She sent for her young confidant when the audience was over, and greeted him with, ‘Now, foolish boy, you shall be contented. He is fast for us—will say nothing if we say nothing.’
‘Oh, madam, did he seek to bargain with your Majesty?’
She laughed. ‘No, no! Nor did I cross his palm with earnest-money. But there would have been no harm.’
‘Madam,’ he said, ‘you shall forgive me for saying that there would have been much. It is not for the prince to compound with treason, nor for a noble, innocent lady to traffic with the guilty.’
She stopped his mouth, her hand upon it. ‘Hush, thou foolish boy! What treason did he do? To set me free—is this treason? To rid me of my tyrant—was this guilt?’
He hung his head, and she watched his confusion; then, repenting, stroked his face, murmuring, ‘Foolish boy! Fond boy! Fond and foolish both—to love a lover!’
She told him a secret. She had heard two women talking beyond the garden wall. They spoke laughingly together of the Red Bridegroom—‘and of me, Baptist, they spake somewhat.’
‘I know, I know! Tell me no more.’
‘Of me they spake,’ she went on. ‘“Bothwell’s wench,” they said, “Bothwell’s——”’
He caught at her wrist. ‘Stop! I will not hear you! I shall kill myself if you say that word!’