His own household and many of his tenants were faithful to the Earl Marshal. Fortunately he had not at the moment much leisure for private broodings. The Babington conspiracy had churned up the old alarms about Mary, the Royal Commission for her trial was being appointed, and, though he was fortunately able to plead illness as an excuse for once more repairing to London to take his seat in this important meeting of the Council, he was obliged by letter to Burghley to assert his willingness to add his name to the decree of the Privy Council in regard to Mary’s sentence, at the same time enclosing his seal and giving the Lord Treasurer full authority to sign for him. Did he at the moment of writing recall that broidered motto which must have flashed at him many times from the dais which his prisoner contrived for herself in her imprisonment: “En ma fin est mon commencement”? If so, the pride and pathos of it must have struck home terribly. For he too was nearing his end. He too had naught but sorrow in his heir, and though Gilbert, Edward, and Henry Talbot still lived to carry on his name, it could not be in a very hopeful spirit that he thought upon the continuance of his line so long as he apprehended the renewal of family strife and could not forgive or love again his high-handed lady.

Many things had happened to Mary since they parted, notably the failure of the last great conspiracy for her freedom. Of all these he was fully informed, and sums up her affairs in a single phrase in the ensuing letter:—

“I have received your Lordship’s letters both of the 12th November and the 14th of the same, whereby I find myself greatly beholden unto your Lordship for your good remembrance of me, with the proceeding of the foul matters of the Scots Queen; sentence whereof, I understand by your Lordship, is given and confirmed, and for execution to be had accordingly. I perceive it now resteth in her Majesty’s hands; for my own part I pray that God may so inspire her heart to take that course as may be for her Majesty’s own safety; the which I trust her Majesty’s grave wisdom will wisely foresee; which in my consent cannot be without speedy execution.

“And thus wishing to your good Lordship as to myself, do bid you right heartily farewell. Your Lordship’s assuredly,

“Orton Longville, this 17th November, 1586.”

In spite of illness, Shrewsbury could not escape the wretched responsibility of assisting at the tragedy of Fotheringay. There he was forced, on February 8th, 1587, to stand upon the high stage, seven feet square and five feet high, to receive Mary as she mounted it to her death. “At the two upper corners were two stools set,” runs the record,^[82] “one for the Earl of Shrewsbury, another for the Earl of Kent; directly between the said stools was placed a block one foot high, covered with black, and before that stood a little cushioned stool for the Queen to sit on while her apparel was taken off.... Being come into the hall, she stayed and with a smiling countenance asked Shrewsbury why none of her own servants were suffered to be present. He answered that the Queen, his mistress, had so commanded. ‘Alas,’ quoth she, ‘far meaner persons than myself have not been denied so small a favour, and I hope the Queen’s Majesty will not deal so hardly with me.’ ‘Madam,’ quoth Shrewsbury, ‘it is so appointed to avoid two inconveniences: the one that it is likely your people will shriek and make some fearful noise in the time of your execution, and so both trouble you and us, or else press with some disorder to get of your blood and keep it for a relic, and minister offence that way.’ ‘My Lord,’ she answered, ‘I pray you for my better quietness of mind let me have some of my servants about me, and I will give you my word that they shall not offend in any sort.’ Upon which promise two of her women and five of her men were sent for, who coming into the hall and seeing the place of execution prepared and their sovereign mistress expecting death, they began to cry out in most woeful and pitiful sort; wherewith she held up her hand, willing them for her sake to forbear and be silent, ‘for,’ quoth she, ‘I have passed my word to these lords that you shall be quiet and not offend them.’ And presently there appeared in them a wonderful show of subjection and loyal obedience as to their natural prince, whom even at the instant of death they honoured with all reverence and duty. For though their breasts were seen to rise and swell as if their wounded hearts would have burst in sunder, yet did they, to their double grief, forbear their outward plaints to accomplish her pleasure.