not struggle. But he must have heard the girls whispering, for suddenly he glanced up at the open window and saw them. Eliza jumped in fright and pulled Lucy down beside her, below the sill. Hidden there, they heard the soldiers move on.
“He will go to the Tower,” said Lucy.
“Yes.” It gave Eliza a strange feeling to think that their suspicions had led to a man being arrested and taken to prison.
* * *
In the morning a servant summoned Eliza and Lucy to appear before their parents.
All three adults looked serious.
Both girls curtseyed. Eliza felt small and frightened. Lucy’s hand crept into hers and she knew her cousin must be feeling the same.
But no one was angry with them.
“We have been asked by the captain of the guard to thank you for reporting your suspicions of John Johnson,” Eliza’s father said. “I will tell you what happened because we don’t want you hearing rumours or listening to servants’ tittle-tattle. There was a midnight raid on the great cellar. The suspect was found there with thirty-six barrels of gunpowder – ”
“Gunpowder!” exclaimed Eliza and Lucy together.
“Thirty-six barrels of gunpowder, and a fuse.”
Eliza and Lucy stared at each other. Those barrels! They’d never thought of gunpowder.
“He has been taken to the Tower for questioning,” Eliza’s father continued. “It is believed his plan was to blow up the House of Lords this very day when Parliament assembled and His Majesty King James, Queen Anne and Prince Henry and all the lords were there.”
“So – you too, Uncle. And my father,” said Lucy.
She gazed at her father in such shock that he bent down and hugged her. “Both of us. And possibly all of you in this house as well, for there was a mighty quantity of powder.”
“But – why?” exclaimed Eliza.
“Many Catholics are angry because His Majesty has not granted them the freedom of worship they hoped for,” said her father. “The authorities were alerted by letter a few days ago that a great blow would be struck at Westminster today. Now they will question the prisoner to find out who the other plotters are.”
* * *
Later that morning, Lucy sat writing busily in her notebook, while Eliza gazed out of the window and thought about what might have happened. She imagined the company assembling in the great hall above the cellar, the Lords robed in silks and furs, King James resplendent in his crown and cloth of gold, and with him Queen Anne and Prince Henry. The bishops would be there, and all the courtiers like her father, and the ushers and trumpeters and standard-bearers.
If the gunpowder had ignited, they would all have been blown to pieces. Perhaps she and Lucy and her mother and all their household would have died too.
Who would do such a thing?
9
Mouser’s Secret
‘His name is Guy Fawkes, not John Johnson.’ Lucy was reading aloud to Eliza from her notebook. ‘He is a Catholic gentleman from Yorkshire and was a soldier in the service of the King of Spain. They are questioning him in the Tower.’
That means torture, thought Eliza, with a shudder.
‘The plotters are on the run and trying to raise a rebellion in the Midlands,’ Lucy continued. ‘Several plotters have blown themselves up in an accident with their gunpowder. Mistress Perks says this is God’s judgment.’
Lucy and her father had stayed on in London longer than planned because of the emergency. Eliza was glad. She loved having Lucy to stay. And these were interesting times – but also alarming ones.
“Is it true,” Eliza asked her mother, “that they planned to capture the Lady Elizabeth from Coombe Abbey and make her their queen – to do whatever they told her?”
“Yes, it’s true,” her mother said.
“We met her,” said Lucy.
It was shocking to think of the princess – a girl of their age – being the prisoner of such men. And they had other worries. The plotters were nearly all Catholic gentlemen from the Midlands, and the girls’ parents were acquainted with some of them.
“Are we safe?” Eliza asked. “They are accusing Catholics of treason.” She looked searchingly at her mother. “My father is secretly a Catholic, isn’t he?”
“Your father is a loyal servant of the King, and you know he attends the Protestant church.”
“But…”
“But the old queen, Elizabeth, said she did not want to look into men’s hearts. And I think King James is the same.” She put her arms around both girls. “You have nothing to fear.”
Eliza felt comforted. But another thing had been worrying her.
“There’s Mouser…” she began.
“Who is Mouser?” Eliza’s mother did not spend much time in the kitchen.
Eliza and Lucy gabbled to explain.
“The kitchen cat – ”
“We last saw him in the cellar – ”
“But then soldiers came in and cleared it – ”
“And we heard they stopped up some of the entrances – ”
“We don’t know whether Mouser escaped! You told us we must not go into the kitchen again – ”
“Enough!” cried Eliza’s mother. “You may ask Mistress Rowley about Mouser. Go and ask her now.”
* * *
Mistress Rowley was pleased to see them.
“I have news for you young gentlewomen,” she said. “Your friend Mouser –”
“Is he safe?” Eliza looked around anxiously. There was no sign of Mouser.
“He’s not only safe, he’s had kittens!”
“Kittens!”
“Come and see,” said Mistress Rowley.
There were some shelves near the fireplace with kitchen things stored on them: a pestle and mortar, some jugs and bowls. On the bottom shelf was a basket full of rags. And in the basket was Mouser, curled up and purring, with three – no, four! – kittens.
“Oh!” exclaimed Eliza in delight.
Both girls dropped to their knees beside the basket. The kittens were not at all pretty yet; they were damp, blind and scrabbling. But their tiny mewing made Eliza and Lucy love them already.
“None of us noticed,” confessed Mistress Rowley. “Looking back, I remember he was a bit fat, and extra hungry – ”
“She,” said Lucy.
“She – yes. And she kept disappearing. Down that cellar, hunting, I suppose, or looking for somewhere to make a nest.”
“Will you keep the kittens?” asked Eliza.
“Well, I’d like a couple more cats, to keep the mice down. But the other two… Walter will drown them, I expect.”
“Oh, no!” Eliza and Lucy protested together. And Eliza said, “I could take one – for a pet – if Mother will let me.”
“And I want one, too!” said Lucy. “But you’re going home soon, ar
en’t you, Mistress Lucy? They won’t be weaned for several weeks.”
“Then I’ll take both,” said Eliza. “One for me and one for Lucy, when she visits. I’m sure my mother will say yes.”
* * *
Eliza dipped her quill pen in the freshly squeezed orange juice she had begged from Mistress Rowley, and wrote:
‘8th January, 1606.
Dear cousin Lucy,
Secret news!
At last the kittens are weaned and I have ours with me. I wish you could see them. They interrupt my lessons and make me laugh. I have drawn you a picture of them – in ink, because they are both black. Yours is a girl and has a white bib and two white feet, and mine is a boy and has a white tip to his tail.
Many more gunpowder plotters have been arrested. Mistress Perks says they will all be executed.
My kitten is called Midnight. What will you call yours? Write soon and tell me.
Your loving cousin,
Eliza Fenton.’
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In the long, hot summer of 1665, the plague comes to London. Sam is a servant boy with no family of his own. When his master dies, Sam is left alone, a prisoner in an empty building with a cross on the door to mark it as a plague house.
The first of Sam’s adventures. Can he escape? And even if he does, will he be able to survive on London’s ravaged streets?
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The Gunpowder Plot Unclassified:
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