The Fifth of November

by L. A. G. Strong

  ‘By God, Master Catesby!’ he cried. ‘A masterstroke!’

  Chapter Ten

  A few minutes later, the others came in. Suppressed excitement showed in their faces.

  Catesby swung round in his chair, then, impressed despite himself with the importance of the occasion, stood up. Percy rose with him.

  ‘You have told them?’ he said to Winter.

  ‘I have.’

  ‘And you, masters. Do you approve?’

  Fawkes smiled.

  ‘I do, for my part, heartily.’

  ‘You need not ask me,’ said Wright.

  ‘That being so, the less delay, the better.’

  Catesby sat down, and the others followed suit.

  ‘The Parliament has sat now for some time, and is likely to be adjourned before July. We must therefore lose no time.

  ‘Next to the Parliament House there is a house owned by one Wynniard. He owns two houses besides, one in Bishopsgate, and one in Clerkenwell. It so happens, by great fortune, that, though he lives in this house, he is willing to let it go on lease.

  ‘For Winter or Wright or me, or Fawkes here, to take the house, might arouse suspicion. We are men of fair substance, but the exactions made of us, and the fees we must pay, leave us little for extravagance. Moreover, the house is large, and we could show no need of it. Again, none knows that Fawkes is with us. Save those on the Osprey, none saw him land. His face is strange to the Government, and long may it remain so: whereas we are all well known. It will not be well, therefore, for him to take the house, and draw attention to himself.’

  He looked at Percy.

  ‘But there is one of us who may do it without question.’ Percy nodded violently.

  ‘Say no more, Master Catesby. I will proceed to it at once. It will not be wise to seem over-hasty,’ he added, after a second’s thought. ‘You know the house is to let. I do not. You must therefore give me time to inquire about. I will find out several houses, and go and see them all, lest I seem to have any special reason to choose Master Wynniard’s.’

  The others murmured assent.

  ‘Then,’ said Percy, looking around, well pleased with their approval, ‘I can say that, having considered at my leisure, I choose Master Wynniard’s as the most convenient to my purpose. Which, in good faith, is no less than the truth,’ he finished, with a chuckle.

  Catesby bowed his head.

  ‘That is well. Once in, and having left a few days for the curiosity of the neighbours to be assuaged, we can take our measurements and dispositions, and begin to make the mine.’

  ‘’Twill need care,’ said Winter.

  ‘’Twill need every sort of care. And we shall give it.’

  ‘The tools,’ said Fawkes. ‘The picks and hammers. Shall I purchase them? As you say, my face is not known.’

  ‘Two I have already. But such things are easy. Of more importance is to make a plausible show of using the house, and needing it for some reasonable purpose. We, who are known Catholics, and have had each our brush with authority, must not be seen there. What would we be doing in Master Percy’s house? No. What we must do is this.

  ‘You, Fawkes, must forgo your name and person, and sink in estate. You must be Percy’s servant, and keep the keys of the house, and go every day to see that all is well with it.’

  Fawkes nodded. There was a gleam of amusement in his eye.

  ‘What name shall I take?’ was all he asked.

  ‘What you will.’

  ‘I will take the name of Johnson—if that pleases you.’

  He turned suddenly to Percy, who laughed.

  ‘Nay, I care not. But why Johnson?’

  ‘I had a friend of that name once. I think it will bring me luck.’

  ‘Very well.’ Catesby had waited impatiently while the name was settled. ‘Johnson you are, from henceforth. That being so, I think you had better not seek for picks and mattocks, since all will openly see that you are in the house. Let another get them, who never comes to the house.’

  ‘Who shall that be?’ Wright asked. ‘To tunnel through a wall may be no light matter. ’Twill take all the labour we have.’

  ‘True,’ answered Catesby. ‘It must be another. We shall have to admit one more at least to our plan.’

  ‘One more, for a few picks and mattocks!’ Percy frowned. ‘That is not prudent, Master Catesby, when each man more doubles our danger.’

  ‘I doubt not that, of all men of our faith and friendship, we shall find one more whom we can trust,’ replied Catesby dryly. ‘And he will have more to do than find us picks and mattocks. There is the powder.’

  ‘’Sblood!’ said Percy, sitting up suddenly. ‘I had forgot the powder. How will you get so much? Will you rob an arsenal?’

  ‘I have a part of it already. Day by day, week by week, in different places, a little at a time, Wright and I have been getting it.’

  ‘Wright!’ Percy turned, an angry suspicion crossing his mind. ‘Then he knew before me! How is this. Master Catesby? Are you playing me false?’

  ‘I did not know,’ cried Wright, his voice hard. ‘I knew we needed powder, but, till to-day, I did not know for what purpose.’

  ‘It is true, Percy. Have no fear. I am not cozening you.’

  ‘Ha.’

  Percy, still ruffled, let himself subside.

  ‘Our new comrade,’ Catesby went on, ‘shall guard the powder.’

  ‘Where have you the powder?’ Percy asked.

  ‘Here in Lambeth.’

  ‘What—in the house?’

  ‘No. At a house close by. Fear not. It is safe. The owner of the house does not know it is there.’

  ‘I do not call that safe. He might set it off, by going unadvised with a candle.’

  ‘Have no fear. I would not jeopardize an innocent man’s life, and his wife’s with him. Leave those matters to me, and be content.’ There was an edge on Catesby’s voice.

  ‘Is there enough powder?’ Guy Fawkes asked.

  ‘I cannot say, at a guess, how much we shall need. But it will be wise to get more.’

  ‘Shall our new comrade get it? Why should not you?’ suggested Wright.

  ‘Never!’ cried Catesby, before Fawkes could answer. ‘You forget that he is to be seen here at the house, and known. What—would you have him known to live next the Parliament House, and buy powder?’

  ‘Who is our new comrade?’ Percy asked. ‘I see that you have made up your mind to him. May we know his name?’

  There was a note of sarcasm in his voice. Catesby flushed slightly.

  ‘I do not take a comrade without consent of us all,’ he replied. ‘I had in mind Robert Keyes.’

  ‘Robert!’ Wright opened his mouth. Then his face reddened with pleasure.

  ‘He is a friend of Wright here, who will answer for him, I make no doubt. Myself, I know him for a sober, excellent man, whom I could trust with my very life. He has little means, but all that constancy and valour can do, he will do for us. He is a convert, and his wife a Catholic. She served in the household of my Lord Mordaunt, teaching his children their lessons.

  ‘He sounds safe enough,’ said Percy carelessly. ‘Why did you not bring him here to-day, to take the oath with us?’

  ‘I do nothing, Master Percy, except by consultation with us all.’ Catesby paused, having scored his point. ‘If it seems good to us all, I will straightway admit him, and he and I between us shall see to the powder. Together, we will bring it here from where it lies, and, while we are busy, he shall keep guard here.’

  ‘Agreed, for my part,’ said Percy. ‘What say the rest of you?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  The others contrived, by the tones of their voices, to let it be seen that they did not for an instant dream of questioning anything their leader said, and that it was enough for him to decide a point for them to approve it as a matter of course.

  ‘Well’—Catesby shifted in his chair—‘is there anything more? Have any o
f you a question to ask?’

  He looked round, and found Fawkes’s eyes fixed on him in inquiry.

  ‘Yes?’ he said.

  ‘Master Catesby, must I cut off my beard?’

  ‘No,’ replied Catesby, surprised. ‘I see no cause for that. No one has seen you. You have been out of the country so long.’

  ‘I am glad. I do not wish to do it. Without my beard, close to the waterside, I take cold, and cough.’

  ‘You, a hardened soldier!’

  Percy laughed at him.

  ‘Yes.’ Fawkes’s eyes were quite brave. ‘But, with my beard, I can campaign a whole winter and take no harm. I asked only for fear someone from Spain should see me. Or from the Low Countries.’

  ‘That is possible, of course. But it is not likely. How should they? You will be dressed as a servant. No, there is no danger.’

  ‘Let him keep his beard,’ said Percy good-humouredly. ‘If he coughed, he might betray us indeed.’

  ‘Aye. I have known twenty men undone, and lose their lives, when one man sneezed.’

  ‘’Sblood, Master Fawkes! Grow your beard long!’

  ‘And thick!’

  Fawkes stroked it, his eyes twinkling at them, his smile twisting one side of his face.

  ‘Nay,’ he said, ‘’tis well as it is. I shall take no harm, nor you, on account of it.’

  Chapter Eleven

  After this meeting, the conspirators lost no time. Percy made his inquiries for a house with such realism as to throw into excitement some seven or eight worthy persons with houses to let, who were all agog to have so distinguished a tenant, and proportionately chagrined when his final choice fell upon Mr. Wynniard. Wynniard, an invalid, was not using the house himself, but had let it to a man named Ferris, who was willing to sublet: so that all was well.

  Within a week of the meeting, a number of interested neighbours saw Percy take possession, with a great deal of noise and circumstance, and so many instructions to his servant Mr. Johnson, delivered in so haughty a tone of voice, that he won that man of quiet bearing a number of friends on the spot, for very sympathy.

  And Johnson himself, when the neighbours sought his acquaintance, proved worth the effort. He was friendly and gentle, with a smile for the children, and, though on the quiet side, had about him something which at once commanded liking. True, he knew how to keep his own and his master’s counsel: but they respected him all the better for that.

  So, while the so-called Johnson made friends with his neighbours and disarmed all possible inquisitiveness and suspicion, the conspirators came by night, surveyed the house, the garden, and the wall adjoining, and prepared for their task. The picks and mattocks were smuggled in. On a windy, moonless night the good man who had housed the powder was recompensed for his trouble, and it was transferred to Catesby’s lodging.

  The first part of the conspirators’ task, and the most difficult, was to obtain access to the cellars below Parliament House. This was only possible by digging through from the cellars of the house they had taken. These proved to be surprisingly deep down, and the conspirators were somewhat at a loss, since it was impossible for them, without running the gravest risk of discovery, to explore the cellars below Parliament House and find out how deep they ran.

  It was to Fawkes that they turned in this perplexity. He, with his experience of mining in warfare, reassured them. If, by mischance, they found themselves too deep down, they had only to strike upwards. They had the necessary tools, and almost unlimited time in which to use them. And, he said, there must be many vaults and cellars beneath a building so old as the Palace of Westminster.

  Here Percy was of some assistance. His position and his friends enabled him to make casual inquiries which would excite no suspicion: and he brought back the cheering report that there were numberless cellars, going to a great depth below the ground.

  Then, suddenly, the conspirators received a blow. Before May was out, Parliament was adjourned, not to reassemble till February of the following year.

  To go on with the work for a contingency so far ahead was useless, and would only increase the risk of discovery. As things were, if anyone should become suspicious, and search the house, they would find nothing amiss.

  Percy, with characteristic impatience, wanted to get on with the work at once, but Fawkes and Catesby were of the contrary opinion, and their arguments prevailed.

  Accordingly, the conspirators agreed to disperse to the country, and the house was left empty. The agreeable Mr. Johnson remained for a while as caretaker, then explained to his neighbours that his master had summoned him to join him, and that he looked forward to seeing them again on his return.

  The visit to the country took longer than Mr. Johnson had anticipated. Not until early in October did the neighbours see him again. Even then, the information he had to give them was very vague. No, he could not say how soon his master would return, nor if, when he did come, he would occupy the house permanently. Yes, it was very irksome sometimes, to be in the service of the great, and not to know what they would be about: sent hither and yon, to country or town, all at a moment’s notice. Still, there it was. A man had to do as he was bid, and take his living where he found it.

  Mr. Johnson shook his pointed red beard, and his questioner, a tallow-chandler, shook his head too, and allowed that Mr. Johnson was right.

  What had happened was that Fawkes and Winter, in answer to a summons, had met Catesby the day before at Moorcroft, and agreed with him that it was about time to begin getting things ready. Accordingly, Fawkes came to town first, to see how the land lay. Winter was to come up a day or so later, and bring back news to Catesby, who would then summon the others.

  Fawkes, however, found that the Scottish Lords were using both Parliament House and the house next door for a conference, and he and Winter decided that it would not be safe to start work. Winter went back with the news, and ‘Mr. Johnson’, after a stay of only a few days, retired again in the supposed service of his erratic master, with many commiserations from his friends.

  The night before he went, he obtained a valuable, though discouraging, piece of information.

  He was in a local alehouse, talking to his friend the tallow-chandler, a mason who lived near by, and a silent, indeterminate man by the name of Gibbins, who appeared to have a post similar to his own at the house adjoining the conspirators’. Without difficulty, Fawkes led the conversation to the house.

  ‘’Tis a strange old place,’ said Guy. ‘And the cellars. Plaguy deep they lie. From the sounds and the echoes when one strikes the walls, a man might think he was in the catacombs.’

  ‘Aye, indeed. ’Tis honeycombed with vaults and cellars, all about. Old houses, Master Johnson; powerful old.’

  ‘Strikes the walls, did you say?’ The mason gave a hoarse chuckle. ‘There’s a wall there will give you ne’er an echo, though you strike till doomsday.’

  ‘So, Master Hogben? And which is that?’

  ‘Why, the big wall. The wall atwixt you and the Palace.’

  Guy nodded, a sick feeling at his heart.

  ‘A strong wall, Master Hogben?’

  ‘Strong? They that built it must have had fear in their hearts, or else thought the river would flow in upon ’em. Why, sir, ’tis all of nine feet thick, that wall, and solid stone.’

  ‘Nine foot, eh?’ Guy whistled. ‘That should keep out the rats, Master Hogben.’

  The others guffawed, and the mason, after looking about him, beckoned Guy with his head, leaned forward, and whispered in his ear:

  ‘If you ask me, Master Johnson, the rats are inside, not out.’

  Guy smiled.

  ‘I dare say many would agree with you there, Master Hogben.’

  And his friends, if they would have liked a more direct agreement, had at least to commend Mr. Johnson’s discretion.

  ‘’Tis seemly in him,’ the mason told his companion after Mr. Johnson had excused himself. ‘A man in high employment must be careful. Why, man, f
or all he knew, we might be spies, to tempt him on to say something he should not. Doubtless he meets many such.’

  ‘Spies?’ the tallow-chandler stopped and drew himself up. ‘Spies, did you say? Nay, I do not like that, Ned. I do not like to think that any man would take thee or me for a spy. Nor thee, Sam,’ he added, turning to Gibbins.

  ‘Thee he knows,’ agreed the mason. ‘Me he knows not. And Sam—?’

  ‘Nay,’ said Gibbins, breaking silence at last. ‘He knows me not. He has spoken to my wife, but not to me, till this very night.’

  ‘So. And he had never set eyes on me before tonight. Nay, Harry, the man did well to keep his counsel. ’Tis shrewd, and I commend it in him.’

  And the tallow-chandler, after due reflection, had to agree with him.

  All the same, he was glad, next morning, to receive from Mr. Johnson a greeting so friendly as to remove from his mind the least doubt lest his new friend regard him as a possible spy.

  The conference of the Scottish Lords lasted a long time, and, what with one thing and another, it was not till the eleventh of December that the conspirators were able to make their first concerted attack upon the mine.

  In the couple of weeks before, Guy had been carefully and unostentatiously provisioning the house for its long occupation. Catesby, Winter, Wright, and Percy were all to move in secretly by night, and remain in the house unseen. Guy, as before, was to appear, act as porter, and stand sentinel in case any one came to threaten the work.

  It was no light matter to keep four men in the house without any one becoming aware of their presence: nor was it altogether easy for each of the four to give his friends a convincing reason for his absence from his home or usual haunts. For that reason the conspirators expected to be able to work in spells of a few days only.

  They had heard Guy’s news about the thickness of the wall, but hoped that he was misinformed. The first evening’s work was easy, for they had only to cut through the wall of their own cellar, which was of no particular difficulty. Indeed, the problem of this first spell was, not how they were going to get through, but how they were going to take out the rubble and dispose of it, without being seen, fast enough to keep pace with their digging.