"IN THE KING'S NAME."
The bomb having exploded so unexpectedly in the camp of the
conspirators, Fawkes a prisoner in the hands of the government, which,
following the custom of the day, would probably under torture wring
from him a confession, the gentlemen who had been so zealous in the
cause had now no thought but of flight. So sudden had been the
exposure of their plot--laid bare to the eyes of all England at the
eleventh hour--that the bold plans for a well-regulated defense were
overthrown completely, and could not be carried out in any degree.
Garnet, indeed, was for the time safe, his hiding place unknown to the
authorities, and did Fawkes resist with physical and moral force the
torture, the Jesuit might not become involved in the consequences of
his treason. But Catesby, Percy, the two Winters and others stood in
the shadow of the scaffold. That no mercy would be measured out to
them was beyond peradventure. Though of brave spirit, they feared, and
could but flee before, the anger of the law.
It was indeed a pitiful and chagrined body of horsemen who, hurrying
through Worcestershire and the adjoining county, sought to hide
themselves from the King's officers. Pausing in their mad flight, they
rifled the house of Lord Windsor, taking such arms and armor as best
suited their needs. Close after them rode the soldiers of the King
incited by promise of reward and honor did they capture and deliver
the little band into the hands of Salisbury and his ministers. One
face was missing from among those fleeing for their lives in such wild
haste. Catesby, Percy, my Lord of Rookwood, the two Wrights, Grant,
Morgan and Robert Keyes rode side by side, but Thomas Winter, he who
had summoned Fawkes from Spain, was absent. Small need of words
between the proscribed conspirators. A single purpose was in each
heart--to escape those in pursuit.
As dull night drew on, the horses jaded, their riders fainting from
fatigue and fear, the luckless gentlemen reached Holbeach, the house
of Stephen Littleton. The early stars were twinkling in the gray vault
of heaven when lights from the welcome asylum greeted their eyes.
Percy turned to Catesby, who rode at his side.
"Good Robert," said he, "there must we perforce remain till morning;
horseflesh can scarce endure the strain much longer, and those who
follow must needs halt, also. Stephen Littleton hath been our friend,
therefore is his dwelling at our disposal. 'Tis a stout structure, and
should the King's men find us therein--some will go with us to the
other world."
Catesby smiled sadly. "Here will we indeed rest," replied he; "for, as
thou sayest, the beasts be weary. England is small, good Percy; we
must not lack courage."
Noting the two leaders pull up their horses at the gate of the
dwelling, the others did likewise, and all dismounted and entered the
place which, to some, was their last abode--save the grave. In the
main chamber a cheerful fire crackled; for in the month of November
the air was chill, and Master Littleton perceiving the gentlemen
trembling as from cold, caused to be thrown upon the embers a goodly
number of faggots which blazed brightly. The sight recalled to Percy's
mind the fatal cellar under the House of Parliament, where he had
last seen Fawkes guarding with watchful eye the secret which lay
beneath so innocent a covering.
Having removed their heavy boots and outer clothing the conspirators
talked together, seeking to dispel the gloom which rested upon the
company. All were ill at ease, for, although Percy had said the King's
officers would rest, it was possible they might secure fresh horses,
push on, and attack the house ere morning. Expecting no mercy if taken
alive, each resolved to sell his life dearly.
The hours passed on to ten in the evening, when a thing happened
which, to the minds of many in England, exemplified the law of
God--that the wicked shall perish through their own evil devices.
Wishing to have all in readiness should the officers come upon them
during the night, and fearing that the gunpowder with which they were
provided might have become dampened by reason of the humidity of the
weather and its prolonged exposure to the elements, Christopher Wright
poured upon a platter some two pounds of the black grains, and set it
beside the hearthstone. Noting the action another of the party brought
a second bag of powder and treated it likewise, thinking to remove it
when sufficiently dry.
Percy perceived the danger and withdrew from his position before the
blaze. "Were it not well," said he, "to have a care, lest a spark
falling outward do much harm to those within the room?"
"Nay," replied Wright, "'tis my purpose to watch it closely; the
stuff, being damp, is worthless."
Percy spoke no more, not wishing to be thought unduly nervous, and the
company relapsing into silence watched the flames, each intent upon
his own dark forebodings.
For many minutes they remained thus, but starting at each sound from
without, and hearing in every rustle of the leafless trees and
shrubbery the hoofbeats of horses bearing their pursuing enemies. The
heat of the room, added to sleepless nights which had followed the
arrest of Guido Fawkes and the discovery of the conspiracy, gradually
overcame the majority of the party, and all but Percy and Catesby
nodded in their seats. These two, the first confederates with Winter
and the Superior of the Jesuits to formulate the plan for destroying
the King and the government, sat moodily side by side, their burning
eyeballs glassy in the red reflection of the flames, and their hearts
heavy with thoughts of dismal failure and impending ruin.
"Would that Garnet were with us now," muttered Catesby, thrusting one
foot upon the fender; "perchance his wit might devise some means to
free us from our entanglement and perplexity, and save the cause.
Would that Fawkes had----"
Percy raised his eyes quickly. "Thou art then sorry----" he began.
"Nay," replied Catesby with some haughtiness. "If I had thought there
had been the least sin in it I would not have put my hand to it for
all the world. No other cause led me to hazard my fortune and my life
but zeal for the true faith. We have, in truth, failed, good Percy;
yet was the match burning which, in another moment, would have given
the spark to the powder, and the thunderbolt of which friend Guido
spake to us would----"
Carried away by his earnestness he thrust forth his foot beyond the
fender and struck the faggots which blazed in the fireplace. A shower
of sparks answered the blow. One, falling beyond the hearthstone,
found the platter heaped with the deadly grains. Then, in truth, the
spark was given to the powder, but it was not that which lay beneath
the floor of Parliament; it was the powder in the room wherein nodded
the would-be murderers of the lords and the King of England. Ere
Catesby was aware of the awful danger, before Percy--who had noted the
falling spark--could cry out, there came a blinding flash, a cloud of
sulphurous smoke, the crashing of bent and broken timbers, and the
affrighted cries of the luckless inmates of the room. Yet in one thing
there seemed to be a merciful interposition. Carried upward by force
of the explosion, the bag containing a greater quantity of the powder
was hurled through the opening in the roof, and fell into the yard
untouched by fire; had it been otherwise, the public executioner's
work would have been less, and fewer dripping heads had graced the
spikes upon the Tower.
Blinded by fire and smoke but unharmed, save for a scorching of the
hair and beard, the conspirators groped their way into the open air.
Upon their souls rested a cloud of superstitious dread. In the
explosion of the gunpowder they saw the hand of God; and--'twas not
turned against the King!
* * * * *
It was scarce daybreak when the horse bearing Sir Thomas Winter
stopped before the door of the ill-fated Holbeach mansion. Report had
reached him of the explosion, also that many of his companions were
sorely wounded, and that Catesby lay dead, with body shattered by the
firing of the powder. Then was proved his gentle blood, and the valor
of his race. Those with him when he received the news begged him to
fly; but he only looked upon them with clouded brow, and said: "Nay;
Catesby is dead. I will see to his burial; a gallant gentleman,--and
my friend!"
Thus he rode in all haste to Holbeach, to find there his friends
unharmed;--close following him were the soldiers of the King.
Scant time was given to the luckless gentlemen to prepare for
receiving them.
"What have ye resolved to do?" asked Winter, having heard the story of
the night.
"We mean to die," replied Percy stoutly; "we can scarce hold the house
an hour."
"Then," said Winter quietly, "I will take such part as you do." And
looking to his sword and firearms, he leaned against the casement of
the window facing the road on which the King's men would come.
Toward noon they came, a gallant company of gentlemen and musketeers,
flushed with the early morning ride and filled with zeal to take the
traitors who awaited them behind the walls of Master Littleton's
house. Watching from the window Winter saw many faces which he knew;
Sir John Foliot, Francis Conyers, Salway, Ketelsby, all staunch
adherents of the King;--men who, being dispatched upon any errand,
would carry it through most zealously. Before the cavalcade rode a
doughty gentleman, Sir Richard Walsh, sheriff of Worcestershire, armed
with the royal authority to seize the persons of such conspirators as
chanced to fall in his way.
It was the sheriff who halted the troop some fifty paces from the
house, and, attended by Sir John Foliot and two musketeers, advanced
boldly to the closed door.
Trying the latch and finding the portal barred, he tapped upon the
panel with the hilt of his sword. None from within replied. Again the
sheriff rapped, and a voice demanded who it was that sought
admittance, and what might be his errand.
"That," replied Sir Richard, "is well known to thee. Open, therefore,
in the King's name!"
The conspirators hesitated, for the command was one wont to be obeyed
in England.
"Open!" repeated the sheriff; "lay down your arms!"
"We will die," replied Catesby firmly, "but will not open unto thee."
"Die thou shalt," replied Sir Richard cheerily, "with thy head upon
the block." So saying, and perceiving that those within would sell
their lives dearly, he returned to his men, ordering that some quickly
fire the building, others stand ready to receive any, who, driven
forth by fear or flame, might seek to escape through the garden.
Perceiving that they were like to be burned alive, those in the house
resolved to gain the garden, and with sword in hand contend with the
King's men. 'Twas Winter who unloosed the bolt; and perchance
something had come of the venture, for the besieged were of most
determined purpose, if some of the soldiers had not discharged their
muskets, and a ball striking Sir Thomas in the shoulder wounded him
sorely. A second fire sent a rain of balls through the open doorway,
some of them hitting my Lord of Rookwood and the two Wrights,
Christopher and John,--stretching them dead upon the floor.
"God's mercy!" cried Catesby; "let us forth, ere we all be murdered.
Stand by me, Tom, and we will die together."
Winter, whose face was white with pain, replied hoarsely: "That will
I, sir; but having lost the use of my right arm, I fear I will be
taken."
Yet he stooped and caught up his sword with his left hand, standing a
little back of Catesby and Percy who blocked the doorway.
"Wouldst contend against us?" cried the sheriff of Worcestershire, and
then ordered that a third volley be delivered by his musketeers.
Most of the balls lodged themselves in the wall of the building, or
tore splinters from the casement of the door. But one, as though
resolved to atone for the fruitless efforts of its fellows, sped on
its deathly errand, striking Robert Catesby in the neck, passing quite
through, and burying itself in the breast of Percy, who with scarce a
cry fell dead at Winter's feet.
Bleeding profusely, Catesby attempted to regain his footing, but death
was near and he fell back crying to Winter to lift him up that he
might help defend the doorway. The conspirators who remained unharmed,
drew back in terror, crouching behind the furniture with no thought of
resisting the King's authority.
Seeing that Percy, Rookwood and the two Wrights were dead, Catesby
dying, and none to support him, Winter cast aside his sword and bent
over his stricken comrade. At that moment certain of the sheriff's men
charging upon the open doorway, perceived him standing there, and one,
bearing a pike, thrust it at him so that the point pierced his doublet
and wounded him grievously. Staggering under the blow Winter, his
clothes covered with blood, gave back, and again was wounded in the
side by a rapier.
"Cowards!" cried he, striking blindly at the foremost soldier with
his naked hand, "can ye not touch a vital part, but must torture me
so?"
One, perceiving him sorely wounded and unarmed, seized him and in a
moment he was bound and dragged into the yard.
The others, Keyes, John Grant and Henry Morgan, were quickly overcome,
and now of the nine Catholic gentlemen who had resolved to defend the
house, five lay dead, and four were in the hands of the authorities.
Having so handily brought his errand to a successful termination Sir
Richard, of Worcestershire, fell into great good humor.
"Faith!" cried he, sheathing his bloodless sword, "'tis a merry
gathering for my Lord of Salisbury to look upon. Four plump birds
ready for the axe man, and four and one knocking at the gate of hell.
Rare sport, in truth, hath been the taking of so ill a brood;
therefore, gentlemen, to London and the Tower with the nine. Though
some be dead, their necks are ready for the axe, I warrant. 'Tis a
brave sight will greet the populace, anon."