Last Minute

This was an assignment for the writers’ group I belong to. My idea was to compose a piece from the perspective of a famous historical figure and then see how soon my friends at the group would recognise his identity. It didn’t take them long! I hasten to add here that I do not condone this person’s thoughts or actions in any way. In fact, I find the whole plan abhorrent. It also seems incredible that anyone should have embarked on such a path of destruction while believing their success would be rewarded. Anyway, here’s the result of my endeavours a few years ago.

The audio version is on Anchor: https://anchor.fm/dashboard/episode/e1k5adh

Last Minute

It’s all going to plan. After 18 months of discussions, meetings and extensive preparations, we are on course for success – one which will be resounding in both senses of the word. I won’t say there weren’t any hitches or tense moments when we thought our secret might be discovered, but since we first gathered around a table on 20^th May last year, we have striven to ensure our plan…well, goes to plan.

That initial meeting took place at London’s Duck and Drake Inn – five of us in an upstairs room, overheard by no one, enjoying a meal and discussing freely the course our actions should take. Since then our campaign has gathered strength and today we have 14 like-minded souls determined to make permanent changes to combat the constant oppression we and so many more of us suffer. No one can accuse us of not trying to make some progress peacefully, but all our requests have received negative replies and we can take no more.

It was Robert’s idea and he has been the driving force, with the 13 of us fellow conspirators fully behind him. We believe that, when victory is ours, he should be the one to reap the benefits with a place in government and perhaps a title from the new monarch, the young Queen Elizabeth II, daughter of our reigning king. I imagine that on each anniversary of tomorrow’s date there will be celebrations across the land in years, if not centuries, to come, organised by people grateful to our little band for bringing about the much-needed change. However, that is to relish later when the new brooms have swept clean and eradicated all traces of this biased regime.

It is a few minutes away from midnight, so there is still a long wait ahead of me, but sacrificing a few hours’ sleep is nothing when I think of the future. And so I sit here guarding our treasure – lethal treasure, all 36 barrels of it, positioned immediately under its target. I was given this job because of my military experience and familiarity with explosives and have promised that I shall be fully awake through the night. This mission is too dangerous and too important for sleep to interrupt my vigil, and my excitement at tomorrow’s outcome is chasing away any soporific tendencies. In the unlikely event that I am discovered down here and arrested, I have a contingency plan to protect not only myself but also my family and friends; if asked my name, I will give a pseudonym: John Johnson. Oh, the authorities would have fun trying to trace my background with a name like that! But they won’t be troubled with such enquiries, for I am certain that this well-prepared plan will go ahead smoothly. After all, we have God on our side.

In many ways the last 18 months or so have sped by. I met Robert through John Wintour and was immediately drawn to his way of thinking, so had little hesitation in joining his fight, the fight for the freedom to practise our religion openly. I had grown disillusioned with the Spanish monarchy. Instead of supporting our Catholic cause, they were taking steps to make peace with our king – our arch enemy. Incredible! And to think I had fought for them in the Spanish Netherlands, risking life and limb for their country which has now turned its back on those in England who also adhere to the One True Faith.

We have lost patience with the Spanish and now feel we are on our own: all three Wintours – John, Robert and Thomas – as well as John Grant and the Wright brothers John and Christopher, the latter known as Kit. Francis Tresham has been wavering greatly but is now solidly with us, as are Robert Keyes, Ambrose Rokewood, Sir Everard Digby, Thomas Bates and Thomas Percy – cousin of Henry Percy, 9^th Earl of Northumberland – all of us Robert Catesby’s loyal supporters. And so our plan has taken shape. Minutes after I light the fuse tomorrow, there will be an uprising in Warwickshire. Princess Elizabeth, the nine-year-old daughter of King James, will be kidnapped from Coombe Abbey and placed on the throne as the new queen, with a Catholic regent appointed to rule until she comes of age. In those intervening years she will be converted to Roman Catholicism and then married to a Catholic so we ensure the continuation of our faith within the monarchy and thus across the country.

But what’s this I hear – footsteps? It must be some of my friends, arriving to support me through the night. Yet I see no one I recognise. Surely our plot can’t have been uncovered, not at the last minute. I am holding my breath, hoping my hiding place won’t be discovered and they will pass by, not noticing these barrels of gunpowder. But no, they have stopped and are searching close by. I must remember my name is John Johnson, not Guy Fawkes. Nothing will persuade me to reveal any names or details of our plan to blow up the building above me when King James, his government and members of his family arrive for the grand opening of Parliament tomorrow, 5^th November 1605. My heart is thumping. I am sure they can hear that, but my story must be curtailed as a large pair of hands is upon me. The Beautiful Future seems now to be in tatters…

© Chasqui Penguin, 2021

Twitter: @ChasquiPenguin