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 f.a.ggots 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 pa.s.sed on to ten in the evening, when a thing happened which, to the minds of many in England, exemplified the law of G.o.d--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 eyeb.a.l.l.s gla.s.sy 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 f.a.ggots 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 quant.i.ty 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 superst.i.tious dread. In the explosion of the gunpowder they saw the hand of G.o.d; 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 cas.e.m.e.nt 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 b.a.l.l.s 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.

"G.o.d'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 hoa.r.s.ely: "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 b.a.l.l.s lodged themselves in the wall of the building, or tore splinters from the cas.e.m.e.nt 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, pa.s.sing 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 h.e.l.l.

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."

CHAPTER XXV.

REAPING THE WHIRLWIND.