To this the conspirators were wont to reply—“We go for God and the country.”
But the shrewd Worcestershire peasants declined to commit themselves to anything so vague as this.
At last they came to an old countryman, to whom they addressed their customary appeal. The old man planted his staff firmly in front of him, and set his back against a wall.
“I am for King James,” he said, “for whom I will live and die.”
Upon this the disloyalty of the company was plainly manifested by shouts of “Kill him! kill him!” But there was no time to stop for that, which probably saved the brave old loyalist’s life.
Upon leaving Hewell, the conspirators rode up to the houses of all the Roman Catholic gentry in the neighbourhood, and summoned their owners to join them for God and the Church. But sore disappointments met them on every side. From door after door they were driven with horror and contumely—were openly told that “they had brought ruin on the Catholic cause.”
“Not one man came to take our part,” is their lament, “though we had expected so many.” To add to their misery, the rain began to pour down in torrents; one after another deserted them as they fled: and when at last in the darkness the heath was passed, and Holbeach House was reached, instead of the gallant company of eighty well-accoutred troops who had left Norbrook the morning before, there crept into the court-yard only eighteen wet and weary men, who had lost all, including honour.
Holbeach House was about two miles from Stourbridge, and was the home of Stephen Littleton, one of the latest to join the plot. Here the worn-out men slept—the last sleep for some of them.
So weary and worn-out were they, that they sank to sleep just as they were, in the dining-room—some pillowing their heads on the table, others casting themselves on the floor. At this very unsuitable moment, it seemed good to Mr John Winter to inquire of Percy what he meant to do. (Note 3.)
Percy, in extremely somnolent tones, answered that he intended to go on.