‘If Babington goes to Lichfield,’ said Phelippes when Berden had left, ‘he will discover that the letter from Mary was not posted at Chartley and everything will fall apart. He must be stopped.’ He turned to Cassie. ‘You must go at once to Sir Francis. Tell him I want a lusty fellow from his staff to act as armed guard, and two lusty geldings to carry us. We will set off at one o’clock tomorrow.’
Cassie left and Phelippes and I tried to resume our normal work, but it was impossible. One of the servants brought us food as night fell, though Phelippes had not sent for it. I suspected that Sir Francis had left instructions for us to be cared for by his staff. Neither of us had much appetite. Then later a man I did not know arrived with a message for Phelippes. If Phelippes went at once to Poley’s lodgings, he could take Babington and a whole group of his friends. Cassie had returned, so the three of us set out at once, but found Poley’s lodgings deserted. Was this some kind of trick? Or were Poley and Babington merely laughing up their sleeves at us?
Wearily, we trudged back to Seething Lane. Before we were halfway there it began to rain, a malicious, penetrating drizzle that left us all in gloomy spirits. Even Phelippes did not know the man who had brought the message and wondered whether it was some kind of trap by the conspirators, set to test their suspicions that Phelippes was ready to make arrests. It was not a cheering thought.
However, better news came with the morning. It was now Wednesday, just two days before Sir Francis wanted the arrests to take place. Berden sent word that he had found Babington in his new lodgings out Shoreditch way, near where he himself lived in the precincts of Bedlam hospital. Appropriate, I thought, for the whole dance of conspirators and pursuers had become a revel of madmen.
By eight o’clock that morning Phelippes had sent word of Babington’s new whereabouts to both Mylles and Sir Francis. Mylles joined us at Seething Lane soon afterwards.
‘Well, this is better news,’ he said as he came in. ‘What says Sir Francis? When do we proceed?’
‘There has not been time for an answer yet,’ Phelippes said. ‘He may want us to arrest Ballard before he gives us the slip again. Do you have the warrant?’
Mylles tapped the front of his doublet, which made a rustling sound. ‘I carry it with me at all times, lest it is needed. It is signed by Lord Admiral Howard. We want to keep Sir Francis’s name out of this. Ballard must be arrested as a Catholic priest, for all he calls himself Captain Fortescue. There will be no hint that he has any connection with this plot to overthrow the country and murder the Queen. That way we may hope to lull the suspicions of the other conspirators.’
‘We must devise the best way to carry it out, to make that quite clear,’ Phelippes said.
‘How is that possible?’ I asked.
‘It must seem to be an arrest by the city authorities. They are busy pursuing known Catholics. We had trouble enough earlier this year stopping them arresting Gifford by mistake. They were a little over zealous.’
Sir Francis’s answer to the news that Babington had been found came in a letter to Phelippes later that day. He was clearly troubled that Babington had not yet produced an answer to Mary’s letter, but action could not be delayed much longer.
Phelippes read parts of the letter out to us. ‘This is what Sir Francis says: “It is a hard matter to resolve. Only this I conclude: it were better to lack the answer than to lack the man.” So we go after Ballard tomorrow, the others on Friday.’
Berden kept watch on the conspirators the rest of that day, following them to the Royal Exchange in the evening, where he said they walked about in earnest discussion, then back by the alleyway that led to the Castle for supper. It was after midnight when he came to Seething Lane to report that he had followed them home. Ballard had gone to Poley’s lodgings for the night.
The next morning Berden reported that Babington and Savage had met at Poley’s lodgings. It was urgent that Babington should not be alarmed, but the arrangements for the arrest of Ballard were now out of Phelippes’s hands.
‘It should be very neat, Kit,’ he explained, though he looked worried. ‘Provided Babington leaves before the city authorities arrive. Mylles has had two city pursuivants lodging with him for some time, ready for just such an operation. They will act under the jurisdiction of a city official, who happens to be Thomas Cassie’s father. The warrant is signed by Lord Admiral Howard. Berden’s brother-in-law makes up the official party and will search the lodgings for anything incriminating.’
He smiled. ‘So you see, there is nothing about their actions to connect them either to Sir Francis or to me, although our invisible hand is everywhere. It is merely the arrest of another Catholic priest who has entered the country illegally.’
The arrest went smoothly. Between eleven and noon that Thursday morning, Poley’s lodgings were raided, Ballard was arrested on the grounds of being a Catholic priest and taken immediately to the Counter prison in Wood Street. Berden’s brother-in-law searched the premises and reported back to Mylles, who wrote to Sir Francis about his strong suspicions of Poley, whom he believed to be a traitor who had been passing secret information to Ballard and Babington, and should also be arrested.
There was just one problem.
Babington had still been at Poley’s lodgings when the arrest party arrived. Although they paid no attention to him, as they had been instructed, Babington was not that much of a fool. He took to his heels and fled London.
Later, we found that he had left a final letter for Robert Poley. Like most of us, it seemed that he did not altogether trust Poley, for his letter concluded: ‘Farewell sweet Robyn, if as I take thee, true to me. If not, adieu, omnius bipedum nequissimus.’
In this I agreed heartily with Babington. Poley was, of all two-footed creatures, the vilest.
The next day, the Friday that was to have seen the arrest of Babington and the other conspirators, Sir Francis went to the Queen to inform her of the latest situation. He must have been furious and frustrated that he could only report the arrest of Ballard. If Ballard refused to speak, he would be moved to the Tower and tortured.
The whole of London was in an uproar. Lord Burghley issued a royal proclamation, demanding that all citizens turn out to search for Anthony Babington and Chidioke Tycheborne. The general hue and cry was raised throughout London. All the city pursuivants were mustered and began a house-to-house search for the conspirators. All roads out of town were watched and the watchmen in nearby towns and villages in all directions were ordered to carry out searches in case the wanted men had already slipped through the net which had been thrown around the city.
With this much public activity going on, the people in the streets were soon talking of nothing else, and a sense of panic began to spread. Shopkeepers boarded up their shops. Women and children were hustled away indoors, for fear that armed traitors were on the loose. The rumour soon started that a French army had landed in Sussex and was even now marching toward us. Gangs of eager apprentices, armed with heavy cudgels, roamed the streets, with their usual cry to arms: ‘Clubs! Clubs!’ They were the only ones enjoying the situation.
I had not been home for days and could only hope that my father was safe. Probably he was busy in the hospital, for it was certain that in the chaos and uncertainty there would be fights and violent attacks on innocent people. The citizens of London have always enjoyed an excuse for a good brawl.
The assassin Savage was arrested quite quickly and questioned by Sir Francis and Sir Christopher Hatton, the Queen’s vice-chamberlain. Phelippes gave me his notes of the interrogation to write up in a fair copy. It was clear from what Savage said that to the very end the conspirators believed that Gifford was a loyal follower of Mary and the means of conveying letters by beer barrel was their own secret and secure method.