Morette, the Duke of Savoy’s special envoy to Scotland, had left Edinburgh the day after the murder, and on his way through London saw Guzman. The Queen of Scots had assured Morette that she would avenge her husband’s death, and punish the murderers, but he made no secret of his belief that she had prior knowledge of the plan. Whilst Morette was dining with Guzman and the French Ambassador, a French messenger named Clerivault arrived at the house, bringing a letter from Mary to the Queen of England, claiming her pity, and similar letters for Catharine de Medici, the Archbishop of Glasgow, and others,[245] denouncing the crime.[246] Mary, indeed, lost no time in endeavouring to put herself right before the world. She offered rewards for the discovery of the murderers; but when all fingers are pointed at Bothwell and his creatures, when public placards were posted in the capital accusing them and hinting at the Queen’s complicity, Mary still kept the principals at her side, and made no move against their subaltern instruments. In vain, for a time, the bereaved father Lennox demanded vengeance; in vain Elizabeth, by Killigrew, sent indignant letters to Mary; in vain the Catholic Archbishop of Glasgow exhorted her to prove her own innocence by pursuing the offenders without mercy. Bothwell stood ever by her side, and his clansmen cowed the murmuring citizens who looked with aversion now upon their beautiful young Queen. At length, goaded to take some action by the danger of losing the Catholic support, upon which alone she had depended, she held the sham trial in the Edinburgh Tolbooth two months after the crime. Lennox refused to attend the travesty of justice, and Bothwell was unanimously acquitted. Murray had left the court before the murder, and fled to France when the result of the trial was known. Bothwell, loaded with favours, insolent with success, seemed to hold Scotland and the Queen in the hollow of his hand. The nobles were mostly bought or threatened into shameful compliance, and only the “preachers” and the townsfolk kept alive the growing horror of the Queen. No longer, even, did the humble peasant women hesitate, before Mary’s face, to make their loyal blessing conditional upon her innocence.[247] What was horrified doubt before became indignant reprobation when, only three months after Darnley’s death, Mary married the hastily divorced Bothwell. Then came the hurried flight in disguise towards Dunbar, the gathering of the nobles, the flight of Bothwell at Carbery Hill, and the conveyance of the disgraced Queen to Edinburgh. When nothing but vows of defiance and vengeance against Bothwell’s enemies could be obtained from her, and it was clear that the unfortunate woman was deaf to reason and decency, came the crowning degradation of Lochleven, and Mary Stuart’s sun set to rise no more.