THE DEPARTURE FROM THE HALL.
Guy Fawkes was as much surprised to hear of the sudden departure of
Catesby as he was concerned at the cause; but he still thought it
probable he would return. In this expectation, however, he was
disappointed. The day wore on, and no one came. The uncertainty in which
Fawkes was kept, added to his unwillingness to leave Garnet, still
detained him, in spite of the risk he ran, at the Hall; and it was only
when urged by Viviana that he began seriously to reflect whither he
should bend his steps. Towards evening, Garnet was so much better, that
he was able to sit up, and he passed some hours in conference with
Oldcorne.
"If I do not suffer a relapse," he observed to the latter, "I will set
out with Guy Fawkes to-morrow, and we will proceed by easy stages to
London."
"I cannot but approve your resolution," returned Oldcorne; "for though
so long a journey may be inconvenient, and retard your recovery, yet
every hour you remain here is fraught with additional peril. I will
accompany you. We shall both be safer in the capital; and perhaps
Viviana, now she will be no longer exposed to the persecutions of
Catesby, will form one of the party."
"I should not wonder," replied Garnet. "I shall be deeply concerned if
Catesby has really abandoned the enterprise. But I cannot think it. I
did all I could to dissuade him from prosecuting this union, knowing how
hopeless it was, and little thinking he would be rash enough to seek to
accomplish it by force, or that he would find an assistant in you."
"Say no more about it, father, I entreat you," rejoined Oldcorne. "The
scheme failed, as it deserved to do; and I sincerely repent the share I
was induced by Catesby's artful representations to take in it. If we
have lost our leader we have still Guy Fawkes, who is a host in himself,
and as true as the steel that hangs by his side."
"We cannot spare Catesby," replied Garnet. "With many faults, he has one
redeeming quality, courage. I am not sorry he has been thwarted in his
present scheme, as if he returns to us, as I doubt not he will, it will
fix his mind steadily on the one object, which should be ever before it.
Give me your arm, father. I am glad to find I can walk, though feebly.
That is well," he added, as they emerged upon the gallery; "I shall be
able to reach Viviana's chamber without further assistance. Do you
descend, and see that Martin Heydocke is on the watch."
In obedience to the injunctions of his superior, Oldcorne went in search
of Martin Heydocke, who had been stationed in the court-yard to give
timely notice of any hostile approach; but not finding him there, he
proceeded towards the drawbridge. Garnet, meanwhile, had reached the
door of Viviana's chamber, which was slightly ajar, and he was about to
pass through it, when he perceived that she was on her knees before Guy
Fawkes, whom she was addressing in the most passionate terms. The latter
was seated at a table, with his head upon his hand, in a thoughtful
posture. Surprised at the sight, and curious to hear what Viviana could
be saying, Garnet drew back to listen.
"When you quit this house," were the first words that caught the
listener's ear, "we shall never meet again; and oh! let me have the
consolation of thinking that, in return for the devoted attachment you
have shown me, and the dangers from which you have preserved me, I have
preserved you from one equally imminent. Catesby, from whatever motive,
has abandoned the conspiracy. Do you act likewise, and the whole
dreadful scheme will fall to the ground."
"Catesby cannot abandon it," replied Fawkes. "He is bound by ties that
no human power can sunder. And, however he may estrange himself from us
now, when the time for action arrives, rest assured he will not be
absent."
[Illustration: _Viviana Radcliffe imploring Guy Fawkes to abandon the
Conspiracy_]
"It may be so," replied Viviana; "but I deny that the oath either he or
you have taken is binding. The deed you have sworn to do is evil, and no
vow, however solemnly pronounced, can compel you to commit crime. Avoid
this sin--avoid further connexion with those who would work your
undoing, and do not stain your soul with guilt from which it will never
be cleansed."
"You seek in vain to move me," replied Guy Fawkes, firmly. "My purpose
is unalterable. The tempest that clears away the pestilence destroys
many innocent lives, but it is not the less wholesome on that account.
Our unhappy land is choked with the pestilence of heresy, and must be
freed from it, cost what it will, and suffer who may. The wrongs of the
English Catholics imperatively demand redress; and, since it is denied
us, we must take it. Oppression can go no farther; nor endurance hold
out longer. If this blow be not struck we shall have no longer a
religion. And how comes it, Viviana, that you, a zealous Catholic, whose
father perished by these very oppressors, and who are yourself in danger
from them, can seek to turn me from my purpose?"
"Because I know it is wrongful," she replied. "I have no desire to
avenge the death of my slaughtered father, still less to see our
religion furthered by the dreadful means you propose. In his own due
season, the Lord will redress our wrongs."
"The Lord has appointed me one of the ministers of his vengeance," cried
Fawkes, in a tone of enthusiasm.
"Do not deceive yourself," returned Viviana, "it is not by Heaven, but
by the powers of darkness, that you are incited to this deed. Do not
persevere in this fatal course," she continued, clasping her hands
together, and gazing imploringly in his face, "do not--do not!"
Guy Fawkes continued in the same attitude as before, with his gaze
turned upwards, and apparently lost in thought.
"Have I no power to move you?" cried Viviana, her eyes streaming with
tears.
"None whatever," replied Guy Fawkes, firmly.
"Then you are lost," she rejoined.
"If it is Heaven's will, I am," answered Fawkes; "but at least I believe
I am acting rightly."
"And rest assured you are so, my son," cried Garnet, throwing open the
door, and stepping into the room. "I have overheard your conversation,
and I applaud your resolution."
"You need have no fears of me, father," replied Fawkes. "I do not
lightly undertake a project; but once embarked in it nothing can turn me
aside."
"In this case your determination is wisely formed, my son," returned
Garnet; "and if Viviana will ever give me an opportunity of fully
discussing the matter, I am sure I can satisfy her you are in the
right."
"I will discuss it with you whenever you think proper," she replied.
"But no arguments will ever convince me that your project is approved by
Heaven."
"Let it pass now, daughter," rejoined Garnet; "enough has been said on
the subject. I came hither to tell Guy Fawkes, that if our enemies
permit us to pass the night without molestation (as Heaven grant they
may!) I think I shall be strong enough to set out with him to-morrow,
when I propose we should journey together to London."
"Agreed," replied Fawkes.
"Father Oldcorne will accompany us," pursued Garnet.
"And I, too, will go with you, if you will permit me," said Viviana. "I
cannot remain here; and I have no further fears of Mr. Catesby. Doctor
Dee told me my future fate was strangely mixed up with that of Guy
Fawkes. I know not how it may be, but I will not abandon him while there
is a hope to cling to."
"Viviana Radcliffe," rejoined Guy Fawkes, coldly, "deeply as I feel the
interest you take in me, I think it right to tell you that no efforts
you can use will shake me from my purpose. If I live, I will execute my
design."
"While I live, I will urge you to it," remarked Garnet.
"And while _I_ live, I will dissuade you from it," added Viviana. "We
shall see who will obtain the victory."
"We shall," replied Garnet, smiling confidently.
"Hear me further," continued Viviana; "I do not doubt that your zeal is
disinterested; yet still, your mode of life, and the difficulties in
which you are placed, may not unnaturally influence your conduct. That
this may no longer be the case, I here place part of my fortune at your
disposal. I require little or nothing myself. But I would, if possible,
save one to whom I owe so much, and whom I value so much, from
destruction."
"I fully appreciate your generosity--to give it its lightest
term--Viviana," returned Guy Fawkes, in a voice of deep emotion. "Under
any circumstances I should reject it,--under the present, I do so the
more positively, because the offer, kind as it is, seems to imply that
my poverty leads me to act contrary to my principles. Gold has no power
over me: I regard it as dross; and when I could easily have won it, I
neglected the opportunity. As no reward would ever induce me to commit
an action my conscience disapproved, so none will deter me from a
purpose which I regard as my duty."
"Enough," replied Viviana, sadly. "I will no longer question your
motives, or oppose your plan, but will pray Heaven to open your eyes to
the truth."
"Your conduct is in all respects worthy of you, daughter," observed
Garnet, kindly.
"You have rejected one offer," continued Viviana, looking at Fawkes;
"but I trust you will not decline that I am about to propose to you."
"What is it?" asked Fawkes, in some surprise.
"It is that I may be permitted to regard you as a father," replied
Viviana, with some hesitation. "Having lost my own father, I feel I need
some protector, and I would gladly make choice of you, if you will
accept the office."
"I willingly accede to your request, and am much flattered by it,
Viviana," replied Fawkes. "I am a homeless man, and a friendless, and
the affection of such a being as yourself will fill up the only void in
my heart. But I am wedded to the great cause. I can never be more to you
than a father."
"Nay, I ask nothing more," she replied, blushing deeply.
"Having thus arranged the terms upon which we shall travel," observed
Garnet, with a smile, "nothing is needed but to prepare for our journey.
We start early to-morrow morning."
"I shall be ready at daybreak," replied Viviana.
"And I am ready now," added Guy Fawkes. "In my opinion, we run great
risk in remaining here another night. But be it as you will."
At this moment they were interrupted by the entrance of Father Oldcorne,
who with a countenance of great alarm informed them he could nowhere
find Martin Heydocke.
"Do you suspect any treachery on his part?" asked Garnet of Viviana.
"I have always found him trustworthy," she answered; "and his father was
_my_ father's oldest servant. I cannot think he would betray us. At the
same time, I must admit his disappearance at this juncture looks
suspicious."
"If my strength were equal to it," returned Guy Fawkes, "I would keep
watch throughout the night; but that might prevent me from accompanying
you to-morrow. My advice, I repeat, is--to set out at once."
This opinion, however, was overruled by Garnet and Viviana, who did not
think the danger so urgent, and attributed the absence of Martin
Heydocke to some unimportant cause. Guy Fawkes made no further
remonstrance, and it was agreed they should start, as originally
proposed, at daybreak.
The party then separated, and Viviana wandered alone over the old house,
taking a farewell, which she felt would be her last, of every familiar
object. Few things were as she had known them, but even in their present
forlorn state they were dear to her; and the rooms she trod, though
dismantled, were the same she had occupied in childhood.
There is no pang more acute to a sensitive nature than that occasioned
by quitting an abode or spot endeared by early recollections and
associations, to which we feel a strong presentiment we shall never
return. Viviana experienced this feeling in its full force, and she
lingered in each room as if she had not the power to leave it. Her
emotions at length became so overpowering, that to relieve them she
strolled forth into the garden. Here, new objects awakened her
attention, and recalled happier times with painful distinctness.
Twilight was fast deepening, and, viewed through this dim and softened
medium, everything looked as of old, and produced a tightening and
stifling sensation in her breast, that nothing but a flood of tears
could remove.
The flowers yielded forth their richest scents, and the whole scene was
such as she had often beheld it in times long ago, when sorrow was
wholly unknown to her. Perfumes, it is well known, exercise a singular
influence over the memory. A particular odour will frequently call up an
event and a long train of circumstances connected with the time when it
was first inhaled. Without being aware whence it arose, Viviana felt a
tide of recollections pressing upon her, which she would have willingly
repressed, but which it was out of her power to control. Her tears
flowed abundantly, and at length, with a heart somewhat lightened of its
load, she arose from the bench on which she had thrown herself, and
proceeded along a walk to gather a few flowers as memorials of the
place.
In this way, she reached the further end of the garden, and was stooping
to pluck a spray of some fragrant shrub, when she perceived the figure
of a man behind a tree at a little distance from her. From his garb,
which was that of a soldier, she instantly knew he was an enemy, and,
though greatly alarmed, she had the courage not to scream, but breaking
off the branch, she uttered a careless exclamation, and slowly retraced
her steps. She half expected to hear that the soldier was following her,
and prepared to start off at full speed to the house; but, deceived by
her manner, he did not stir. On reaching the end of the walk, she could
not resist the inclination to look back, and glancing over her shoulder,
perceived the man watching her. But as she moved, he instantly withdrew
his head.
Her first step on reaching the house was to close and fasten the door;
her next to hasten to Guy Fawkes's chamber, where she found him,
together with Garnet and Oldcorne. All three were astounded at the
intelligence, agreeing that an attack was intended, and that a large
force was, in all probability, concealed in the garden awaiting only the
arrival of night to surprise and seize them. The disappearance of the
younger Heydocke was no longer a mystery. He had been secured and
carried off by the hostile party, to prevent him from giving the alarm.
The emergency was a fearful one, and it excited consternation amongst
all except Guy Fawkes, who preserved his calmness.
"I foresaw we should be attacked to-night," he said, "and I am therefore
not wholly unprepared. Our only chance is to steal out unobserved; for
resistance would be in vain, as their force is probably numerous, and I
am as helpless as an infant, while Father Garnet's broken arm precludes
any assistance from him. The subterranean passage leading from the
oratory to the further side of the moat having been stopped up by the
pursuivant and his band, it will be necessary to cross the drawbridge,
and as soon as it grows sufficiently dark, we must make the attempt. We
have no horses, and must trust to our own exertions for safety. Catesby
would now be invaluable. It is not his custom to desert his friends at
the season of their greatest need."
"Great as is my danger," observed Viviana, "I would rather, so far as I
am concerned, that he were absent, than owe my preservation to him. I
have no fears for myself."
"And my only fears are for you," rejoined Fawkes.
Half an hour of intense anxiety was now passed by the party. Garnet was
restless and uneasy. Oldcorne betrayed his agitation by unavailing
lamentations, by listening to every sound, and by constantly rushing to
the windows to reconnoitre, until he was checked by Fawkes, who
represented to him the folly of his conduct. Viviana, though ill at
ease, did not allow her terror to appear, but endeavoured to imitate the
immoveable demeanour of Guy Fawkes, who always became more collected in
proportion to the danger by which he was threatened.
At the expiration of the time above mentioned, it had become quite dark,
and desiring his companions to follow him, Guy Fawkes drew his sword,
and, grasping Viviana's hand, led the way down stairs. Before opening
the door, he listened intently, and, hearing no sound, issued cautiously
forth. The party had scarcely gained the centre of the court, when a
caliver was discharged at them, which, though it did no damage, served
as a signal to the rest of their foes. Guy Fawkes, who had never
relinquished his hold of Viviana, now pressed forward as rapidly as his
strength would permit, and the two priests followed. But loud shouts
were raised on the drawbridge, and it was evident it was occupied by the
enemy.
Uncertain what to do, Guy Fawkes halted, and was about to return to the
house, when a shout from behind told him their retreat was intercepted.
In this dilemma there was nothing for it but to attempt to force a
passage across the drawbridge, or to surrender at discretion; and though
Guy Fawkes would not at other seasons have hesitated to embrace the
former alternative, he knew that his strength was not equal to it now.
While he was internally resolving not to yield himself with life, and
supporting Viviana, who clung closely to him, the clatter of hoofs was
heard rapidly approaching along the avenue, and presently afterwards two
horsemen galloped at full speed toward the drawbridge. The noise had
likewise attracted the attention of the enemy; who, apprehensive of a
rescue, prepared to stop them. But the tremendous pace of the riders
rendered this impossible. A few blows were exchanged, a few shots fired,
and they had crossed the drawbridge.
"Who goes there?" shouted Guy Fawkes, as the horsemen approached him.
"It is the voice of Guy Fawkes," cried the foremost, whose tones
proclaimed it was Catesby. "They are here," he cried, reining in his
steed.
"Where is Viviana?" vociferated his companion, who was no other than
Humphrey Chetham.
"Here--here," replied Guy Fawkes.
With the quickness of thought, the young merchant was by her side, and
in another moment she was placed on the saddle before him, and borne at
a headlong pace across the drawbridge.
"Follow me," cried Catesby. "I will clear a passage for you. Once across
the drawbridge, you are safe. A hundred yards down the avenue, on the
right, you will find a couple of horses tied to a tree. Quick! quick!"
As he spoke, a shot whizzed past his head, and a tumultuous din in the
rear told that their pursuers were close upon them. Striking spurs into
his steed, Catesby dashed forward, and dealing blows right and left,
cleared the drawbridge of its occupants, many of whom leaped into the
moat to escape his fury. His companions were close at his heels, and got
over the bridge in safety.
"Fly!--fly!" cried Catesby,--"to the horses--the horses! I will check
all pursuit."
So saying, and while the others flew towards the avenue, he faced his
opponents, and making a desperate charge upon them, drove them
backwards. In this conflict, though several shots were fired, and blows
aimed at him on all sides, he sustained no injury, but succeeded in
defending the bridge sufficiently long to enable his friends to mount.
He then rode off at full speed, and found the party waiting for him at
the end of the avenue. Father Oldcorne was seated on the same steed as
his superior. After riding with them upwards of a mile, Humphrey Chetham
dismounted, and resigning his horse to Viviana, bade her farewell, and
disappeared.
"And now to London!" cried Catesby, striking into a road on the right,
and urging his steed to a rapid pace.
"Ay, to London!--to the Parliament House!" echoed Fawkes, following him
with the others.
END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
[Illustration: _Guy Fawkes and Catesby landing the Powder._]
Book the Second.
THE DISCOVERY.
The next point to be considered is the means to compass and work
these designs. These means were most cruel and damnable;--by
mining, and by thirty-six barrels of powder, having crows of iron,
stones, and wood, laid upon the barrels, to have made the breach
the greater. Lord! what a wind, what a fire, what a motion and
commotion of earth and air would there have been!--_Sir Edward
Coke's Speech on the Trial of the Conspirators in the Gunpowder
Plot._
CHAPTER I.
THE LANDING OF THE POWDER.
Towards the close of the sixth day after their departure from Ordsall
Hall, the party approached the capital. The sun was setting as they
descended Highgate Hill, and the view of the ancient, and then most
picturesque city, was so enchanting, that Viviana, who beheld it for the
first time, entreated her companions to pause for a few minutes to allow
her to contemplate it. From the spot where they halted, the country was
completely open to Clerkenwell, and only a few scattered habitations lay
between them and the old grey ramparts of the city, with their gates and
fortifications, which were easily discernible even at that distance.
Above them rose the massive body and central tower of Saint Paul's
cathedral,--a structure far surpassing that which has succeeded
it,--while amid the innumerable gables, pointed roofs, and twisted
chimneys of the houses sprang a multitude of lesser towers and spires,
lending additional beauty to the scene. Viviana was enraptured, and,
while gazing on the prospect, almost forgot her sorrows. Guy Fawkes and
Catesby, who were a little in advance of the others, turned their gaze
westward, and the former observed to his companion,
"The sun is setting over the Parliament House. The sky seems stained
with blood. It looks portentous of what is to follow."
"I would gladly behold the explosion from this hill, or from yon
heights," replied Catesby, pointing towards Hampstead. "It will be a
sight such as man has seldom seen."
"I shall never live to witness it!" exclaimed Guy Fawkes, in a
melancholy tone.
"What! still desponding?" returned Catesby, reproachfully. "I thought,
since you had fully recovered from your wound, you had shaken off your
fears."
"You misunderstand me," replied Fawkes. "I mean that I shall perish with
our foes."
"Why so?" cried Catesby. "There will be plenty of time to escape after
you have fired the train."
"I shall not attempt it," rejoined Fawkes, in a sombre voice. "I will
abide the result in the vault. If I perish, it will be a glorious
death."
"Better live to see the regeneration of our faith, and our restoration
to our rights," rejoined Catesby. "But we will speak of this hereafter.
Here comes Garnet."
"Where do you propose we should lodge to-night?" asked the latter,
riding up.
"At the house at Lambeth, where the powder is deposited," returned
Catesby.
"Will it be safe?" asked Garnet, uneasily.
"We shall be safer there than elsewhere, father," replied Catesby. "If
it is dark enough to-night, Fawkes and I will remove a portion of the
powder. But we are losing time. We must pass through the city before the
gates are closed."
In this suggestion Garnet acquiesced, and calling to Viviana to follow
them,--for, since his late atrocious attempt, Catesby had not exchanged
a word or look with her, but during the whole of the journey kept
sedulously aloof,--the whole party set forward, and proceeding at a
brisk pace, soon reached the walls of the city. Passing through
Cripplegate, they shaped their course towards London Bridge. Viviana was
filled with astonishment at all she saw: the multitude and magnificence
of the shops, compared with such as she had previously seen; the crowds
in the streets,--for even at that hour they were thronged; the varied
dresses of the passengers--the sober garb of the merchant, contrasting
with the showy cloak, the preposterous ruff, swelling hose, plumed cap,
and swaggering gait of the gallant or the ruffler; the brawls that were
constantly occurring; the number of signs projecting from the dwellings;
all she witnessed or heard surprised and amused her, and she would
willingly have proceeded at a slower pace to indulge her curiosity, had
not her companions urged her onward.
As they were crossing Eastcheap, in the direction of Crooked-lane, a man
suddenly quitted the footpath, and, rushing towards Garnet, seized his
bridle, and cried,
"I arrest you. You are a Romish priest."
"It is false, knave," returned Garnet. "I am as good a Protestant as
thyself, and am just arrived with my companions from a long journey."
"Your companions are all rank Papists," rejoined the stranger. "You
yourself are Father Garnet, superior of the Jesuits, and, if I am not
deceived, the person next you is Father Oldcorne, also of that order. If
I am wrong you can easily refute the charge. Come with me to the
council. If you refuse, I will call assistance from the passengers."
Garnet saw he was lost if he did not make an immediate effort at
self-preservation, and resolving to be beforehand with his assailant, he
shouted at the top of his voice,
"Help! help! my masters. This villain would rob me of my purse."
"He is a Romish priest," vociferated the stranger. "I call upon you to
assist me to arrest him."
While the passengers, scarcely knowing what to make of these
contradictory statements, flocked round them, Guy Fawkes, who was a
little in advance of Catesby, rode back, and seeing how matters stood,
instantly drew a petronel, and with the butt-end felled the stranger to
the ground. Thus liberated, Garnet struck spurs into his steed, and the
whole party dashed off at a rapid pace. Shouts were raised by the
bystanders, a few of whom started in pursuit, but the speed at which the
fugitives rode soon bore them out of danger.
By this time they had reached London Bridge, and Viviana, in some degree
recovered from the fright caused by the recent occurrence, ventured to
look around her. She could scarcely believe she was crossing a bridge,
so completely did the tall houses give it the appearance of a street;
and, if it had not been for occasional glimpses of the river caught
between the openings of these lofty habitations, she would have thought
her companions had mistaken the road. As they approached the ancient
gateway (afterwards denominated Traitor's Tower), at the Southwark side
of the bridge, she remarked with a shudder the dismal array of heads
garnishing its spikes, and pointing them out to Fawkes, cried,
"Heaven grant yours may never be amongst the number!"
Fawkes made no answer, but dashed beneath the low and gloomy arch of the
gate.
Striking into a street on the right, the party skirted the walls of
Saint Saviour's Church, and presently drew near the Globe theatre, above
which floated its banner. Adjoining it was the old Bear-garden--the
savage inmates of which made themselves sufficiently audible. Garnet
hastily pointed out the first-mentioned place of amusement to Viviana as
they passed it, and her reading having made her well acquainted with the
noble dramas produced at that unpretending establishment--little better
than a barn in comparison with a modern playhouse,--she regarded it with
deep interest. Another theatre--the Swan--speedily claimed her
attention; and, leaving it behind, they came upon the open country.
It was now growing rapidly dark, and Catesby, turning off into a narrow
lane on the right, shouted to his companions to keep near him. The tract
of land they were traversing was flat and marshy. The air was damp and
unwholesome--for the swamp had not been drained as in later times,--and
the misty exhalations arising from it added to the obscurity. Catesby,
however, did not relax his pace, and his companions imitated his
example. Another turn on the right seemed to bring them still nearer the
river, and involved them in a thicker fog.
All at once Catesby stopped, and cried,
"We should be near the house. And yet this fog perplexes me. Stay here
while I search for it."
"If you leave us, we shall not readily meet again," rejoined Fawkes.
But the caution was unheeded, Catesby having already disappeared. A few
moments afterwards, Fawkes heard the sound of a horse's hoofs
approaching him; and, thinking it was Catesby, he hailed the rider.
The horseman made no answer, but continued to advance towards them.
Just then the voice of Catesby was heard at a little distance, shouting,
"I was right. It is here."
The party then hastened in the direction of the cry, and perceived
through the gloom a low building, before the door of which Catesby, who
had dismounted, was standing.
"A stranger is amongst us," observed Fawkes, in an under tone, as he
rode up.
"Where is he?" demanded Catesby, hastily.
"Here," replied a voice. "But, fear nothing. I am a friend."
"I must have stronger assurance than that," replied Catesby. "Who are
you?"
"Robert Keyes," replied the other, "Do you not know my voice?"
"In good truth I did not," rejoined Catesby; "and you have spoken just
in time. Your arrival is most opportune. But what brings you here
to-night?"
"The same errand as yourself, I conclude, Catesby," replied Keyes. "I
came here to see that all was in safety. But, who have you with you?"
"Let us enter the house, and you shall learn," replied Catesby.
With this, he tapped thrice at the door in a peculiar manner, and
presently a light was seen through the windows, and a voice from within
demanded who knocked.
"Your master," replied Catesby.
Upon this, the door was instantly unbarred. After a hasty greeting
between Catesby and his servant, whom he addressed as Thomas Bates, the
former inquired whether aught had occurred during his absence, and was
answered that, except an occasional visit from Mr. Percy, one of the
conspirators, no one had been near the house; everything being in
precisely the same state he had left it.
"That is well," replied Catesby. "Now, then, to dispose of the horses."
All the party having dismounted, their steeds were led to a stable at
the back of the premises by Catesby and Bates, while the others entered
the house. It was a small, mean-looking habitation, standing at a short
distance from the river-side, on the skirts of Lambeth Marsh, and its
secluded situation and miserable appearance seldom induced any one to
visit it. On one side was a deep muddy sluice communicating with the
river. Within, it possessed but slight accommodation, and only numbered
four apartments. One of the best of these was assigned to Viviana, and
she retired to it as soon as it could be prepared for her reception.
Garnet, who still carried his arm in a sling, but who was in other
respects almost recovered from his accident, tendered every assistance
in his power, and would have remained with her, but she entreated to be
left alone. On descending to the lower room, he found Catesby, who,
having left Bates in care of the horses, produced such refreshments as
they had brought with them. These were scanty enough; but a few flasks
of excellent wine which they found within the house made some amends for
the meagre repast. Viviana was solicited by Guy Fawkes to join them; but
she declined, alleging that she was greatly fatigued, and about to
retire to rest.
Their meal ended, Catesby proposed that they should ascertain the
condition of the powder, as he feared it might have suffered from being
so long in the vault. Before making this examination, the door was
carefully barred; the shutters of the windows closed; and Guy Fawkes
placed himself as sentinel at the door. A flag beneath the grate, in
which a fire was never kindled, was then raised, and disclosed a flight
of steps leading to a vault beneath. Catesby having placed a light in a
lantern, descended with Keyes; but both Garnet and Oldcorne refused to
accompany them.
The vault was arched and lofty, and, strange to say, for its situation,
dry--a circumstance owing, in all probability, to the great thickness of
the walls. On either side were ranged twenty barrels filled with powder;
and at the further end stood a pile of arms, consisting of pikes,
rapiers, demi-lances, petronels, calivers, corslets, and morions.
Removing one of the barrels from its station, Catesby forced open the
lid, and examined its contents, which he found perfectly dry and
uninjured.
"It is fit for use," he observed, with a significant smile, as he
exhibited a handful of the powder to Keyes, who stood at a little
distance with the lantern; "if it will keep as well in the cellar
beneath the Parliament House, our foes will soon be nearer heaven, than
they would ever be if left to themselves."
"When do you propose to transport it across the river?" asked Keyes.
"To-night," replied Catesby. "It is dark and foggy, and fitting for the
purpose. Bates!" he shouted; and at the call his servant instantly
descended. "Is the wherry at her moorings?"
"She is, your worship," replied Bates.
"You must cross the river instantly, then," rejoined Catesby, "and
proceed to the dwelling adjoining the Parliament House, which we hired
from Ferris. Here is the key. Examine the premises,--and bring word
whether all is secure."
Bates was about to depart, when Keyes volunteering to accompany him,
they left the house together. Having fastened down the lid of the cask,
Catesby summoned Fawkes to his assistance, and by his help as many
barrels as could be safely stowed in the boat were brought out of the
vault. More than two hours elapsed before Bates returned. He was alone,
and informed them that all was secure, but that Keyes had decided on
remaining where he was,--it being so dark and foggy, that it was
scarcely possible to cross the river.
"I had some difficulty in landing," he added, "and got considerably out
of my course. I never was out on so dark a night before."
"It is the better for us," rejoined Catesby. "We shall be sure to escape
observation."
In this opinion Guy Fawkes concurred, and they proceeded to transport
the powder to the boat, which was brought up the sluice within a few
yards of the door. This done, and the barrels covered with a piece of
tarpaulin, they embarked, and Fawkes, seizing an oar, propelled the
skiff along the narrow creek.
As Bates had stated, the fog was so dense that it was wholly impossible
to steer correctly, and Fawkes was therefore obliged to trust to chance
as to the course he took. However, having fully regained his strength,
he rowed with great swiftness, and, as far as he could judge, had gained
the mid-stream, when, before he could avoid it, he came in violent
contact with another boat, oversetting it, and plunging its occupants in
the stream.
Disregarding the hints and even menaces of Catesby, who urged him to
proceed, Fawkes immediately lay upon his oars, and, as the water was
perfectly smooth, succeeded, without much difficulty, in extricating the
two men from their perilous situation. Their boat having drifted down
the stream, could not be recovered. The chief of these personages was
profuse in his thanks to his deliverers, whom he supposed were watermen,
and they took care not to undeceive him.
"You may rely upon my gratitude," he said; "and when I tell you I am the
Earl of Salisbury, you will be satisfied I have the means of evincing
it."
"The Earl of Salisbury!" exclaimed Catesby, who was seated by Fawkes,
having taken one of the oars. "Is it possible?"
"I have been on secret state business," replied the Earl, "and did not
choose to employ my own barge. I was returning to Whitehall, when your
boat struck against mine."
"It is our bitterest enemy," observed Catesby, in an under tone, to
Fawkes. "Fate has delivered him into our hands."
"What are you about to do?" demanded Fawkes, observing that his
companion no longer pulled at the oar.
"Shoot him," replied Catesby. "Keep still, while I disengage my
petronel."
"It shall not be," returned Fawkes, laying a firm grasp upon his arm.
"Let him perish with the others."
"If we suffer him to escape now, we may never have such a chance again,"
rejoined Catesby. "I will shoot him."
"I say you shall not," rejoined Fawkes. "His hour is not yet come."
"What are you talking about, my masters?" demanded the Earl, who was
shivering in his wet garments.
"Nothing," replied Catesby, hastily. "I will throw him overboard," he
whispered to Fawkes.
"Again I say, you shall not," replied the latter.
"I see what you are afraid of," cried the Earl. "You are smugglers. You
have got some casks of distilled waters on board, and are afraid I may
report you. Fear nothing. Land me near the palace, and count upon my
gratitude."
"Our course lies in a different direction," replied Catesby, sternly.
"If your lordship lands at all, it must be where we choose."
"But I have to see the King to-night. I have some important papers to
deliver to him respecting the Papists," replied Salisbury.
"Indeed!" exclaimed Catesby. "We must, at least, have those papers," he
observed, in a whisper, to Fawkes.
"That is a different affair," replied Fawkes. "They may prove
serviceable to us."
"My lord," observed Catesby, "by a strange chance you have fallen into
the hands of Catholics. You will be pleased to deliver these papers to
us."
"Ah! villains, would you rob me?" cried the Earl. "You shall take my
life sooner."
"We will take both, if you resist," replied Catesby, in a menacing tone.
"Nay, then," returned Salisbury, attempting to draw his sword, "we will
see who will obtain the mastery. We are equally matched. Come on; I fear
you not."
But the waterman who had rowed the Earl was not of equal courage with
his employer, and refused to take part in the conflict.
"It will be useless to contend with us," cried Catesby, relinquishing
the oar to Fawkes, and springing forward. "I must have those papers,"
he added, seizing the Earl by the throat, "or I will throw you
overboard."
"I am mistaken in you," returned Salisbury; "you are no common mariner."
"It matters not who or what I am," rejoined Catesby, fiercely. "Your
papers, or you die."
Finding it in vain to contend with his opponent, the Earl was fain to
yield, and reluctantly produced a packet from his doublet, and delivered
it to him.
"You will repent this outrage, villain," he said.
"Your lordship will do well to recollect you are still in my power,"
rejoined Catesby. "One thrust of my sword will wipe off some of the
injuries you have inflicted on our suffering party."
"I have heard your voice before," cried Salisbury; "you shall not escape
me."
"Your imprudence has destroyed you," retorted Catesby, clutching the
Earl's throat more tightly, and shortening his sword, with the intent to
plunge it into his breast.
"Hold!" exclaimed Fawkes, grasping his arm, and preventing the blow. "I
have already said you shall not slay him. You are in possession of his
papers. What more would you have?"
"His life," replied Catesby, struggling to liberate his arm.
"Let him swear not to betray us," rejoined Fawkes. "If he refuses, I
will not stay your hand."
"You hear what my companion says, my lord," cried Catesby. "Will you
swear to keep silence as to what has just occurred?"
After a moment's hesitation, Salisbury assented, and Catesby
relinquished his grasp.
During this time, the boat had drifted considerably down the stream,
and, in spite of the darkness, Catesby noticed with some uneasiness that
they were approaching more than one vessel. The Earl of Salisbury also
perceived this, and raised a cry for help, but was instantly checked by
Catesby, who took a seat beside him, and placing the point of his rapier
at his breast, swore he would stab him if he made any further clamour.
The threat, and the dangerous propinquity of his enemy, effectually
silenced the Earl, and Catesby directed Fawkes to make for the shore as
quickly as he could. His injunctions were obeyed, and Fawkes plied the
oars with so much good-will, that in a few minutes the wherry struck
against the steps, which projected far into the water, a little to the
right of the Star Chamber, precisely on the spot where Westminster
Bridge now stands.
Here the Earl and his companion were allowed to disembark, and they had
no sooner set foot on land than Guy Fawkes pushed off the boat, and
rowed as swiftly as he could towards the centre of the stream. He then
demanded of Catesby whether he should make for the Parliament House, or
return.
"I scarcely know what to advise," replied Catesby. "I do not think the
Earl will attempt pursuit. And yet I know not. The papers we have
obtained may be important. Cease rowing for a moment, and let us
listen."
Guy Fawkes complied, and they listened intently, but could only hear the
rippling of the current against the sides of the skiff.
"We have nothing to fear," observed Catesby. "He will not pursue us, or
he cannot find a boat."
As he spoke, the glimmer of torches was visible on the shore, and the
plunge of oars into the water convinced him his opinion was erroneous.
"What course shall we take?" inquired Fawkes.
"I care not," replied Catesby, sullenly. "If I had had my own way, this
would not have happened."
"Have no fears," replied Fawkes, rowing swiftly down the stream. "We
shall easily escape."
"We will not be taken alive," returned Catesby, seating himself on one
of the barrels, and hammering against the lid with the butt-end of his
petronel. "I will sooner blow us all to perdition than he shall capture
us."
"You are right," replied Fawkes. "By my patron, Saint James, he is
taking the same course as ourselves."
"Well, let him board us," replied Catesby. "I am ready for him."
"Do as you think proper if the worst occurs," returned Fawkes. "But, if
we make no noise, I am assured we shall not be perceived."
With this he ceased rowing, and suffered the boat to drop down the
stream. As ill-luck would have it, it seemed as if the hostile bark had
struck completely into their track, and, aided by the current, and four
sturdy rowers, was swiftly approaching.
"The Earl will be upon us in a few minutes," replied Catesby. "If you
have any prayers to offer, recite them quickly, for I swear I will be as
good as my word."
"I am ever prepared for death," replied Fawkes. "Ha! we are saved!"
This last exclamation was occasioned by his remarking a large barge,
towards which they were rapidly drifting.
"What are you about to do?" cried Catesby.--"Leap on board, and abandon
the skiff, together with its contents?"
"No," replied Fawkes; "sit still, and leave the rest to me."
By this time, they had approached the barge, which was lying at anchor,
and Guy Fawkes, grasping at a boat-hook, fixed it in the vessel as they
passed, and drew their own boat close to its side--so close, in fact,
that it could not be distinguished from it.
The next moment, the chase came up, and they distinctly perceived the
Earl of Salisbury seated in the stern of the boat, holding a torch. As
he approached the barge, he held the light towards it; but the skiff
being on the off-side, entirely escaped notice. When the chase had got
to a sufficient distance to be out of hearing, the fugitives rowed
swiftly in the contrary direction.
Not judging it prudent to land, they continued to ply the oars, until
fatigue compelled them to desist, and they had placed some miles between
them and their pursuers.
"Long before this, the Earl must have given up the chase," observed
Catesby. "We must return before daybreak, and either land our powder
near the Parliament House, or take it back to the vault at Lambeth."
"We shall run equal risk either way," replied Fawkes, "and, having
ventured thus far, we may as well go through with it. I am for landing
at Westminster."
"And I," rejoined Catesby. "I do not like giving up a project when I
have once undertaken it."
"You speak my sentiments exactly," returned Fawkes. "Westminster be it."
After remaining stationary for about an hour, they rowed back again,
and, aided by the stream, in a short time reached their destination. The
fog had in a great degree cleared off, and day began to break as they
approached the stairs leading to the Parliament House. Though this was
not what they desired, inasmuch as the light added to the risk they
would have run in landing the powder, it enabled them to ascertain that
no one was on the watch.
Running swiftly in towards a sort of wharf, protected by a roofed
building, Catesby leapt ashore, and tied the skiff to a ring in the
steps. He then desired Fawkes to hand out the powder as quickly as he
could. The order was promptly obeyed, and in a few minutes several
barrels were on the strand.
"Had you not better fetch Keyes to help us, while I get out the rest?"
observed Fawkes.
Catesby assented, and hurrying to the house, found Keyes, who was in
great alarm about them. He instantly accompanied the other to the wharf,
and by their united efforts the powder was expeditiously and safely
removed.
CHAPTER II.
THE TRAITOR.
The habitation, to which the powder was conveyed, adjoined, as has
already been stated, the Parliament House, and stood at the south-west
corner of that structure. It was a small building, two stories high,
with a little garden attached to it, surrounded by lofty walls, and
belonged to Whinneard, the keeper of the royal wardrobe, by whom it was
let to a person named Ferris. From the latter it was hired by Thomas
Percy, one of the conspirators, and a relative of the Earl of
Northumberland,--of whom it will be necessary to speak more fully
hereafter,--for the purpose to which it was now put.
Having bestowed the barrels of powder carefully in the cellar, and
fastened the door of the house and the garden-gate after them, the trio
returned to the boat, and rowed back to Lambeth, where they arrived
without being noticed. They then threw themselves upon the floor, and
sought some repose after their fatigue.
It was late in the day before they awoke. Garnet and Oldcorne had been
long astir; but Viviana had not quitted her chamber. Catesby's first
object was to examine the packet he had obtained from the Earl of
Salisbury, and withdrawing to a corner, he read over the papers one by
one carefully.
Guy Fawkes watched his countenance as he perused them, but he asked no
questions. Many of the documents appeared to have little interest, for
Catesby tossed them aside with an exclamation of disappointment. At
length, however, a small note dropped from the bundle. Catesby picked it
up, opened it, and his whole expression changed. His brow grew
contracted; and, springing to his feet, he uttered an ejaculation of
rage, crying, "It is as I suspected. We have traitors among us."
"Whom do you suspect?" cried Fawkes.
"Tresham!" cried Catesby, in a voice of thunder,--"the fawning, wily,
lying Tresham. Fool that I was to league him with us."
"He is your own kinsman," observed Garnet.
"He is," replied Catesby; "but were he my own brother he should die.
Here is a letter from him to Lord Mounteagle, which has found its way to
the Earl of Salisbury, hinting that a plot is hatching against the
state, and offering to give him full information of it."
"Traitor! false, perjured traitor!" cried Fawkes. "He must die."
"He shall fall by my hand," rejoined Catesby. "Stay! a plan occurs to
me. He cannot be aware that this letter is in my possession. I will send
Bates to bid him come hither. We will then charge him with his
criminality, and put him to death."
"He deserves severe punishment, no doubt," replied Garnet; "but I am
unwilling you should proceed to the last extremities with him."
"There is no alternative, father," replied Catesby. "Our safety demands
his destruction."
Garnet returned no answer, but bowed his head sorrowfully upon his
breast. Bates was then despatched to Tresham; and preparations were made
by the three lay conspirators for executing their fell design.
It was agreed, that on his arrival, Tresham should be seized and
disarmed, and after being interrogated by Catesby touching the extent of
his treachery, should be stabbed by Guy Fawkes. This being resolved
upon, it became a question how they should act in the interim. It was
possible that, after the loss of his papers, some communication might
take place between the Earl of Salisbury and Lord Mounteagle, and
through the latter with Tresham. Thus prepared, on the arrival of Bates,
Tresham, seeing through their design, instead of accompanying him, might
give information of their retreat to the officers. The contingency was
by no means improbable; and it was urged so strongly by Garnet, that
Catesby began to regret his precipitancy in sending the message. Still,
his choler was so greatly roused against Tresham, that he resolved to
gratify his vengeance at any risk.
"If he betrays us, and brings the officers here, we shall know how to
act," he remarked to Fawkes. "There is that below which will avenge us
on them all."
"True," replied Fawkes. "But I trust we shall not be obliged to resort
to it."
Soon after this, Bates returned with a message from Tresham, stating
that he would be at the rendezvous at nightfall, and that he had
important disclosures to make to them. He desired them, moreover, to
observe the utmost caution, and not to stir abroad.
"He may, perhaps, be able to offer an explanation of his conduct,"
observed Keyes.
"Impossible," returned Catesby. "But he shall not die without a
hearing."
"That is all I desire," returned Keyes.
While the others were debating upon the interrogations they should put
to Tresham, and further examining the Earl of Salisbury's papers, Garnet
repaired to Viviana's chamber, and informed her what was about to take
place. She was filled with consternation, and entreated to be allowed to
see Guy Fawkes for a few moments alone. Moved by her supplications,
Garnet complied, and presently afterwards Fawkes entered the room.
"You have sent for me, Viviana," he said. "What would you?"
"I have just heard you are about to put one of your companions to
death," she replied. "It must not be."
"Viviana Radcliffe," returned Fawkes, "by your own desire you have mixed
yourself up with my fortunes. I will not now discuss the prudence of the
step you have taken. But I deem it necessary to tell you, once for all,
that any attempts to turn me from the line of conduct I have marked out
to myself will fail. Tresham has betrayed us, and he must pay the
penalty of his treason."
"But not with his life," replied Viviana. "Do you not now perceive into
what enormities this fatal enterprise will lead you? It is not one crime
alone that you are about to commit, but many. You constitute yourselves
judges of your companion, and without allowing him to defend himself,
take his life. Disguise it as you may, it is assassination--cold-blooded
assassination."
"His life is justly forfeited," replied Guy Fawkes, sternly. "When he
took the oath of secrecy and fidelity to our league, he well knew what
the consequences would be if he violated it. He has done so. He has
compromised our safety. Nay, he has sold us to our enemies, and nothing
shall save him."
"If this is so," replied Viviana, "how much better would it be to employ
the time now left in providing for your safety, than in contriving means
of vengeance upon one, who will be sufficiently punished for his
baseness by his own conscience. Even if you destroy him, you will not
add to your own security, while you will commit a foul and needless
crime, equal, if not exceeding in atrocity that you seek to punish."
"Viviana," replied Fawkes, in an angry tone, "in an evil hour, I
consented to your accompanying me. I now repent my acquiescence. But,
having passed my word, I cannot retract. You waste time, and exhaust my
patience and your own by these unavailing supplications. When I embarked
in this enterprise, I embraced all its dangers, all its crimes if you
will, and I shall not shrink from them. The extent of Tresham's
treachery is not yet known to us. There may be--and God grant
it!--extenuating circumstances in his conduct that may save his life.
But, as the case stands at present, his offence appears of that dye that
nothing can wash it out but his blood."
And he turned to depart.
"When do you expect this wretched man?" asked Viviana, arresting him.
"At nightfall," replied Fawkes.
"Oh! that there were any means of warning him of his danger!" she cried.
"There are none," rejoined Fawkes, fiercely,--"none that you can adopt.
And I must lay my injunctions upon you not to quit your chamber."
So saying, he retired.
Left alone, Viviana became a prey to the most agonizing reflections.
Despite the strong, and almost unaccountable interest she felt in Guy
Fawkes, she began to repent the step she had taken in joining him, as
calculated to make her a party to his criminal conduct. But this
feeling was transient, and was succeeded by a firmer determination to
pursue the good work she had undertaken.
"Though slight success has hitherto attended my efforts," she thought,
"that is no reason why I should relax them. The time is arrived when I
may exert a beneficial influence over him; and it may be, that what
occurs to-night will prove the first step towards complete triumph. In
any case, nothing shall be wanting to prevent the commission of the
meditated atrocity."
With this, she knelt down and prayed long and fervently, and arose
confirmed and strengthened in her resolution.
Meanwhile, no alteration had taken place in the purposes of the
conspirators. Night came, but with it came not Tresham. Catesby, who, up
to this time had managed to restrain his impatience, now arose, and
signified his intention of going in search of him, and was with
difficulty prevented from carrying his threat into execution by Guy
Fawkes, who represented the folly and risk of such a course.
"If he comes not before midnight, we shall know what to think, and how
to act," he observed; "but till then let us remain tranquil."
Keyes and the others adding their persuasions to those of Fawkes,
Catesby sat sullenly down, and a profound silence ensued. In this way,
some hours were passed, when just at the stroke of midnight, Viviana
descended from her room, and appeared amongst them. Her countenance was
deathly pale, and she looked anxiously around the assemblage. All,
however, with the exception of Fawkes, avoided her gaze.
"Is he come?" she exclaimed at length. "I have listened intently, but
have heard nothing. You cannot have murdered him. And yet your looks
alarm me. Father Garnet, answer me,--is the deed done?"
"No, my daughter," replied Garnet, sternly.
"Then he has escaped!" she cried, joyfully. "You expected him at
nightfall."
"It is not yet too late," replied Fawkes, in a sombre tone; "his death
is only deferred."
"Oh! do not say so," she cried, in a voice of agony. "I hoped you had
relented."
At this moment a peculiar knock was heard at the door. It was thrice
repeated, and the strokes vibrated, though with different effect,
through every bosom.
"He is here," cried Catesby, rising.
"Viviana, go to your chamber," commanded Guy Fawkes, grasping her hand,
and leading her towards the stairs.
But she resisted his efforts, and fell on her knees.
"I will not go," she cried, in a supplicating tone, "unless you will
spare this man's life."
"I have already told you my fixed determination," rejoined Fawkes,
fiercely. "If you will not retire of your own free will, I must force
you."
"If you attempt it, I will scream, and alarm your victim," she replied.
"Mr. Catesby," she added, "have my prayers, my entreaties, no weight
with you? Will you not grant me his life?"
"No!" replied Catesby, fiercely. "She must be silenced," he added, with
a significant look at Fawkes.
"She shall," replied the latter, drawing his poniard. "Viviana!" he
continued, in a voice, and with a look that left no doubt as to his
intentions, "do not compel me to be your destroyer."
As he spoke, the knocking was repeated, and Viviana uttered a prolonged
and piercing cry. Guy Fawkes raised his weapon, and was about to strike,
but his resolution failed him, and his arm dropped nerveless to his
side.
"Your better angel has conquered!" she cried, clasping his knees.
While this was passing, the door was thrown open by Catesby, and Tresham
entered the room.
"What means this outcry?" he asked, looking round in alarm. "Ah! what do
I see? Viviana Radcliffe here! Did she utter the scream?"
"She did," replied Viviana, rising, "and she hoped to warn you by it.
But you were led on by your fate."
"Warn me from what?" ejaculated Tresham, starting. "I am among friends."
"You are among those who have resolved upon your death," replied
Viviana.
"Ah!" exclaimed Tresham, making an effort to gain the door, and draw his
sword.
In both attempts, however, he was foiled, for Catesby intercepted him,
while Fawkes and Keyes flung themselves upon him, and binding his arms
together with a sword-belt, forced him into a chair.
"Of what am I accused?" he demanded, in a voice tremulous with rage and
terror.
"You shall learn presently," replied Catesby. And he motioned to Fawkes
to remove Viviana.
"Let me remain," she cried, fiercely. "My nature is changed, and is
become as savage as your own. If blood must be spilt, I will tarry to
look upon it."
"This is no place for you, dear daughter," interposed Garnet.
"Nor for you either, father," retorted Viviana, bitterly; "unless you
will act as a minister of Christ, and prevent this violence."
"Let her remain, if she will," observed Catesby. "Her presence need not
hinder our proceedings."
So saying, he seated himself opposite Tresham, while the two priests
placed themselves on either side. Guy Fawkes took up a position on the
left of the prisoner, with his drawn dagger in his hand, and Keyes
stationed himself near the door. The unfortunate captive regarded them
with terrified glances, and trembled in every limb.
"Thomas Tresham," commenced Catesby, in a stern voice, "you are a sworn
brother in our plot. Before I proceed further, I will ask you what
should be his punishment who violates his oath, and betrays his
confederates? We await your answer?"
But Tresham remained obstinately silent.
"I will tell you, since you refuse to speak," continued Catesby. "It is
death--death by the hands of his associates."
"It may be," replied Tresham; "but I have neither broken my oath, nor
betrayed you."
"Your letter to Lord Mounteagle is in my possession," replied Catesby.
"Behold it!"
"Perdition!" exclaimed Tresham. "But you will not slay me? I have
betrayed nothing. I have revealed nothing. On my soul's salvation, I
have not! Spare me! spare me! and I will be a faithful friend in future.
I have been indiscreet--I own it--but nothing more. I have mentioned no
names. And Lord Mounteagle, as you well know, is as zealous a Catholic
as any now present."
"Your letter has been sent to the Earl of Salisbury," pursued Catesby,
coldly. "It was from him I obtained it."
"Then Lord Mounteagle has betrayed me," returned Tresham, becoming pale
as death.
"Have you nothing further to allege?" demanded Catesby. As Tresham made
no answer, he turned to the others, and said, "Is it your judgment he
should die?"
All, except Viviana, answered in the affirmative.
"Tresham," continued Catesby, solemnly, "prepare to meet your fate like
a man. And do you, father," he added to Garnet, "proceed to shrive him."
"Hold!" cried Viviana, stepping into the midst of them,--"hold!" she
exclaimed, in a voice so authoritative, and with a look so commanding,
that the whole assemblage were awe-stricken. "If you think to commit
this crime with impunity, you are mistaken. I swear by everything
sacred, if you take this man's life, I will go forth instantly, and
denounce you all to the Council. You may stare, sirs, and threaten me,
but you shall find I will keep my word."
"We must put her to death too," observed Catesby, in an under tone to
Fawkes, "or we shall have a worse enemy left than Tresham."
"I cannot consent to it," replied Fawkes.
"If you mistrust this person, why not place him in restraint?" pursued
Viviana. "You will not mend matters by killing him."
"She says well," observed Garnet; "let us put him in some place of
security."
"I am agreed," replied Fawkes.
"And I," added Keyes.
"My judgment, then, is overruled," rejoined Catesby. "But I will not
oppose you. We will imprison him in the vault beneath this chamber."
"He must be without light," said Garnet.
"And without arms," added Keyes.
"And without food," muttered Catesby. "He has only exchanged one death
for another."
The flag was then raised, and Tresham thrust into the vault, after which
it was restored to its former position.
"I have saved you from the lesser crime," cried Viviana to Guy Fawkes;
"and, with Heaven's grace, I trust to preserve you from the greater!"
CHAPTER III.
THE ESCAPE PREVENTED.
Viviana having retired to her chamber, apparently to rest, a long and
anxious consultation was held by the conspirators as to the next steps
to be pursued. Garnet was of opinion that, as the Earl of Salisbury was
aware of a conspiracy against the state being on foot among the
Catholics, their project ought to be deferred, if not altogether
abandoned.
"We are sure to be discovered," he said. "Arrests without end will take
place. And such rigorous measures will be adopted by the Earl, such
inquiries instituted, that all will infallibly be brought to light.
Besides, we know not what Tresham may have revealed. He denies having
betrayed our secret, but no credit can be attached to his assertions."
"Shall we examine him again, father," cried Catesby, "and wring the
truth from him by threats or torture?"
"No, my son," replied Garnet; "let him remain where he is till morning.
A night of solitary confinement, added to the stings of his own guilty
conscience, is likely to produce a stronger effect upon him than any
torments we could inflict. He shall be interrogated strictly to-morrow,
and, I will answer for it, will make a full confession. But even if he
has revealed nothing material, there exists another and equally serious
ground of alarm. I allude to your meeting with the Earl on the river. I
should be the last to counsel bloodshed. But if ever it could be
justified, it might have been so in this case."
"I would have slain him if I had had my own way," returned Catesby, with
a fierce and reproachful look at Fawkes.
"If I have done wrong, I will speedily repair my error," observed the
latter. "Do you desire his death, father? and will you absolve me from
the deed?" he added, turning to Garnet.
"It is better as it is," replied Garnet, making a gesture in the
negative. "I would not have our high and holy purpose stained by common
slaughter. The power that delivered him into your hands, and stayed
them, no doubt preserved him for the general sacrifice. My first fear
was lest, having noticed the barrels of powder within the boat, he might
have suspected your design. But I am satisfied his eyes were blinded,
and his reason benighted, so that he could discern nothing."
"Such was my own opinion, father," replied Fawkes. "Let us observe the
utmost caution, but proceed at all hazards with the enterprise. If we
delay, we fail."
"Right," returned Catesby; "and for that counsel I forgive you for
standing between me and our enemy."
Upon this, it was agreed that if nothing occurred in the interim, more
powder should be transported to the habitation in Westminster on the
following night,--that Fawkes and Catesby, who might be recognised by
Salisbury's description, should keep close house during the day,--and
that the rest of the conspirators should be summoned to assist in
digging the mine. Prayers were then offered up by the two priests for
their preservation from peril, and for success in their enterprise;
after which, they threw themselves on benches or seats, and courted
slumber. All slept soundly except Fawkes, who, not being able to close
his eyes, from an undefinable apprehension of danger, arose, and
cautiously opening the door, kept watch outside.
Shortly afterwards, Viviana, who had waited till all was quiet, softly
descended the stairs, and, shading her light, gazed timorously round.
Satisfied she was not observed, she glided swiftly and noiselessly to
the fire-place, and endeavoured to raise the flag. But it resisted all
her efforts, and she was about to abandon the attempt in despair, when
she perceived a bolt on one side, that had escaped her notice. Hastily
withdrawing it, she experienced no further difficulty. The stone
revolved on hinges like a trap-door, and lifting it, she hurried down
the steps.
Alarmed by her approach, Tresham had retreated to the further end of the
vault, and snatching up a halbert from the pile of weapons, cried, in a
voice of desperation--
"Stand off! I am armed, and have severed my bonds. Off, I say! You shall
not take me with life."
"Hush!" cried Viviana, putting her finger to her lips, "I am come to set
you free."
"Do I behold an inhabitant of this world?" cried Tresham, crossing
himself, and dropping the halbert, "or some blessed saint? Ah!" he
exclaimed, as she advanced towards him, "it is Viviana Radcliffe--my
preserver. Pardon, sweet lady. My eyes were dazzled by the light, and
your sudden appearance and speech,--and I might almost say looks,--made
me think you were some supernatural being come to deliver me from these
bloody-minded men. Where are they?"
"In the room above," she replied, in a whisper,--"asleep,--and if you
speak so loud you will arouse them."
"Let us fly without a moment's delay," returned Tresham, in the same
tone, and hastily picking up a rapier and a dagger.
"Stay!" cried Viviana, arresting him. "Before you go, you must tell me
what you are about to do."
"We will talk of that when we are out of this accursed place," he
replied.
"You shall not stir a footstep," she rejoined, placing herself
resolutely between him and the outlet, "till you have sworn neither to
betray your confederates, nor to do them injury."
"May Heaven requite me, if I forgive them!" cried Tresham between his
ground teeth.
"Remember!--you are yet in their power," she rejoined. "One word from
me, and they are at your side. Swear!--and swear solemnly, or you do not
quit this spot."
Tresham gazed at her fiercely, and griped his dagger, as if determined
to free himself at any cost.
"Ah!" she ejaculated, noticing the movement, "you are indeed a traitor.
You have neither sense of honour nor gratitude, and I leave you to your
fate. Attempt to follow me, and I give the alarm."
"Forgive me, Viviana," he cried, abjectly prostrating himself at her
feet, and clinging to the hem of her dress. "I meant only to terrify
you; I would not injure you for worlds. Do not leave me with these
ruthless cut-throats. They will assuredly murder me. Do not remain with
them yourself, or you will come to some dreadful end. Fly with me, and I
will place you beyond their reach--will watch over your safety. Or, if
you are resolved to brave their fury, let me go, and I will take any
oath you propose. As I hope for salvation I will not betray them."
"Peace!" cried Viviana, contemptuously. "If I set you free, it is not to
save you, but them."
"What mean you?" asked Tresham, hesitating.
"Question me not, but follow," she rejoined, "and tread softly, as you
value your life."
Tresham needed no caution on this head, and as they emerged from the
trap-door in breathless silence, and he beheld the figures of his
sleeping foes, he could scarcely muster sufficient courage to pass
through them. Motioning him to proceed quickly, Viviana moved towards
the door, and to her surprise found it unfastened. Without pausing to
consider whence this neglect could arise, she opened it, and Tresham,
who trembled in every limb, and walked upon the points of his feet,
stepped forth. As he crossed the threshold, however, a powerful grasp
was laid upon his shoulder, and a drawn sword presented to his breast,
while the voice of Fawkes thundered in his ear, "Who goes there? Speak,
or I strike."
While the fugitive, not daring to answer, lest his accents should betray
him, endeavoured vainly to break away, Viviana, hearing the struggle,
threw open the door, and exclaimed, "It is Tresham. I set him free."
"You!" cried Fawkes, in astonishment. "Wherefore?"
"In the hope that his escape would induce you to abandon your design,
and seek safety in flight," she rejoined. "But you have thwarted my
purpose."
Fawkes made no reply, but thrust Tresham forcibly into the house, and
called to Catesby, who by this time had been roused with the others, to
close and bar the door. The command was instantly obeyed, and as Catesby
turned, a strange and fearful group met his view. In the midst stood
Tresham, his haggard features and palsied frame bespeaking the extremity
of his terror. His sword having been beaten from his grasp by Fawkes,
and his dagger wrested from him by Keyes, he was utterly defenceless.
Viviana had placed herself between him and his assailants, and screening
him from their attack, cried--
"Despatch me. The fault is mine--mine only--and I am ready to pay the
penalty. Had I not released him, he would not have attempted to escape.
I am the rightful victim."
"She speaks the truth," gasped Tresham. "If she had not offered to
liberate me, I should never have thought of flying. Would to Heaven I
had never yielded to her solicitations!"
"Peace, craven hound!" exclaimed Fawkes, furiously; "you deserve to die
for your meanness and ingratitude, if not for your treachery. And it is
for this miserable wretch, Viviana," he added, turning to her, "that you
would have placed your friends in such fearful jeopardy,--it is for him,
who would sacrifice you without scruple to save himself, that you now
offer your own life?"
"I deserve your reproaches," she rejoined, in confusion.
"Had I not fortunately intercepted him," pursued Fawkes, "an hour would
not have elapsed ere he would have returned with the officers; and we
should have changed this dwelling for a dungeon in the Tower,--these
benches for the rack."
"In pity stab me!" cried Viviana, falling at his feet. "But oh! do not
wound me with your words. I have committed a grievous wrong; but I was
ignorant of the consequences; and, as I hope for mercy hereafter, my
sole motive, beyond compassion for this wretched man, was to terrify you
into relinquishing your dreadful project."
"You have acted wrongfully,--very wrongfully, Viviana," interposed
Garnet: "but since you are fully convinced of your error, no more need
be said. There are seasons when the heart must be closed against
compassion, and when mercy becomes injustice. Go to your chamber, and
leave us to deal with this unhappy man."
"To-morrow you must quit us," observed Fawkes, as she passed him.
"Quit you!" she exclaimed. "I will never offend again."
"I will not trust you," replied Fawkes, "unless--but it is useless to
impose restrictions upon you, which you will not--perhaps, cannot
observe."
"Impose any restrictions you please," replied Viviana. "But do not bid
me leave you."
"The time is come when we _must_ separate," rejoined Fawkes. "See you
not that the course we are taking is slippery with blood, and beset with
perils which the firmest of your sex could not encounter?"
"I will encounter them nevertheless," replied Viviana. "Be merciful,"
she added, pointing to Tresham, "and mercy shall be shown you in your
hour of need." And she slowly withdrew.
While this was passing, Catesby addressed a few words aside to Keyes and
Oldcorne, and now stepping forward, and fixing his eye steadily upon the
prisoner, to note the effect of his speech upon him, said--
"I have devised a plan by which the full extent of Tresham's treachery
can be ascertained."
"You do not mean to torture him, I trust?" exclaimed Garnet, uneasily.
"No, father," replied Catesby. "If torture is inflicted at all, it will
be upon the mind, not the body."
"Then it will be no torture," observed Garnet. "State your plan, my
son."
"It is this," returned Catesby. "He shall write a letter to Lord
Mounteagle, stating that he has important revelations to make to him,
and entreating him to come hither unattended."
"Here!" exclaimed Fawkes.
"Here," repeated Catesby; "and alone. We will conceal ourselves in such
manner that we may overhear what passes between them, and if any attempt
is made by the villain to betray our presence, he shall be immediately
shot. By this means we cannot fail to elicit the truth."
"I approve your plan, my son," replied Garnet; "but who will convey the
letter to Lord Mounteagle?"
"I will," replied Fawkes. "Let it be prepared at once, and the case will
be thought the more urgent. I will watch him, and see that he comes
unattended, or give you timely warning."
"Enough," rejoined Garnet. "Let writing materials be procured, and I
will dictate the letter."
Tresham, meanwhile, exhibited no misgiving; but, on the contrary, his
countenance brightened up as the plan was approved.
"My life will be spared if you find I have not deceived you, will it
not?" he asked, in a supplicating voice.
"Assuredly," replied Garnet.
"Give me pen and ink, then," he cried, "and I will write whatever you
desire."
"Our secret is safe," whispered Catesby to Garnet. "It is useless to
test him further."
"I think so," replied Garnet. "Would we had made this experiment
sooner!"
"Do not delay, I entreat you," implored Tresham. "I am eager to prove my
innocence."
"We are satisfied with the proof we have already obtained," returned
Garnet.
Tresham dropped on his knees in speechless gratitude.
"We are spared the necessity of being your executioners, my son,"
pursued Garnet, "and I rejoice at it. But I cannot acquit you of the
design to betray us; and till you have unburthened your whole soul to
me, and proved by severe and self-inflicted penance that you are really
penitent, you must remain a captive within these walls."
"I will disguise nothing from you, father," replied Tresham, "and will
strive to expiate my offence by the severest penance you choose to
inflict."
"Do this, my son," rejoined Garnet; "leave no doubt of your sincerity,
and you may be yet restored to the place you have forfeited, and become
a sharer in our great enterprise."
"I will never trust him more," observed Fawkes.
"Nor I," added Keyes.
"_I_ will," rejoined Catesby: "not that I have more faith in him than
either of you; but I will so watch him that he shall not dare to betray
us. Nay, more," he added, in an under tone, to Garnet, "I will turn his
treachery to account. He will be a useful spy upon our enemies."
"If he can be relied on," observed Garnet.
"After this, you need have no fears," rejoined Catesby, with a
significant smile.
"The first part of your penance, my son," said Garnet, addressing
Tresham, "shall be to pass the night in solitary vigil and prayer within
the vault. Number your transgressions, and reflect upon their enormity.
Consider not only the injury your conduct might have done us, but the
holy church of which you are so sinful a member. Weigh over all this,
and to-morrow I will hear your confession; when, if I find you in a
state of grace, absolution shall not be refused."
Tresham humbly bowed his head in token of acquiescence. He was then led
to the vault, and the flag closed over him, as before. This done, after
a brief conversation, the others again stretched themselves on the
floor, and sought repose.
CHAPTER IV.
THE MINE.
Some days elapsed before the conspirators ventured forth from their
present abode. They had intended to remove the rest of the powder
without loss of time, but were induced to defer their purpose on the
representations of Tresham, who stated to Garnet, that in his opinion
they would run a great and needless risk. Before the expiration of a
week, Tresham's apparent remorse for his perfidy, added to his seeming
zeal, had so far reinstated him in the confidence of his associates,
that he was fully absolved of his offence by Garnet; and, after taking
fresh oaths of even greater solemnity than the former, was again
admitted to the league. Catesby, however, who placed little faith in his
protestations, never lost sight of him for an instant, and, even if he
meditated an escape, he had no opportunity of effecting it.
A coldness, stronger on his side than hers, seemed to have arisen
between Viviana and Guy Fawkes. Whenever she descended to the lower
room, he withdrew on some excuse; and though he never urged her
departure by words, his looks plainly bespoke that he desired it. Upon
one occasion, she found him alone,--the others being at the time within
the vault. He was whetting the point of his dagger, and did not hear her
approach, until she stood beside him. He was slightly confused, and a
deep ruddy stain flushed his swarthy cheeks and brow; but he averted his
gaze, and continued his occupation in silence.
"Why do you shun me?" asked Viviana, laying her hand gently upon his
shoulder. And, as he did not answer, she repeated the question in a
broken voice. Guy Fawkes then looked up, and perceived that her eyes
were filled with tears.
"I shun you, Viviana, for two reasons," he replied gravely, but kindly;
"first, because I would have no ties of sympathy to make me cling to the
world, or care for it; and I feel that if I suffer myself to be
interested about you, this will not long be the case: secondly, and
chiefly, because you are constantly striving to turn me from my fixed
purpose; and, though your efforts have been, and will be unavailing, yet
I would not be exposed to them further."
"You fear me, because you think I shall shake your resolution," she
rejoined, with a forced smile. "But I will trouble you no more. Nay, if
you wish it, I will go."
"It were better," replied Fawkes, in accents of deep emotion, and taking
her hand. "Painful as will be the parting with you, I shall feel more
easy when it is over. It grieves me to the soul to see you--the daughter
of the proud, the wealthy Sir William Radcliffe--an inmate of this
wretched abode, surrounded by desperate men, whose actions you
disapprove, and whose danger you are compelled to share. Think how it
would add to my suffering if our plot--which Heaven avert--should be
discovered, and you be involved in it."
"Do not think of it," replied Viviana.
"I cannot banish it from my thoughts," continued Fawkes. "I cannot
reconcile it to my feelings that one so young, so beautiful, should be
thus treated. Dwelling on this idea unmans me--unfits me for sterner
duties. The great crisis is at hand, and I must live only for it."
"Live for it, then," rejoined Viviana; "but, oh! let me remain with you
till the blow is struck. Something tells me I may yet be useful to
you--may save you."
"No more of this, if you would indeed remain," rejoined Guy Fawkes,
sternly. "Regard me as a sword in the hand of fate, which cannot be
turned aside,--as a bolt launched from the cloud, and shattering all in
its course, which may not be stopped,--as something terrible,
exterminating, immovable. Regard me as this, and say whether I am not to
be shunned."
"No," replied Viviana; "I am as steadfast as yourself. I will remain."
Guy Fawkes gazed at her in surprise mixed with admiration, and pressing
her hand affectionately, said,
"I applaud your resolution. If I had a daughter, I should wish her to be
like you."
"You promised to be a father to me," she rejoined. "How can you be so if
I leave you?"
"How _can_ I be so if you stay?" returned Fawkes, mournfully. "No, you
must indulge no filial tenderness for one so utterly unable to requite
it as myself. Fix your thoughts wholly on Heaven. Pray for the
restoration of our holy religion--for the success of the great
enterprise--and haply your prayers may prevail."
"I cannot pray for that," she replied; "for I do not wish it success.
But I will pray--and fervently--that all danger may be averted from your
head."
At this moment, Catesby and Keyes emerged from the vault, and Viviana
hurried to her chamber.
As soon as it grew dark, the remaining barrels of powder were brought
out of the cellar, and carefully placed in the boat. Straw was then
heaped upon them, and the whole covered with a piece of tarpaulin, as
upon the former occasion. It being necessary to cross the river more
than once, the conduct of the first and most hazardous passage was
intrusted to Fawkes, and accompanied by Keyes and Bates, both of whom
were well armed, he set out a little before midnight. It was a clear
starlight night; but as the moon had not yet risen, they were under no
apprehension of discovery. The few craft they encountered, bent
probably on some suspicious errand like themselves, paid no attention to
them; and plying their oars swiftly, they shot under the low parapet
edging the gardens of the Parliament House, just as the deep bell of the
Abbey tolled forth the hour of twelve. Keeping in the shade, they
silently approached the stairs. No one was there, not even a waterman to
attend to the numerous wherries moored to the steps; and, without losing
a moment, they sprang ashore, and concealing the barrels beneath their
cloaks, glided like phantoms summoned by the witching hour along the
passage formed by two high walls, leading to Old Palace Yard, and
speedily reached the gate of the habitation. In this way, and with the
utmost rapidity, the whole of the fearful cargo was safely deposited in
the garden; and leaving the others to carry it into the house, Guy
Fawkes returned to the boat. As he was about to push off, two persons
rushed to the stair-head, and the foremost, evidently mistaking him for
a waterman, called to him to take them across the river.
"I am no waterman, friend," replied Fawkes; "and am engaged on business
of my own. Seek a wherry elsewhere."
"By heaven!" exclaimed the new-comer, in accents of surprise, "it is Guy
Fawkes. Do you not know me?"
"Can it be Humphrey Chetham?" cried Fawkes, equally astonished.
"It is," replied the other. "This meeting is most fortunate. I was in
search of you, having somewhat of importance to communicate to Viviana."
"State it quickly, then," returned Fawkes; "I cannot tarry here much
longer."
"I will go with you," rejoined Chetham, springing into the boat, and
followed by his companion. "You must take me to her."
"Impossible," cried Fawkes, rising angrily; "neither can I permit you to
accompany me. I am busied about my own concerns, and will not be
interrupted."
"At least, tell me where I can find Viviana," persisted Chetham.
"Not now--not now," rejoined Fawkes, impatiently. "Meet me to-morrow
night, at this hour, in the Great Sanctuary, at the farther side of the
Abbey, and you shall learn all you desire to know."
"Why not now?" rejoined Chetham, earnestly. "You need not fear me. I am
no spy, and will reveal nothing."
"But your companion?" hesitated Fawkes.
"It is only Martin Heydocke," answered Chetham. "He can keep a close
tongue as well as his master."
"Well, sit down, then," returned Fawkes, sullenly. "There will be less
risk in taking them to Lambeth," he muttered, "than in loitering here."
And rowing with great swiftness, he soon gained the centre of the
stream.
"And so," he observed, resting for a moment on his oars, "you still
cherish your attachment to Viviana, I see. Nay, never start, man. I am
no enemy to your suit, though others may be. And if she would place
herself at my disposal, I would give her to you,--certain that it would
be to one upon whom her affections are fixed."
"Do you think any change likely to take place in her sentiments towards
me?" faltered Chetham. "May I indulge a hope?"
"I would not have you despair," replied Fawkes. "Because, as far as I
have noticed, women are not apt to adhere to their resolutions in
matters of the heart; and because, as I have just said, she loves you,
and I see no reasonable bar to your union."
"You give me new life," cried Chetham, transported with joy. "Oh! that
you, who have so much influence with her, would speak in my behalf."
"Nay, you must plead your own cause," replied Fawkes. "I cannot hold out
much hope at present; for recent events have cast a deep gloom over her
spirit, and she appears to be a prey to melancholy. Let this wear
off,--and with one so young and so firm-minded it is sure to do so,--and
then your suit may be renewed. Urge it when you may, you have my best
wishes for success, and shall have my warmest efforts to second you."
Humphrey Chetham murmured his thanks in accents almost unintelligible
from emotion, and Guy Fawkes continued,
"It would be dangerous for you to disembark with me; but when I put you
ashore, I will point out the dwelling at present occupied by Viviana.
You can visit it as early as you please to-morrow. You will find no one
with her but Father Oldcorne, and I need scarcely add, it will gladden
me to the heart to find on my return that she has yielded to your
entreaties."
"I cannot thank you," cried Chetham, warmly grasping his hand; "but I
hope to find some means of evincing my gratitude."
"Prove it by maintaining the strictest secresy as to all you may see or
hear,--or even suspect,--within the dwelling you are about to visit,"
returned Guy Fawkes. "Knowing that I am dealing with a man of honour, I
require no stronger obligation than your word."
"You have it," replied Chetham, solemnly.
"Your worship shall have my oath, if you desire it," remarked Martin
Heydocke.
"No," rejoined Fawkes; "your master will answer for your fidelity."
Shortly after this, Guy Fawkes pulled ashore, and his companions landed.
After pointing out the solitary habitation, which possessed greater
interest in Humphrey Chetham's eyes than the proud structures he had
just quitted, and extracting a promise that the young merchant would not
approach it till the morrow, he rowed off, and while the others
proceeded to Lambeth in search of lodging for the night, made the best
of his way to the little creek, and entered the house.
He found the other conspirators anxiously awaiting his arrival, and the
certainty afforded by his presence that the powder had been landed in
safety gave general satisfaction. Preparations were immediately made for
another voyage. A large supply of provisions, consisting of baked meat
of various kinds, hard-boiled eggs, pasties, bread, and other viands,
calculated to serve for a week's consumption, without the necessity of
having recourse to any culinary process, and which had been previously
procured with that view, together with a few flasks of wine, occupied
the place in the boat lately assigned to the powder. At the risk of
overloading the vessel, they likewise increased its burthen by a
quantity of mining implements--spades, pickaxes, augers, and wrenching
irons. To these were added as many swords, calivers, pikes, and
petronels, as the space left would accommodate. Garnet and Catesby then
embarked,--the former having taken an affectionate farewell of Viviana,
whom he committed, with the strictest injunction to watch over her, to
the care of Father Oldcorne. Guy Fawkes lingered for a moment, doubting
whether he should mention his rencounter with Humphrey Chetham. He was
the more undecided from the deep affliction in which she was plunged. At
last, he determined upon slightly hinting at the subject, and to be
guided as to what he said further by the manner in which the allusion
was received.
"And you decide upon remaining here till we return, Viviana?" he said.
She made a sign in the affirmative.
"And you will see no one?"
"No one," she answered.
"But, should any old friend find his way hither--Humphrey Chetham, for
instance--will you not receive him?"
"Why do you single out _him_?" demanded Viviana, inquiringly. "Is he in
London? Have you seen him?"
"I have," replied Guy Fawkes; "I accidentally met him to-night, and have
shown him this dwelling. He will come hither to-morrow."
"I wanted only this to make me thoroughly wretched," cried Viviana,
clasping her hands with anguish. "Oh! what unhappy chance threw him
across your path? Why did you tell him I was here? Why give him a hope
that I would see him? But I will _not_ see him. I will quit this house
rather than be exposed to the meeting."
"What means this sudden excitement, Viviana?" cried Guy Fawkes, greatly
surprised by her agitation. "Why should a visit from Humphrey Chetham
occasion you uneasiness?"
"I know not," she answered, blushing deeply; "but I will not hazard
it."
"I thought you superior to your sex," rejoined Fawkes, "and should never
have suspected you of waywardness or caprice."
"You charge me with failings that do not belong to me," she answered. "I
am neither wayward nor capricious; but I would be willingly spared the
pain of an interview with one whom I thought I loved."
"Thought you loved!" echoed Fawkes, in increased astonishment.
"Ay, _thought_," repeated Viviana, "for I have since examined my heart,
and find he has no place in it."
"You might be happy with him, Viviana," rejoined Fawkes, reproachfully.
"I _might_ have been," she replied, "had circumstances favoured our
union. But I should not be so now. Recent events have wrought an entire
change in my feelings. Were I to abandon my resolution of retiring to a
cloister,--were I to return to the world,--and were such an event
possible as that Humphrey Chetham should conform to the faith of
Rome,--still, I would not--could not wed him."
"I grieve to hear it," replied Fawkes.
"Would _you_ have me wed him?" she cried, in a slightly mortified tone.
"In good sooth would I," replied Fawkes; "and I repeat my firm
conviction you would be happier with him than with one more highly born,
and of less real worth."
Viviana made no reply, and her head declined upon her bosom.
"You will see him," pursued Fawkes, taking her hand, "if only to tell
him what you have just told me."
"Since you desire it, I will," she replied, fixing a look of melancholy
tenderness upon him; "but it will cost me a bitter pang."
"I would not tax you with it, if I did not think it needful," returned
Fawkes. "And now, farewell."
"Farewell,--it may be, for ever," replied Viviana, sadly.
"The boat is ready, and the tide ebbing," cried Catesby, impatiently, at
the door. "We shall be aground if you tarry longer."
"I come," replied Fawkes. And, waving an adieu to Viviana, he departed.
"Strange!" he muttered to himself, as he took his way to the creek. "I
could have sworn she was in love with Humphrey Chetham. Who can have
superseded him in her regard? Not Catesby, of a surety. 'Tis a
perplexing sex. The best are fickle. Heaven be praised! I have long been
proof against their wiles."
Thus musing, he sprang into the skiff, and assisting Catesby to push it
into deep water, seized an oar, and exerted himself stoutly to make up
for lost time. The second voyage was as prosperous as the first. A thick
veil of cloud had curtained the stars; the steps were deserted as
before; and the provisions, arms, and implements were securely conveyed
to their destination.
Thus far fortune seemed to favour their undertaking, and Garnet, falling
on his knees, offered up the most fervent thanksgivings. Prayers over,
they descended to the cellar, and their first care was to seek out a
place as free from damp as possible, where the powder could be deposited
till the excavation, which it was foreseen would be a work of time and
great labour, was completed. A dry corner being found, the barrels were
placed in it, and carefully concealed with billets of wood and coals, so
as to avert suspicion in case of search. This, with other arrangements,
occupied the greater part of the night, and the commencement of the
important undertaking was deferred till the morrow, when an increase of
their party was anticipated.
Throughout the whole of the day no one stirred forth. The windows were
kept closed; the doors locked; and, as no fires were lighted, the house
had the appearance of being uninhabited. In the course of the morning
they underwent considerable alarm. Some mischievous urchins having
scaled the garden wall, one of them fell within it, and his cries so
terrified his playmates that they dropped on the other side, and left
him. The conspirators reconnoitred the unhappy urchin, who continued his
vociferations in a loud key, through the holes in the shutters,
uncertain what to do, and fearing that this trifling mischance might
lead to serious consequences, when the subject of their uneasiness
relieved them by scrambling up the wall near the door, and so effecting
a retreat. With this exception, nothing material occurred till evening,
when their expected associates arrived.
The utmost caution was observed in admitting them. The new-comers were
provided with a key of the garden-gate, but a signal was given and
repeated before the house-door was opened by Bates, to whom the office
of porter was intrusted. As soon as the latter had satisfied himself
that all was right, by unmasking a dark lantern, and throwing its
radiance upon the faces of the elder Wright, Rookwood, and Percy, he
stamped his foot thrice, and the conspirators emerged from their
hiding-places. A warm greeting passed between the confederates, and they
adjourned to a lower chamber, adjoining the vault, where the sound of
their voices could not be overheard, and where, while partaking of a
frugal meal--for they desired to eke out their store of provisions as
long as possible--they discoursed upon their plans, and all that had
occurred since their last meeting. Nothing was said of the treachery of
Tresham--his recent conduct, as already observed, having been such as to
restore him in a great degree to the confidence of his companions.
Percy, whose office as a gentleman-pensioner gave him the best
opportunities of hearing court-whispers and secrets, informed them it
was rumoured that the Earl of Salisbury had obtained a clue to some
Catholic plot, whether their own he could not say; but it would seem
from all that could be gathered, that his endeavours to trace it out had
been frustrated.
"Where is Lord Mounteagle?" demanded Catesby.
"At his mansion near Hoxton," replied Percy.
"Have you observed him much about the court of late, or with the Earl of
Salisbury?" pursued Catesby.
"No," replied Percy. "Yet now, I bethink me, I did observe them
together, and in earnest conversation about a week ago. But Lord
Mounteagle knows nothing of _our_ plot."
"Hum!" exclaimed Catesby, shrugging his shoulders, while significant
looks were exchanged by the others, and Tresham hung his head. "Lord
Mounteagle may not know that you or I, or Fawkes, or Rookwood, are
conspiring against the State; but he knows that a plot is hatching
amongst our party. It is from him that the Earl of Salisbury derived his
information."
"Amazement!" exclaimed Percy.
"A good Catholic, and betray his fellows!" cried Rookwood; "this passes
my comprehension. Are you sure of it?"
"Unhappily we are so, my son," replied Garnet, gravely.
"We will speak of this hereafter," interposed Catesby. "I have a plan to
get his lordship into our power, and make him serve our purposes in
spite of himself. We will outwit the crafty Salisbury. Can any one tell
if Tresham's sudden disappearance has been noticed."
"His household report that he is on a visit to Sir Everard Digby, at
Gothurst," replied Rookwood. "I called at his residence yesterday, and
was informed that a letter had just been received from him dated from
that place. His departure, they said, was sudden, but his letter fully
accounted for it."
"The messenger who bore that letter had only to travel from Lambeth,"
observed Catesby, smiling.
"So I conclude," returned Rookwood.
"And, now that our meal is ended, let us to work," cried Fawkes, who had
taken no part in the foregoing conversation. "I will strike the first
blow," he added, rising and seizing a mattock.
"Hold, my son!" exclaimed Garnet, arresting him. "The work upon which
the redemption of our holy church hangs must be commenced with due
solemnity."
"You are right, father," replied Fawkes, humbly.
Headed by Garnet, bearing a crucifix, they then repaired to the vault. A
silver chalice, filled with holy water, was carried by Fawkes, and two
lighted tapers by Catesby. Kneeling down before that part of the wall
against which operations were about to be directed, and holding the
crucifix towards it, Garnet commenced praying in a low but earnest tone,
gradually raising his voice, and increasing in fervour as he proceeded.
The others knelt around him, and the whole formed a strange and
deeply-interesting group. The vault itself harmonized with its
occupants. It was of great antiquity; and its solid stone masonry had
acquired a time-worn hoary tint. In width it was about nine feet, and of
corresponding height, supported by a semi-circular arch, and its length
was more than twenty feet.
The countenances of the conspirators showed that they were powerfully
moved by what was passing; but next to Garnet, Guy Fawkes exhibited the
greatest enthusiasm. His ecstatic looks and gestures evinced the strong
effect produced upon his superstitious character by the scene. Garnet
concluded his prayer as follows:--
"Thus far, O Lord, we have toiled in darkness and in difficulty; but we
have now arrived at a point where all thy support is needed. Do not
desert us, we beseech thee, but let thy light guide us through these
gloomy paths. Nerve our arms,--sharpen our weapons,--and crumble these
hard and flinty stones, so that they may yield to our efforts. Aid our
enterprise, if thou approvest it, and it be really, as in our ignorance
we believe it to be, for the welfare of thy holy Church, and the
confusion of its enemies. Bear witness, O Lord, that we devote ourselves
wholly and entirely to this one end,--and that we implore success only
for thy glory and honour."
With this he arose, and the following strains were chanted by the whole
assemblage:--
HYMN OF THE CONSPIRATORS.
The heretic and heathen, Lord,
Consume with fire, cut down with sword;
The spoilers from thy temples thrust,
Their altars trample in the dust.
False princes and false priests lay low,
Their habitations fill with woe.
Scatter them, Lord, with sword and flame,
And bring them utterly to shame.
Thy vengeful arm no longer stay,
Arise! exterminate, and slay.
So shall thy fallen worship be
Restored to its prosperity.
This hymn raised the enthusiasm of the conspirators to the highest
pitch, and such was the effect produced by it, as it rolled in sullen
echoes along the arched roof of the vault, that several of them drew
their swords, and crossed the blades, with looks of the most determined
devotion to their cause. When it was ended, Garnet recited other
prayers, and sprinkled holy water upon the wall, and upon every
implement about to be used, bestowing a separate benediction on each.
As he delivered the pick-axe to Guy Fawkes, he cried in a solemn voice--
"Strike, my son, in the name of the Most High, and in behalf of our holy
religion,--strike!"
Guy Fawkes raised the weapon, and stimulated by excitement, threw the
whole strength of his arm into the blow. A large piece of the granite
was chipped off, but the mattock snapped in twain. Guy Fawkes looked
deeply disconcerted, and Garnet, though he concealed his emotion, was
filled with dismay.
"Let me take your place," cried Keyes, advancing, as Guy Fawkes retired.
Keyes was a powerful man, and exerting his energies, he buried the point
of the pick-axe so deeply in the mortar, that he could not remove it
unassisted. These untoward circumstances cast a slight damp upon their
ardour; but Catesby, who perceived it, went more cautiously to work, and
in a short time succeeded with great labour in getting out the large
stone upon which the others had expended so much useless exertion. The
sight restored their confidence, and as many as could work in the narrow
space joined him. But they found that their task was much more arduous
than they had anticipated. More than an hour elapsed before they could
loosen another stone, and though they laboured with the utmost
perseverance, relieving each other by turns, they had made but a small
breach when morning arrived. The stones were as hard and unyielding as
iron, and the mortar in some places harder than the stones.
After a few hours' rest, they resumed their task. Still, they made but
small progress; and it was not until the third day that they had
excavated a hole sufficiently wide and deep to admit one man within it.
They were now arrived at a compost of gravel and flint stones; and if
they had found their previous task difficult, what they had now to
encounter was infinitely more so. Their implements made little or no
impression on this unyielding substance, and though they toiled
incessantly, the work proceeded with disheartening slowness. The stones
and rubbish were conveyed at dead of night in hampers into the garden,
and buried.
One night, when they were labouring as usual, Guy Fawkes, who was
foremost in the excavation, thought he heard the tolling of a bell
within the wall. He instantly suspended his task, and being convinced
that he was not deceived, crept out of the hole, and made a sign to the
others to listen. Each had heard the awful sound before; but as it was
partially drowned by the noise of the pick-axe, it had not produced much
impression upon them, as they attributed it to some vibration in the
wall, caused by the echo of the blows. But it was now distinctly
audible--deep, clear, slow,--like a passing bell,--but so solemn, so
unearthly, that its tones froze the blood in their veins.
[Illustration: _Guy Fawkes and the other Conspirators alarmed while
digging the mine_]
They listened for a while in speechless astonishment, scarcely daring to
look at each other, and expecting each moment that the building would
fall upon them, and bury them alive. The light of a single lantern
placed upon an upturned basket fell upon figures rigid as statues, and
countenances charged with awe.
"My arm is paralysed," said Guy Fawkes, breaking silence; "I can work no
more."
"Try holy water, father," cried Catesby. "If it proceeds from aught of
evil, that will quell it."
The chalice containing the sacred lymph was brought, and pronouncing a
solemn exorcism, Garnet sprinkled the wall.
The sound immediately ceased.
"It is as I thought, father," observed Catesby; "it is the delusion of
an evil spirit."
As he spoke, the tolling of the mysterious bell was again heard, and
more solemnly,--more slowly than before.
"Sprinkle the wall again, in Heaven's name, father," cried Fawkes,
crossing himself devoutly. "Avoid thee, Sathanas!"
Garnet complied, and throwing holy water upon the stones, the same
result followed.
CHAPTER V.
THE CAPTURE OF VIVIANA.
On the morning after his encounter with Guy Fawkes, Humphrey Chetham,
accompanied by Martin Heydocke, took his way to Lambeth Marsh. With a
throbbing heart he approached the miserable dwelling he knew to be
inhabited by Viviana, and could scarcely summon courage to knock at the
door. His first summons not being answered, he repeated it more loudly,
and he then perceived the face of Father Oldcorne at the window, who,
having satisfied himself that it was a friend, admitted him and his
attendant.
"You were expected, my son," said the priest, after a friendly greeting.
"Guy Fawkes has prepared Viviana for your coming."
"Will she not see me?" demanded the young merchant, uneasily.
"I believe so," replied Oldcorne. "But I will apprise her of your
arrival. Be seated, my son."
He then carefully fastened the door, and repaired to Viviana's chamber,
leaving Chetham in that state of tremor and anxiety which a lover,
hoping to behold his mistress, only knows.
It was some time before Viviana appeared, and the young merchant, whose
heart beat violently at the sound of her footstep, was startled by the
alteration in her looks, and the extreme coldness of her manner.
Oldcorne was with her, and motioning Martin Heydocke to follow him, the
youthful pair were left alone.
"You desire to see me, I am given to understand, sir," observed Viviana,
in a freezing tone.
"I have journeyed to London for that express purpose," replied Humphrey
Chetham, tremulously.
"I am much beholden to you, sir," returned Viviana, in the same
repelling tone as before; "but I regret you should have taken so much
trouble on my account."
"To serve you is happiness, not trouble, Viviana," replied Humphrey
Chetham, ardently; "and I am overjoyed at finding an opportunity of
proving my devotion."
"I have yet to learn what service I must thank you for," she returned.
"I can scarcely say that I am warranted in thus intruding upon you,"
replied Chetham, greatly abashed; "but, having learnt from my servant,
Martin Heydocke, that Doctor Dee had set out for London, with the view
of seeking you out, and withdrawing you from your present associates, I
was determined to be beforehand with him, and to acquaint you, if
possible, with his intentions."
"What you say surprises me," replied Viviana. "Doctor Dee has no right
to interfere with my actions. Nor should I obey him were he to counsel
me, as is scarcely probable, to quit my companions."
"I know not what connexion there may be between you to justify the
interposition of his authority," replied Chetham; "neither did I tarry
to inquire. But presuming from what I heard, that he _would_ attempt to
exercise some control over you, I set out at once, and, without guide to
your retreat, or the slightest knowledge of it, was fortunate enough, on
the very night of my arrival in London, to chance upon Guy Fawkes, who
directed me to you."
"I am aware of it," was the chilling answer.
"I will not avouch," pursued Chetham, passionately, "that I have not
been actuated as much by an irrepressible desire to see you again, as by
anxiety to apprise you of Doctor Dee's coming. I wanted only a slight
excuse to myself to induce me to yield to my inclinations. Your
departure made me wretched. I thought I had more control over myself.
But I find I cannot live without you."
"Alas! alas!" cried Viviana, in a troubled tone, and losing all her
self-command. "I expected this. Why--why did you come?"
"I have told you my motive," replied Chetham; "but, oh! do not reproach
me!"
"I do not desire to do so," returned Viviana, with a look of agony. "I
bitterly reproach myself that I cannot meet you as of old. But I would
rather--far rather have encountered Doctor Dee, had he come hither
resolved to exert all his magical power to force me away, than have met
you."
"Have I unwittingly offended you, Viviana?" asked Chetham, in
astonishment.
"Oh! no--no--no!" she replied, "you have not offended me; but----"
"But what?" he cried, anxiously.
"I would rather have died than see you," she answered.
"I will not inquire wherefore," rejoined Chetham, "because I too well
divine the cause. I am no longer what I was to you."
"Press this matter no further, I pray of you," returned Viviana, in much
confusion, and blushing deeply. "I shall ever esteem you,--ever feel the
warmest gratitude to you. And what matters it whether my heart is
estranged from you or not, since I can never wed you?"
"What matters it?" repeated the young merchant, in accents of
despair,--"it matters much. Drowning love will cling to straws. The
thought that I was beloved by you, though I could never hope to possess
your hand, reconciled me in some degree to my fate. But now," he added,
covering his face with his hands,--"now, my heart is crushed."
"Nay, say not so," cried Viviana, in a voice of the deepest emotion. "I
_do_ love you,--as a sister."
"That is small comfort," rejoined Chetham, bitterly. "I echo your own
wish. Would we had never met again! I might, at least, have deluded
myself into the belief that you loved me."
"It would have been better so," she returned. "I would inflict pain on
no one--far less on you, whom I regard so much, and to whom I owe so
much."
"You owe me nothing, Viviana," rejoined Chetham. "All I desired was to
serve you. In the midst of the dangers we have shared together, I felt
no alarm except for your sake. I have done nothing--nothing. Would I had
died for you!"
"Calm yourself, sir, I entreat you," she returned.
"You did love me _once_?" demanded Chetham, suddenly.
"I thought so," she answered.
The young merchant uttered an exclamation of anguish, and a mournful
pause ensued, broken only by his groans.
"Answer me, Viviana," he said, turning abruptly upon her,--"answer me,
and, in mercy, answer truly,--do you love another?"
"It is a question I cannot answer," she replied, becoming ashy pale.
"Your looks speak for you!" he vociferated, in a terrible tone,--"you
do! His name?--his name?--that I may wreak my vengeance upon him."
"Your violence terrifies me," returned Viviana, withdrawing the hand he
had seized. "I must put an end to this interview."
"Pardon me, Viviana!" cried Chetham, falling on his knees before
her--"in pity pardon me! I am not myself. I shall be calmer presently.
But if you knew the anguish of the wound you have inflicted, you would
not add to it."
"Heaven knows I would not!" she returned, motioning him to rise. "And,
if it will lighten your suffering, know that the love I feel for
another--if love, indeed, it be,--is as hopeless as your own. But it is
not a love of which even _you_ could be jealous. It is a higher and a
holier passion. It is affection mixed with admiration, and purified from
all its grossness. It is more, perhaps, than the love of a daughter for
her father--but it is nothing more. I shall never wed him I love--could
not if I would. Nay, I would shun him, if I did not feel that the hour
will soon come when the extent of my affection must be proved."