The boy took a risk and asked about this plot they had. Miles Sindercombe told him there was a design to alter the government, for which they were being paid by the King of Spain. He said it was better to have Charles Stuart rule here than the tyrant Cromwell. But, according to Sindercombe, it would never come to that. 'When the Protector is killed, there will be confusion. The King's men will never agree who should succeed, so they will fall together by the ears. Then the people will rise, and things will be brought to a true commonwealth again.'
Tom Lovell listened to Miles Sindercombe seriously. He showed no reaction to this wild information. His father was watching him. When they were alone, Orlando asked him outright what he thought; Tom only wriggled and played the bored twelve-year-old who had no opinions.
'Has the man Jukes ever spoken to you about the nation's affairs?'
Tom denied it, though when his father stopped questioning him, he thought much about past conversations he and Val had had, not only with Gideon but Lambert too. When out on expeditions, the boys had asked about when the Jukes brothers were soldiers, especially whether they had killed people. Both men had answered gravely, emphasising that to cause another's death — and to risk your own life — was not to be undertaken lightly. Asked about the King's execution, Gideon had said, 'He caused us to do it by not answering the charges. Always remember, King Charles was given a trial, where he could have defended himself. The court was established by Parliament, acting for all the free people of England. It was not assassination; that would be plain murder.'
'My mother went to see the King's head being cut off.'
'I know she did!' Gideon had given a little sweet smile. Thomas understood that smile; he believed it was good, which meant a shadow was now cast by his father upon what had been a sunny relationship. He saw that his mother was caught in the middle — and that so was he, Thomas.
'What are you thinking, boy?' demanded Lovell. 'Is it about that Jukes?'
'He is a good fellow, and always kind to us,' Tom replied steadily.
'Your good fellow tried to shoot me!' Lovell rounded on him. 'You keep away from him — in case he shoots you!'
To which Tom sensibly made no answer.
He was shocked, however. In his mind he had already built a picture of his mother's reaction to his leaving her; now he had another, more terrifying, image of Gideon full of wrath. Tom was not a prisoner; he could have gone home to Shoe Lane — but he became frightened to do it. Lovell knew that. Lovell used this fear to hold the boy.
Tom mulled things over often, for he was often left alone. His father kept them in lodgings privately, apart from the others. It was one reason he enjoyed having Tom with him, for company in the evenings. But the plotters were frequently active. On five or six occasions they lay in wait in ambushes but failed to assassinate Cromwell — when he made trips to Hampton Court, to Kensington, Hyde Park or Turnham Green. On those occasions Tom would be left to his own devices at the lodgings for hours. Lovell said he must not venture out, but must wait there in case something happened and they had to leave in a hurry.
Tom diligently played his viol.
Halfway through September the plotters hired a house beside Westminster Abbey, right by the east door. Sindercombe took out a lease, using the alias of 'John Fish'. Their landlord was Colonel James Midhouse, who knew nothing of their plot. He kept a couple of rooms in the house himself, so he was always likely to stumble upon them, which they found an inconvenience. They talked about making him a prisoner, so he could not inform on them.
Sindercombe, Cecil, Boyes and the lad went to the house together to check its suitability. There was a yard at the back, which overlooked the route the Lord Protector's coach would take as he travelled the short distance from hearing a sermon in Westminster Abbey to the House of Commons when he formally opened Parliament. Toope had said Cromwell would be escorted by his mounted Lifeguards, in their gleaming back-and-breasts, but the coach would travel so slowly that it would also be accompanied by his Lifeguard of Foot, who wore grey livery faced with black velvet and were popularly called Cromwell's magpies; the foot guarded him indoors, the horse went everywhere he travelled. In formal processions, the commander of the foot walked on one side of the coach and the commander of the horse on the other. Processions were unhurried.
'Time to get off a shot then!' gloated Sindercombe.
'But not to linger afterwards,' Toope warned him. 'The Lifeguards are chosen as the best cavalry — the most proper men on the best horses, and best governed. Once they start a chase — '
'Fear not. We shall be long gone.'
As a response to Royalist plots the previous winter, the Lifeguards had been purged of dissidents; this occasioned laughter amongst Sindercombe's group. Lifeguard numbers had been raised from 40 to 160 — significant, though still many less than Charles I had used as a bodyguard. The Protector's troopers were all carefully selected by Major-General Lambert. 'Toope got past Honest John somehow!' sniggered the plotters — though not when the turncoat Toope was present.
In the few days before the new Parliament was to be inaugurated, the conspirators began to erect scaffolding in the yard of their rented house. Having a lad in their company helped make them look like any normal party of labourers. Tom, who had had no haircut since his father found him and no change of clothes, looked sufficiently scruffy and desultory. He passed up poles, was sent out for beer, loafed in the yard looking bored.
They had a special gun to use. Cecil referred to it as an arquebus, but Orlando Lovell screwed up his face at that old-fashioned term. To Tom, he called it a blunderbuss. It had a short barrel, much wider than a pistol or carbine, slightly flared at the end; it could be loaded with twelve shots at once. There were special long bullets, with an extended range. 'Feel it — ' Lovell let Tom handle the weapon. 'Light and handy. The range is inaccurate, but what we need is blasting power. The effect is as good as a mortar. It will shatter the Protector's coach and take him to oblivion.'
Thomas listened gravely, handing back the blunderbuss as quickly as he could. His father then prepared it. Although the gun had a ring, for attaching it to the spring-clip on a shoulder belt, Lovell explained that they could not walk through the streets openly armed in that way. Security would be tight. Suspicious characters were liable to be stopped by soldiers. The conspirators had thought of the perfect disguise for the gun, its ammunition and some spare loaded pistols; they would carry the weapons in the protective case from Tom's precious viol. He was not asked permission, but simply informed that he had to give it to them. Lovell saw the boy's unhappy face and was roughly contemptuous.
The day came. Thomas was made to wait behind at an inn. Sindercombe, Cecil and the so- called Boyes walked to the hired house, carrying Tom's viol case with the great gun inside it. Tom knew they had other weapons, pistols, and ammunition — lead shot and iron slugs.
Some time later, Lovell came back on his own, in more of a tizzy than Tom had ever seen. He moved their lodgings.
Gradually, the sorry tale came out. Toope, the Lifeguard, was supposed to come and tell them where Cromwell would be sitting in the coach, but he let them down. Cecil had remained the calmest, standing ready with his pistol. Sindercombe paced fretfully about the yard, steeling himself. As the hour approached, too many people crowded into the street to watch the Protector pass. Taking aim would be difficult. Innocent people would be hurt. The crush of bystanders would hinder their escape.
The plotters lost their nerve. 'Boyes' despaired and left the scene, quickly losing himself amongst the crowds. Sindercombe and Cecil abandoned the plan.