*CHAPTER IX.*
*DRAWING NEARER.*
"A bowing, burdened head, That only asks to rest Unquestioning, upon A loving breast."
The Duchess carried her point, and packed off Agnes in disgrace within aweek of the offence. She had the grace to see that there was someescort for the friendless girl on her journey home. A small party oftravellers were on their way to the north--consisting of threegentlemen, one of whom was accompanied by his wife and daughters. Agnesreceived a frigid intimation that she was to make one of this party, andmust be ready to start in four days. Mr. Banaster, the marriedgentleman, lived in Lancashire, whither he was returning, and would takecharge of Agnes as far as Sheffield, where, if her friends did not meether, she must be content to go forward to York with the two younger menwhose destination it was. Agnes inwardly hoped that somebody would meether: but it was a difficult matter to let them know. She wrote to herfather, and contrived to send the letter by a post who was going to Yorkwith letters from the Duke of Gloucester: but whether it would reachLovell Tower before herself was an open question. She humbly requestedto know the names of the other gentlemen, in a faint hope that theymight possibly be acquaintances. Lady Darcy informed her, in hercoldest manner, that one of them was a Yorkshire squire, MasterRotherham by name: as for the other, his name was Combe, and whence hemight come, she neither knew nor cared. Wherein my Lady Darcy wasguilty of saying the thing that is not, since she was perfectly wellaware that Master John Combe was of old time Queen Marguerite'shenchman, and she had, under different circumstances, appeared to bevery good friends with him. Both names were strange to Agnes. She hadone more request to make--for an interview with Frideswide ere she setout. Lady Darcy hesitated, but finally granted the request, though shemade a great favour of doing so.
During the last few months, Frideswide's movements had been regulated bypolitical necessities. Thirty-seven days was the limit beyond which noperson could claim the privilege of sanctuary at the cost of the house:and to reside in sanctuary at a man's own expense was a ruinousproceeding. It was therefore impossible to Frideswide to remain withthe Countess of Warwick: and she had no money to provide for herself;yet, being unindicted, she was not a prisoner, and could not expect tobe kept at the royal cost. In these uncomfortable circumstances, shehad availed herself of an opportunity which few girls would haveaccepted. A small, though extremely diminished suite had to be providedfor the imprisoned Queen, and Frideswide had thankfully receivedpermission to share her captivity. A fervent Lancastrian, shereverenced Marguerite from the core of her heart. Beyond the one changeto her own home, any change from that service would be unwelcome.
The unwelcome change was at hand. The Duchess of Exeter had petitionedher brother for Frideswide Marston, and no choice was allowed thelatter. One evening in January, Queen Marguerite's gaoler entered herbower, as he politely termed it--she called it her dungeon--inWallingford Castle. As gaolers went in those days, Sir Thomas Thwayteswas fairly civil to his illustrious captive.
"Dame," said he, "please you, take your leave of Mistress Marston, whomit is His Highness' gracious pleasure to command otherwhere."
Frideswide turned rather pale, as was but natural. Her first idea wasthat the alteration had reference to her mistress rather than herself.But Sir Thomas soon undeceived her. Her sister was going home; andFrideswide was to take her place with my Lady of Exeter. Every fibre ofFrideswide's heart and nerves revolted at the very name. Take serviceunder the woman who had ruined the life of that man with the soft sadeyes, for whose miserable story her compassion had been intenselyawakened! But Frideswide had no choice. And then the thought flashedupon her that perhaps she might serve him there. At least she could dowhat Agnes had done, and help him, if he should seek it, to obtainprivate interviews with his daughter.
Queen Marguerite took an affectionate leave of her young attendant. Shegave her a token, or gift, in the form of a table-book--one of thoselittle ivory books, turning on a pivot, for memoranda, which have lastedin the same form for many a century. This one was among the few relicsof her lost estate, and was mounted in gold, and set with turquoises.It was also fitted with a silver pen.[#]
[#] Silver pens are considerably more ancient than either steel or gold.
The next morning Frideswide left Wallingford, in charge of one SimonQuyxley, an officer of the garrison, who was going on pilgrimage toCanterbury, and meant to stay a few weeks with his friends in London onhis way thither. He delivered Frideswide at Coldharbour; and before shewell set her foot inside the house, she found herself in the arms of hersister Agnes.
Fortunately for the sisters, the Duchess was spending the evening atCourt, and they were free to be alone together if they chose. Agneshurried Frideswide upstairs to the maidens' chamber, which was at thatmoment empty, and each rapidly poured her story into the ear of theother--a process which left Agnes comforted, and Frideswide indignant.
"Tarry here I must," said the latter: "but trust me, Annis, so far aslieth in my good will, 'tis for his sake, not hers."
"And thou wilt serve our gracious Lord to thine uttermost, dear heart?"urged Agnes earnestly.
"Trust me, but I will!" was the reply. "And who be thy travellingfellows, sweeting?"
Agnes told her. The names of Messrs. Banaster and Rotherham werereceived without any comment; but no sooner had she said, "MasterCombe," than Frideswide's eyes were lifted with light in them, and aslight flush crept over her brow.
"Master John Combe--not he? He that was the Queen's henchman?"
There was no Queen but Marguerite to the apprehension of FrideswideMarston.
"Aye, the very same," said Agnes. "Dost know him?"
Frideswide's hood wanted a good deal of settling just at that moment.
"Ay," said she, rather shortly. "Thou wilt not journey ill if MasterCombe look to thy comfort. And maybe it shall be none the worser forthee if thou tell him thy name is Marston."
Agnes quietly drew her own conclusions, but she asked no questions. Shefound, moreover, during the journey, that Master John Combe wasundoubtedly an agreeable travelling companion, doing his utmost to makeothers comfortable: and that when she had once informed him that she wasthe sister of Frideswide Marston, he appeared to know as much as she didherself about her home, her relatives, and all that concerned her.About Frideswide herself he said very little: but Agnes soon perceivedthat to talk of her was the surest means of engrossing Master Combe'sattention.
Sheffield was reached at last, and Agnes found to her regret that no onefrom Lovell Tower awaited her. She went on to York with the two younggentlemen, with much less reluctance than she had anticipated: forthough she was indifferent to Master Rotherham, she had come to have avery sisterly feeling towards John Combe. It was odd that John Combe'sway from York should lie exactly past Lovell Tower: but of course, veryconvenient for Agnes. Master Rotherham also offered to attend herthither; but Agnes civilly declined his offer as giving him unnecessarytrouble. It was late on a Saturday evening in January that Agnes andJohn Combe reached Lovell Tower at last.
The family were seated in the hall, where a large fire of thick oakenlogs was blazing, and the men-servants were bringing in the boards andtrestles for rear-supper, the last meal of the day. Fixed tables in thecentre of a room were unknown to our medieval ancestors, though theywere common enough with the Romans, and even with the Anglo-Saxons. Theyhad leaf-tables, attached to the wall; and wealthy persons indulged insmall round or square tables on three feet: but to a much later periodthan this, the setting of tables for meals included the erection of thetable, a mere wide board set upon trestles. We use phrases derived fromthis practice when we speak of setting a table, or of an hospitableboard. Over this was laid a fine damask tablecloth, and the silver_nef_, or ship, was placed in the middle. This was a large salt-cellar,used as the barometer of rank. The family and their guests sat abovethe salt; the servants below it. Silver plat
es and cups were set forthe former, wooden trenchers and earthen mugs for the latter. To eachperson was given a knife and spoon: forks were not invented except forspices, and were never used to eat with. A clean damask napkin, and abasin of water, were carried round before and after every meal: but asneither was changed in the process, the condition in which both reachedthe lower end of the board is better left undescribed. Fastidiousnesswas out of place in such circumstances, particularly when husband andwife still ate from the same plate, and for a host to share his platewith his guest was the highest honour he could do him. Yet ourancestors' rules of etiquette show that they were fastidious in theirway. Ladies and gentlemen are therein recommended not to wipe theirfingers on the tablecloth, to refrain from all attentions to nose andhair during meals, to lick their spoons clean before putting them intothe dish--special spoons for helping were never thought of--and aboveall things, not to feed their dogs from the table.
Saturday evening being a vigil, the supper consisted of salt ling andhaddock, baked eels, galantine, eggs prepared in different ways, andvarious tarts and creams. Wassel bread was set above the salt, maslinbelow.
The Lady Idonia sat in a large carved chair near the fire. LordMarnell, who had only just entered, and had had a day's hard riding, hadthrown himself on a settle near, with the air of a tired man who wasglad to come back to home comforts.
The settle itself would have been hard comfort, but a well-to-do housein those days never ran short of cushions, and his Lordship lay on halfa dozen. The Lady Margery was flitting about the table, looking to theways of her household, and Dorathie was extremely busy on a strip oftapestry. The baked eels were just coming in at the door, when theclear notes of a horn rang outside the gate. It was accompanied--asthat sound always was--by a nervous start from Idonia.
Dorathie never could understand why her grandmother always seemedalarmed when a horn sounded. She was too young to be told that beforeshe was born, two horns had so sounded, one of which had brought toIdonia the news of her widowhood, and the other had heralded the arrivalof persecutors for the faith. For the momentary defection on her partwhich followed the latter, Idonia's pardon might be registered inHeaven, but she had never forgiven herself. Was it any wonder if thesound of a horn brought back to her shrinking heart both those awfulmemories?
"Guests, I ween!" said Lord Marnell, not altering his position on thesettle, where he lay with both arms thrown back and beneath his head.
"Dear heart, who shall they be, trow?" responded his wife.
The slip of tapestry dropped from the fingers of Dorathie, who hadrushed to the door, and was peering through the crack to make suchdiscoveries as she could.
"Doll! Dorathie! Doll, I say!" cried the scandalised Lady Marnell toher curiosity-stricken heiress. "Come back this minute! Where be thymanners?"
Dorathie's obedience, rather than her manners, produced a reluctantretreat from the door. The gate was heard to open and shut, the clatterof horses came into the paved court-yard, there was the sound of alittle bustle and several voices without, and then through the door onevoice that all recognised with exclamations of pleasure, the ratherbecause it was one of the last which they expected to hear.
"Agnes, sweet heart!"
"Annis, my dear maid!"
"O Annis, hast come back?--_hast_ come back!"
Lord Marnell was up in an instant, his wife warmly embracing herstep-daughter, and Dorathie clinging to her as though she had not seenher for a life-time. Agnes returned the greetings as warmly as theywere given, and when all the kisses and blessings were over, presentedJohn Combe.
There was a cordial welcome for Queen Marguerite's henchman at LovellTower, and he was of course desired to remain there as long as it suitedhis convenience. Any thing less would have been very rude in the eyesof the fifteenth century. Agnes had a shrewd suspicion that Lovell Towerwas the real destination of the guest, and that before he left thatplace he would find that a little private conversation with Lord Marnellwas the thing that suited his convenience. She was not mistaken.Before John Combe had stayed a fortnight at Lovell Tower, Agnes andDorathie were informed by their mother that they were henceforward toregard that gentleman in the light of a brother-in-law elect. Agnesreceived with a quiet smile the communication which she had beenexpecting; Dorathie with ecstatic excitement an idea entirely new toher.
"But"--she suddenly exclaimed, ceasing her transports--"will Frid haveto go away, or stay away? Won't she come home?"
"She will come home first, surely," answered her mother, "for she willbe wed from hence: afterward, Master Combe hath some desire to dwell inthis vicinage, though if it shall be compassed I yet know not."
"Oh, how jolly should that be!" cried Dorathie, "to have Frid but a stepoff, and run in and out!"
Lady Margery laughed. "A good step, I take it, my little maid.Howbeit, I trust thou mayest have thy wish."
It was on that very evening that Maurice Carew, who had been to York onbusiness, came in with an important piece of news. The Princess ofWales was found. Found, by the man whom she most dreaded, in the guiseof a cookmaid, at a "mean house" in the City of London,--dragged outfrom her seclusion, and placed under the care of her uncle, ArchbishopNeville, with permission to hold intercourse with Queen Marguerite,--theonly kindness that could be done to that lonely, widowed, orphan girl.Of all the quarrels that had ever taken place between Clarence andGloucester, the worst ensued upon this point. The royal family went toShene on the sixteenth of February "to pardon," but little pardon was inthe hearts of the brothers, who were quarrelling all the way. The King,with whom Gloucester was always the favourite, tried to persuadeClarence to more amiability: but all the concession that could be wrungfrom the latter was--
"He may well have my Lady my sister-in-law, but she and my wife shallpart no livelihood!"
In other words, Clarence did not care how soon the Princess married, solong as she remained a portionless bride, and the Warwick property wasleft undivided to his children. To do Gloucester credit--the rathersince little credit can be done him--he does not seem to have beenanxious about the property at that time. It was Anne herself whom hewanted: and he was astute enough to see that if he once got hold of her,the property could be agitated for at leisure.
Not many days after this news had been a nine days' wonder, Lady Darcyinformed Frideswide that my Lady Anne Grey had petitioned her mother forher, and she was to be transferred to her service. Frideswide wasexceedingly pleased, the rather because she could thus serve the Dukefar better than at Coldharbour. She had heard something of Lady Annefrom Agnes: but she was hardly prepared for the thin white face andburning eyes which struck to her heart when she saw her new mistress.She might keep in her service as long as Lady Anne should live, and notdefer her wedding. The interview in the presence of the Duchess wasvery short, and question and answer were brief on both sides. But theengagement was effected, and Lord Marnell was fully satisfied with thetransfer. He was glad, he said, to win both his poor doves from theclutches of that kite of a woman. Had Frideswide remained atColdharbour, he would have hastened her marriage in order to get heraway. Now there was no need to do it.
The first night that Frideswide spent in her new home, she was requiredto attend her young lady at her _coucher_. Mr. Grey was not at home; herarely was so. Noble ladies never had the privilege of a room tothemselves in the Middle Ages. When their husbands were away, and oftenwhen they were not, a female attendant must occupy the pallet bed, whichran on castors underneath the state bed, and was pulled out whenrequired. Frideswide found herself appointed to the pallet bed thisfirst night--an unusual promotion, since it argued some amount ofattachment and confidence on the part of the mistress. The _coucher_was very silent, the only remarks made having reference to the businessin hand. But when Frideswide, having finished her duties, had hastilyundressed and lain down, the silence was broken.
"Frideswide, art thou in Agnes' secrets?"
"That is somewhat more than I can answer,
my Lady. I wis a thing ortwain of hers."
"Did she ever speak unto thee of--of my Lord my father?"
"I think it was I that spake to her," answered Frideswide, softly.
"Hast thou seen him?" The tone was painfully eager.
"My Lady, may I speak out?"
"That is it I would have thee do."
"Doth your Ladyship mind a certain even in winter that his Lordship cameto Coldharbour, and, as I think, had speech of yourself?"
"Mind it? Yes, and shall while my life lasts!"
"My Lady, his Lordship had ere that been tarrying with the Queen atHarfleur, and he was pleased to require of me a letter to my sister thewhich should serve him as a passport to your Ladyship's presence."
"He came hither by thy means, Frideswide?"
"Mine and hers, my Lady."
"Which of you knows him better?"
"Methinks, I, by much, Madam."
"Frideswide, art thou willing to be his true friend and mine?"
"Trust me, my Lady."
"Which Rose dost thou wear?"
A delicate question to answer, when the questioner was a daughter of theHouse of York! But Frideswide Marston never hesitated.
"The Red, Madam, from my cradle; and shall so do to my coffin."
"So do I," said Lady Anne, quietly, "down in mine heart, Frideswide. Hewears it; and what he is, I am. Ah, would I could pass further!--'Wherethou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge.' I hadasked God no more. Yet at the least, his people can be my people, as hisGod is my God. And may-be, when he dies, if not where, then may I dieand be buried."
"My Lady, you are young to count on dying."
"It seems long since I counted on living," she said in a low voice."Life is not worth much, Frideswide."
Frideswide knew too much to ask why. But she knew that for her, undersimilar circumstances, life would have gone on; and she wondered whetherher physical nature were stronger than that of Lady Anne, or her moralnature more blunt and hard.
"I mind," said Lady Anne, in the same tone, "once hearing my Lady ofClarence my aunt to say that none save weak folks brake their hearts. Ireckon I must be weak. For mine is broken. I misdoubt if it were everotherwise than weak and easily shattered. It has not taken much tobreak it. Thou mayest despise me if thou wilt."
"None less, Madam! It would be impossible."
"Would it?" she answered, rather wistfully. "Yet methinks thy nature isfar stronger than mine. The blows which have crushed me into a poorhandful of dust should have rebounded from thee with scarce a bruise. Ican see it in thy face; and thy sister is like thee."
"It may be so, my Lady. But I take it, He told us to pity the weak, whois a God so strong and patient, and who was crucified through weaknessfor our sakes. Is it not in His strength we can do all things?"
"Dost thou know Him, Frideswide?"
"Aye so, my Lady."
"Then thou wilt be a comfort to me--in what is coming. It will not belong, Frideswide. Dost thou know that?"
Frideswide's voice was very low and tender as she said, "Ay, my Lady. Ithink it will not be long." She had more hardihood than Agnes, andspoke out her thoughts instead of feeling them in silence.
"And I shall be glad," said Lady Anne gently. "Only I hope my father maynot be long after me. Though we have met of late but so seldom, yet Iknow the world will seem darker and colder to him when I am gone out ofit. I am all he has save God; and he is all that I have."
Frideswide's eyes were wet; but she made no reply.
"I used to have a fair dream once--too fair to be true. I reckoned thatwe might have dwelt together, he and I, in some quiet cot in a greenglade, where no strangers should come near us, and none seek to take usfrom each other. But--it was not to be."
"Not here, Madam. Yet will it not be--hereafter?"
"I feel as though I knew little of what will be hereafter. It will beas God wills; and His will is good. I lack rest sorely--so does myfather: and we miss each other very, very much. I suppose our Lord cangive us what we need; and as to how, and when, and where--He will know.We have only to wait. Only--I am so weary!"
And she turned on her pillow with a heavy sigh. Weary of life and allthat was in it--and she only just eighteen! Frideswide would have givenmuch to comfort her: but she did not know what to say.
"Our Lord was weary Himself," she said at last.
"Aye, and the memory should rest me. But it doth not so. I seem tohave sunk beneath all that--down into the great depths where no wordscan reach me. Only His own voice, when He shall come and lay His handupon me, and say, 'Arise, and come away.' I reckon I shall be strongenough to rise up then. Now, I only want to lie and wait for it.Frideswide, dost thou know what gladness feels like? It is so longsithence I have felt it, that I can barely remember."
"Yes, Madam, I know it well."
"And I do not, save in flashes," said Lady Anne again in that wistfultone. "I marvel how it will come to me. I suppose it will come."
She spoke as if she thought it hardly possible.
"Madam, saith not the Psalmist, 'Thou hast put gladness in mine heart?'Methinks that is God's gift as much as grace or mercy."
"Then I will ask Him to put it there," she said, with that childlikesimplicity which was a part of her character. "Frideswide, methinks itshall be another way of saying to Him, 'Lord, let me die!'"
And Frideswide knew it was so.
"My maid," said the mistress after a moment's pause, "who was it ledthee into the ways of God?"
Frideswide could hardly tell. It had always been so, as it seemed toher. She could barely remember her mother; but first her aunt, and thenher stepmother, and always her father, had brought her up in the Lollardfaith since her world began. But friends, after all, however faithfuland loving, can only lead us into the Court of Israel: the Lord of theTemple must draw aside the veil, and admit His priests Himself into theholy place.
"I can tell thee who it was that led me," resumed Lady Anne, "and let itcheer thee, my maid, to do God's work on them that thou hast opportunityto reach. It was one that I cannot in any wise remember--my Lady mygrandmother. She was sometime the Lady Anne de Montacute, a daughter ofmy Lord of Salisbury that died for King Richard at Cirencester: and shebred up first my father, and after, me, in that which she had learnedfrom her father. I cannot recall her face, essay it as I may: but herdoctrine abides with me. 'Tis true, I might have minded it less had notmy father kept me thereto belike: for the which reason, may-be, it hathalway seemed me that to love him and to love God went together. Theywere diverse sides of the same medal. I might say that either came ofitself, as I learned the other. Once on a time I seemed to come at Godthrough him: and now--I can come at him only through God. And the daywhen I shall have both, Frideswide, will be the day when I shall knowwhat like it is to feel glad. But, O my God, was there no other way tobring it?--was there no other way!"
"'There are delights in Thy right hand unto the end,'"[#] softly quotedFrideswide. "And, dear my Lady, surely they will be the sweetest untothem that had the fewest delights here below."
[#] Psalm xvi. 10.
The answer came in another quotation from the same Book. "'I am poorand needy; the Lord is mine help. My helper and my deliverer art Thou:tarry not, O my God!'"[#]
[#] Psalm xi. 17.