WILLIAM. This was your idea, wasn’t it?

ANNABELLA. William, you’re frightening everyone.

A beat.

WILLIAM. Aw well, Jesus, we can’t have that, can we?

He starts to move off.

JAMES. William…

WILLIAM has turned on HUME.

WILLIAM. What are you looking at, Hume, eh? What are you looking at? Don’t you know who I am?

When HUME doesn’t answer, WILLIAM shouts in his face.

I’m the King’s fucking papal envoy.

How scary is that? Eh?

WILLIAM exits.

JAMES. My lords… ladies… We will still…

We’ll have the funeral feast.

The feast is in the Great Hall.

Everyone starts to move away.

MARY. I liked him but he has no control. I think he may be mad.

JAMES. He’s not mad he’s just…

MARY. Mad.

She moves away. ANNABELLA is looking at JAMES.

JAMES. It’s alright, he’ll be in a better mood when he gets back. He will.

They exit.

Great Hall – Six Months Later

WILLIAM and JAMES are sitting close together. They’ve eaten, now they’re just drinking. The dancing and music recede into the distance.

WILLIAM. Everyone loves you, don’t they?

JAMES. Oh, you don’t?

WILLIAM. I don’t mind you. I’ll take a drink with you.

JAMES. Thanks. You want some more of my wine?

WILLIAM. Call this wine? I’ve had nearly a year in Rome, remember. I know good red wine from ditch water now, Jamie. But I’ll drink it because I like you.

JAMES. Glad to hear it.

WILLIAM. Everyone likes you, that’s what I’m saying. You make folk smile. They think you’re a good man.

JAMES. I try to be a good man.

WILLIAM. And they believe that’s what you are.

It can’t just be the smile, though you’ve got a great smile…

JAMES. I do?

WILLIAM. A boy’s smile.

JAMES. A boy’s smile?

WILLIAM. Aye. Friendly… but cheeky… a great wee boy, grinning at us all.

JAMES. Aye, well I’m full grown, William.

WILLIAM. No, no… I’m just saying… You’ll have that smile when you’re sixty, man… I’m not getting at you… I’m just saying it helps folk like you.

See I’m actually better looking than you.

JAMES. Is that right?

WILLIAM. Aye well, you’ve got the… the thing there, haven’t you…?

(Indicating birthmark.) Proof that your mother got you in a raspberry bush.

JAMES (sarcastic). No, the angels slapped me for leaving heaven.

WILLIAM. Ha!

Well, scrub that stain off you and you’re still not a looker next to me but it does me no good. It makes folk hate me.

JAMES. Oh is that what does it?