el, 'and they within
broke the doors, and gave them entry.' At this time, halberts and swords
were being struck, by Gowrie's retainers, under the door, and through the
sides of the door, of the chamber; this door apparently being that from
the chamber to the narrow staircase. Murray of Arbany (who had come into
the house at the end of dinner) was stricken through the leg by one of
these weapons. Deacon Rhynd of Perth saw Hew Moncrieff striking with 'a
Jeddart staff,' a kind of halbert. A voice, that of Alexander Ruthven (a
cousin of the fallen Earl), cried 'For God's sake, my lord, tell me how
the Earl of Gowrie does.' 'He is well. Go your way; you are a fool; you
will get no thanks for this labour,' answered Lennox, and all was
silence. Alexander Ruthven and the rest retreated; Ruthven rushed to the
town, rousing the people, and rifling shops in search of gunpowder. The
King and the nobles knelt in prayer on the bloody floor of the chamber
where the dead Gowrie lay. For some time the confused mob yelled
outside, shaking their fists at the King's party in the window: men and
women crying 'Come down, Green-coats, ye have committed murder! Bloody
butchers!' Others cried 'The King is shot!' The exits of the house were
guarded by retainers of Gowrie--Rentoul, Bissett, and others.

Mar and Lennox, from the window, explained to the mob that the King was
well. James showed himself, the magistrates and nobles pacified the
people, who, some armed, some unarmed, were all perplexed, whether they
were anxious about the King or about their Provost, the Earl. From the
evidence of scores of burghers, it appears that the tumult did not last
long. One man was reaping in the Morton haugh. Hearing the town bell he
hastened in, 'when all the tumult was ceased,' and the magistrates, Ray
and others, were sending the people to their houses, as also did young
Tullibardine. A baker, hearing the bell, went to the town cross, and so
to Gowrie's house, where he met the stream of people coming away.
Another baker was at work, and stayed with his loaves, otherwise he
'would have lost his whole baking.' The King represents that it was
between seven and eight in the evening before matters were quiet enough
for him to ride home to Falkland, owing to the tumult. The citizens
doubtless minimised, and James probably exaggerated, the proportions and
duration of the disturbance.

[Picture: Falkland place]

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