The Gunpowder Plot

I'm sorry that I haven't posted in a while. Life and school are keeping me really busy. At least I'm enjoying life while running around like a crazy chicken. But my cousin Bridget commented on my last blog and wants to hear the story I'm writing for my History and Fiction class. I've taken a historical event and I'm creating a work of fiction about it for my Senior project. Here is my first ten pages of 30 that I will be writing. This may not be the most interesting piece of fiction you've read, but hopefully it's the most interesting history "paper" you've read! And if you have any critiques, feel free to rip me to shreds. It will only make my senior project better with improvement!

Natalie

My God or My King

By Natalie Rausch

The floor was getting damp from water streaming in from a crack in the old mortar. The creaking sound of footsteps on the wooden floor signaled Peter to hide the string of beads in his hands in his vest pocket. Thunder resonated in the empty chapel as he heard the bishop call out his name.

“Appealing to God again, Peter? We’ve seen less of you and your wife in recent months than in the past. I do hope you have come today to pray for your Father’s soul so that he will be forgiven for his part in this immortal feud against the worshippers and professors of the true God and true religion.”

“My father is a faithful member of the King’s church as are my wife, family and I.” Standing on his feet, he turned towards the bishop behind him and held his shoulders back. The bishop smiled and his eyes narrowed as he gave Peter words of his own inspirational wisdom.

“God watches over those who are faithful to him. I am sure that if you continue in your good faith, and if God is willing, you and your family will be saved. Alas, those who are persistent in adhering to blasphemy are accordingly punished by God’s jealousy. Don’t allow yourself to wander into the spiritual wilderness.”

Peter didn’t respond knowing that the Bishop was looking for a fault somewhere in his faith to confirm him as a Papist. If he found enough grounds to demote him and disgrace his family would risk his family’s position economically and socially. Thus he nodded his head towards the bishop and declared he would not do so. Then after bidding the bishop goodnight he strode out into the coursing rain before his faith and patience were really tested.

Peter took a brisker pace when the strength of the winds increased; shoving his feet down the darkened path towards Westminster. As he got closer to the dark palace he could see shadows by the stone wall in an otherwise empty area. It was a spot tucked out of view from anyone standing in the guards’ huts or posts conveniently sheltered by some rose bushes just a few steps from the wall only a few hundred feet away from where he stood. Peter stepped more to the left to see better between the two bushes and blocked the rain from his eyes. It wasn’t until a flash of lightning illuminated the shadows of two men by the stone wall to make Peter sure of their presence. Peter made his way quietly to that spot, using those same rose bushes to hide his advancement and hoped that the sound of the rain and thunder would hide any sound of his hunt.

His stealth earned him little reward. By the time Peter reached the spot where the two people were hiding by the roses all that could be seen were muddy imprints of feet in the ground. The roses that had shielded his approach had also concealed their departure, most likely into the river where they would be hard to follow. Judging from the amount of water and mud filling the general area, the two had been there for some time. Annoyed that his quest had been fruitless, he made his way back to the guard’s hut and kept an eye out for anyone out of place on the grounds.

~~~

“I think we should visit the bishop more often.

“Why would that be? Do you think he wants to be a Papist also? Alas, I fear he would sooner join the recusants before stooping to drink ale with us.” Peter winked at his fellow guard who grinned in response and slapped his hand on his fat thigh. His laugh fit hit name, for he bellowed loud enough for the whole tavern to hear.

 “Indeed he is! I doubt he wants lowly Richard Bellows as his drinking mate. But I figure if we went more often to take the sacrament we could get more wine without using the little money we have. Well, not you. You seem to have plenty to spare, but if it weren’t for my sister’s husband I’d probably be running a brothel!” Peter raised a hand holding an iron mug in the air and pronounced his last sentence like it would have been a blessing, rather than degradation to his social inheritance.

“And how would you like running a brothel instead of earning fair wages as a guard?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind it one bit. As long as there is enough beer and women around to keep me company! Don’t tell my lady I just said that.”

“Well, as long as you don’t mind the brawls, the revolting smells, the occasional man passed out at your tables, and the disgraced opinion your wife’s family would have, then I think it would suit you well. Mind you, Margaret would never allow it.”

 “Why do you think I’m a royal guard? I was going to be a smithy! Margo wouldn’t let me. You’re incredibly fortunate you wife isn’t such a plague. Do you know if the church only has services on Sundays?”

 Peter watched Richard incredulously as his drink poured out from the sides of the tank and soaked his tangled beard. He would’ve made a better blacksmith than a leader of a squadron of guards. His men were often found drinking, or worse, at their various posts and then merely blinked when his accusing words reprimanded them. That’s why his team was the night crew. When no one was around it didn’t matter what went on among the guards.

Rob slurred another comment towards Peter, and he didn’t realize what he was referring to at first until he heard him mutter something about seeing two strangers on the grounds. Peter abruptly asked him to repeat himself.

“I wouldn’t have had to buy new boots last week if I hadn’t had to stick around Parliament all night looking for two strangers that one of the men swore he saw lurking around. I don’t think the fellow saw anything. So I ended up searching the grounds and losing my boot in the river for nothing! I think he was trying to get out of being drunk on the job again.”

“Where did he see them?”

“Over by the old stone wall. He thought they were trying to find a way over it. I think its codswallop.”

“No, it’s not codswallop. I just saw two people last night in the same area. Why didn’t you report it to me?” 

“What’s the use in reporting a ghost?”

“Ghosts don’t leave footprints.”  Peter stood up from his table and marched out the door of the tavern.

The tavern was only an hour’s ride from his home where his respectable home stood in a cluster of other respectable houses surrounded by their modest acreage of land. When he turned on his lane, he discovered a fine carriage with six brown horses sitting just outside his house. Peter dismounted his black mare and allowed his groundskeeper to take the horse back to the stables while he approached the carriage. He recognized the carriage’s owner as a friend of his Father’s waiting for his arrival. “Come walk with me.” Monteagle commanded as he got out of his embellished carriage and strolled down the gravel path towards a nice patch of shrubbery.

“Are you in need of some services from our guards to quell another rebellion, your grace?” Peter massaged his hands and stared at the ground ahead of him.

“No, I have come with personal business today. I have a Jesuit priest I have smuggled into the country who is willing to perform the sacrament for us. Since your father is a close friend of mine I am inviting him and his sons to join me and my closest family and supporters.”

“That is extremely generous of you, sir. But I could not think of interrupting such a close circle of friends worshiping so secretly. I have my rosary. The rest should be left to God’s judgment.”

“Your rosary alone is not enough to save you from God’s justice. I know you understand the importance of taking the sacrament not prepared by heathen hands. We will be meeting in the chapel in my home precisely at seven on Sunday night. I expect to see you there.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter looked up to Lord Monteagle’s round face and found his blue eyes scrutinizing him closely. His tall strong stature had remained solid over the years despite the interference from time slowly increasing his weight upon his frame. Even though Lord Monteagle was no longer a young man his additional build and strength created a massive figure too imposing to refuse.

“Good.” He chuckled, “Do not be late, for we will lock the door to be sure that no one will interrupt us. All those I have invited will attend.”

Looking him in the eye Peter admitted without a sign of doubt that he would be there at the appointed time. Regard for his father’s friendship with the Lord, Peter came to the church early to ensure avoiding any offense. As he watched for his father and his brother he was instead surrounded by twelve men in fine, colorful clothing talking and joking amongst themselves. One of them had a mustache like a Spaniard and he spoke vociferously of battles and war on the mainland, yet by listening to his speech he was most certainly an Englishman. He seemed to possess a high opinion of his wartime abilities. Another man sat a lot more quietly than the others watching everyone intently and every time his eyes flashed they bespoke of a spirited intelligence. He had green eyes that were set in a round face, blonde wavy hair with a blonde beard, and an enviable physique. He easily maneuvered through the boasts of the mustached man and was able to guide the direction of the conversation away from the other’s vain declarations. He also seemed very observant of the other men around them, watching their actions and paying attention to their moods and words.

Besides Peter, the only other man who looked out of place was Lord Monteagle himself. He sat brooding by the wall, watching the door as often as he did his guests. It seemed that secret meetings made him forget his manners as a host. It was then that the last guests came in and before Peter could see who it was; their host locked the door and brought forward the Jesuit priest to begin the services.  Peter hoped the latecomer was his Father or older brother but could not see the newcomer from his vantage point near the front of the chapel as the doors were directly behind him.

Following the familiar rhythm of the mass came as natural to Peter as riding a horse. To be kneeling beside other Catholics praying with their rosaries reminded him of the just recent years when their priests still conducted legal services for all loyal Catholics in England. He reminisced about being a boy going to church with his family for years until his father told them he was converting to the Church of England to avoid the Catholic tax. Shortly thereafter his father finally counseled with his family and suggested they appear Protestant in action only, and inwardly retain their Catholic sentiments. This was why he still went to Protestant churches to pray with his rosary.

Just after the services were over the men began to gather in small groups talking quietly to themselves. Lord Monteagle approached Peter and assured him that his Father and brother were unable to attend the meeting. Before Peter could ask him why they didn’t come, he was distracted by the sight of the man who had snuck in late in the back, his cousin Thomas Percy.

“Why would my cousin Thomas be here at your meeting?” he asked his host. “I didn’t think he was trustworthy enough for secret gatherings.”

“He is a faithful Catholic now despite his past actions as a youth. And he is here for the same reason as you. I have asked him to partake in a particular venture which he insisted required the attendance of yourself. I believe I must be honest with you and confess that your father and brother were never invited, but I hoped to encourage your participation by suggesting their presence here. Don’t look at me with such an insipid scowl. Wait until you hear us out to proclaim your judgment. Let me introduce you to the intelligence behind my project, Mr. Catesby.”

Peter hesitated, turning to the blonde man and shook his hand only after realizing that Catesby had his offered. Catesby didn’t even realize his reluctance and smiled as warmly as ever. “Peter Rockeby, I am Robert Catesby. I have heard from your cousin that you are a loyal Catholic regardless of your attendance to Protestant services. I commend you for your faith, my brother.” He reached an arm out to Peter’s shoulder in earnest affection. Peter inwardly pulled back not wanting to be taken in by any false pretenses at friendship from a man whom he knew nothing about who’s actions could be based purely on obtaining some favor from Peter. Yet even as he did so he was compelled by Robert’s open directness and honest face. “We need your help in completing a project which I have calculated that will help all Catholics in England. And it is necessary that we have your complete allegiance.”

“I cannot commit to what I do not yet know. First explain to me your plan. I promise that if I do not agree to give my consent, then I will not speak of this matter to anyone.” Peter promised.

“Beware, Peter. Many of us here are in much higher positions than you, and we do not take being crossed lightly. We are entrusting you with the safety of our very lives by admitting you to our plans.”

“This I understand, but I insist that I must know your designs before I offer my services.”

 “Can you imagine what England would be like if all the priests could come back to England so that everyone could partake in what we have today? Parliament and the King have only increased our limitations as Catholics since King James ascended the throne. I have seen many men who were once good Catholics give in to the demands of the King to protect their families and their lands. I have seen honest peasants suffer under the monetary demands placed for attending Catholic services. And now they have deported all our priests and bishops who are the only ones with the keys to our salvation. The pope himself decreed the damnation of the King and if the King is damned, then should his excommunication condemn the nation? We must bring back the Catholic church.”

“What difference does it make over which church reigns in England? Isn’t it the same God in the end? Only the practices are different.” Peter argued.

“Yet the Protestants do not follow our God. You cannot take your rosary to their infernal churches and still believe that you are praying to the same God you always have. Do you not realize that they have consecrated their churches to the Devil? What we’re asking for is a chance to allow the pope to guide the people of England once more so that they may gain salvation through their worship of the true God again. Without understanding his Grace they will never have a hope for redemption. Surely you must see that. Think of your own family.” Here he paused before continuing again and took a step away from Peter allowing him space and time to think. Peter thought back to the very actions he had remembered during the mass when his father decided to give up Catholicism and the confusion that had entered his life thereafter. Had he been any younger, he knew that he would not have understood his father’s actions and his own faith would have been put at risk by attending Protestant services.

 “If we do not take this opportunity to allow God back into this country then your children will never come to learn who the true God is and he will be forever forgotten in this land. This priest has sanctioned our work tonight and gives us word that the pope himself does not condemn the actions we seek. Through his influence we can restore God’s grace on this land. What we ask from you is your help.”

While Peter was very supportive of the intent, but could not foresee any means that would enable to bring Catholicism back to the island. “I do agree with you. All of us are lost without the return of the church. Nonetheless I cannot commit my support unless I know what will be required of me.” He looked down at the ground, as if looking towards the floorboards for an answer. Then looking up at Robert’s green eyes, Robert then proceeded to explain his plan to Peter.

“Our plans are to create an event that will encourage Parliament to regret their decision placing King James on the throne and lead them to replace him with a Catholic supporter.”

“An event? What type of event would influence them to produce those means? Surely true Christianity didn’t sanction violence in order to further religious means.”

Robert’s face glowed with energy as he gripped Peter’s shoulder. “God can’t expect us to follow his word if he isn’t allowed in our country. The British government has disposed of God’s true church and seeks to follow the adversary. If we don’t amend events now then there will be no chance of it in the future and the salvation of England will be hopeless under Protestant falsehoods.”

Peter remained silent as he contemplated the fate that his children would have to face as they tried to maintain their Catholic faith inwardly while publicly being influenced by the deceptions of Protestantism. Eventually the Church of England would have to win out in their hearts. To see and hear the persistent practices of blasphemy would eventually ring true to their inexperienced ears and the piteous faith of Catholics would appear as a childish fancy. But to create an event that would influence Parliament to recant their selected ruler to replace him with another one would have to be one of such a proportion that it would no doubt cause some sort of violence, which Peter noticed he did not deny the possibility of. Whether it was a riot, an assassination, or kidnapping would be vile and against Godly morals in the face of promoting Catholic means.

If they were to fail it would mean losing his very livelihood, and very possibly his life. Traitors to the crown are not treated lightly by any means. The fate of his family if he were to die would be dependent on the kindness of their family and neighbors; that is if they were not ostracized as being traitors to the nation. On the other hand, here was Moses crying for the deliverance of God’s people from the bonds of the king.