Guy Fawkes Night ADULTS B1

Guy Fawkes Night 5 of November 1605 Bravery doesn’t always win — but it always matters.

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Remember, remember! The fifth of November, The Gunpowder treason and plot; I know of no reason Why the Gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot!

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My name is Thomas, and many years ago I worked as a servant in the house of Mr Guy Fawkes, a quiet but very determined man. He lived in a small house near the Thames, and I helped him with his clothes, his meals, and sometimes carried messages for him. I didn’t know much about his life, but I could see that he was a man with strong ideas. One cold evening in October 1605, Mr Fawkes invited a few friends to dinner. I remember their names — Mr Catesby, Mr Percy, and Mr Winter. They were serious men, speaking in low voices. I served them roasted meat, bread, and some red wine. While they were eating, I was staying near the door, pretending not to listen. But of course, I heard almost everything. They were talking about the king — King James I — and how unfairly he treated Catholics. “England will never change unless someone makes a real act,” said Mr Catesby. Mr Fawkes nodded and answered, “Then we shall do it ourselves. The Parliament must burn.” I almost dropped a plate. Burn the Parliament? It sounded impossible. But they already had a plan — they would hide barrels of gunpowder under the building and blow it up when the king came.

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I remember that part very well. They did not bring all the powder at once. They worked slowly and carefully. First, they had to find powder. Powder was not easy to buy in large amounts. So, the men made small purchases from different merchants. Sometimes they bought gunpowder that was used for mining or for the navy. Other times they asked for barrels that looked like coal or salt. They used carts at night. A cart would leave a house in the west part of the city and move quietly to the Parliament area. The men who drove the carts were always trusted friends. They told the drivers that the barrels were coal for the winter. No one checked the barrels closely because many houses needed fuel. When the barrels arrived, the men moved them through back doors and service corridors. They were careful. They walked slowly and talked in whispers. Often only two men carried each barrel. Mr Fawkes watched every move. He knew how to handle gunpowder. He told the others how to put the barrels in the cellar so they would not break or leak.

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They had been working for several weeks. Sometimes they came in the morning, sometimes in the very early hours. I saw them bring more barrels at dawn. Each time they stacked them low and covered them with sacks or coal. The cellar looked like a store of fuel. Only the men who planned the plot knew what was really inside.They counted the barrels many times. I heard them say the number — thirty-six — and repeat it as if it were a plan that had to be exact. Mr Fawkes checked the lids and the ropes. He tested the darkness and the air in the cellar. He wanted to be sure the powder was safe until the night they chose. Everything was secret. They used lies and small tricks so no one would suspect. I was afraid to tell anyone. I only served the food and carried the candles. But the day the soldiers opened the cellar, I saw the truth with my own eyes. The barrels were heavy and the smell of the powder was strong. That is a memory I will never forget.

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Mr Fawkes said he would guard the barrels himself on the night before the explosion. For weeks, they worked secretly. I often saw Mr Fawkes leave the house at night and return before dawn, his hands black with dust. I guessed what he was doing, but I was afraid to speak. Then, one morning, everything changed. Mr Fawkes looked pale and angry. “Someone has betrayed us,” he said. Later I learned that one of the plotters had written a letter to his relative, Lord Monteagle, warning him to stay away from Parliament on the fifth of November. Lord Monteagle showed the letter to the king’s men. That was the end. That night, soldiers entered the cellar and found thirty-six barrels of gunpowder — and Mr Fawkes, guarding them with matches in his pocket. He was arrested before he could light the fuse. The next days were terrible. People in London talked only about the “Gunpowder Plot.” Mr Fawkes was taken to the Tower of London and questioned. I never saw him again. Even now, every year on the fifth of November, when I see the bonfires and fireworks, I remember that night. People celebrate his failure, but in my heart I know he was brave — maybe too brave for his time.

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End of the quiz!

How much did you get?

How many questions have you answered correctly?

70% and more

less than 70%

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Congratulations! You have answered all the questions correctly. As you place the last key into the lock, the heavy prison door opens with a creak. You’ve saved Guy Fawkes!!! He owes you his freedom. Together you run through the dark corridors of the Tower. Outside, the night is cold and silent — only the sound of the river and distant bells. At the edge of London, two strong horses are waiting. Guy Fawkes jumps into the saddle, turns to you one last time and says: “Thank you, my friend. Remember, freedom is worth every risk.” Then he rides away into the darkness, disappearing beyond the city lights.

Unfortunately, you didn’t answer enough questions correctly. The guards hear the noise, rush into the cell, and stop you before you can help him. Guy Fawkes looks down sadly and sighs, “So… this is the end.” The iron door closes again with a loud sound. The cell is cold, and the candle burns low. For dinner, there is only a piece of bread and a cup of water. Outside, the city celebrates, but in the dark prison, silence falls. Guy Fawkes sits alone, whispering to himself, “Maybe one day… someone else will finish what we started.”