An excitement was gripping me. I told myself it was because of the nature of the exercise rather than because I should be with him.
“Oh come on,” he said. “You are not doing anything important, are you? No business with your husband. A little jaunt can do no harm and I’ll be perfectly harmless on the streets, won’t I? What tricks could I get up to there?”
“I’ll come,” I said.
“Brave lady!” he said ironically. “Go and get your cloak. I’ll be here. I shall just slip up and tell Millicent that I have to go out.”
“Tell her that I shall be with you,” I said.
He smiled at me slyly and said nothing.
There was excitement in the streets of London—and not only because I was with Jonathan.
“The best time is at night,” he said, “when the bonfires are lighted. We must come out tonight.”
“Do you think the others would want to?”
“David… perhaps… Millicent… perhaps too. It would be more fun if you and I were alone.”
I said: “Look at that extraordinary guy. What is it supposed to be?”
“I could not begin to guess. Perhaps just Master Fawkes himself.”
Six ragged little boys carried the straw-packed figure, singing as they went:
Guy, guy, guy, stick him up in high,
Hang him on the lamp post and there let him die.
Jonathan slipped a coin into their proffered hands which set them grinning with delight.
“Who is your guy?” he asked.
“It’s the Pope, mister,” said the tallest of the urchins.
“How stupid of me not to recognize him,” replied Jonathan lightly. “The likeness is remarkable.”
The boys gaped at him and we passed on, laughing.
“Most of them don’t know what it’s about,” said Jonathan. “Something to do with Catholics, that’s all. Let’s hope they don’t start insulting people of that faith. It can happen when they get rowdy later on.”
We saw many guys—grotesque figures made of straw and old rags which would burn well on the bonfires which would be lighted that evening.
The words were chanted through the streets and I found myself singing with them.
Remember, remember, the fifth of November,
Gunpowder treason and plot.
We see no reason, the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.
Jonathan took me where I might see the parade of the butchers who came from all the markets to join in the procession, clapping marrow bones together.
A stick and a stake for King George’s sake
A stick and a stump for Guy Fawkes’ rump
Holler boys, holler boys, make the bells ring.
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the King.
I watched with amusement and I said: “How different from the mob at the opening of Parliament.”
“The mob is here already,” he answered seriously. “It’s ready to emerge at the appropriate moment. On occasions like this it is lurking.”
“And you are watchful.”
He said: “We should all be watchful. The King was very lucky the other day. Shall we go to a coffee house? Would you like coffee or chocolate? We’ll hear some amusing talk, I daresay. We might learn something. I know of a good one close to the river. Jimmy Borrows’ Riverside Inn. You can watch the boats from the windows while you drink.”
“I should like that,” I told him.
He took my arm and I could not help it if I was happy, as I had been on that other occasion when we were out together.
It was a short step to the river. Jimmy Borrows evidently knew Jonathan.
He gave him a wink and nod as we entered and after I was seated Jonathan went over to him to have a word. They were in earnest conversation for some moments.
I knew enough now to understand that the tavern men were supplying information to Jonathan. I was beginning to learn a little about this secret business. Men like Jonathan and his father had contacts everywhere. It was for this reason that Dickon had been able to find the help he needed when he brought my mother safely out of France against such tremendous odds.
Jonathan returned to me, and hot chocolate was brought to us.
“Now, is this not pleasant?” he asked. “Here we are, you and I together, which is how it should be… often.”
“Don’t spoil it, Jonathan, please.”
“As if I would ever spoil anything for you!”
“I think we have spoiled a great deal, you and I between us.”
“I thought I had put that right. I thought you were beginning to understand.”
“Oh, you are referring to your philosophy. One is only guilty if one is found out.”
“It’s a good one. Look at these people strolling along by the river. How contented they look! Out to enjoy themselves! What dark secrets do you think they are hiding?”
“How could I know?”
“I asked you to guess. Look at that pretty little woman smiling up at her husband. But is he her husband? I suspect he is her lover. And if he is her husband, then she is far too pretty to be consistently faithful to him.”
“You are determined to bring everyone down to your level,” I said. “I believe there are virtuous people in the world.”
“The chaste and the pure! Show them to me and I’ll find sins of which they are guilty. They probably suffer from self-righteousness, pride in their virtue, condemnation of the weaker vessel. Now I would say that is a sin… far more than a little pleasant dalliance which has brought the greatest pleasure to two deserving people.”
I was staring out of the window. Alighting from one of the boats was a party of men. They carried a guy with them and there was no doubt who this one was meant to represent. It wore a farmer’s coat and there was a straw in its mouth. It had been very well done and on the head was a crown.
I said: “It’s the King.”
Jonathan was not facing the window and he said: “What… where? Coming down the river… surely not.”
“It’s a guy… made to look like the King,” I said. “And they are going to burn it.”
“That’s mischief.” Jonathan was up, but before he reached the window, I cried: “Jonathan, look. Billy Grafter is with them.”
Jonathan was beside me. The men were on the bank now… the guy in the arms of one of them.
“By God,” said Jonathan, “I’ll get him now.”
He ran out of the inn; I was immediately behind him.
Just at that moment Billy Grafter saw him and if ever I recognized panic in a man’s face I did then. Grafter turned and jumped into the boat and within a matter of seconds was pulling away from the bank.
Jonathan looked round him. There were several boats moored at the spot. He did not hesitate. He took my hand and almost threw me into one of them; then he was there beside me.
I could see Billy Grafter rowing as fast as he could. The tide was with him and he was making progress. But then so were we.
“I’ll bring him in,” growled Jonathan. “I’ll get him this time.”
The distance between us remained the same. Billy Grafter looked as though he was rowing for his life, which he probably was.
I clutched the side of the boat. I thought I was going to be thrown into the river at any moment. Jonathan was gaining when another boat drew level with us.
“Get out of my way,” shouted Jonathan.
The man in the boat said: “You insolent knave. Why should I? Do you own the river?”
“You’re obstructing me,” yelled Jonathan.
I could see Billy Grafter rowing furiously a little way ahead of us. Jonathan spurted forward. We were almost on a level with him now. Then the man who had come up beside us turned sharply, barring our way. Jonathan shot forward and within a matter of seconds we were in the water and Billy Grafter was getting farther and farther away.