The truth of Cecil’s forebodings came soon afterwards. On the 22nd February 1570, Murray was shot by a Hamilton in the streets of Linlithgow, and in the anarchy which followed, the friends of Mary Stuart on the Scottish Border invaded England. Maitland of Lethington and others who had hitherto stood firmly by Murray, now turned to the side of the Hamiltons and the French party; whilst a special French Guisan envoy boldly demanded of Elizabeth, in the name of the King of France, Mary Stuart’s release, permission for himself to pass into Scotland, and a pledge from the English Queen that in future she would refrain from supporting the Huguenots. Papal emissaries whispered at first that the Pope had excommunicated “the flagitious pretended Queen of England”; and then one Catholic, bolder than the rest (Felton), dared publicly to post the bull on the Bishop of London’s door. The Bishop of Ross was tireless in spreading the view of Mary’s innocence and unmerited sufferings,[314] and many Englishmen who were opposed to her in everything were scandalised at her continued captivity. So strong a Protestant as Sir Henry Norris, the English Ambassador in Paris—for ever the butt of French remonstrance against Mary’s imprisonment—advised Cecil to have her released. But Sir William knew better the risk of such a step now, and replied, “Surely few here amongst us conceive it feasible with surety,” and he was right. Stories, too, came from Flanders of plans to assassinate Elizabeth; but she was never so strong or wise as when the circumstances were difficult and dangerous. “I know not,” writes Cecil, “by what means, but her Majesty is not much troubled with the opinion of danger; nevertheless I and others cannot be but greatly fearful for her, and do, and will do, all that in us may lie to understand by God’s assistance the attempts.”