The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fic - By Mike Ashley Page 0,118

one other, the crook-backed Nicholas Owen, left soon after. Their horses were laden with the saddlebags containing the silver coins which, with a fairer wind, would have financed the uprising. It was obvious to Quick that those of his companions who remained had no intention of being taken as, in preparation for what must surely be their last stand, the wagon was unloaded and the weapons distributed. Jesuits and plotters may have it in them to be martyrs but their cause was not his. Though a clean death in battle was always preferable to the lingering agonies of torture, neither particularly appealed to Quick and so, without drawing attention to his actions, he spent what little time there was left working out a way of escape. The courtyard to the front of the house was a death trap and the back gave on to open fields, easily covered by well-deployed musketeers. The best hope lay to the side of the house where the woods were closest, and a loosened window would provide an exit. Offering to check the approaches to the house, he used the opportunity to conceal his horse among the trees.

He returned as dawn rose, to be rewarded with a glimpse of the leather-bound bundle being examined by Catesby, in the company of fellow conspirators Digby and Rockwood. Now unfastened, the package revealed a series of parchments, which Quick was certain represented the coded agreement between the plotters and those among the Spanish court who wished to cause mischief between the Royal houses of Spain and England.

“These shall be of little help to us now,” said Catesby as he spread the half dozen or so documents across the table, rubbing his fingertips over the ornate seals and reading the contents as nothing but lost opportunities.

“Perhaps they may serve as passports,” said Digby, a man whom Quick had previously observed to be armed with an optimistic demeanour. “The king would have an interest in their contents and so we might trade them for our lives.”

Catesby rolled up the parchments and tied off the bundle. “You shall require no passport to enter through the gates of heaven, Mr Digby. Now, gentlemen, shall we break our fast and see what the day holds?”

“Two hundred men is what the day holds,” said Quick, as he stepped out of the shadows at the edge of the room. “They are no more than an hour away and, from their line of march, know well their destination.”

Catesby stepped back from the table, leaving the bundle where it lay. “I for one intend to be here to greet them.” He strode towards the door, but paused before leaving. “From your continued presence I can only assume that each of you intends to do the same.” Digby and Rookwood nodded but Quick had taken care to step back into the shadows. “Then so be it. Make sure the men know their places.”

There was a flurry of activity as the doors were bolted and the part-finished barricades of furniture completed. Quick joined the others in the main hall to find the Wright brothers breaking open casks of gunpowder. While Kit Wright took an axe to the barrels Jack Wright distributed the piles of dark powder across a sheet laid out in front of the fireplace.

Quick was horrified to see a healthy fire blazing in the grate not half a pace away from the carpet of powder. “What in god’s name are you doing?” he asked, being careful to remain at a distance.

Kit took a pause from his labours and propped himself on the handle of the axe. “The rain has soaked the powder. We should have transported it in a covered wagon.”

“And by this do you intend to dry it or blow us all to hell?”

“What choice do we have?” said Kit, who was pushing the powder around with all the nonchalance of a baker working flour. “The enemy are upon us and we have not a usable grain.”

“Perhaps we should have sent you rather than Fawkes to blow up the Houses of Parliament? If this exercise is anything to go by, I doubt whether a single stone would have been left standing.”

With their task complete, the brothers turned their attention to a large chest which Catesby instructed them to move to a window. Meanwhile, Rookwood, who was cutting fresh matches for the muskets, wandered over to check the condition of that powder which had been lying for the longest time. Quick had seen enough madness for one