There is several practices in hand to cut off His Highness, and to make a diversion in the commonwealth of England…’
(The State Papers of John Thurloe)
Thomas Lovell saw the great fireworks being made. His father created them, on a table in their lodgings. Tom knew it was seriously dangerous. Orlando, who could airily take risks, even near his children, ordered him with great sternness not to touch any of the parts.
One explosive was built in a hand-basket. This was not just for concealment, but so the big sensitive bombarillo could be lifted and carried gently, without risk to those who handled it. It had not one but two slow fuses — lengths of match extending out on either side, each a yard long.
‘Six hours,’ said Lovell, groaning, as he gently massaged gunpowder into the matchcord to ensure that, once lit, it kept burning.
That seems long.’
Too long, Tom. Sindercombe’s ridiculous instructions. To give these ninnies enough time for their terrified gallop to freedom!’
If the explosion is to bring about a government that they want, why do they need to run away?’
‘Good question!’ Lovell laughed, proud of his son’s intelligence, which he naturally saw as inherited from himself. On the other hand, curiosity was always discouraged.
Where is it to be placed?’
We shall see.’
When will it be done?’
We shall see that too.’
It was to be like Guy Fawkes’s Gunpowder Plot. Lovell talked of that, while he was painstakingly putting together his own explosives. Fawkes’s plan had been to blow up the King and Parliament all together at Westminster. Fawkes hired a vault under the Houses of Parliament, and the conspirators stuffed the vault full of gunpowder; the constant problem with gunpowder was that it deteriorated — and in a very short time, if it became at all damp. It had been said that Fawkes’s decayed powder would have failed to ignite — although Lovell believed that was wrong; there had been so much powder in the confined vault — thirty-six barrels, say two and half tons — that once the burning match reached the hoarded barrels, they would have gone up in an enormous blast. All the powder would have activated. Not only would Parliament have disintegrated, blowing apart everyone inside, but the huge clouds of flying debris -large and small fragments of stone, glass, lead and rooftiles — would have wrought terrible damage throughout the village of Westminster, killing many others in the old medieval streets and narrow lanes.
‘There would have been devastation, Tom. It would have caused terror then and there, plus fear throughout the land for many weeks afterwards. There would have been an ear-bursting, heart-stopping noise — then a terrible silence. After that, darkness, a heavy pall of smoke, acres of ruin.’
And your devices will do the same in Whitehall?’
‘Mine will be different.’ Lovell continued to work the pitch and tar he was using. He was meticulous and methodical. Tom was sure these fireworks would behave properly; he could see why the other men viewed his father with respect. Lovell had made himself an expert. ‘Vaults under government buildings are no longer hired out to the public, so that avenue is closed. We cannot carry large containers of gunpowder into Whitehall Palace. Some busybody would ask what we were doing. The Protector keeps a parsimonious household; every barrel of whelks is counted in. His office-holders refuse bribes too.’
‘That is good?’ piped up Tom.
‘It is inconvenient for us!’ answered Lovell, delighting his son with a fiendish grin.
‘So what will you do?’
‘This firebomb will be sneaked in and will explode, though not too vigorously. Its purpose is to start a fire, very hot and fast — an uncontrollable conflagration that will burn down those old buildings in spectacular style. There are wooden beams, floorboards, panelling that will take a spark in an instant, dry-as-dust old plastering, all the ancient hangings they have kept from the King’s Wardrobe for the Protector’s enjoyment, which will blaze from floor to ceiling. The buildings, too, are full of windings and turnings, where a fire can take hold and trap people. Miles Sindercombe calls it the fittest hole for a tyrant to live in —’
‘Will young King Charles not need a palace? According to Master Sindercombe, he is coming back again.’
In fact, Sindercombe hopes he will not.’
They would cut off his head, if they caught him.’
Ah Thomas, my boy, you worry me sometimes. I believe you have been infected with the rebels’ ways of thought.’
Well, I should like to see this almighty firework when it is set off!’
‘You will see it go up, and so will all London.’
Lovell still kept the whereabouts of his lodgings secret from the others. In fact Sindercombe did the same, renting a room with a hatter, well away on London Bridge.
Lovell and Tom brought the first of the finished fireworks to an assignation with Sindercombe, then moved the device to John Toope’s quarters. This was blatant, since the Lifeguards’ barracks and stables were right in the Palace Mews.
Toope took Sindercombe and Boyes to reconnoitre and decide where best to plant their incendiary. They easily found their way into the ramshackle old building, unchecked by guards. They needed a central position, to create maximum damage with the initial blast, but a spot that was sufficiently isolated so the bomb would not be noticed while the long fuses burned. They would have to lay the device close to the Protector’s lodgings, when he was sure to be in residence. Sindercombe had in his pocket a skeleton key, which he used to try to open rooms that might be suitable; it failed to work. Boyes was not amused. So they talked about laying the firework on the head of a staircase at the back of the chapel, but that seemed too public. Irritable and havering, they reached no decision.
Sindercombe and Boyes were afraid Toope was uneasy. He told the authorities later that he would have revealed the plan to the Protector, but could not gain private access to Oliver that day.
Sindercombe was so nervous about the Lifeguard’s loyalty he recovered the device from Toope’s quarters and took it for safety to where Cecil lodged, in King Street. This narrow old street was very close to the palace; it ran from St Margaret’s, the Parliamentary church in Westminster, to one of the gates across Whitehall by St James’s Park, where the palace buildings began.
The following Tuesday, Sindercombe met Toope at the Ben Jonson tavern in the Strand, at the opposite end of Whitehall. They had further intense conversation about the best way to proceed. Sindercombe gave assurances that he was expecting money from Sexby in Flanders by the next Monday — implying Toope would be given more cash if he continued to co-operate. Toope seemed more at ease. He volunteered to set the firework in the palace himself. Miles Sindercombe brushed aside that idea.
On Thursday, which was the 8th of January, Sindercombe, Cecil and Toope met at the Bear in King Street, where Sindercombe told Toope he and Cecil were now agreed that the device should be placed inside the palace chapel. A meeting was arranged for five o’clock that night when they would finally install the firebomb. Its match would burn until around about midnight, setting off the explosion while people were in bed. They could be confident the Protector would be in his private accommodation close by. He would perish in the initial fireball. The conflagration would be all the more dramatic for taking place at night.
Dusk had fallen when they met outside the chapel. They checked that everything in the area seemed to be as they wanted, then Miles Sindercombe and John Cecil went to fetch the great firework from King Street, lighting its match before they brought it. Being January, there was wintry darkness outside and they moved through the stone-slabbed palace corridors in eerie shadow, their nervous footsteps sounding far too loud. If they had stopped for a moment, they would have heard the faint fizzing of the slow matchcord in the hand-basket.
Cecil had crept here and cut a hole in the heavy chapel door, so he could unbolt it. Once he opened up, he and Toope kept guard to ensure nobody came by and noticed their activity. Sindercombe went in by himself and positioned the device. He nestled the fire-basket in one of the chairs. Afterwards, Cecil relocked the door. It was around six o’clock when they all went their separate ways, walking short distances through cold dark streets, their breath wreathing white in the January chill. In ten minutes they were mostly back in their individual lodgings. Only Sindercombe had farther to go.
What Sindercombe and Cecil failed to see was that despite their money and blandishments, John Toope had changed his mind.
At the chapel, guards had been secretly watching them. As soon as the plotters left, they quickly found the firework. They took it outside and tested it, causing a great flare of fire.
The troops went after the conspirators. Toope, who had revealed the plan to Thurloe earlier that day, handed himself over meekly. Cecil was also easily captured, giving up without a struggle; under interrogation he admitted everything. Only Miles Sindercombe, who took longer to find, put up a desperate fight; the soldiers only just managed to overpower him, after one of them cut off part of his nose. Covered with blood and still struggling wildly, Sindercombe followed Cecil to imprisonment in the Tower of London. He alone refused to answer any questions.
One of the group was not taken that night, nor was he traced in succeeding weeks. ‘Boyes’ had discreetly vanished.