by Nick Holland
Another meeting of the most prominent London based plotters was convened, with the notable exception of Francis Tresham.9 Sat around a table were Catesby, Guy Fawkes, Thomas Wintour, and the brothers Jack and Kit Wright, and a heated debate soon ensued. Thomas Wintour’s opinion was that Tresham must have heard something directly from Lord Monteagle himself, and that a knock could come to their door at any moment that would signal their arrest, disgrace, and death.
Tresham’s agitation could also have been because he was indeed the man who had sent the letter to his cousin Monteagle, but had now found that rather than halting the plot as he had wished, it instead endangered all their lives. This thought occurred as much to Thomas Wintour and Robert Catesby then as it does to us now, but there was no time to pursue the matter further and it was essential that they remained united, in appearance at least.
It is once more testimony to the strength of his character, and the devotion that he could inspire in others, that the primary concern of the conspirators was to ensure the safety of their leader Catesby. Wintour urged him to sail to the continent immediately, and argued that Catesby could still direct an uprising from there while the others would stay behind and carry out his orders.
Guy Fawkes was in favour of this plan, as long as it didn’t mean the cessation of their endeavours that had been so long in planning and which were now so close to fruition. As Father Tesimond recalled, he was ready to take all the risk upon himself if necessary:
Some of them thought that Mr Catesby should leave then and there for Flanders, leaving Mr Guy to look after the house. Magnanimously enough, Fawkes was quite ready to do this. In this way, when the main deed was done Catesby could put in execution the rest of the plan.10
Catesby himself, however, would hear nothing of their protestations, and insisted on remaining in the country. It was also imperative, he said, to talk to Thomas Percy on this matter, and he had not yet arrived in London.11 Percy’s lateness must have increased the fears of his fellow conspirators, who would have wondered whether he had backed out of the affair, or even whether he had been captured. It was late on Sunday evening when he reached London, and after greeting the five men present he was told, for the first time, about the Monteagle letter.
There can be little doubt that Percy was furious about this act of betrayal, and given his proficiency with a sword and his famed willingness to use it, it was fortunate for Tresham that he was not present. Catesby soothed Percy by explaining that they had talked to Tresham and been convinced of his innocence in this affair, but Percy must still have harboured his suspicions. The matter was then put to Percy, as it had been to the others, whether they should abandon their plot and seek safety?
For Percy, like Catesby and Guy Fawkes, there could be no question of turning their backs on their plans with less than forty-eight hours to go. He insisted that he would stay, whatever happened, and see what fate had ordained for them. Percy was ready to ‘abide the uttermost trial’12 and, as ever, would not go down without a fight.
The final decision had been reached: they would take on their allotted tasks as if the discovery of the letter had never happened. It was agreed that in the morning Guy would proceed to the house they had rented from John Whynniard and from there go to the cellar under Parliament, to guard the gunpowder in these vital last hours. Catesby would ride northwards with Jack Wright and Thomas Bates, where they would meet up with Everard Digby at the Red Lion Inn in Dunchurch, Warwickshire, as had been agreed. Upon hearing news of the explosion they would then launch the second phase of their plan, the capture of Princess Elizabeth and the orchestration of a Midlands uprising that would spread across the country.13
Tuesday morning came, and Thomas Percy, the last to arrive in London, had adopted the calm demeanour which made him such a difficult opponent in a duel. One task he carried out was the purchase of a pocket watch that was later carried by Robert Keyes to Guy Fawkes,14 now in his station beneath Parliament.
Percy then went to Syon House, the grand Thames-side mansion belonging to his great friend and mentor the Earl of Northumberland, to discuss the latest news about the union of England and Scotland.15 Also at lunch that day were Edmund Whitelocke and a servant named Fitzharbart,16 and it was to prove an inauspicious event for all concerned. After Thomas Percy’s later arrest, suspicion fell on everyone present at the meal, with particularly disastrous consequences for the Earl himself.17
Percy, and other members of the conspiracy with the possible exception of Francis Tresham, sought the solace and confidence of company as the hours ticked by, taking their minds off what was to come by indulging in mundane conversation and carrying out everyday tasks. One man, however, was completely alone on 4 November: Guy Fawkes.
Upon rising before dawn on the Tuesday morning Guy Fawkes made his way towards the house rented from John Whynniard, which led to the cellar underneath the Parliament chamber. He was now John Johnson, the humble servant of the Gentleman Pensioner Thomas Percy, a mere shadow, someone unremarkable in every way.
Guy was wearing a dark stove-pipe hat so typical of the period, and a black cloak that he wrapped tightly around him against the chill air of the November dawn. He also wore spurs upon his boots,18 and would have walked carefully to prevent their noise from alerting anyone to his presence.
The spurs are a clue to Guy’s intended getaway. The ship that was waiting to take him to Flanders must have been docked at a broader point of the river to the east of Westminster, presumably at a location such as Greenwich. Once the gunpowder had been lit, time would become of critical importance to Guy, and so the wearing of spurs indicates that he had a horse in position near to Parliament that could carry him swiftly to the port.
In his confession of 16 November, Guy admitted that he had tested his slow fuses to see how much time he would have to make his escape after lighting them. The one that he chose and took with him on 4 November would have given him precisely fifteen minutes.19 Guy had learned the importance of preparation during his decade as a soldier, which is why he made the journey many times in the days leading up to the opening of Parliament, judging to the second exactly how much time he would need. The planned flight was not only for reasons of self-preservation, although Guy fully expected the explosion to take place and the ship to carry him overseas; while remaining focused on the firing of the powder, Guy also had an eye on his mission afterwards, persuading the Catholic soldiers of the continent to join their cause and finally liberate England from Protestantism.
The hours alone in the chamber passed with a terrible slowness for Guy, who alternated sitting, standing, and lying, but kept awake and alert at all times. He was listening carefully for an unexpected sound or approaching footsteps, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t be disturbed.
At some point in the afternoon, that is exactly what happened. Guy had heard the footsteps drawing nearer before a key turned in the lock, and had ascertained that there was more than one man. He had seconds to decide whether to draw his sword and prepare to fight, or to remain calm as if he was merely a servant at his duty. The door opened, and in stepped John Whynniard, who must have retained a key to the chamber. Alongside him were Lord Monteagle, and the Lord Chamberlain, the Earl of Suffolk. The men looked around the cellar and their eyes were drawn towards a large collection of wood in one corner, it was only then in the dim light of the room that they noticed the cloak-wearing man alongside it.
Suffolk addressed the man, asking to know who he was. The stranger returned his gaze without flinching, replying in a calm voice with northern tones that he was John Johnson, servant to Thomas Percy. His master had hired the cellar to store his firewood and provisions. Suffolk turned to Whynniard with a quizzical look, but the man explained that the story was true – that it had been rented by Thomas Percy and he had a servant named John Johnson. Turning on their heels the three men left the cellar, to resume their search of other buildings in and around Parliament. Guy Fawkes had passed the test, the secret remained safe –
for now.
Once outside the cellar however, the three searchers aired their concerns. Whynniard said that he was surprised that Percy, who was rarely in London despite his role as a Gentleman Pensioner, should need so much firewood.20 Monteagle revealed that the naming of Percy had worried him too, as Percy was a great friend of his, and he knew how ardent a Catholic he was, and these factors now made him suspect that Thomas Percy may have been behind the letter he’d received.21 The Lord Chamberlain was also dissatisfied. There was something about the man John Johnson that was not quite right. He had an air of menace about him, he in fact looked ‘a very tall and desperate fellow’.22
Having found little else of note in the rest of their search, the men decided to inform the King of their suspicions without delay, and see what course of action he wished to take next.
Guy Fawkes now had a choice to make. There were mere hours left until he could fire the gunpowder, and successfully conclude that part of the plot. On the other hand, if he had failed to convince them of his story the men could return at any time, at which point all would be lost.
One option was to flee at that very moment, boarding the waiting ship and sailing to the continent. It was never a choice that a man with Guy’s reserves of courage, and with his overriding sense of loyalty, was going to take. He could also have remained in station where he was, but that could have exposed his brethren in the plot to risk. With little time to waste in deliberation, Guy chose a third way. Leaving the chamber temporarily he sought out Thomas Percy, now returned from Syon House and ready and waiting near to Parliament, as pre-arranged, should Guy need him. The conversation was hurried, but the two men were of one mind – they could not stop now, whatever the dangers. Percy informed Guy that he would send Robert Keyes to see him later in the evening, and with that Guy returned to his post and his duty.
At around ten o’clock in the evening a knock on the door, following a pattern that had surely been arranged between those in the conspiracy, announced that a friend had arrived. Nevertheless, Guy approached the door with caution and ready to take action if necessary. To his relief, Keyes was waiting for him and handed over a pocket watch from Thomas Percy before turning and walking away into the now black night.
Guy, during his interrogation, explained the watch by stating that it had been given to him ‘because he should know how the time went away’.23 Watches were rare and expensive items at the time, normally beyond the remit of a man such as Guy, but he needed to know the precise time so that he could set the explosion to occur at a moment when the King and his lords had gathered above him.
Guy watched the hand travelling oh-so-slowly around the face, counting down the hours that would lead to triumph or disaster. It is natural that his mind would have been troubled as well by the fact that he was about to send hundreds to their death in a crescendo of noise, blood and pain. Wives would be widowed, children orphaned, just as his mother had been widowed and just as the children of Margaret Clitherow had been orphaned. Perhaps one day there would be peace, but that day was not now, and Guy knew that he was not the man for a time of peace.
Pushing his qualms aside, he knelt on the now cold and damp floor and uttered a prayer to Jesus, Mary and the saints and martyrs. He was asking for forgiveness for what he was about to do.
The boy of York was gone, no more was he the laughing untroubled child who had played freely with his sisters and friends. So too, the servant John Johnson was gone, he was now once more the soldier Guido Fawkes, as he would refer to himself in his confessions.
The slow fuse was inserted through the prepared spot in the wooden billets, and he stood still by the light cast by his lamp upon the floor. The hands on the watch continued to move, but Guy’s mind was now emptying itself of everything except what he had to do next. Perhaps a last piece of scripture came into his head, such as St. Paul’s profession: ‘when I was a child, I spoke as a child, I thought as a child, I reasoned as a child. When I became a man, I gave up my childish ways’.24 Guy was now more than a man, he was an angel of death who would at last bring justice and revenge upon the heads of those who had done so much to harm his faith and his people. The watch ticked closer towards twelve midnight, it was mere minutes before the fifth of November. Guy now knew that nobody would disturb him; that nine hours from now his hand would strike a flint and set a flame burning along the fifteen-minute fuse that led to thirty-six barrels of gunpowder and carnage. Guy was wrong.
As one day turned into the next, Guy heard a faint noise from outside the cellar. He opened the door to see what was amiss, but stepping forward into the darkness, he found himself blinded by the light of a lamp thrust into his face. A man was upon him, who knocked Guy off his feet and pinned him to the floor. Guy overcame his momentary confusion and a brief yet fierce struggle ensued in which Guy crushed the man’s hand so fiercely that he considered drawing his dagger and stabbing him before thinking better of it.25
Armed men came to the guard’s aid, dragging Guy to his feet and binding his hands behind his back.26 Pushed into the cellar, Guy was powerless to resist as he watched the men tear away at the wood coverings, hearing their curses as the barrels of gunpowder were uncovered and then opened. Guy’s pockets were searched next and within them were discovered touchwood and a match.27
The leader of the men approached Guy with a look of disgust on his face, but Guy returned it with something approaching a smirk.
‘You were lucky to find me outside the cellar,’ Guy said in a calm, confident manner belying the sickening feeling growing within him, ‘otherwise none of you would be talking about it now, because you would all have been blown sky-high’.28
Chapter 21
The Devil of the Vault
Within the bowels of these elements,
Where we are tortured and remain forever.
Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed
In one self place, for where we are is hell,
And where hell is must we ever be.
Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus
He who had grappled with Guy was one Edmund Doubleday,1 one of a troop of armed men sent to search the cellar under the leadership of Sir Thomas Knyvett.2 It was fortunate for Doubleday that he had, at the last moment, resisted his dagger, for they were under strict instructions to capture the mysterious John Johnson alive.
Doubleday received an injured hand during the struggle, but he was to receive much more in the years to come. Hailed as a hero, in 1609 he was made Warden of the Mint alongside Knyvett, and was then responsible for production of the nation’s coins. Doubleday became very wealthy, and in 1614 was elected Member of Parliament for the Westminster constituency.3
Knyvett was already a Member of Parliament in 1605, and had been a member of the Privy Chamber of Queen Elizabeth. He also served as one of London’s magistrates, and this is the key to his role in the apprehension of Guy Fawkes.4 Sir Robert Cecil had been elated at the news of the afternoon search led by the Earl of Suffolk. The desperate fellow they encountered, Johnson, seemed a likely suspect, especially as he had mentioned Thomas Percy. This in turn implicated the Earl of Northumberland, as the close bond between the two Percys was well known. The Earl was a man of authority and power, however, even though his forebears had a long history of treachery and infamy, and so Cecil would have to tread carefully. There was no better man than Knyvett for the task, as not only was he an old acquaintance of Robert Cecil, he also had the legal authority needed for searches and arrests. Knyvett, like Doubleday, profited from his exploits on that November night, and in 1607 was made the first Baron Knyvett of Escrick5 in Yorkshire.
With Guy bound and guarded by armed men, Knyvett made his way immediately to Whitehall Palace. Although it was after midnight, he found Cecil awaiting news. From Knyvett’s hurried actions and anxious expression he guessed the news before he spoke, and leaving Knyvett momentarily he sought council with the King. James was clear, he wanted to see the man himself – in the King’s mind there was little dou
bt that he was now about to confront an infernal servant of Satan, and he would show how a King’s power would prevail.
At four o’ clock on the morning of 5 November 1605, a tall and bloodied, but unbowed, man was led into the personal bedchamber of the King himself, accompanied by armed guards on all sides.7 Also there were members of the Privy Council who had been present in the palace, including Robert Cecil and the Earl of Suffolk. Guy was stripped before entering the chamber to ensure that he had no concealed weapons upon him, and it was this that led to the questions about the scars on his body at his later interrogation. This examination also left little doubt about the man’s Catholicism and zealousness in his faith, as he was found to be wearing numerous symbols of his faith (presumably crucifixes and rosary beads) as well as, much to the astonishment of his captors, a hair shirt.8 This uncomfortable item was a sign of special piety and worn to remind the wearer of the pains that Christ had been through for them. Thomas Becket had famously been found to be wearing one after being murdered in Canterbury Cathedral on the orders of King Henry II.9
King James was a firm believer in divine right. It was clear to him that God had brought about the convoluted chain of events that led to him being placed upon the English throne. He was used to people bowing before him, casting their eyes down in his presence, but this stranger was different. He was proud and defiant when he should have been scared and grovelling for his life. The two men stared into each other’s eyes; James was now in no doubt that here was a man who had intended to kill him, here was a man who would have had no compunction in ending the lives of hundreds of people at a stroke. Here, thought the expert on the subject who had written the Daemonologie, was one who was more devil than man.
