_ CHAPTER X. 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. _