The candles shine strangely in this moonlight. Your faces are caught in their dancing, you who are seated in a semicircle of intrigue.
The bell will soon toll for noble Guy Fawkes, and long-enduring chains with newly oppressed young minds will explode in fireworks.
But a knock at the door will end it all.
In comes the law with righteous fury, beating in the faces of the conspirators. Stop your plans; put away the maps; soon we will have nothing left.
Guy promised all, but Parliament took vengeance with arcane severity. The room is battered, the actors arrested and the farce is over.
And just before the torture and the unjust slaughter of freedom, Guy thought of his freer times – long before his inverted role in government.
He saw her standing there by the window, throwing back her hair and laughing. He saw him too, moving with clumsy footfalls over a nightingale floor.
Why wait anymore to expose the lie?
