Although five of the party had just ridden eighty miles at considerable speed, they swung themselves into the saddle again for a long night’s march. Even if the whole hunting-party had remained there would not have been a large body of horsemen; in all the number present at Dunchurch was only eighty;[277] but some of the friends who had refused to have anything to do with the expedition were influential men, who could soon have raised substantial troops, even from among their own retainers. The party that actually started from Dunchurch under the command of the conspirators, according to Sir Everard Digby,[278] “were not above fiftie horse.”
It was a wretched little cavalcade: if it had anything military about it, it was more of a recruiting party than an army, and its stealthy creeping forth from the inn, that November night, in darkness and dejection, was very different from the triumphant dash of the entire “hunting-party”upon Combe Abbey, to seize the Princess Elizabeth and take her from the keeping of Lord Harington, which had been laid down in the programme. The discovery of the plot, the arrest of Fawkes, and the seizure of the gunpowder was bad enough; and now, the refusal of the trusted, influential, and powerful Catholic landowners who had been assembled at Dunchurch to have hand or part in what they considered a detestable rebellion, added ten-fold to the disappointment of Sir Everard and his companions.
The road of the rebels lay through Warwick, and it was remembered that there, in the stable of a poor horse-breaker of cavalry re-mounts, they would be able to supply themselves with fresh horses. Even two of the leading conspirators—I wish I could say that Sir Everard Digby had been one of them—winced at this act of felony! Rookwood, as he subsequently admitted in examination,[279] “meant not to adventure himself in stealing any”horses, as he had already fifteen or sixteen; and Robert Winter[280] tried to persuade Catesby “to let it alone, alleging that it would make a great uproar in the country, and that once done,”they “might not rest anywhere, the country would so rise about”them.
Catesby’s reply was ominous. “Some of us may not look back.”
“But others,”said Winter, “I hope, may, and therefore, I pray you, let this alone.”
Then Catesby spoke words in ill accordance with those which he had used to encourage Digby before leaving Dunchurch. “What! hast thou any hope, Robin? I assure thee there is none that knoweth of this action but shall perish.”
On reaching Warwick, they left the trunk-horses with their attendants[281] at the entrance to the town, in case their intended raid should lead to any scrimmage or retaliation; and then they proceeded to the horse-breakers’ stable and stole nine or ten horses. This took about half-an-hour, and when the robbery had been accomplished, they sent back for the trunk-horses and proceeded on their night-journey.
It was not far from Warwick to Norbrook, the house of John Grant, one of the conspirators. Here they made a brief halt, and, on entering the hall, they found two tables furnished with muskets and armour.[282] After taking a very short rest—William Handy, one of Sir Everard’s servants, says half-an-hour;[283] but Jardine says an hour or two,[284] and Richard Hollis, a servant of Sir Everard’s, says, “some howres,”[285]—the cavalcade again started on its dark nocturnal march. The intention of its leaders was to ride to Huddington, near Droitwich, the house of Robert Winter; and on the way thither, to send a messenger a little to the right of their road, with a letter to Father Garnet at Coughton, explaining the desperate position in which they were placed. On arriving at Huddington, their host was to be sent to his father-in-law, Talbot of Grafton, to inform him of all that had happened, and to urge him to join the insurrection with as many men as he could muster.
Some time after sunrise, which does not take place at that time of the year till after seven o’clock, they drew near Alcester, and despatched their messenger to Coughton. The man chosen was Catesby’s servant, Thomas Bates, the only menial who was a sworn conspirator. Besides the letter to Father Garnet, he was entrusted with one for Lady Digby, written by her husband.
The most trying part of Sir Everard Digby’s long and gloomy ride must have been to pass within a couple of miles of his wife and children, as he went through Alcester in the early morning, without going to see them. Well-horsed, as he was, it might almost appear that he could have made time to visit them for at least a few minutes, and then ridden on to Huddington, where the expedition was to make a long halt. Did he hesitate to go to Coughton through fear of Catesby, or was he afraid to trust himself in the presence of his wife?