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The two young Siwards, as knowing the country and the folk, pushed forward, and with them Martin Lightfoot, to bring back news. Martin ran back all the way from Holbeach, the very first day, with right good news. There was not a Frenchman in the town. Neither was there, they said, in Spalding. Ivo Taillebois was still away at the wars, and long might he stay.
Dec. 29, 1817, charged with feloniously assaulting Wm. Rowbottom of Holbeach Marsh, between 11 and 12 o'ck in the night, in a field near the king's highway, and stealing from his person 3 promissory £10 notes, 8 or 10 shillings in silver, one silver stop and seconds watch, and various other goods and chattels. Both guilty Death. William Hayes, aged 20, late of Braceby, weaver, com.
Holbeach, Spalding, Freiston, Holland, and I know not how much more was their land. When the monasteries were destroyed their lordship fell into the hands of that high class now old, then new the Cromwells and Russells and the rest, upon whom has since depended the greatness of the country. The intensive spirit proper to a teeming but humble population was forgotten.
They then passed into Staffordshire, and by night reached the house of Stephen Littleton, called Holbeach house, about two miles from Stourbridge. By this time the whole country was raised in pursuit of the rebels; and a large party, under the direction of Sir Richard Walshe, high sheriff of Worcestershire, early on Friday morning arrived at Holbeach house.
And at Holbeach, and at Spalding, Hereward split up the war-arrow, and sent it through Kesteven, and south into the Cambridge fens, calling on all men to arm and come to him at Bourne, in the name of Waltheof and Morcar the earls. And at every farm and town he blew the war-horn, and summoned every man who could bear arms to be ready, against the coming of the Danish host from Norwich.
As dull night drew on, the horses jaded, their riders fainting from fatigue and fear, the luckless gentlemen reached Holbeach, the house of Stephen Littleton. The early stars were twinkling in the gray vault of heaven when lights from the welcome asylum greeted their eyes. Percy turned to Catesby, who rode at his side.
Those with him when he received the news begged him to fly; but he only looked upon them with clouded brow, and said: "Nay; Catesby is dead. I will see to his burial; a gallant gentleman, and my friend!" Thus he rode in all haste to Holbeach, to find there his friends unharmed; close following him were the soldiers of the King.
It was scarce daybreak when the horse bearing Sir Thomas Winter stopped before the door of the ill-fated Holbeach mansion. Report had reached him of the explosion, also that many of his companions were sorely wounded, and that Catesby lay dead, with body shattered by the firing of the powder. Then was proved his gentle blood, and the valor of his race.
"H H.O. here we are! Hockley Hoe no." He turned another three or four pages. "Holbeach Hollington Hollingwood Holme ah, here we have it! Holmfirth, Holme Fell, Holme Moss, HOLMNESS." He paused for a moment, scanning the page while they held their breath. Then he read aloud, yet not so as to disturb the other students "'Holmness. An Island or Islet in the Bristol Channel " "Ah!"
Finding, however, that there had been a plot, and that it had been discovered, the party disappeared in the course of the night, and left them alone with Sir Everard Digby. Away they all rode again, through Warwickshire and Worcestershire, to a house called Holbeach, on the borders of Staffordshire. They tried to raise the Catholics on their way, but were indignantly driven off by them.
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