Its walls were adorned with emblems and
initials of former Scottish royalties, and an old tapestry representing
the mythological story of the fall of Photon, who, according to the
Greeks, lost his life in rashly attempting to drive the chariot of his
father the God of the Sun. Here we saw Queen Mary's bed, which must have
looked superb in its hangings of crimson damask, trimmed with green silk
fringes and tassels, when these were new, but now in their decay they
seemed to remind us of their former magnificence and of their
unfortunate owner, to whom the oft-quoted words
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown
so aptly applied. We wondered how many times her weary head had passed
its restless nights there, and in the many castles in which she had been
placed during her long imprisonment of nineteen years. Half hidden by
the tapestry there was a small door opening upon a secret stair, and it
was by this that Darnley and his infamous associates ascended when they
went to murder the Queen's unfortunate Italian secretary, Rizzio, in the
Queen's supping-room, which we now visited. There we had to listen to
the recital of this horrible crime: how the Queen had been forcibly
restrained by Darnley, her table overthrown and the viands scattered,
while the blood-thirsty conspirators crowded into the room; how Rizzio
rushed behind the Queen for protection, until one of the assassins
snatched Darnley's dagger from its sheath, and stabbed Rizzio, leaving
the dagger sticking in his body, while the others dragged him furiously
from the room, stabbing him as he went, shrieking for mercy, until he
fell dead at the head of the staircase, pierced by fifty-six wounds;
and how one of the assassins threatened to cut the Queen "into collops"
if she dared to speak to the populace through the window.
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