THE FORGING OF THE THUNDERBOLT.
Upon reaching the gate which opened from the garden of his dwelling
into the lane, Fawkes signaled his four companions to secure their
horses and follow him. Having complied, he led them through the
garden, unlocked the door and bade them enter.
"Faith!" whispered Catesby, pressing Garnet's elbow, "friend Guido
doth seem over cautious in leading us about so secretly."
"Not so!" replied the Jesuit, "'tis a gift born of much experience in
a country where the careless rattle of a scabbard may lead to most
serious results. But it is in my mind as in thine, that being peaceful
gentlemen who have rendered some slight service to his Majesty the
King, we might act with more boldness; yet caution is a jewel which,
once attained, should not be lightly cast aside, and Master Fawkes
doth cling to it."
The voice of the soldier of fortune bidding them come on precluded the
reply which arose to Catesby's lips, and crossing a narrow hall the
horsemen entered a room whose cheerful brightness contrasted
pleasantly with the darkness of the passage into which they had been
ushered.
After assisting his guests to remove their mantles, Fawkes placed
before them cups and wine, added a fresh fagot to the fire, and turned
to Sir Thomas Winter.
"My lord!" said he, "I pray thee attend to the comfort of these
gentlemen till I return. 'Tis my custom to inspect the house before
retiring, lest any be astir, and to-night I deem it doubly prudent."
"And who hast thou in the house, good Guido?" asked Garnet blandly;
"no one, I trust, who will interrupt our conversation?"
Fawkes laughed softly. "None are within," replied he, "except my old
mother, who, were she to stand beside yon fireplace, would scarce note
the meaning of our discourse; and my daughter, a loyal Catholic, yet,
being a maid, and gifted with a woman's curiosity, it might be her
pleasure to seek the meaning of so rare a gathering beneath my roof."
Garnet nodded approvingly. That he had come to London in disguise had
filled him with some apprehension, and the cautiousness of his host
quieted his fears.
"Thy cavalier is indeed a man of much promise," said he to Winter,
after the soldier left the room, "and I warrant that none will venture
to disturb us. Hast sounded him thoroughly upon religious matters?"
"Thou shalt see," replied Sir Thomas. "If the zeal of each Catholic in
England reached but to the half of his loyalty to the holy cause,
there would scarce be need that a father of the Church don plumed hat
and rapier."
Fawkes, in the meantime, had betaken himself to the upper floor of the
house, where was situate his daughter's chamber. There was no fear in
his mind that his aged mother would note the arrival of his guests,
for 'twas her custom to retire at sundown by reason of infirmities;
but about his daughter there arose some apprehension. He felt sure
that no words which, by chance, might reach her ear would be carried
further, yet, 'twas against his wish that anything should add to her
disquietude.
Coming to the door of her room, which was directly above that
occupied by the four friends, he listened intently, and hearing no
sound within, softly turned the knob and peered into the apartment.
The light of the full moon shining through the window, revealed to him
the interior bathed in a mellow radiance. No sound greeted his ear
save the crackling of the fagots in the huge fireplace below, and the
faint murmur of the voices of his guests. He paused,--a hundred
conflicting emotions filling his breast. The sight of the curtained
bed standing in an angle of the wall drew his attention. He pushed the
door yet further open, and holding his scabbard that its rattle might
not disturb the sleeper, slipped across the threshold and approaching
noiselessly, parted the hangings and looked down.
The maid was lying with her face turned full upon him, her cheek
resting upon one white, rounded arm. In the weird moonlight her pale
beauty startled him, and almost unconsciously, he stretched forth his
hand to touch her. His fingers, resting lightly upon the counterpane,
came in contact with something cold; it caused a shudder to pass
through him, a nameless terror, and for an instant he forgot the four
men waiting in the room below. Bending lower, his eyes rested upon the
object which had so startled him. 'Twas a silver crucifix which had
fallen from the sleeper's fingers, and lay upon her breast. At the
sight great emotion and agitation swept through his heart, rough
soldier though he was; for the moment he was well nigh overpowered.
The silence of the chamber, the white face so near his own, and the
emblem of his faith placed unconsciously upon the breast of the
beloved one who lay there, filled him with superstitious awe. 'Twas
thus the dead slept, ere they were carried to the grave.
A movement of the white arm broke the influence of the spell. The girl
turned uneasily, a few incoherent words escaping her lips. Fawkes drew
back noiselessly. "She sleeps!" he muttered, and passing from the
room, closed the door softly, and descended to those who awaited him
below.
Scarce had his footsteps ceased to echo on the stairs, when Elinor
awoke. Though wrapped in deep slumber, that inexplicable mystery, a
consciousness that she was not alone, startled her. Sitting upright,
her eyes fell upon an object lying at the side of the bed; a doe-skin
gauntlet which she recognized as belonging to her father.
Surprised that he should thus have entered her chamber, a feeling of
alarm possessed her. The crackling of the fire in the room below, the
tell-tale glove upon the floor, and the faint murmur which she felt
assured must be the voices of men engaged in earnest conversation,
aroused her apprehension as well as her curiosity, and it seemed no
ill thing that she should discover the meaning of so unusual an
occurrence, for their dwelling was situated in a quiet part of London
and 'twas not the wont of any to visit it at such an hour. Then, the
thought came to her that perhaps certain companions of her father,
rough soldiers like himself, had come together to partake of his
hospitality. Calmed for the moment, she would have sought sleep again,
had not a sentence, uttered with clear distinctness, reached her ear.
"Ah, good Master Fawkes! Thou hast found all quiet, and thy household
sleeping soundly?"
The intonation of the question startled her. Why should her father
seek to learn whether she slept or not? Surely in the meeting of a few
boon companions over a flask of wine, such precaution was not
necessary. Not delaying for further meditation, she slipped out of
bed, and crept noiselessly to that side of the room against which
arose the huge brick chimney above the fireplace below. Through the
space between the flooring and the masonry, a glare of light came up
to her as well as the voices of those beneath. Crouching against the
warm bricks she listened, unmindful of the cold and her equivocal
position.
The assurance which Fawkes gave to his companions that the house was
quiet, and none would interrupt them, removed the reserve which each
had hitherto felt. Time was indeed precious, for Garnet desired to
return ere daybreak to his hiding place, lest any should perceive
that, lying beneath the doublet of a cavalier, was the insignia of a
churchman, a discovery upon which great misfortune might follow. 'Twas
with scant preliminaries, therefore, that Catesby, ever foremost in
zeal, boldness and assurance, addressed his companions.
"Methinks," said he, turning to the Jesuit, "that in thy wisdom thou
must have perceived something to our benefit in saving James of
Scotland from my bullet. Yet, to me it did appear that the Lord gave
him into our power."
A shadow of impatience darkened the priest's brow, but in an instant
his features resumed their accustomed mildness.
"My son!" he replied, "it would have been an ill thing to slay our
master after the manner of paid assassins. 'Twas in thy heart to kill
the King; what then?"
Catesby bit his lip. That there lay some weighty reason in the mind of
the Superior for his unexpected friendliness to James, he
comprehended, but his spirit, unused to restraint, and darkened by
adversity, illy brooked opposition.
"What then?" replied he, in answer to Garnet's question. "'Twould have
rid the kingdom of a tyrant, and our faith of its bitterest enemy."
The Jesuit smiled sadly. "As thou hast spoken," said he, "the King
would be dead, and trouble us no more, but what of the Parliament? Is
it then James alone who distresses us?"
"Methinks," broke in Percy, "that our worthy father hath put it to us
wisely. Did the Scot lose his life, another would arise in his place,
and the suspicions of the authorities awakened, there would be no
peace in England for a Catholic."
"'Tis even so," said Garnet; "the killing of one man, though he be the
King, can scarce better our situation. What then, thou wouldst ask,
shall be done to lighten our condition? We must lull into a feeling of
security those who press hard upon us, that, when the sky seems
clearest the bolt may fall and the stroke be the more scathing. Brave
Guido here will tell thee that in that country where plots are
thickest, 'tis false security which most often leads the victim to
destruction. It may be, and doubtless is in the King's mind, and also
in that of his Parliament, that the quietness of the Catholics for so
long a time indicates continued subserviency, and not a gathering of
forces to strike against their tyranny. In certain lands there are
desert places where travelers have perished because the storm king hid
his face until the hour for overwhelming destruction sounded. Thinkest
thou that had the murmur of his coming reached their ears they would
not have taken warning and sought a place of safety? 'Tis so in
England. Had the King been shot, the news would have stirred the
kingdom from Berwick unto Dover. What then of our plans and secret
plottings, when each man who worshiped at our altars appeared a
traitor? It hath always been my firm conviction and unvarying counsel
that any blow must be far reaching; not James alone, but others
besides must fall, to give us any vantage ground."
A moment of silence followed Garnet's words. Percy first replied:
"'Tis a storm of extreme fury and sudden change of wind which
overcomes a vessel. Who then will bring about the hurricane which
shall wreck the ship of State?"
During the Jesuit's address Sir Thomas Winter sat immovable, his eyes
fixed upon the fire and his brow contracted in deep thought. As Percy
finished he turned suddenly to Fawkes.
"Friend Guido," said he smoothly, "thou art a man of many resources;
perchance in Spain thou hast learned something a suggestion of which
will now aid us. Thou perceiveth our condition."
Fawkes turned his gaze moodily upon the embers. Half unconsciously his
fingers had been toying with a powder flask lying on the table before
him, and a small portion of its contents had fallen into his palm. He
tossed the black grains into the fire, where they flashed for an
instant, sending a pungent ball of white smoke into the room. 'Twas as
though the craftiness of Satan had shown to him the embryo of the
hurricane.
"In Spain," replied he grimly, "there are many ways to overthrow a
tyrant; in England, as the Holy Father saith, 'twill need more
caution. Once upon a time the captain of a fighting vessel, fearing to
fall into the hands of those who would destroy his ship and put the
crew to torture, himself applied the fire to the magazine, it being
filled with powder, and ten score men perished in a twinkling."
His companions were startled, for the meaning of his words was clear
to them. As by a flash of light a way seemed to open which, if
followed, would lead to the fulfillment of their purpose. Catesby
leaned forward.
"But if it fail, friend Guido?" he whispered hoarsely. "What then?"
"Then!" cried Fawkes, turning to the Jesuit, "I will kill the
King,--if need be even without help! For what then would remain to
us?"
Garnet replied nothing. The words of the soldier of fortune startled
him. Instantly he saw the meaning of the plan which Fawkes had
formed;--a plan which, if once entered upon, would be carried out by
him with all the zeal of a fanatic. The fiendishness of it, while it
roused his admiration of the man's ingenuity, made him shudder; for
'twas not thus men struck in England.
"Come!" said he rising, "'tis close upon midnight, and the ride was
wearisome. Thy words have taken strong hold upon me, good Guido, and I
need a season of prayer and meditation to gain better understanding in
this matter. My cloak, therefore, that I may leave thee."
Obedient to his wishes the others hastened their preparations for
departure, and in silence Fawkes led them through the passage to the
door by which they had entered his dwelling.