Short History Of... - The Gunpowder Plot (Repeat)

Episode Date: November 5, 2023

The Gunpowder Plot is an epic tale of adventure and murderous revenge, a detective story complete with secrets, aliases, even an anonymous letter of betrayal. But who was really behind it? What drove the conspirators to attempt such an audacious act of terrorism? This is a Short History Of the Gunpowder Plot. A Noiser production, written by Kate Simants. With thanks to Jim Sharpe, historian and author of Remember Remember the Fifth of November: Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot. This episode is read by Paul McGann. You can continue to hear Paul over on Noiser’s Real Dictators. For ad-free listening, exclusive content and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Now available for Apple and Android users. Click the Noiser+ banner on Apple or go to noiser.com/subscriptions to get started with a 7-day free trial. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hi listeners, today we're bringing you an episode from the short history of archives, a short history of the gunpowder plot. More than 400 years since its discovery, the gunpowder plot remains one of the most famous events in England's history, a foiled plot to blow up King James I and the Houses of Parliament. Today, on the 5th of November, the Gunpowder Plot is commemorated across England. Fireworks and bonfires can be found in every town and village. This episode is read by Paul McGann.

You can continue to hear Paul over on Noiser's Real Dictators. We hope you enjoy. New episodes of Short History Of will be back on Monday. This podcast features scenes of a violent and or graphic nature. Listener discretion is advised. Listener discretion is advised. It's ten o'clock on the night of November the 4th, 1605. Two men are weaving their way through the jumbled mass of buildings and lanes that make up London's Palace of Westminster. Rats dart across the toes of their tall leather boots.

It's cold and they're tired. But if their suspicions are correct, the job they're doing might just save England from devastation. Tomorrow will be the state opening of Parliament, the ultimate seat of power and judgment in England. For days, preparations have been underway for the ceremony, which will be attended by the most powerful men in the land. Lords, judges, clergy, members of the Privy Council, and most importantly, accompanied by his wife and his sons, King James the first himself. Usually this is a day of celebration, but this

pair of men aren't hanging banners or polishing silver. They're on direct orders from the king. Holding aloft a lantern each, they descend yet another set of steps. The ever-present threat of plague has kept Parliament closed for almost a year. So in the last week, the whole palace has been cleaned and beautified. But down here, in the undercrofts that mirror the buildings above like a catacomb, things aren't so spick and span. Stepping carefully on the slippery cobbles, they duck their heads to keep the damp and

mould of the brickwork ceilings from dirting their felt hats. The men turn a corner, locating the room they'd been told to check. Hours earlier, another search party found a man down here, apparently guarding a store full of firewood. The name he gave, that of John Johnson, aroused no suspicion, and he was interrogated no further. But when the party reported back, the name of the man's employer aroused the King's suspicion. That name was Thomas Percy, a known Catholic agitator.

Had this Johnson kept that identity to himself, his fate, and the fate of all England, might have been very different. Now, despite the late hour, light is spilling out from under the heavy wooden door. The first man, Sir Thomas Nibbett, keeper of Westminster Palace, bangs on the timber. He demands entry. His colleague, a man called of Westminster Palace, bangs on the timber. He demands entry. His colleague, a man called Doubleday, looks on. From inside comes a grunt of annoyance, heavy footsteps, a bolt being drawn. The door swings open. Nivet lifts his lantern, illuminating the face of the cloaked stranger in the doorway.

He's asked his name, and again he gives it as Johnson. He's easily six feet tall even without the high, spurred leather boots he's wearing, or the wide-brimmed hat covering the deep red hair that matches a pointed beard. Sensing what's coming next, the man grabs Doubleday hard, twisting his fingers. Doubleday kicks the man's heels from under him. Hearts pounding, he and Nivet restrain and arrest the man. Incapacitated, Johnson can only watch as Nivet lifts his lantern higher to search the cellar. It takes him only seconds to discover the evidence that will set into motion weeks of arrests, manhunts, torture, trials, and worse. What he sees confirms the worst fears

of the paranoid king. Because it's not just the matches or the torchwood it's the barrels first just one then as he moves yet more firewood dozens of them and from the sulfurous smell alone nivet knows what's inside them gunpowder and there's enough here to send all of parliament with the king and his family inside it, sky high. More than 400 years since its discovery, the Gunpowder Plot remains one of the most famous events in England's history. A precursor to modern terrorism, it struck fear into the hearts of both government and monarchy. At its core, the plot is not just a thrilling adventure story of treason and betrayal.

It's also a tale of murderous revenge, kindled over decades of persecution, and a detective story complete with secrets, aliases, and a letter of betrayal whose author is unknown to this day. The Conspirators, headed by a man whose name, for most, has been eclipsed by his famous collaborator Guy Fawkes, came terrifyingly close to success. The lives of hundreds of people could have been lost. The seat of government, including the hallowed buildings in which England's laws are created and imposed to this day, could have been reduced to rubble. in which England's laws are created and imposed to this day, could have been reduced to rubble. And without a functioning government, the power vacuum that followed would have left

England wide open to foreign invasion. Today the foiling of the plots is commemorated across the country with fireworks. Bonfires can be found in every town and village. They echo those lit centuries ago in relief that the king was safe. But who was really behind the plot? Just how close did they really get? And amid the chaos that would have inevitably followed their success, what plans did they have for the future? This is a short history of the Gunpowder Plot. To understand the climate of England in the months leading up to the plot,

we need to go right back, some 70 years before it's first imagined. 43-year-old Henry wants a divorce. Despite fathering five children with his wife Catherine, only one has survived, and she's a girl. The problem is, Henry is no ordinary man. He's King of England. He needs a male heir, and he's already found just the woman to produce one. The only thing standing in his way is the Pope.

All attempts at annulment fail, until King Henry VIII can see only one solution. In 1534, he appoints himself Supreme Head of the Church of England, severing ties with Rome for the first time in almost a thousand years. On the mainland, Europe is seeing a Protestant reformation. But that's not what's behind Henry's desire for sweeping changes to the structure and practice of religion in England, Ireland and Wales. What he wants is freedom, power and money. In the next few years, he will systematically seize control of the land and wealth held by Catholic monasteries, churches and convents.

He will brutally suppress those who argue against his will. He will brutally suppress those who argue against his will. After his death, Henry's son, Edward VI, is the first king to have been raised a Protestant. He continues his father's work of bankrupting the Catholic Church. But after only six years on the throne, he dies. And it's now that the religious disposition of the throne starts to swing like a pendulum. Edward gives way to Mary, his elder half-sister, and Mary, who was already eighteen by the time her father broke England away from the Pope, is a devout Catholic. Mary works feverishly to rebuild ties with Rome.

Despite Parliament obstructing her desire to return confiscated property and land, she does what she can to reverse her father's destruction of Catholicism. It's a brief but blistering reign. Over only five years as Queen, she burns almost 300 Protestant dissenters at the stake. On Mary's death, when her younger Protestant half-sister becomes Queen Elizabeth I, the pendulum swings back. And it's now that the backdrop for a conspiracy 50 years later starts to come into focus. Initially, Elizabeth wants peace. She tolerates most Catholics, known as recusants from the Latin word for refusal. But as her reign progresses,

relations between Catholics and Protestants get much worse. Life for recusants becomes increasingly intolerable. Historian Jim Sharp explains. She declares herself to be head of the English church, as Emily VIII has done, and she and her ministers, her government, are very anti-Catholic. There is a pro-Catholic rebellion in 1569, which adds to the problems, and the Pope at that time, I think it's Pius V, passes what's known as a bull, which is a papal declaration, which declares Elizabeth no true monarch, and allows, by extension, her subjects to depose her. So after that, it's possible to conceive of all Catholics as potential traitors. Then as the late 16th century

progresses, if we're looking at the international situation, there is religious warfare in the Netherlands and in France. And in both those countries, Catholic troops, Catholic rulers, commit atrocities against Protestants. So what you have is a national fear. This idea of the enemy within is very strong about English Catholics and of course there are fears that English Catholics will seek assistance abroad. Catholics are being regarded with extreme suspicion by people in authority in England.

By the 1570s, refusal to acknowledge Elizabeth as the head of the church becomes a treasonable offence. Jesuit priests, many of them English, are trained on the continent and sent back to practice and spread Catholicism.

Then in the 1580s, after an attempt on Elizabeth's life, Catholic priests are given a stark choice. Leave within 40 days or face execution. Forced underground, Catholics resort to subterfuge in order to practice their religion. Mass can still be attended in secret, but it's a risk, not just for the priests, but also for the lay people who harbor them. Sir William Catesby is one such man. It's evening here in his grand Warwickshire home,

but the household is far from quiet. A lifelong Catholic from a well-known wealthy family, he's got used to hiding his faith, but now a new act of Parliament means that he's being fined for not attending church. The way he sees it, though, this room is his church. It's certainly the only chapel his nine-year-old son has ever known. It's later than the child is usually allowed to stay up, but that's because Father Edmund is here. than the child is usually allowed to stay up, but that's because Father Edmund is here. The boy enters the room behind his mother, looking around at the faces lit by the flickering candlelight. The table is laid with their special ceremonial cloth. The holy crosses and communion cup glint in the semi-darkness. He recognizes all of the twenty or so faces, aunts and uncles, the servants, stable hands,

a few people from the village. But there's a hush in the room, and the people are jumpy. His mother kneels, stealing an anxious glance at her maid servant who draws the heavy velvet curtains. There have been stories recently that have kept the boy awake at night. One woman not far from here was caught harboring a priest. She was stripped naked and forced to lie on a rock, then covered with her own front door and crushed to death with iron weights. The boy closes his eyes tight and concentrates on understanding the priest's Latin.

The boy closes his eyes tight and concentrates on understanding the priest's Latin. Suddenly, the door crashes open. It's the cook's daughter, tasked with keeping watch. Ashen-faced, she says, the sheriff's men are here, dozens of them. The room is suddenly alive with movement. Father Edmund and the boy's father hurriedly fold the cross into the cloth. They carry it to where an uncle has moved aside a panel near the great fireplace. The women scatter silently back to other parts of the house,

blowing out candles and ushering the children ahead of them. Another panel is swung open to reveal the newly installed priest hole. There's just enough space for Father Edmund to sit. Hooves sound a terrifying drumbeat outside, getting closer. The priest is closed in, muttering his thanks to his host, and praying. But there is no more time. Banging starts up at the door, followed by a deep, insistent voice. Within moments, men, still wearing their riding cloaks and with swords drawn, storm into the room. Tables are overturned, chests smashed open. Worse still, some of the men are already measuring the room at their feet, comparing their findings

with the outer walls. It takes them mere minutes to find the priest. Within a month, he will be horrifically executed at Tyburn. Sir William Catesby will spend many years in prison for harbouring him. Right now, the boy's fingers are prized off the embroidered hem of his father's tunic as he is led away by the jubilant man. What his tormentors can't know is that in twenty years' time, this boy will be at the centre of a plot that could destroy the entire government of England. His name is Robert Catesby.

The very first material roots of the gunpowder plot itself are found right at the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign. By 1603, she's been on the throne for 45 years, and life for Catholics has got steadily worse. Fines for recusancy have bankrupted many into outwardly abandoning their faith. But the struggle is by no means over. Elizabeth's health is deteriorating.

While declaring herself a virgin has done wonders for the cult-like mythology surrounding her, it does leave the country with something of a problem. She has no heir. She also steadfastly refuses to discuss her successor, concerned, as she puts it, that men tend to worship the rising sun and not that which sets But it's generally assumed that James VI of Scotland son of Mary, Queen of Scots, has the greatest claim to the throne and this gives the Catholics some hope

Surely, as the son of a woman famous for her Catholicism, his accession could bring them some much-needed relief. So, although most Catholics are gritting their teeth and bearing it, a number of Catholics, by the end of the reign, are beginning to become very disenchanted and trying to think of a more active way of getting out of their predicament. Thomas Percy, another scion of a well-to-do Recusan family, doesn't want to leave anything to chance.

With the backing of the Earl of Northumberland, his second cousin and wealthy patron, Percy sets off from his home at Anac Castle. With news of the Queen's decline, he rides north, across the borders to Scotland, and secures an audience with James. What he hears is music to his ears. According to what Percy joyfully recounts on his return, James promises not only to end the persecution of Catholics,

but also to dismantle the existing bars to their careers. Currently everything from university graduation to the offer of positions of high office depend on taking the oath of supremacy. And because this vow affirms the monarch as the head of the church, it has prevented the advancement of most Catholic men. But, as king, Percy says, James would even allow mass in private houses. The rumour travels fast. Quietly, secretly, English Catholics allow their hopes to be buoyed.

What they can't know is that James is making similar noises to the Puritans. What they can't know is that James is making similar noises to the Puritans. Because if anyone knows how precarious power is, how violent the swings of allegiance at court, it's the son of Mary Queen of Scots. She was imprisoned for 19 years before being executed by the reigning Queen of England. James himself was kidnapped at the age of 11. He witnessed his grandfather's bloody murder at five. If he is to take the throne of England, James wants as much support as he can get. But he's careful not to reveal his hand.

And so, while historians diverge about the exact content of his assurances to Percy, what they do agree upon is that any promises made are solely verbal. The fact that Percy doesn't recognise this will come back to haunt him. Back in London, preparations are being made discreetly for the Queen's death. It's not until her final hours, when she's mute from illness, that she finally communicates her approval of a successor. When James's name is mentioned, she touches her head, signifying the crown. The end comes on the 24th of March, 1603. James is proclaimed king the same day, but, ever with his eye on public approval,

he waits until after Elizabeth's funeral in May to arrive in London. It's on this long ride down the country that the bright hopes of Percy and his co-religionists start to fade. James takes his time, making stops along the way. As is traditional for a new monarch, he frees certain prisoners on his journey. But to the dismay of his hopeful Catholic subjects, those overlooked by James for pardon include not just murderers, but Jesuit priests. Early in his reign, James declares a ceasefire in the war against Spain, and fines for recusancy are briefly lifted. But when he realises the scale of the financial debt he's inherited,

he swiftly reimposes them. It's not long before certain Catholics have had enough. Within months on the throne, James's spymaster thwarts a plot to kidnap him. Then, when his wife, Queen Anne, receives a rosary as a gift directly from the Pope, the pressure grows from his privy council. It's time to nip his tolerance of Catholicism in the bud. His King's speech in 1604 makes his position unequivocal. The Catholics are on their own. Enter Robert Catesby. Things have changed a great deal since the fateful day his father was taken away.

He spent some time at Oxford University, but probably through refusal to take the Queen's oath, he never graduated. Now in his early 30s, he's well established in a network of wealthy Catholic families. He's essentially a charismatic figure. He's intelligent. He gets things done. He's a good organizer. He comes from a upper gentry background. His background is fairly well off. His father had suffered badly under the anti-Catholic laws. He'd paid a lot of fines, he'd been imprisoned at various points. Interestingly, Catesby marries a Protestant wife and he seems to become what was known at the time as a church papist, which means that formally you go to Protestant services but you remain a Catholic at heart. But then in 1598, his wife died.

This seems to be the point where he becomes radicalised. Catesby, tall and physically imposing, was already known to Elizabeth's government. He was part of the failed Essex Rebellion of 1601, which was intended to soften Catholic persecution. Catesby was fined the equivalent of £6 million. He was forced to sell his home. As a result, he's drowning in debt.

Now, after the early death of his beloved wife, he turns his eye to action. It's May 20th, 1604. In a private room at the Duke and Drake pub in the Strand, It's May the 20th, 1604. In a private room at the Duke and Drake pub in the Strand, central London, Catesby awaits his friends. One by one they arrive, ducking into the wood-panelled room. Catesby greets them eagerly.

First, his cousin and dear friend Thomas Winter, followed anxiously by Thomas Percy and Jack Wright. These four need no introduction. Their families are intertwined and their roots deep. But Winter brings with him a face less familiar to some of them. This man is as tall and muscular as Catesby, with dark red hair and a thick moustache. He shakes their hands and introduces himself in a deep voice, the unmistakable accent of Yorkshire. His name, he says, is Guido Fawkes. The men sit. In the main part of the pub, the evening is getting started. Voices are raised,

singing starts up. But in this dimly lit back room, the atmosphere is tense. Deadly serious. No one utters a word until the serving girl has placed the ale on the table and left. Then, in a low voice, Catesby starts by reminding them all of their predicament. Only a month ago, a law was passed that cast every man in the room as an outlaw because of his faith. The promises made by King James to Percy have been reneged upon. It's time to take matters into their own hands. The men listen as the charismatic Catesby outlines his plan.

Between them, he says, they can change the course of history by targeting the very heart of government. Now, Catesby explains Fawkes' presence. Some months previously, Winter made a trip to Spain to gather support for the embattled Catholic cause. It was there that he was introduced to this man, variously known as Guido or Guy. As it turns out, he's an old school friend of Jack Wright, and, like the others, he's unflinchingly committed to the Catholic cause. He sold his inheritance to fund his travels to Spain,

and became a formidable mercenary soldier, renowned for his swordsmanship. But what he is here for now is his expert knowledge of explosives. The location for his plan, Catesby says, is the Houses of Parliament. The date? The State Opening in February 1605. Everyone will be there, the nobles, the advisors, the privy councillors, and the king himself, accompanied by his sons.

In that place they have done us all the mischief, he says bitterly, and perchance God hath designed that place for their punishment. It's horrifying, audacious, murderous, and Catesby means every word of it. But all five men have witnessed persecution firsthand, with family members languishing in prison or worse. Winter, for example, saw his own uncle barbarically executed for his faith. He's told Catesby before now he wants revenge. Now, Catesby says, he can make it count.

Won over by the force of his personality, it doesn't take long for the men to agree. Solemnly, from a leather bag, Catesby brings a prayer book and places it in the center of the table. Knowing that this ritual will seal it, one by one the men lay their hands on the cover, worn with use. In their sacred Latin, the men swear an oath to each other, to secrecy, and to the plot. In another room of the same establishment, oblivious to what's happening only yards away, is Father John Gerard. oblivious to what's happening only yards away, is Father John Gerard. He's the principal Jesuit of the land, and known to Catesby, connected as he is with this close-knit underground network.

So when the men file out of the room in which they've just sworn their fates, he greets them warmly. He invites them into his candlelit makeshift chapel to receive the Eucharist. Little does the priest know that this event marks the first in a series of meetings that will lead inexorably to his own downfall. In the summer of 1604, Percy gets a promotion that will prove crucial. His patron, the Earl of Northumberland, appoints him to a corps of 50 mounted King's Guards. Crucially, he now has a good reason to be looking for premises in the confines of the Palace of Westminster. Luckily for him, it's not the ultra-secure compound that it is today.

So there are a lot of people renting rooms, renting property in the grounds underneath Westminster Palace. There are taverns there, there are wine cellars, there are other commercial enterprises, and it's totally open. There's no particular checks being made on who's around, who's doing what. Percy starts to look for a base, but then there's a delay. Percy starts to look for a base, but then there's a delay. Thanks to fears about the spread of plague, Parliament will not now open until November 1605. Undeterred, Catesby presses on. The second phase of the plot takes shape.

I think the assumption was these two sons would be killed in the explosion. The idea was to wipe out the royal family as well as parliament. They were aiming to kidnap James's daughter Elizabeth who was going to front a Catholic-dominated government. So they had a member of the royal family they were going to use as a puppet which might or might not have worked but there does seem to be a sense there'd be some sort of spontaneous Catholic rising which would come in on the back of the destruction of parliament. Hoping to bring about a full-scale Catholic uprising to follow the regicide and which would come in on the back of the destruction of Parliament. Hoping to bring about a full-scale Catholic uprising to follow the regicide and kidnap, Catesby works to secure more funds, safe houses, horses and messengers.

And this, unavoidably, means bringing more men into his confidence. Some accounts claim it's now that the conspirators start the work of digging a tunnel, or mine mine underneath the Houses of Parliament It's impractical, considering all the material that would need to be removed, not to mention the noise that it would make No evidence is ever produced that any excavation really took place In any case, in March 1605, a simpler solution presents itself. Percy has a legitimate reason to be in London

and in the proximity of the monarch. And then, over the summer of 1605, they manage to get a lease on this storeroom directly underneath Westminster Palace. The acquisition of that cellar was absolutely crucial. store room directly underneath Westminster Palace, the acquisition of that cellar was absolutely crucial.

The room extends under the House of Lords and, even better, it has access to steps that lead to the Thames. And that makes smuggling materials over the river from Catesby's house in Lambeth that much easier. Percy signs the lease and hands over the four pounds in rent. Fawkes' role widens. While most of the plotters are known in one way or another to the authorities, Fawkes is relatively anonymous. Under one of his aliases, John Johnson, he is installed in the rented rooms. Now the base is secured, he can start work on acquiring the gunpowder.

There are several gunpowder mills in London, producing the compound of saltpeter, charcoal and sulphur that has been so widely used both domestically and in wars overseas. Theoretically the king gets first refusal on whatever they produce before they can sell it to private individuals. It's not always easy to get hold of. But right now, in the late summer of 1605, it's a buyer's market. With the ending of the war with Spain, there was, as it were, a lot of army surplus gunpowder about which people wanted to get rid of, you know, sell off.

So they managed to acquire the 36 barrels. And these were then taken in small batches across the Thames from Catesby's house in Lambeth over to the Palace of Westminster and stored in a cellar underneath the House of Lords, hidden by firewood. Things are progressing fast. But Catesby isn't without some flashes of moral uncertainty. In the months preceding the ill-fated night in November, he seeks counsel from the trusted father Garnet. Is it ever justified, he wants to know, to take innocent life in pursuit of a greater cause?

According to some sources, Garnet believes the conversation is purely hypothetical. He tells the younger man that sometimes losses are inevitable. It's not until later when he confides in another priest, Father Tessimund, that Garnet realizes the true motivation for Catesby's inquiry. Garnet is horrified. Valuing the sanctity of the confessional above all else, he doesn't go to the authorities, but instead sends word directly to Rome. He begs the Pope to urge English Catholics to stand down and bear their struggles piously, not to get involved in bloody rebellion. But the plotters are not to be dissuaded.

The fateful day draws near. A boat is ready for Fawkes' escape, and plans are finalised for the movements of the group in the immediate aftermath of the Westminster attack. They will head to the Midlands, right in the centre of England, where they believe other Catholics will rise to their aid. It's there too, near the city of Coventry, that they will kidnap the King's daughter, Princess Elizabeth. Parliament readies for its much delayed opening above ground. Directly beneath, Fawkes checks his supplies, hidden beneath the piles of firewood.

his supplies, hidden beneath the piles of firewood. The gunpowder is ready. It's nearly time. But then, on October the 26th, 1605, everything changes. Lord Monteagle is hosting a dinner in a house that he rarely uses in Hoxton, East London. It's late, and the party are midway through their meal when a manservant comes in bearing a letter. He tells his master that it was given to him in the street by a cloaked stranger. Montigal opens it, but it's too dark, or his eyesight is too poor for him to read it. He asks for it to be read aloud. It's a warning. I would advise you as you tender your

life, it says, to devise some excuse to shift your attendance at this parliament. It goes on, telling the nobleman to retreat to the country and wait it out in safety. To the silent room, the manservant reads the final line, in which the anonymous author begs the recipient to burn the letter. But Monteagle doesn't burn it. He goes straight to the Earl of Salisbury, the head of James' government. But curiously, the Earl doesn't immediately react. He's already heard rumblings, chatter, as modern counter-terrorism would have it, that something is afoot. The plan, it seems, is not as watertight as Catesby would

like to believe. So, Salisbury waits calmly for the King's return from a hunting trip. In the meantime, news of the betrayal is leaked to Catesby. His first suspicion is that it's Francis Tresham, a newer recruit, brother-in-law of Montego. Furious and horrified, Catesby and Thomas Winter confront Tresham. They threaten to hang him for his duplicity, but he insists the letter was nothing to do with him. Well, this is one which has exercised the imagination of historians of the plot. And ever since then, the authorship of the letter has just remained a matter of debate. Another theory which has been put forward is that Mount Eagle wrote the letter himself. He'd heard of the plot and obviously was not going to go to Parliament,

but had the letter written for him to discover the plot and make sure that he didn't have to risk either being blown up or classified as a traitor. But there's absolutely no agreement among historians about who actually wrote it. We've no clue really. What's certain though, is that the conspirators now make a fateful misjudgment. Discreetly, Thomas Percy makes inquiries about the response to the letter but returns to tell Catesby that no action is being taken and so, thinking themselves undetected they forge ahead

November the 4th, 1605 several conspirators have already left London taking up positions in the Midlands those still in London meet for the last time. Fawkes is given a watch to time the fuse, and Catesby distributes swords, which have been specially made for the occasion. Along their blades are engraved the words,

The Passion of Christ. All but two of the conspirators now leave London to await news. They plan to meet in Dunchurch, Warwickshire, ready to enact the kidnapping and spark the uprising. Fawkes heads back to Westminster to prepare. Ambrose Rookwood, the best horseman among them, would act as messenger. He's positioned horses along a route to Warwickshire and now takes up a post to await and convey news of Fawkes' success. But the King has other ideas. He has read the letter himself and, ever conscious of the fragility of the throne, has decided that it is not a hoax. He and his advisors have set a trap.

that it is not a hoax. He and his advisors have set a trap. Far better to bide their time and catch the would-be assassins than to react hastily and give them a chance to escape. At 10 o'clock, mere hours before the day of the ceremony, the King's men make their move. An initial search is conducted by the Earl of Suffolk, who comes across Guy Fawkes in the storeroom in the Undercroft with the big pile of firewood. And it's rather curious because Suffolk says he doesn't want to meddle with Guy Fawkes because he seems a rather desperate character. When questioned, Fawkes uses his alias, John Johnson.

And even though there are some suspicions about the amount of firewood he appears to be guarding, the group leave him alone. But when they report back to the King, it's the mention of Thomas Percy, a known Catholic recusant, that triggers a second search. So he returns with this report, and a second search party is sent out under the command of a man called Sir Thomas Nibbettet late on the 4th or very early on the 5th. He discovers Guy Fawkes and he's suspicious because here is a man who is meant to be a servant of Percy's. It's late at night or early in the morning.

This guy is wearing a cloak. He's wearing a hat and he's wearing boots and spurs. And immediately that's suspicious. So they literally sort of arrest him, they grab him, ask him what's going on, and then they search the firewood and they discover the barrels under there. Fawkes, or Johnson, is taken to the Tower of London. When he's asked what he was doing with all that gunpowder, he doesn't equivocate. He knows what's coming, and no amount of contrition is going to help him. According to an observer, he simply claims that the intention was to blow the Scottish, in this case the King, back to Scotland. News of the plot spreads across London.

In the early hours of the plot spreads across London. In the early hours of the morning, the first bonfires of celebration are lit. It will become a tradition that will last for centuries. In the tower, Fawkes's captors immediately set about extracting a confession. But Fawkes is a radical, and he's a soldier.

In the face of their questioning, he's calm, stoic. He gives them only his alias, the name of his mother, the fact that he's a Yorkshireman. A lifetime of anti-Catholic persecution has instilled in him not only absolute conviction in his beliefs, but also an iron resolve. His determination to protect the names of his friends is unbreakable, or so he believes. For a day, maybe a little more, he's right. While the interrogators focus on their captive, the other plotters have a chance. Rookwood, alerted first by Fawkes' failure to arrive and then by the wildfire of rumour, turns from his post and races north. But he's not the only one spreading news.

Tipped off by another messenger, Princess Elizabeth's guardians move her in the middle of the night. Under armed guard, she's taken from her country home to a safer location within Coventry's city walls. Now both plots, to kill the king and to kidnap his daughter, are lost. Rookwood rides all night, at one point covering thirty miles in just two hours on a single steed. Finally he catches up with his beloved friend Catesby. On hearing the news, Catesby refuses to despair.

What was their oath, all those months back in the tavern, if not a vow to see this through to the bitter end? So, planning to meet Thomas Winter and others en route, the core conspirators plus Jack Wright's brother, Catesby's servant Grant, and Rookwood mount their horses and fly. They know only too well what horrors await their captured friend in the tower. If the king's men don't know their names already, very soon they will. Along the way they gather a few dozen sympathisers, some of whom believe the rumours that the king is dead. Fawkes, for his part, holds out bravely, but the tower has its methods. The king personally approves his treatment.

In his words, the gentler torches are first to be used unto him, et sic per gradus ad ima tenditur. And so, by degrees, proceeding to the worst. Even the gentler torches, though, are more than most can bear. He seems to have been subjected to something called the gauntlets. Now, these are metal gloves on chains that hang from a ceiling, with your toes either just touching the ground or not touching the ground, and that puts, obviously, considerable strain on your arms. He doesn't crumble immediately.

The last resort would be the rack, which is something which people would be familiar with, which stretches limbs and can, if applied too seriously, create dislocations of the arms and legs. That's what we think he was subjected to. And certainly, his signature on the confession is clearly one of somebody who has undergone torture. It's very faint and disjointed. By the 7th of November, the government has

its list of names. Though numbers are now starting to dwindle, Catesby and a handful of others remain resolute. Riding hard, they make a whistle-stop tour of the homes of their families and other wealthy Catholics, determined to raise a revolt. Ashby St. Ledger's, Huddington Court, Pepper Hill, they even visit Warwick Castle, where they stage a raid for munitions and horses. As they pass court and court, Catesby sends baits with a letter to warn Father Garnet, who's resident there. Catesby knows as well as Garnet does how dearly the government would like to see a priest implicated in such a plot. For his part, Garnet sends word back, begging Catesby and the others to call off their seditious conspiracy.

But it's too late. The men are already too deeply involved, and, thanks to his communication with them, so is he. The night of November the 7th, and the rain is relentless. Numbering less than a dozen, the fugitives pick up gunpowder at Ewell Grange, then ride north to Holbeach House on the Staffordshire border. The horses clatter onto the cobbles of the drive, then stagger to a stop. Exhausted, saturated in freezing rain, and fully conscious that their pursuers will be closing in, the men fall from their mounts. No servants run out to greet them. There isn't a single lantern lit inside the house. The mood is black.

Out of options and resources, they know they can go no further. They unpack what weapons they have. Their reserves of gunpowder are soaking wet. Wiping rain from his face, Catesby rallies the men. From forks he knows that to manufacture the compound in the first place, the components must be mixed with alcohol and then dried in ovens. Surely all they need to do is make a fire, lay the powder out, and dry it. Had any of the men been rested, and in their right minds, maybe one of them would have

intervened. As it is, they have hardly slept in three days, and this is their last stand. So a fire is built and lit. Keeping a nervous eye on the courtyard for the inevitable arrival of the king's men, they lay out the gunpowder. They move mechanically, barely knowing what they're doing. Then everything happens fast. The fire spits out a spark, and while gunpowder is not sensitive to shock and will only explode when constrained inside a barrel or chamber, it is extremely flammable.

In an instant, the whole supply is aflame. Catesby and Percy are engulfed. His servant is blinded, and the others are badly injured. Thomas Winter now arrives to find a scene of devastation. All but Catesby, Rookwood, Percy, and two others have fled. Those left are blinded or wounded, or both, some mortally so. Some left are blinded or wounded or both, some mortally so. They're without weapons and without hope. Winter, ever in awe of Catesby, asks what it is the men will do now. We mean here to die, his friend tells him. All there is left to do is wait. As the sun begins to rise, Catesby stands, suddenly alert.

What starts as a distant rumble becomes louder, heavier, unmistakable. Hoof beats. The end is here. Outside in the pale dawn, the Sheriff of Worcester has arrived. He has with him a vigilante force of men two hundred strong, each one of them eager to prove themselves loyal to the king. The final stand is underway. They don't stand much of a chance in that there are about 200 militia after them. The militia are not awfully effective, but they can take on five Catholics.

When they come out of the courtyard of the house, several of them, including Catespeed, are quite expert sword fighters. So they obviously come out with this in mind. Wildly outnumbered, the men are determined to go down in a blaze of glory. Cracks of gunfire ricochet around, and there is chaos. The slashing of swords, the stamping of horses untrained in battle. Jack Wright and his brother are shot. The mob, but that's really what this gang of locals is, strip them naked and leave them to die. Rookwood and others are injured and

dragged off into custody. Though they survive, they will, to a man, live to regret it when they reach the tower some days later. Injured but alive, Catesby, Thomas Percy and Thomas Winter retreat inside the house. Winter tells Catesby he can fight no longer. A bloody injury from a pike has robbed him of the use of his sword arm. Catesby pulls the two men, his childhood friends, comrades to the last, towards him. Stand by, Mr. Tom, he says to Winter, and we will die together.

Those words will be his last. With one shot, both Catesby and Thomas Percy are felled. The militia storm the building. Though mortally wounded, Catesby drags himself further into the house with only one intention. In desperate pain, he searches for what he needs. In relief, he grasps it, a portrait of the Virgin Mary. Clutching it to himself and bleeding heavily, he closes his eyes and prays until death comes for him. Back in London, the King doesn't waste an opportunity to cast himself as the principal architect of the plotter's downfall. But he's mindful too of the risk of repercussions.

Once the news of the plot broke, there were spontaneous sort of celebrations in London. On the 9th of November, James makes a statement to Parliament in which he says, okay, this is dreadful. These people deserve to die after trial. But he says that although a number of his subjects have fallen into the great era of papacy, most of them are loyal and obedient. He does not want pogrom of Catholics. He does not want a massacre, which I think would have been the likeliest outcome if Parliament had blown up. And another thing which, again, is of considerable interest is that he explicitly denies the involvement of any foreign power. And in fact, when the spontaneous celebrations start, the French

and Spanish ambassadors are out there giving wine to the crowd. James had just signed a treaty with Spain. He was trying to preserve reasonable relationships with France. He does not want any idea of foreign involvement to spread. So they're trying very hard to keep the situation as calm as possible in the immediate aftermath of the plot. He also insists that it was an assault on all of his subjects. The plot, he says, was a destruction prepared not for me alone, but for all of you here present, and wherein no rank, age, nor sex should have been spared.

What he doesn't mention is that when the 36 barrels are taken to the king's stores, they are recorded there as decayed. Historian Antonia Fraser argues that the explosion therefore might well never have occurred. In any case, over the coming weeks, all the remaining conspirators are rounded up. In all, eight men stand trial, but not before they too are subjected to the dark rigours of the Tower of London. I think it's fair to say they didn't stand a chance. The trial was headed up by Sir Edward Coke. He's been involved in state trials before.

He's obviously seen as being entirely reliable. And he begins the trial with a lengthy oration about the dreadfulness of Catholicism, the dreadfulness of what the plotters have done, dreadfulness of treason, all the things you'd expect. And of course, as is customary in trials of this period, they have no defence lawyers. So they're sort of having to make their own defence. They plead not guilty and some plead extenuating circumstances. One or two of them beg for pardon. Because, of course, the other thing is, if you are a convicted traitor, not only do you suffer, but your goods and estates can be forfeited to the Crown.

So those of them with families are obviously very worried about what's going to happen there. But the trial is over very quickly. And it was an open and shut case from the government's point of view. I mean, these guys plead not guilty, they're immediately found guilty. The full force of the law was brought down on them. But it's not just the conspirators themselves who are swept along by what passes for justice in Jacobean England. After weeks on the run, Father Garnet finds sanctuary at Hindlip Hall

with another priest implicated by association. The men are concealed inside a secret compartment. Like scores of similar hiding places, Garnet's final priest hole has been designed by another priest called Little John, who will later find himself racked for the names of those he's helped. Fed by way of an aperture wide enough for a reed to drink through, Garnet is able to stay hidden for weeks. Eventually, though, the pain and swelling

in his folded legs becomes too much to bear. There is no choice in the end but to give himself up. Thomas Winter, for his part, begs to be hanged on behalf of his brother, Robert, who was only brought into the plot towards the end. Rookwood, terrified of his life, insists he took part only because he loved Catesby

above any other worldly man. Unfortunately for them, the time for leniency has well and truly passed. Well, the sentence was death for all of them. A request a couple of them made was to be executed by beheading because they were gentry and they said that this was appropriate. The government wasn't having that

so they were subjected to death by hanging, drawing and quartering. It is so brutal, so gruesome a way to die, that it eclipses even today's most shocking executions. The penalty included being dragged to the place of execution on what was called a hurdle.

Now, this would be a pent-skein or something like that. And they were dragged behind horses to the place of execution through the streets. It was all public. This was the standard punishment for traitors who were male and not members of the peerage. They didn't do it to women. But you would be hanged briefly on a rope, and not until you were dead, but you would be hanged symbolically.

You would then be cut down. You would be eviscerated. Your entrails would be taken out, and you would be castrated. And your entrails and your genitals would be burnt on a fire. Your body would be cut into four parts. Your head and your body would be preserved in tar, and your head and body parts would be displayed on spikes strategically around London.

So it was a terrible way of dying, and it was done with full publicity. And of course, there's the publicity of the deployment of the body parts and the head around London after the execution. Interestingly, Catespeed was buried near to where the shootout had taken place, but he was disinterred and his head was displayed as a sort of symbol of where treason leads you. Seven of the eight experienced the full horror of their sentence,

but Fawkes is spared the worst of the violence. Almost unable to walk after the barbarism in the dreaded tower, he has to be helped to the scaffold by the hangman. But after the noose is placed, either by jumping or some error of his executioner, Fawkes's neck is broken straight away. Thirty-five years of Iniquitous life have come to an end, but it is Fawkes's name which will live the longest.

Months later, Father Garner treads the same ghastly path to the gallows, having received the same sentence of hanging, drawing and quartering. But the crowd, moved either by his status as a Jesuit or by a waning appetite for brutality, choose to give him a small mercy. Before the hangman can cut him down, the onlookers call out, Hold! Hold! They rush forwards and pull on his legs,

saving him from the horrors of the quartering block. By the summer, almost every thread of the plot has been tied off. Francis Tresham steadfastly denies he wrote the Monteagle letter, even though authorship of this tip-off could have seen him granted some leniency. For now, though, he is believed to have been the author. The gunmen who apparently killed Catesby and Percy petitioned the king for a thousand pounds. Normality for now resumes. The instability of the crown, however, is far from conquered. Within fifty years, James' son, Charles I, will be executed by his own people.

James' immediate public response, cool, composed, and eager to play up to the unity of his kingdom against such attacks, will echo throughout the ages. Successive leaders will emphasize that a threat against them is a threat to every citizen. Before the year 1605 is out, a law is passed to require everyone in England, Ireland and Wales to attend a service of thanks on the 5th of November each year. Even when Oliver Cromwell's Puritans abolish every other feast in the land, it is the 5th of November celebration that remains, albeit as a way of demonstrating the government's hatred of Catholicism.

The obligation to celebrate is removed in 1859, but by then it has become a cornerstone of the national calendar. In much of Britain, the practice of using old, stuffed clothes to make effigies of a man or guy to be burned on the fire is a well-known tradition. Indeed, it's because of this tradition that the word Guy is now synonymous with man or person. Even though Catesby was undoubtedly the mastermind of the gunpowder plot, it's Guy Fawkes's name that we associate with it. Even as terrorism has moved on, the image of this tall, cloaked man, skulking amongst his barrels of explosives underneath Parliament, is altogether too powerful to forget.