Thus far the course of events is clear and intelligible; what followed is involved in doubt and obscurity. Spalding, in his _Memorials_, says: ‘They [the guests] were well entertained, supped merrily, and to bed went joyfully. The Viscount was laid in a bed in the old tower (going off of the hall), and standing upon a vault, wherein there was a round hole, devised of old just under Aboyne’s bed. Robert Gordon, born in Sutherland, his servitor, and English Will, his page, were both laid beside him in the same chamber. The laird of Rothiemay, with some servants beside him, was laid in an upper chamber just above Aboyne’s chamber; and in another room above that chamber were laid George Chalmer of Noth, and George Gordon, another of the Viscount’s servants, with whom also was laid Captain Rollok, then in Frendraught’s own company. Thus all being at rest, about midnight that dolorous tower took fire in so sudden and furious a manner, yea, and in a clap, that this noble Viscount, the laird of Rothiemay, English Will, Colin Eviot, another of Aboyne’s servitors, and other two, being six in number, were cruelly burnt and tormented to the death but [without] help or relief; the laird of Frendraught, his lady [both of whom had slept in a separate wing of the building], and his whole household looking on without moving or stirring to deliver them from the fury of this fearful fire, as was reported. Robert Gordon, called Sutherland Gordon, being in the Viscount’s chamber, escaped this fire with his life. George Chalmer and Captain Rollok, being in the third room, escaped also this fire; and, as was said, Aboyne might have saved himself also, if he had gone out of doors, which he would not do, but suddenly ran up-stairs to Rothiemay’s chamber and wakened him to rise; and as he is wakening him, the timber passage and lofting of the chamber hastily takes fire, so that none of them could win down stairs again; so they turned to a window looking to the close, where they piteously cried Help, help, many times, for God’s cause. The laird and the lady, with their servants, all seeing and hearing this woful crying, but made no help nor manner of helping; which they perceiving, they cried oftentimes mercy at God’s hand for their sins, then clasped in other’s arms, and cheerfully suffered this cruel martyrdom.... It is reported that upon the morn after this woful fire, the lady Frendraught, daughter to the Earl of Sutherland, and near cousin to the Marquis, busked in a white plaid, and riding on a small nag, having a boy leading her horse, without any more in her company, in this pitiful manner came weeping and mourning to the Bog [Gordon Castle], desiring entry to speak with my lord; but this was refused; so she returned back to her own house the same gate [way] she came, comfortless.’