Rebels and traitors

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.

Cecil's black mount screamed quality. It drew the eye, compact and refined in build, with strong limbs, an expressive face, a clean- cut head, well- defined withers, laid- back shoulders and a well- arched neck. It looked around eagerly with large, intelligent eyes. Clearly it would go superbly. Anyone who knew anything about horses could see this was an astounding animal. The Lord Protector, a cavalryman to the core, immedately noticed it.

Oliver descended from his coach. To the plotters' horror, he called John Cecil over, to ask who owned the horse.

Soldiers were everywhere, but Cecil now came as close as he could ever hope for. Face to face with Cromwell, he could have shot him point- blank. Here he was: the unmistakeable general. Now fifty-seven years old, sturdily built like the Huntingdon farmer he had started out; the florid complexion with the famous great wart under the centre of his lower lip; the high forehead from which lank hair straggled back, straight to ear level then slightly curled; the undistinguished grey moustache; the open face enlivened by that bright, hard stare.

As Cromwell talked about the horse admiringly, Cecil nearly collapsed. He had dressed in thin clothes that day, to make himself lighter in the getaway, so at the end of September he was very cold, which hampers courage. Cold-blooded murder was not for everyone. Most soldiers had killed opponents, but enemy troops were often indicated only by a puff of matchsmoke up ahead beside a hedge or by shadowy movement behind fortifications.

Now here was the Protector, once Cecil's commander. Cromwell's face was resoundingly famous from news-sheet, portrait and coinage. He had no royal hauteur; he was quite approachable. In the rhetoric of Sexby and Sindercombe he might be a tyrant, but for John Cecil at that moment Oliver Cromwell was flesh and blood, unarmed, out of uniform, completely vulnerable to unfair surprise.

Cecil could not do it. He excused himself later by saying that escape would have failed because the fabulous horse had a cold that day.. Cecil and Sindercombe slunk away like disappointed ferrets.

On the Continent, Sexby grew ever more agitated. Sindercombe and his group were taking too long. It reflected badly on Sexby, whose extravagant Spanish bankers expected results. His fragile accord with Charles IFs Royalists was also at risk. Boyes and Major Wood reported back scathingly on the London bungles. Sindercombe and the others realised that Sexby harboured doubts about their competence. They set up a new plan, which had to be carried out quickly, to show that they were serious and not idle.

They were going to blow up Whitehall.