Page 314 of A Column of Fire
The ostler was not interested in Rollo’s story. He showed Rollo a cart and two sturdy horses, and Rollo said: ‘Fine, that’s just what I need.’
Then the ostler said: ‘My man Weston will drive you.’
Rollo frowned. He could not accept this. A driver would witness everything. ‘I’d rather drive myself,’ he said, trying not to sound agitated. ‘I have two helpers.’
The ostler shook his head. ‘If Weston doesn’t go with you, you’ll have to pay a deposit, otherwise how do I know you’ll bring the cart back?’
‘How much?’ Rollo asked for the sake of appearances – he was willing to pay more or less anything.
‘Five pounds for each of the horses and a pound for the cart.’
‘You’ll have to give me a receipt.’
When the transaction was finalized, they drove out of the stable yard and went to a firewood supplier called Pearce. There Rollo bought faggots, irregular branches tied in bundles, and billets, which were more regular split logs, also roped together. They loaded all the wood onto the cart. Pearce was curious about Rollo’s insistence on meticulously stacking the bundles on the cart in the shape of a hollow square, leaving an empty space in the middle. ‘You must be picking up another load that you want to keep hidden,’ he said.
‘Nothing valuable,’ said Rollo, as if he was afraid of thieves.
Pearce tapped the side of his nose knowingly. ‘Enough said.’
They drove the cart to Greenwich, where Rollo had a rendezvous with Captain Radcliffe.
Guy Fawkes had calculated the amount of gunpowder required to be sure of completely destroying the House of Lords and killing everyone in it. A gentleman who owned a pistol or an arquebus might buy a box of gunpowder for his own use, and no one would ask any questions; but there was no legitimate way for Rollo to buy the quantity he needed without arousing suspicion.
His solution was to go to a criminal.
Radcliffe was a corrupt quartermaster who bought supplies for the royal navy. Half of what he purchased never went on board a ship, but was privately re-sold by him to line his own pockets. Radcliffe’s biggest problem was hiding how rich he was.
The good thing about him, from Rollo’s point of view, was that he could not babble about the sale of gunpowder, for if he did, he would be hanged for stealing from the king. He had to keep silent, for the sake of his own life.
Rollo met Radcliffe in the yard of a tavern. They loaded eight barrels onto the cart, stacking them two high in the middle of the square of firewood. A casual observer would assume the barrels contained ale.
‘You must be expecting a war,’ said Radcliffe.
Rollo had an answer ready. ‘We’re merchant sailors,’ he said. ‘We need to defend ourselves.’
‘Indeed, you do,’ said Radcliffe.
‘We’re not pirates.’
‘No,’ said Radcliffe. ‘Of course not.’
Like Pearce, Radcliffe was inclined to believe whatever Rollo denied.
When they were done they completed the square and added wood on top, so that the secret load could not be seen even from a high window.
Then Rollo drove the cart back to Westminster. He went carefully. Crashes between wheeled vehicles were commonplace, usually leading to fistfights between the drivers which sometimes escalated into street riots. The London crowd, never slow to seize an opportunity, would often rob the carts of their loads while the drivers were distracted. If that happened to him, the game would be up. He drove so cautiously, always allowing another cart to go first, that other drivers began to look suspiciously at him.
He made it back to Westminster Yard without incident.
Fawkes was waiting and opened the double doors as they approached, so that Rollo was able to drive the cart into the storeroom without stopping. Fawkes closed the doors behind the cart, and Rollo slumped with relief. He had got away with it.
He only had to do the same thing three more times.
Fawkes pointed to a new door in the wall, dimly visible by the light of a lamp. ‘I made a passage from here to the Wardrobe Keeper’s apartment,’ he said. ‘Now we can go from one to the other without stepping outside and risking being seen.’
‘Very good,’ said Rollo. ‘What about the cellar?’
‘I’ve bricked up the tunnel.’
