 Stories from Parliament. The gunpowder plot. Part one. This is not my story. I'm Will Danby. You won't find my name in the history books. I was just a servant, see? Just a man who lit fires and poured wine for his master. Robert Catesby. I don't care what they say about him, he was a good man. Brave, determined, strong, and I was proud to serve him. But he was guilty. They were all guilty. I knew what they were planning and said nothing, told no one. So perhaps I was guilty too. They first came to my master's house in Lambeth in London Town on the evening of the 20th of May, 1605. Let us in, Will. We have business with your master. This way, sir. Master Catesby is expecting you. Three of them I recognised. Thomas Percy, John Wright, and Thomas Wintour. But one was a stranger. A dark-haired man who seldom spoke. Guy Forks, Master Catesby. I am pleased to meet you. Welcome, Master Forks. I've heard much about you. I am glad that you could join us. Will, serve wine to these gentlemen. Yes, sir. Nobody notices a servant. When you're a servant, it's like being invisible. So sometimes you hear things. Things you're not supposed to hear. The treatment of our true Catholic Church gets worse every day, Master Catesby. The new King James fears and hates us as much as Elizabeth did. Our priests are still in hiding, and our people find and jailed. Even put to death if they refuse to accept the new religion. We must take action against the King. Yes, I am prepared to do it. For my faith here today, I draw my sword against the King. And I. And I. And I. And you, Master Forks, will you draw your sword against the King? What do you say? I say that we have to finish this persecution forever so that all Catholics can be free to worship in peace. Answer my question, Forks. Are you prepared to kill the King? The King? The government? The lords? And every Protestant tyrant who denies our freedom and spits on the true Church? We have to kill them all. Kill them all? And how would you propose to do that, Master Forks? Gunpowder, sir. 30 barrels of gunpowder in a cellar under the House of Lords. The State Opening of Parliament. They'll all be there. The King and all our enemies in one room. Then all it takes is a match. One single match. One tiny spark. And all gone. And that's when I should have said something. That's when I should have told someone. But I didn't. Over the next few weeks, a plot started to take shape. We have the gunpowder, Master Catesby. Forks has purchased 34 barrels, enough to blow the whole place to a million pieces. We're bringing it across the river in small boats. A few barrels every night. A cellar has been hired right under the House of Lords. I have the keys here. It's the perfect place for the gunpowder. The State Opening of Parliament is to be November the 5th, and our 34 barrels will be in place. That will be the day, gentlemen. November the 5th will be our day. We'll need matches and slow burning touch wood, so our man can light the fuse and still have time to escape before the whole place explodes. And who will be our man? Who will be the one to light the fuse? I will do it, gentlemen. Master Forks, you are prepared to do this? You're sure? I am sure. It will be an honour. On November the 4th, the night before the attack, I dreamt of Guy Forks. In my dream, he was walking through the cellar under Parliament with his lantern and his matches. In my dream, I saw him stand before the barrels of gunpowder and light his fuse to mighty explosion and felt the heat of the fire on my face. Then I woke. I was trembling. I knew that I should tell someone, warn the king of this terrible thing which was about to happen. But to my shame, I did nothing. They were all guilty, and I was guilty too. That night I tried to pray, but could not find the words.