"To this Sir Amyas replied by again protesting that Her Majesty did herself great wrong, did wrong to the Queen and state of England, to the council, and to himself, to think that they wished to undertake anything so unworthy or so insulting as to kill, to poignard, or murder her secretly, or of a sudden, whether by night or day; that he felt heart-broken to think he was supposed capable of committing such butchery, or of permitting such. 'The Queen is a woman of great talent and intelligence,' continued Paulet, 'and of experience in many things, and I am surprised that she should torment herself about this; she knows well that her priest, her steward, her dais, have all been taken away, and now she is disturbed for a trifle, because a rod which was borne before her food is taken away; she does harm to herself, being an attainted, convicted, and a condemned woman.'"
Bourgoing replied that she thought she had reason to be displeased, precisely because they showed ill-will in so small a matter, and for a trifle; she remembered that the same was done to King Richard, who was degraded from all honour and state, or at least of all signs of either, and then he was suddenly put to death, murdered in a moment. She feared the same would be done to her. Once more Sir Amyas flew into a rage, saying such words were not good to hear, and that such messages ought not to be sent to him, and accusing Bourgoing of himself inventing the message. Bourgoing assured him that he only repeated the Queen's words, and after a little further discussion they separated.
On Friday 3rd February Melville begged for an interview with Paulet, but the latter would not see him, and to all his messages of inquiry to know why he was separated from his mistress, and what he had done to deserve this, the same answer was returned,—Melville had done nothing blameworthy, but things must be as they were, and he must have patience.
Mary was more suffering in health during this time, and on the Saturday Bourgoing was sent to ask Paulet to allow him to search for some herbal remedies in the gardens of the neighbouring village. "Her Majesty," says Bourgoing, "sent the said Bourgoing to inform Sir Amyas of the indisposition, and to pray that he might be allowed to go out to gather herbs in some of the gardens of the gentlemen of the village to make a special remedy. He made a great point of this, but Sir Amyas said he should have everything he liked to ask for, if he would write it down, and being still pressed by Bourgoing to let him go himself, Sir Amyas replied that he could not be responsible alone for this, he must consult with his comrade Sir Drue Drury, and in the course of Monday he should have an answer. I pressed Sir Amyas," continues the faithful physician, "not to delay so long, as Her Majesty was already indisposed and quite crippled, I feared she should become seriously ill, as had often been the case before, the more especially as she had so few attendants with her to nurse and care for her, and for these reasons it was necessary for her to begin to use the remedies next day."[86]
On hearing this Paulet changed his mind, and as soon as Bourgoing left him, sent word that he might go out, although it was against his judgment. It is to be feared that this act of clemency was not due to mere benevolence on Paulet's part. A contemporary author thus comments on the fact: "This wretched traitor was expecting the warrant of execution, and knew no remedy would be needed, but to cause less suspicion he permitted on that day what had of late been forbidden."[87]
The same thought, doubtless, occurred to the Queen; for we read that on the next day, Sunday, when she was asked if she would continue the remedies, she, having heard of the arrival of Beale, replied that peradventure no more would be required, and that it was useless for her to take medicines if she was to die. Everything, indeed, now betokened the near approach of the final tragedy; nor were other signs wanting, such as impress the popular imagination.[88] "On the 29th January, which was a Sunday," writes another contemporary, "between midnight and one o'clock there appeared in the heavens a great flame of fire, which of a sudden illumined the window of the Queen's room, and gave a great light; it returned three times to the same place, and was seen in no other part of the said castle. This light was so bright that one could easily have read or written by it,—a thing which greatly astonished and alarmed the guards who were appointed to watch under that window, as they have all deposed."[89]
We must now leave the prisoner, to consider the cruel and, to her own courtiers, the most perplexing conduct of Elizabeth, as the moment approached when she saw herself forced to come to a final decision.