A sound starts in the Three Estates, the stamping of many feet. It grows louder and louder.

MARGARET. What’s that?

RAMSAY. The parliament. They want him to come to them. They’re waiting for him.

MARGARET. Tell them the King is busy.

Tell them to be quiet!

Tell them to go home!

RAMSAY exits. MARGARET is comforting JAMIE. ROSS enters and stands watching.

(To JAMIE.) He isn’t angry with you, he’s angry with his parliament, you understand that, don’t you?

ROSS. Mum?

MARGARET (ignoring ROSS). Jamie?

ROSS. Mum? Jamie’s taken my horse, it’s not fair.

MARGARET. Not now, Ross. Jamie, look at me…

JAMIE pulls away and exits.

ROSS. Mum?

MARGARET. Oh, for God’s sake, Ross! Will you never learn to see when you’re not wanted!

ROSS runs off in the opposite direction to JAMIE.

The Queen’s Room, Stirling Castle / The Tower Room, Night

MARGARET is reading documents, sitting at a table strewn with paperwork.

At the same time we see JAMIE sitting looking out at the night sky in a bare room.

ANNABELLA enters, carrying a drink.

She’s surprised to see him.

ANNABELLA. What are you doing here? This is my place.

JAMIE doesn’t answer her.

JAMIE. I just…

ANNABELLA. Have you been crying?

JAMIE. No.

ANNABELLA. No. You don’t want to be doing that.

It does you no good.

JAMIE is starting to leave.

JAMIE. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your place.

ANNABELLA. Oh, stay, stay if you like. It’s no my place really, is it? Whole castle will be yours one day.

JAMIE. I just wanted somewhere quiet.

ANNABELLA. Me too. I should’ve known better. There’s no place in Scotland you can get away from conversation.

JAMIE. You could go up on top of the mountains.

ANNABELLA. Aye, but with my luck I’d still hear someone talking at me.

JAMIE. Who?

She doesn’t answer, just taking a drink.

God?

ANNABELLA. Maybe.

JAMIE. Ghosts?

ANNABELLA. More than likely.

Are you hearing anything?

JAMIE. No. Just you.

ANNABELLA. Good. Let’s just sit quiet then.

They watch the sky.

In MARGARET’s space JAMES enters, in a hurry, restless.

JAMES. I want a choir.

MARGARET (absorbed in figures). Yes?

JAMES. I want a choir to follow me everywhere.

MARGARET. Doing what?

JAMES. Well, the way I see it, but tell me what you think, there are elements of… discomfort, in almost every waking moment.

Reminders of human frailty.

Moments of… bestial vulgarity.

I’d like to… cushion… every moment with something beautiful. With music.

A pause. MARGARET writes.

MARGARET. So are you going to take them with you when you have a shit?

JAMES. What?

MARGARET. Because that is a vulgar moment of human frailty, one of the most vulgar.

JAMES. I see… fine, yes, alright…