ISABELLA. I’ll come out to watch death eat you and I’ll laugh.

JAMES exits.

A Room in the Douglas Castle

BALVENIE is lying in bed, dying. WILLIAM sits staring at him. Occasionally he wipes tears from his face.

BALVENIE. What are you crying for?

WILLIAM. You’ve got the fever. They think you’re dying.

BALVENIE. I’m not.

WILLIAM. It’s alright, it’s alright, the priest’s here.

BALVENIE. Send him away. He’s not needed.

WILLIAM is close to breaking down.

WILLIAM. Alright. But I’m with you, alright? I’m here.

BALVENIE. I don’t want you here. Go away.

(Coughing.) I’ll die… when I’m ready to die…

WILLIAM. My heart will burst like an egg dropped on stone. Christ, you’re my father. When you’re gone age will just drop on me like winter rain. I won’t be able to stand up with the weight of grief on me.

BALVENIE. Well… you don’t need to worry about that yet.

WILLIAM. Oh listen, Dad, listen… you are really sick. Hear that noise you’re making? That’s blood in your breath.

BALVENIE coughs rackingly.

See what I mean. You’ve caught the cough, the fever, it’s killing everyone.

BALVENIE. Help me sit up.

WILLIAM. No, you’re best staying peaceful now.

BALVENIE. Help… me… sit… up!

WILLIAM moves reluctantly to help him. BALVENIE is groaning with effort.

WILLIAM. You’re the colour of oatmeal. Aw Jesus…

(Wipes at his face again.) I never thought I’d see you like this. I need to get you the priest.

BALVENIE. I’m not… dying…

WILLIAM. Dad, I think you are. But I’m here. I’ll help you. It’ll be a good death. Brave.

BALVENIE. Cold…

WILLIAM. What?

BALVENIE. I’m cold.

WILLIAM. That’ll be the start of it.

The fire’s dying. Turn your back on it and walk into the dark. Time to go.

Oh Dad, what’ll I do? I can’t feed you to the worms. They want you though, they’re going to have you.

I’m going to stay with you. I won’t leave you alone.

BALVENIE. Do you think I want you pawing round me then? You even sound like her. Never stopped crying.

BALVENIE groans and coughs.

WILLIAM. I’m here to say goodbye. You’re my father. I’m your son. These are the last words we’ll have. Give me your blessing at least.

BALVENIE. I never gave you anything you didn’t waste or lose. A thick-headed turnip with your mother’s glaikit face. Be quiet now.

Listen… you must do nothing… nothing… you’ll lose it all… just sit still till I’m walking again…

WILLIAM. Dad, you’ll never be walking again.

BALVENIE. No! You’ll bring… everything… to ruin… just wait…

WILLIAM. You smell of ruin… and rot… Just make it a good death. Come on.