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.
Major Wood, Boyes's colleague, wrote to the Royalists on the Continent that if Colonel Sexby had been there, he might have kept their courage up and carried it off. Sexby was only pulling strings from a distance. Even so, they felt his impatience. To pacify Sexby, another plot was swiftly put in hand.
Chapter Eighty — The Hyde Park Plot, 1656
By now they had attempted assassination from three different houses: the sempster's shop in King Street, the house by Westminster Abbey and another they had rented previously, which was out in Hammersmith. Lovell told Tom the Hammersmith location had been ideal as it was right on the road to Hampton Court, at a narrow dirty place where coaches were forced to slow down; there was a little banqueting house built on the garden wall, from where they had intended to shoot the Protector's coach to pieces using prepared splatter guns, armed with destructive shrapnel. The plan was good. The right opportunity never seemed to happen. Perhaps forewarned, Cromwell changed his habits.
They now hit on a way they could get close to Cromwell without attracting attention. He had given up his regular retreat to Hampton Court — a routine which had invented the English five- day week and leisured country weekend as, ever a countryman, he tried to escape the noise and smoke of London. While his Parliament was sitting, the Protector was too busy to leave Whitehall. Instead, he made it a habit to take the air in Kensington or Hyde Park. Hyde Park, once the great hunting ground of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, had a large circular carriage track, created by Charles I so members of his court could drive around in fashionable style. It was surrounded by palings, to keep in the deer.
Once again the plotters tackled the problem with considerable ingenuity. As always, their main concern was how they could get away safely after their attack. They secretly made a gap in the palings. Since this could not be too large or it might be spotted, they also broke the hinges on the park gates. Tom had to go with them and act as a lookout while they were filing through the metal.
More importantly, they equipped themselves with the fastest horses they could buy. Thanks to Sexby, money was no object. At one time they talked of getting together a party of thirty or forty mounted men, so they wheeled and dealed with horse traders — Vanbrooke, Harvey, Cluff — surly men who carried surprising amounts of money in the vast pockets of shabby coats, men who gave off an odour of cheating, yet who surprisingly honoured any bargain they shook hands on. Eventually, assembling a large troop of horses in secret became too difficult; it would be obvious they were fitting up cavalry. They changed their plan. Only two superb getaway horses were now required. At a time when an ordinary cavalry trooper's horse cost five pounds, they lavished seventy-five pounds of Sexby's funding on a magnificent black beast they found in Carshalton and bought from a Mr Morgan. Then they gave another eighty pounds for a bay from Lord Salisbury's stable; Lord Salisbury lived in retirement at his family home, Hatfield House near St Albans, so he may not have known anything about the sale personally, but he had been elected to the new Parliament then barred from sitting, so the plotters knew he had a grouch against the government. Salisbury's horse was stabled at Cobham.
Obtaining these two horses needed much negotiation, but the conspirators now had mounts which would outstay any pursuit. Cecil claimed the black would go for a hundred miles without drawing bit, and would gallop the first ten miles so fast he would out- run any horse in England. Escape was vital to John Cecil, who intended to make his way over to the Continent; there, Miles Sindercombe had assured him, he would be well looked after by Colonel Sexby.
Tom saw this black horse and thought it beautiful, though to him a little frightening.
Toope, the Lifeguard, was still in theory providing them with details of Cromwell's movements. This time John Cecil was assigned to the killing, while Miles Sindercombe would wait anxiously outside the park, ready to assist the escape by pushing over the gates with their weakened hinges. On the day, Cromwell arrived for his regular airing; he came from Whitehall by coach but then would walk. Cecil had the black horse, Sindercombe the bay. They carried swords and pistols. Cecil, with his military contacts, was able to lurk on the fringes of the Protector's escort party, looking like part of the entourage.
The park had been designed for great people who believed they oozed style and charisma to display themselves ostentatiously to the jealous public. Even for the frugal Protector's appearances, members of the public hung about, ogling loyally. Lifeguards sometimes came prancing up on their great horses, moving the plebs back, but often they were more relaxed. It was meant to be a pleasant occasion. Oliver — as he was now familiarly known — saw himself as a simple servant of the Lord. When the public came to watch him, he responded with neither pretensions to grandeur nor paranoia.
