Martin Stephen - The Desperate remedy

Back at the House the itching in his scalp was unbearable. He called for water and- a basin, dipped his head and scrubbed at his hair with the beautifully scented French soap. The first and the second buckets, drawn as he had insisted from the sweet water of the House's own well, had been brought by servants. The third was brought by Jane.

'Are we washing out the stains of the world?' she enquired, pouring the contents on a head still half full of suds. Her fingers massaged his scalp, moving slowly and firmly through the tangled hair, easing the froth down and into the basin. A reddish tinge was still occasionally visible amidst the white suds.

'I must go to Cecil,' he said quietly.

There was no gasp of breath, no exclamation, only a slight faltering in the pressure of her fingers on his scalp, before the smooth, fluid motion recommenced.

'The letter's failed,' he said. 'I'd thought to spare bloodshed by naming no names, thought to spare Raleigh, thought to be honourable to Tresham, thought to disperse a plot before it could act. Well, I've failed.' He sat back, feeling the cold droplets of water course down his neck and back before Jane placed the towel on his head. 'One man has visited the cellar, our watcher swears, a man answering Fawkes's description. No man else. That cellar must be identified, emptied. Without the powder there's no plot.'

'How will you do it? Empty it yourself?'

'And have them fill it up again? Or be arrested as chief plotter? No thank you! I'll simply tell Cecil that on my sickbed I received notice that a certain cellar below the House of Lords is crammed full of gunpowder. I'll make it impossible for him not to search it. And you, Jane, will make sure it's searched, should I not return.

Searched and exposed. With the powder gone there's no powder plot.'

‘And Raleigh?'

'He once told me that honour was the difference between a man and an animal. Is it more honourable to preserve my old master against a harm that might not come to him, or to preserve the nation from another blood bath that certainly will come unless I can stop it? I must take a gamble with the man I'd least willingly put at risk. How long have we been meddling with this plot? In all that time we've found not a whisper, not a syllable that could link it to Raleigh. Oh, I know, they can fabricate what evidence they wish, but I've been thinking.'

At times it felt as if he had been doing nothing else, lying awake for most of the night, the thoughts churning through his head.

'Raleigh has had one trial where there was no true evidence, and what there was consisted of lies. It was unpopular, hugely unpopular. I think it surprised Cecil, shocked him even, as only a threat to his own power would shock him. There's no real evidence to link Raleigh to any of this. I have to gamble Cecil won't risk another false trial with false evidence so soon after the last.'

'You're a stupid man, Henry Gresham.'

'Why so? Am I putting Raleigh at too much risk?'

'No, it's not Raleigh. It's you. You're never content, are you?' She knelt at his feet, wiping the shreds of soap off his shirt and hose. 'You say that survival is all a man can hope for, yet you put your own strange form of honour far beyond mere survival. You say you can influence nothing, yet you seek all the time to exert just such an influence. You think yourself ruthless, and you are ruthless with those who let you down or stand in your way, yet you'll risk your own life in the name of honour.'

He drew her hands gently off him, and stood up. 'Today, I ceased to be ill. Life is for living, isn't it? And when I see Cecil tonight, I'll at least know I'm alive, in every pore of my body, even until that life's extinguished. And after, I doubt my corpse will care.'

'No,' said Jane, 'but my living body will care. And the mind it contains.' They looked at each other in silence.

The letter is confirmed,' said Catesby. It was Sunday, November 3rd. It was the last planned meeting of the conspirators, or such as could be mustered in one place. The news of the letter had shattered the peace of mind of those who had heard, as if there had not been tension enough already.

'Are we lost, then? Do I ride to Dunchurch?' It was Everard Digby, ever the dandy, leaning nonchalantly on the table in a doublet double-slashed in yellow and purple. In the morning he was due to ride to Dunchurch, where a 'hunting party' was to gather at The Red Lion. This party was a crucial element in Catesby's plotting. It was from here that Digby would move to Coombe House, a mere eight miles away, and capture the Princess Elizabeth, and this gathering was to be the base of the three hundred horsemen Catesby believed he could muster.

'I urge delay.' It was Tresham who spoke, causing an uneasy stir and a poisonous glance from Tom Wintour. 'Here, see these.' There was a slap as the package containing his travel papers landed on the trestle. 'I'll pay for some of the same, for all of you. Let's wait out this Parliament, see what comes to pass both with the law and the letter, take ourselves to France for some month or two. We can come to no harm in France, and we preserve ourselves to act when we think fit, when there's no cloud of suspicion over us.'

'Your cloud of suspicion will easily be dispelled with a cloud of smoke, smoke shot through with fire! Is it conscience that makes you speak, or fear?' Tom Wintour spat the words out.

Tresham rose to his feet, as did Wintour. Tresham felt a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down on to his stool.

'Peace? If we fight ourselves how can we fight others! You ride, as we planned!' It was Thomas Percy, his vehemence startling the others. 'Yet we're cautious as well. We've two days to wait, and to watch. We've a ship moored on the Thames, ready and waiting our presence. We can be there as quickly as it takes to hail a wherry, and drop down the river before any hue and cry can catch us. You, Guido, you can keep an eye on the powder, report back any mischief there. Granted, we can't be rash. But nor should we waste years of planning before we have to.'

A heated discussion followed, but Tresham could see that Percy's passion had won the day.

Percy knew he had dominance. Yet it seemed he wished to cap it all:

‘I've the means to test whether we're discovered. I'll use it.' 'What means?' It was Digby.

'The Earl of Northumberland's a member of the Privy Council, isn't he?' said Percy. 'I'll go to see him, at Syon House, tomorrow, on the excuse of needing a loan.' He barked out a laugh. 'It's not a new thing for me to do. If the letter's caused any serious problems, I must hear it. They'll detain me, for certain.'

'You'll take that risk?' Catesby seemed genuinely moved.

'It's a lesser risk than many we've taken,' said Percy, 'and yes, I'll take it.'

There was actual applause round the table. Yes, thought Percy, smiling through clenched teeth at his easy victory. I shall go to see my Lord the Earl of Northumberland at Syon House, and make sure that every servant at Syon House sees and hears me there, and that we talk in the Hall alone, out of earshot of all others. And then I shall go to my nephew Josceline Percy, in the employ of my Lord the Earl of Northumberland, and similarly make it known that I have been there. And then, he thought with a warm glow of vicious satisfaction in his heart, then see if my Lord the Earl of Northumberland can escape being implicated in what is to happen. Then, having steadied the plotters and unbeknown to them signed the death warrant of his kinsman, he left them. He had business, he said, to attend to in town.

Had Percy and Catesby worked it all out before the meeting? thought Tresham. There was no way of knowing. If only they had taken his bait and gone, now, there and then.

It was dark as Gresham rode to Whitehall, the lantern Mannion bore before him giving out a pitiful light as it swung back and forth with the rhythm of the horse. Cecil must be getting tired of late-night interruptions, thought Gresham, though at nine o'clock he must at least by now have finished his supper. Prime fillet of baby, perhaps, with a snake's venom sauce. He felt a strange inner calm, as he always did immediately before an action of great risk.