The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fic - By Mike Ashley Page 0,119

day and, with everyone occupied, he returned to the parlour, where the bundle was lying unattended. He had no sooner picked it up when there was an almighty roar and the shock of an explosion powerful enough to rattle the glass in the window panes.

Quick hurried back into the hall, where through a cloud of acrid smoke he could only vaguely make out the scene of devastation. After a few moments the grey veil rolled back to reveal a gaping hole in the floor where the powder had been. Flames licked over the charred boards at the crater’s edge and several pieces of furniture were on fire. Writhing bodies littered the room and the cries of men provided a high-pitched echo to the explosion. Those unharmed in the blast, which thankfully had been limited in scale by the diffuse spread of the powder on the floor, attended their injured colleagues.

Rookwood was among the casualties; his clothes were torn to rags and his flesh blackened, but with help he was able to stand. A man called John Grant had not been so fortunate; his face was badly burned and it would be a while longer before it was realized that his eyes has been scorched out of their sockets. Catesby too was burned about the face, though after the application of a water-soaked rag it became apparent that his eyes were unaffected. Quick assisted with the injured but only after pulling the parchments from the bundle and tossing each of them into the heart of a fire which, if not quickly attended to, would engulf the entire house. The Wright brothers went for water but Quick was satisfied that the incriminating parchments were burned to ashes well before they returned to quench the flames.

“It must have been a spark from the fire,” said a sheepish Jack as he emptied a pail, and stamped at the smouldering rug beneath his feet.

“Well who could have predicted such a thing?” replied Quick, who had decided it was time to leave.

With the fire under control and those of the wounded still capable of fighting back on their feet, the final preparations were made. The muskets were loaded with the small amount of dry powder removed from the pile before the explosion, and the men took up their positions behind doors and windows. All of them, that is, apart from Quick, who took the opportunity to climb through the window at the side of the house and made good his escape. There was just enough time for him to make it to his horse and retire a little further into the woods before the first of the troops arrived. Making for higher ground, he took up a position which allowed him a view of the scene below.

He watched as the soldiers encircled the house, leaving their horses picketed at a safe distance, before moving forward to engage. One of their number – their commander, he supposed – entered the courtyard at the front of the house and yelled something. The men were too far away to make out the words, but he guessed that they were an order to the occupants to give themselves up. An answer was shouted back but again he couldn’t make it out, though he didn’t need to. On hearing it, the officer left the courtyard just in time for his men to open a withering fire on the façade of the house.

The crack of musketry echoed from all quarters, even from those where there were no opponents to return it. But, at the front of the house, puffs of smoke were emitted from the barricaded windows as the defenders began to use up the powder for which they had paid such a heavy price. In the ensuing minutes, one or two of the attackers fell, but with their overwhelming numbers there could be only one outcome. Then, perhaps in their determination to take as many of their foes with them as possible, the defenders opened the front door and three of them dashed into the courtyard, discharging muskets and pistols as they headed for the gate. He thought he recognized Tom Wintour out in the lead, with the Wright brothers close behind. It was a suicidal enterprise and Wintour was the first to fall, clutching his shoulder as he went down. Both of the brothers fell soon after; the last to fall – Kit, he thought – made a desperate attempt to crawl to his brother before being struck by another