Before the conspirators resumed their work after the Christmas holidays, they took two more into their number. These were Robert Winter of Huddington, the elder brother of Thomas, and John Grant of Norbrook, who had married Dorothy, sister of the Wrights. Catesby and Thomas Winter went down to the Catherine Wheel at Oxford, whence they sent for their friends to come to them, and having first pledged them to secrecy, they were then initiated into the plot.
It was about this Christmas that Catesby also took into his confidence the only one of the conspirators who was not a gentleman—his own servant, Thomas Bates, partly because he had “great opinion of him for his long-tried fidelity,” and partly also because, having been employed in carrying messages, he suspected that he had some inkling of the secret, and wished that, like the rest, he should be bound to keep it by oath. Bates is described as a yeoman, and “a man of mean station, who had been much persecuted on account of religion.” Having been desired to confirm his oath by receiving the Sacrament “with intention,” and as a pre-requisite of this was confession, Bates went to Greenway, whom he acquainted with the particulars, “which he was not desirous to hear,” and asked if he might lawfully join in such work. Greenway directed him to keep the secret, “because it was for a good cause,” and forbade him to name the subject to any other priest. This is Bates’s account; Greenway asserts that Bates never named the subject to him, either in or out of confession; but the Jesuit code of morality required his denial, if he had heard it in confession only. Poor Bates was the most innocent of the conspirators, and the most truly penitent: he was rather a tool and a victim than a miscreant. He lost his life through neglect of a much-forgotten precept—“If sinners entice thee, consent thou not.”
The conspirators now set to work again on their mine, and wrought till Candlemas Day, by which time they were half through the wall of the House. Fawkes was on all occasions the sentinel. They had provided themselves with “baktmeats,” pasties, and hard-boiled eggs, sufficient for twenty days, in order to avoid exciting the suspicions of their neighbours by constantly bringing fresh provisions to a house supposed to be occupied by one person alone. The labour was very severe, especially to Catesby and Percy, on account of their unusual height. The oozing in of the water was a perpetual annoyance. But one day, something terrible occurred.
As the amateur miners plied their picks with diligence, the toll of a bell was suddenly heard. John Wright, who was furthest in the mine, stopped with uplifted tool.
“Blessed saints! what can that be?”
Work was unanimously suspended.
“It comes from the very midst of the wall!” said Catesby, growing a shade paler.
“Refugium peccatorum, ora pro nobis!” piously entreated Percy, crossing himself.
“Call Mr Fawkes,” suggested Christopher.
Mr Fawkes was summoned, by his official name of Johnson; and coming down into the cellar, declared that he also distinctly heard the uncanny sound.