Percy spent the Monday in a visit to the Earl of Northumberland at Syon; Christopher Wright and Thomas Winter in buying articles needful for the coming journey. In the morning Rookwood accidentally met Catesby, whose spirits had risen. There was no need to fear things would go on well.
Three o’clock in the afternoon saw Lord Suffolk, the Lord Chamberlain of the Household, accompanied by Lord Monteagle, descending into the vaults of the House of Lords. They glanced into different parts, and coming to the cellar immediately under the House, the Lord Chamberlain noticed that it was apparently filled with stacked faggots.
“Whose are all these?” said he.
A tall, dark man, who had unlocked the cellar for their Lordships’ entrance, and was now standing by with the key in his hand, gave the answer, with an air of rustic simplicity.
“An’t like your Lordships, ’tis my master’s provision for the winter.”
“Who is your master?” asked the Lord Chamberlain.
“An’t please you, Mr Percy, one of his Majesty’s pensioners, that hath his lodging this next door.”
“I thought none dwelt next door. How long hath your master had the house?”
“Under your Lordships’ leave, about a year and an half; but hath deferred his lying there by reason of some occasions which caused him to be absent.”
“Well, he has laid in a good stock of fuel,” said the Chamberlain, as if carelessly; and their Lordships turned and remounted the stairs.