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"Despite the innocuous character of Mary's last requests, Paulet and Drury did not immediately despatch this missive, not so much out of fear of Elizabeth's anger, as out of dread that its mildness might move the English queen to clemency, and further delay the execution of justice. Paulet confided to Davison, the secretary of the Council, that as they were strongly hoping the sentence would be carried out before Christmas, it was planned that the letter would arrive a few days afterwards, when the queen of Scots would be already dead and it would be too late for Elizabeth to exercise mercy. In Paulet's opinion, there were many reasons why the sentence should be carried out as fast as possible, not the least among them being the return of Mary's priest (or almoner as she always termed him) de Preau......."

After Elizabeth had signed Mary's death warrant, "she had been heard muttering in the hearing of her ministers that the provisions of the Act of Association might make it a positive duty for a loyal subject to kill the queen of Scots....thus ridding the English queen of the responsibility. Her ministers, understanding her intentions only too well, pretended not to grasp her meaning. On 1 February, however, Elizabeth was more explicit. Having signed the warrant she murmered wistfully to Davison that if a loyal subject were to save her from embarrasment by dealing the blow, the resentment of France and Scotland might be disarmed. The obvious loyal subjects to assume this helpful role were Paulet and Drury at Fotheringhay. Davison's first reaction was to fear yet another excuse for delaying the execution itself. But against his advice, the queen insisted on the point being made to Paulet: a letter was duly sent to the custodians regretting that they had not 'found out some way to shorten the life of that Queen [Mary] considering the great peril she [Elizabeth] is subject unto hourly, so long as the Queen shall live.'

"Now the issue which Mary had so long dreaded was squarely placed before her jailer: and it is one of the ironies of history that Paulet, the man whom Mary had for so long both disliked and feared, [she much prefered the relative sympathy and compassion showed by her other jailer, Sir Drury] hesitated for an instant, but seized his pen and wrote back to his royal mistress in the most trenchant language refusing the odious commision: 'I am so unhappy to have lived to see this unhappy day', he replied, 'in which I am required by direction from my most gracious sovereign to do an act which God and the law forbiddeth.... God forbid that I should make so foul a shipwreck of my conscience, or leave so great a blot on my poor posterity, to shed blood without law or warrant.' Paradoxically Mary was saved from the private execution which she dreaded by the action of the Puritan who had done so much to make her last months uncomfortable and humiliating....It was left to Elizabeth when his answer was conveyed to her to exclaim furiously over his 'daintiness', the 'niceness' of 'those precise fellows' such as Paulet, who professed great zeal for her safety, but would perform nothing." Instead, the Council proceeded to act upon the warrant.

"........The official time given to the queen to prpeare for death was of the minimum. It was not until after dinner that the two custodians [Paulet and Drury] and the two earls asked to see Mary. She had retired to bed, but on being told that the matter was urgent, asked for a little time in which to dress, and then received them in her room, seated in a chair at the foot of her bed. Of the deputation, including Beale, it was Shrewsbury who told Mary that she had been found guilty and condemned to death. Beale now read aloud from the warrant, from which the yellow wax Great Seal of England dangled, in order to emphasize once more that Mary's judges were acting legally, in accordance with the Act of Association. Mary received the news with absolute calm. When Beale had done, she replied with great dignity and no show of emotion: 'I thank you for such welcome news. You will do me great good in withdrawing me from this world out of which I am very glad to go.' She touched on her queenly position and royal blood, adding that in spite of this 'all my life I have had only sorrow', and saying that she now was overjoyed to have the opportunity at the end to shed her blood for the Catholic Church. Mary then placed her hand on the New Testament and solemnly protested herself to be innocent of all the crimes imputed to her."

The scene of the execution, held indoors at the great hall of the Castle on 8 February 1587, is described thus:

"In the centre of the great hall, which lay on the ground floor of the castle, directly below the room in which Mary had been tried, was set a wooden stage, all hung with black about twelve feet square, and two feet high off the ground. Within the precincts of the stage were two stools for Shrewsbury and Kent. Beside them was placed, about two feet high, also draped in black, the block, and a little cushioned stool on which it was intended that the queen should sit while she disrobed. The great axe was already lying there - 'like those with which they cut wood' said Bourgoing later. Outside the stage were two other seats for Paulet and Drury, and a rank of soldiers enclosing it; behind them gathered the ordinary people who had been given the privelage of watching the execution, as well as some local dignitaries....a huge blaze had been lit in the fireplace against the cold of the great hall.

The execution of Mary, Queen of Scots

"Once led up the three steps to the stage, the queen listened patiently while the commision for her execution was read aloud." She was then allowed time to pray, and then "The time had come for Jane Kennedy to bind the queen's eyes with the white cloth emroidered in gold which Mary had herself chosen for the purpose the night before. Jane Kennedy first kissed the cloth and then wrapped it gently round her mistress's eyes, and over her head so that her hair was covered as by a white turban and only the neck left completely bare. The two women then withdrew from the stage. The queen without even now the faintest sign of fear, knelt down once more on the cushion in front of the block. She recited aloud in Latin the psalm 'In you Lord is my trust, let me never be confounded' - and then feeling for the block, she laid her head down upon it, placing her chin carefully with both hands, so that if one of the executioners had not moved them back they too would have lain in the direct line of the axe. The queen stretched out her arms and legs and cried, 'In manus tuas, Domine, confide spiritum meum' - 'Into your hands O Lord I commend my spirit' - three or four times. When the queen was lying there quite motionless, Bull's assistant put his hand on her body to steady it for the blow. Even so, the first blow, as it fell, missed the neck and cut into the back of the head. The queen's lips moved, and her servants thought they heard the wispered words, 'Sweet Jesus'. The second blow severed the neck, all but the smallest sinew and this was severed by using the axe as a saw. It was about 10 o'clock in the morning of Wednseday 8 February, the queen of Scots being then aged forty-four years old, and in the nineteenth year of her English captivity."