It was the year 1605 and having been laid off after the harvest, Geordie decided to go down to London to look for work. On the very day that he arrived in the big city, he was standing admiring the Parliament building when this well dressed gent sidled up to him and hissed, ‘You wanta some post cards?’ No I tell a lie, what the bloke actually said was, ‘Excuse me sir would you by any chance be looking for work?’
The bloke had a fancy way of talking but Geordie didn’t hold it against him and said, ‘Aye I’m skint.’
‘In that case my good man, meet me at the Cock and Bull tonight and perchance I can put some employment your way.’
That evening after a quick spit and a lick, Geordie made his way to the Cock and Bull, where the man, who said his name was Robert, introduced him to his friend Guido, ‘This is Geordie the lad I was telling you about, Guido.’
‘Well he certainly looks strong enough for the task,’ said Guido. ‘You are hired; meet me at seven am; outside Parliament.
The next morning Guido took Geordie to a house opposite the parliament building and had him move three large barrels from the cellar of the house, along a tunnel and stack them in another cellar beneath the parliament building. It seemed a bit dodgy, but when he asked, Guido explained that he and Robert were opening a new bar inside Parliament and the barrels contained ale. But Guido was telling porkies as Geordie found out the next day when one of the three barrels he moved leaked a bit of black powder. ‘Blummin 'eck,’ he muttered. ‘They’re not inn keepers, they’re terrorists.’
But what was he to do, he couldn’t shop them to the authorities, he had been brought up never to shop anyone. He would just have to find a way to foil their plot, but before he could do that, he needed to find out how much time he had. ‘Guido, how many more barrels do you want me to move?’ he asked at the end of his shift.
‘Why?’
‘Oh, it’s just that it’s such a cushy number, I was wondering how long it would last?’
Guido laughed, ‘There are another twenty four, so it’ll last a few days yet.’
That night Geordie sat in the corner of an inn near to his lodgings with a tankard of ale; he took a sip and grimaced, it was lukewarm, flat and as weak as water. Still, that was as well; he needed a clear head, he only had a week to come up with a plan.
‘Excuse me is this seat taken?’ a voice enquired.
He looked up the voice belonged to a well-dressed gentleman with the bandiest legs he’d ever seen. He nodded absently still lost in thought.
‘You look as if you’ve lost a penny and found a farthing.’
Geordie looked at the mans legs and said, ‘And you look as if you can ride a horse.’
The man grinned, ‘I’m the best rider hereabouts, I have to be, I’m a Highwayman, The name’s Dick by the way.’
Geordie shook the offered hand and said, ‘I’m Geordie, excuse me ignorance, but if you work on the Highways, why do you need to ride a horse?’
‘Because, Geordie my boy, I’m a Highwayman, the kind that robs the rich at gunpoint and flees from the law on horseback.’
Interested despite himself Geordie had to ask, ‘And you’ve never been caught?’
‘No, my horse Bess is the fastest in the land, why only last week I rode her from London to York in a day.’
Bing! Problem sorted, ‘Listen Dick if I asked you to deliver a note to my cousin Jack Brown, in Newcastle, could you do it in twenty four hours?’
‘I could, but what’s in it for me?’
‘How about enough ale, so that you can retire and set up your own inn.’
‘That’ll do me, give me the note and I’ll go tonight.’
On the afternoon of the 2nd of November, Geordie was a at the dock to meet the good ship ‘Bobby Shafto’ and along with his cousin Jack and the ten lads that he’d brought with him, he transferred thirty replacement barrels from the ship onto two drays.
On the 3rd Geordie moved the penultimate three barrels of gunpowder across and hid in the alley at the side of the house when he was finished. Half an hour later the last three barrels of gunpowder arrived, were manhandled inside and Guido locked up and left. Geordie waited until he was out of sight, took the duplicate key out of his pocket and then signalled for Jack and the lads to bring up the drays. By four am, they’d stacked all the gunpowder in the backroom of the house placed the new barrels in the cellar under Parliament and left three in the cellar of the house.
The next morning Geordie moved the three replacement barrels into the cellar beneath Parliament and stacked them with the rest and that was when things went a bit wrong. The Parliamentarian Guards burst into the cellar and arrested the two of them, Guido was hauled off to The Tower. But Geordie, who swore he was innocent and could prove it, took a spigot and mallet from his pocket, tapped one of the barrels, filled a tankard and handed it to the chief of the guards. The Chief drained the tankard and said, ‘By that’s a drop of good stuff, what’s it called?’
‘It’s Brown’s ale and it comes from Newcastle, Chief,’ said Geordie with a smile.
Well, to cut a long story short, they had a party and when the king heard all the racket, he joined in. Then just after midnight when Geordie and the king were outside having a smoke – there was no smoking allowed inside – the king insisted that Geordie show him the gunpowder. Unfortunately as the king leaned forward to take a closer look, his pipe set off one of the fuses and they had to make a run for it. Behind them, the house exploded with a roar and as they turned to watch the flames climb into the sky Geordie said, ‘By that’s a bonny fire, Your Majesty.’ The king nodded.
That day at the opening of The House, the king made a speech praising Geordie for saving Parliament and decreed that from henceforth, on the 5th day of November, every town in the land should have it’s own ‘Bonny Fire’.
(c) Nancy Mitford
The best psychological health comes from admitting your faults and recognizing they're caused by someone else.
Wizzzard xxx
