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Welcome back to This Day in Scottish History. I’m your host, Colin MacDonald. Today, we’re heading back to April 12th, 1567—when one of the most controversial trials in Scotland’s turbulent past unfolded in Edinburgh. On this day, James Hepburn, the 4th Earl of Bothwell, stood accused of the murder of Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley—the second husband of Mary, Queen of Scots. What should have been a landmark trial became a sham, riddled with political manipulation, public outrage, and a looming scandal that would change the course of Mary’s life—and Scotland’s monarchy—forever.

The scene was set in a tense and divided Scotland. Just two months earlier, in February 1567, Lord Darnley had been found dead under suspicious circumstances. His residence at Kirk o’ Field in Edinburgh had exploded in the early hours of the morning. But curiously, Darnley's body was discovered not in the ruins, but in a nearby orchard—with no visible injuries from the blast. He had been strangled, possibly smothered, and it was clear: this was no accident. It was murder. And in the murky world of Scottish court politics, whispers soon pointed to one man—James Hepburn.

Bothwell was no ordinary nobleman. He was a powerful figure in Mary’s inner circle, a soldier, a schemer, and a man unafraid to pursue power. Rumors swirled that he had not only orchestrated Darnley’s death but that he had done so with the Queen’s tacit approval—or at the very least, her protection. Many believed that Bothwell and Mary were lovers. Others were convinced that he aimed to marry her and seize control of the crown through manipulation—or force.

So, with all eyes on him, Bothwell was brought to trial on April 12th. But rather than a solemn pursuit of justice, what followed was an astonishing display of political theater. The trial took place in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and though the crime had shocked the nation, no serious attempt was made to present real evidence. There were no prosecution witnesses. The case was not thoroughly investigated. Key documents had mysteriously disappeared. And the chief accuser, the Earl of Lennox—Darnley’s father—claimed he feared for his life and refused to attend.

With the court stacked in Bothwell’s favor and the Queen’s apparent blessing, the verdict was a foregone conclusion: not guilty. But the public didn’t buy it. The streets of Edinburgh were filled with unrest. Pamphlets circulated, satirizing the proceedings. The people muttered of injustice, of corruption, of treason veiled in legal form. And still, more scandal loomed on the horizon.

Less than a month after the trial, Bothwell made his next move. He secured the signatures of several Scottish lords in what became known as the Ainslie Tavern Bond—essentially a written endorsement for his marriage to Mary. Then, in late April, as Mary returned from a visit to her son James in Stirling, Bothwell intercepted her party, reportedly abducting the Queen and taking her to Dunbar Castle. Whether this was an act of violence or a staged abduction remains debated. But what followed shocked the realm: Mary married Bothwell on May 15th.

To many, it was confirmation of guilt. The Queen of Scots had married the man accused—many said proven—of killing her husband. Her popularity plummeted. Nobles who had once stood beside her now turned against her. By June, a coalition of lords raised arms against Bothwell. Mary’s forces met them at Carberry Hill, where she surrendered while Bothwell fled. Within weeks, she was imprisoned at Loch Leven Castle. By the end of July, she was forced to abdicate the throne in favor of her infant son, James VI.

The trial of the Earl of Bothwell marked the beginning of Mary’s dramatic fall from power. What might have seemed like a legal formality became a powder keg—igniting rebellion, scandal, and ultimately, a tragic downfall. Bothwell himself would flee Scotland, only to be captured and imprisoned in Denmark, where he died a broken man in 1578.

The events of April 12th, 1567, remind us just how fragile the line between justice and politics can be. In a kingdom teetering on religious division, foreign pressure, and dynastic ambition, the truth was often the first casualty. And for Mary, Queen of Scots, the trial of her future husband would become the catalyst for the undoing of her reign—and her legacy.

Thanks for joining me today on This Day in Scottish History. If you’re hungry for more tales from Scotland’s past, check out my blog at bagtownclans.com/thisday—the link’s in the description. Until next time, I’m Colin MacDonald—Haste Ye Back!

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