He said, ‘Ay, I do. It is me they want, these dogs. You will be safe if they know that I am away—and I will take care they do know it. I go to Dunbar, whence you shall hear from me by some means. Crookstone, come you with me, and come you, Hobbie. Paris, you stay here.’
‘Pardon, master,’ says Paris, ‘I go with your lordship.’
Pale Paris was measured with his eye. ‘I’ll kill you if you do, my fine man.’
‘That is your lordship’s affair,’ says Paris with deference; ‘but first I will show you the way out. There are horses in the undercroft.’
Bothwell lifted up his wife, held her in his arms and kissed her twice. ‘Fie, you are cold!’ he said, and put her down. She had lain listless against him, without kissing.
He turned at once and followed Paris; young Crookstone followed him. It seems that he got clear off in the way he intended, for the noises outside the house ceased; and in the grey of the morning, before three o’clock, all was quiet about the policies. They must have been within an ace of capturing him: in fact, Paris admitted afterwards that they were but a bowshot away at one time.
The Queen sent Seton for Des-Essars at about four o’clock in the morning. Neither mistress nor maid had been to bed.
He found her in a high fever; her eyes glowing like jet, her face white and pinched; the stroke of her certain fate drawing down her mouth. She said, ‘I have been a false woman, a coward, and a shame to my race.’
‘God knows your Majesty is none of these.’
‘Baptist, I am going to my lord.’