*CHAPTER III.*
*FLIGHT.*
"My barque is wafted to the strand By breath Divine: And on the helm there rests a hand Other than mine." --DEAN ALFORD.
The Lady Idonia sat writing at a small table in the hall of LovellTower. She was the best writer in the family--which does not by anymeans imply extraordinary fluency of diction or rapidity of penmanship.The letters grew slowly under her hand, and she frequently paused tolook out of the window and think. What lay on the desk before her wasthe following unfinished letter.
"Jh'u.[#]
"MY NOWEN[#] DERE CHYLDE,
Thys shal be to give you to wyt, wt[#] all louyng comendac'ons from allus, that wee well fare, and do hope in God that you be the same. And wehave not yett herde so much as one word from yr sistar. Matters herebee reasonable quyett at this present, onlie that Doratie has broke y'powdre box of siluer, in good sooth a misaduenture and noe malice, wchshall be wel amended ere yow com home. The dun cowe hath a calfe of hirveraye coloure. And Lyard Carlile[#] and all the dogges fare wel.Maistres Henley hir littel lad lyethe sicke of a fevare, but the leechreckoneth he shal doe well. Dorathie ys merrie, and gode withal. Yrfather thynkes to buy som pigges ayenst Xmas.[#] We shal bee fayn tohere of yr newes, the rather if you can give us any tydynges of such asyou wot of,[#] how they be now in men's reckonings, and if thei be lyketo fare wel or noe. The gode Lorde of his mercie kepe us all, and makevs to bee hys trew seruantes. Annis, I wold haue you, when conueniencieserue, to sende mee from London towne viij ells gode clothe of skarlettefor a goune for yr moder, and so moche of greene kersay as shall be agoun for Doratie: and dowlas to lyne the same, and silke frenge to guardthe skarlett goun, and fur of rabetts to guard ye grene: alsoe siluerbotons iij dozen, and black botons vj dosen and halfe. And sende yesame well packed vp to the Goldene Lyon by Powles,[#] to ye name ofMaister Anthanie Milborne, yt is a frend of mye broder Will, and comethinto Yorksh: thys nexte monethe. And let him that berethe ye same askeof ye sayd Maister Anthanie for a token[#] yt he hath of mee for yow.Annis, wee trust in God yt yow shal be a discrete mayd and gode, andobedyent to yowr maistres, and kyndlie wt yr fellowes.[#] And above al,my dere harte, kepe yow ye fayth yt ve have ben learned, nor let notanie man beguile you therof."
[#] A contraction of Jesus, commonly used at the head of a letter bypious persons.
[#] Mine own.
[#] With.
[#] The name of a horse.
[#] Against Christmas.
[#] The Lollards.
[#] St Paul's Cathedral.
[#] Present.
[#] Fellow-chamberers.
The pen had been laid down at this point, and left so long that the inkwas dry. The Lady Idonia was speaking now to Another than Agnes,
"O Lord, keep the child!" went up from her inmost heart. "Suffer theunfaithful handmaid to plead with Thee, that the faithful one may bepreserved in the faith. I may give her wrong cautions--I may fancydangers that will not assault her, and be blind to those that will.Thou, who seest the end from the beginning, hold the child up, andsuffer her not, for any pains nor fears, to fall from Thee!"
She roused herself at last, and finished her letter.
"And so, with all louyng comendac'ons from al vs, I commend yow to God.
"Yr louyng grandame to my litel powar, "IDONIA MARNELL.
"Writyn at Louell Towre, this Wensday."
The letter was delivered by Mr. William Carew to a retainer of the Earlof Warwick, who was also one of his friends, and from whom he hadunderstood that the Earl meant to go southwards before the week wasover.
The plot was ripe at last. Warwick left Middleham with the first dawnof 1470, and arrived in London without any suspicion of his proceedingsbeing excited at Court. He left his brothers behind him in the north,with strict injunctions to George to keep John out of mischief. Theywere very necessary. Unfortunately (from Warwick's point of view) justat that juncture King Edward took it into his head to create LordMontague's little son George a Duke--a title then shared by very few whowere not Princes of the Blood--with the object of marrying him to thePrincess Elizabeth, and thus making him, in case Edward himself left noson, virtually the future King. This high advancement for his boysorely tried Montague's new-born Lancastrian proclivities. He swunglike a pendulum between the royal rivals: and all the efforts of hisbrother George were needed to prevent him from going off to Edward, andof course, revealing the plot in which Warwick was now engaged. Onething which had annoyed Warwick was the discovery, real or fancied, thathis influence with Edward was less powerful than of old. But he went towork darkly, as was his wont. He was greatly assisted in hisproceedings by the fact that he held Edward's commission to raise troopsfor his service in the north, and no suspicion would therefore beexcited by his gathering an army around him.[#] When he arrived inLondon, he reported himself at the Palace, and a long interview followedin Westminster Hall between Edward, Clarence, and Warwick. They parted"worse friends than they met,"[#] but Edward still does not appear tohave suspected that Warwick was actually plotting against him, or hewould hardly have let him go so calmly. Edward had left for Canterbury,and Warwick and Clarence prepared to return northwards and continuetheir amusement. Before leaving London, Clarence dispatched Sir JohnClare to Lord Welles and his son Sir Robert, desiring them to "be readywith all the fellowship they could, whenever he should send word; but totarry and not stir till my Lord of Warwick were come again from London,for fear of his destruction."[#] In the mean time they assiduouslyspread a report that "the King was coming down with great power toLincolnshire, and his judges should sit, and hang and draw great numbersof the commons."[#] Of course this disposed the commons to rally roundWarwick, who represented himself in the light of a protector from theimpending terrors. He sent messenger after messenger to bid Sir RobertWelles be of good comfort, and go forward, promising to meet him atLeicester on the twelfth of February with nineteen thousand men.[#]
[#] A very varied tale is told of Warwick's capturing Edward in his bedat Wolvey in 1469, and sending him prisoner to Middleham, whence heeffected his escape in a romantic manner. The accounts given arecontradictory, the story of the escape is disbelieved by Carte, andintimations on the Rolls seem to show that the King had never leftWestminster; I therefore have thought it wiser to ignore this episodeentirely beyond the present mention of it.
[#] Sandford.
[#] Confession of Sir Robert Welles, Harl. Ms. 283, fol. 2.
[#] Confession of Sir Robert Welles, Harl. Ms. 283, fol. 2.
Clarence, meanwhile, was playing his own little game, independently ofhis father-in-law. His messengers had private orders to "move the host,that at such time as the matter should come near the point of battle,they should call upon my Lord of Clarence to be King, and destroy theKing that so was about to destroy them and all the realm."[#]
[#] Confession of Sir Robert Welles, Harl. Ms. 283, fol. 2.
Meanwhile, Edward continued his favours to Montague--not because hetrusted, but really because he suspected him, and was anxious to ensurehis fidelity. A few days only after the meeting of Warwick and Welles,he granted to John, Earl of Northumberland and Baron Montague, themanors of Tiverton, Plympton, Okehampton, and many others inDevonshire,[#] being a portion of the confiscated lands of theCourtenays, Earls of Devon. Perhaps this timely gift prevented Montaguefrom openly siding with Warwick until a later date: but he was notparticularly grateful for it, since he contemptuously termed it "a'pie's nest," and plainly intimated that it was not so much as mighthave been expected. However, for the present, he held aloof from theactual struggle.
[#] Rot. Pat., 9 Edw. IV, Part 2. The earldom of Morthumberland was notimmediately restored to the Percys on their submission in the previousOctober. A writer in the Paston Letters dates their restoration Mar.25, 1470.
That was close at hand. Some rumour of the transactions with Wellesmust have reached Edwa
rd, for he sent a peremptory order to Lord Wellesto come to him. It was obeyed; and the old man was then commanded towrite a letter to his son, charging him instantly to forsake Warwick andto join his father. The command was accompanied by a hint that thewriter's head would be the forfeit of his failure. Sir Robert, whoseems to have been of an obstinate temper, since we are told that heknew his power was too weak to grapple with Edward, refused to obey, andmoved southward to give battle. Edward kept his word, and the father'slife paid for the son's imprudence. Then he marched northwards, and thetwo armies met at Stamford, on a place afterwards known as LoosecoatField. Welles had no chance against the overwhelming superiority ofEdward's forces, and Warwick was not there. Sir Robert was taken, andbeheaded at Doncaster on the 13th of March. Hearing that Warwick wasencamped about twenty miles from Doncaster, Edward went on to the lattertown. The next morning, March 20, "at nine of the bell," Edward tookthe field at Estrefield, and Warwick met him. "Never were seen inEngland so many goodly men, and so well arranged." But no sooner didWarwick and Clarence perceive that fortune was against them than theyfled the field, and went to seek succour from Lord Stanley. They haltedfirst at a little town, so obscure that it was necessary to say that itwas in Lancashire, as otherwise few would have known whereaboutsManchester might be. Thence they sent messengers to Lathom, but my LordStanley, most cautious of men, showed them little favour. "And so mensay they went northward, and thence, men deem, to London."[#]
[#] Paston Letters.
Perceiving that his chief adversaries had escaped him, Edward stoppedpursuit of their troops, and went on to York. He and his men hadprobably had thirsty work, for we learn that "York was drunk dry whenthe King was there."[#] He was wise enough to send to Middleham forLord Montague. When that trustworthy gentleman appeared, it was to becreated Marquis Montague, the earldom of Northumberland being now takenfrom him and restored to its rightful owner. It might have beensupposed that an earl would scarcely deem it a deplorable occurrencethat he should be made a marquis: but my gracious Lord of Montague wasevidently in an exceedingly bad temper. He growled and grumbled as ifhe were a deeply injured man,--managing, however, to keep up a contentedface in the presence of his master, who appears to have fancied that hehad secured Montague's fidelity. Never were there more men than at thattime who were able to "smile, and smile, and be a villain": and all theWarwick brothers were certainly of the number.
[#] Paston Letters.
From York was issued a long and curious proclamation, in which Edwardshowed that he had at last fully realised that Warwick and Clarence werehis open enemies. If the words of Edward were to be relied on to theexclusion of his deeds, it would certainly be supposed that he was a manof the tenderest and most affectionate nature. In this respect hesomewhat resembled his predecessor, Henry III. Both could use verytouching language--which the actions of both sorely contradicted. Inthis document the tone taken by Edward is that of a well-deserving manwho had been injured in his deepest affections. He sets forth that "theKing granted to George Duke of Clarence and Richard Earl of Warwick hispardon general for all offences before Christmas last," trusting therebyto have caused them to have "shewed unto him their naturall loue,ligeance, and duetee," for which purpose he had authorised them toassemble his subjects in certain shires. "Yet the said Duke and Earl,unnaturally, unkindly, and truly intending his destruction and thesubversion of the kingdom, ... and to make the said Duke king of thisthe said realm, against God's law, man's law, all reason, andconscience, dissimuled with his said Highness." Their proceedings arethen detailed, as deposed in the confessions of Sir Robert Welles andothers, concluding with their flight "with all their fellaship intoLancastreshire, so as his said Highness with his hoste for lack ofvitayll might not follow." Notwithstanding all these offences, "oursovereign Lord considered the nighness of blood,[#] and tender lovewhich he hath aforetime borne to them, and was therefore loth to havelost them if they would have submitted them to his grace." Havingdisobeyed the writs which allowed them to present themselves, underpromise of pardon, up to the 28th of March, the Duke and Earl are nowsolemnly proclaimed rebels, to whom loyal subjects of King Edward are togive no aid, favour, nor assistance, with meat, drink, money, orotherwise, but are to take them and bring them to the King, upon pain ofdeath and forfeiture. The reward announced for the capture of either isL100 in land by the year, to the captor and his heirs, or L1000 in readymoney, at his election. The capture of any knight of their following isto be rewarded by L20 in land or a hundred marks in cash; and of asquire, L10 in land or forty in money.[#]
[#] The Countess of Warwick was Edward's second cousin, and the Earl histhird cousin.
[#] Close Roll, 10 Edw. IV.; dated York, March 24, 1470.
The day after this proclamation, Montague received his marquis'scoronet, and was, in appearance at least, one of the most faithfulsubjects of King Edward. The news he brought on his return to Middlehamcaused no little excitement there. The Countess ordered instantpreparations for departure. Some of the household were left behind atMiddleham: some were suffered to return to their friends, among whomwere Theobalda and Eleanor. The only ladies she took with her, besideher daughters, were Mother Bonham, Frideswide, and Avice. There wasalso a dresser, or lady's maid, and a scullion-girl.
About midnight, when the ladies were trying to get a little sleep beforetheir early journey on the morrow, the porter was awoke by small pebblesthrown up at his window.
"Who goes there?" he inquired, opening the casement about an inch.
"It is I, John Wright," answered the familiar voice of the young squire."Pray thee, good Thomas, be hasteful and let me in privily, with allsilence, for I bring word from my Lord unto my Lady."
The porter cautiously unbarred the small wicket, and Wright steppedinside. He did not wait to satisfy the porter's curiosity, but spedacross the court-yard, and by means of a key which he carried, lethimself into the tower which contained the apartments of the Countess.A minute later, he was softly rapping at the outer door of her rooms,and Mother Bonham admitted him.
The Countess sent for him at once to her bedside. She guessed that hismessage was one of imminent import.
"Noble Lady," said Wright, with a low courtesy--for the courtesy was agentleman's reverence in those days,--"behold here my Lord's token, whogreets you well by me, and desires you to come unto him, and my youngladies withal, at Dartmouth, in Devon, so speedily and secretly as youmay."
He held forth a diamond ring, which the Countess recognised as oneusually worn by her husband, and not sent as a token except on occasionsof serious moment. She sent Mother Bonham at once to communicate thenews to her daughters, and to desire them to be ready to set forth twohours earlier than the time originally fixed. Her idea had been to seekthe Earl at Warwick Castle, though she hoped to receive more exact newsbefore her departure. But she deemed it quite as well that that veryreliable person, the Marquis Montague, should be left in a littleuncertainty touching her departure. She had already taken advantage ofa conveniently smoky chimney to move the Marquis into a tower which didnot overlook her own. She now gave further orders that the horses wereto be in waiting outside the Castle, on the grass, so as to avoid noise,and in a position where they could not be seen from Montague's windows.At two o'clock, wrapped in long travelling cloaks, and wearing listslippers, the ladies crept out of the Castle into the fresh April nightair, and mounted their horses in silence. Sir John Clare rode beforethe Countess, Sir Walter Wretill before the Duchess of Clarence, andJohn Wright before the Lady Anne. Slowly and silently, at first, theprocession filed off from the Castle, not breaking into a trot till theythought themselves beyond sight and hearing. The Archbishop (just thento be trusted) was keeping watch over his brother, and with himWarwick's servant, Philip Strangeways, who was to follow an hour later,in order to gallop on and warn the ladies if any pursuit were attempted.
Once out of Wensleydale, and joined by Philip, the journey changed intoa rapid flight. They travelled by night
. They were afraid of beingpursued, not only on their own account, but on that of Warwick, to whoselocality theirs would give a clue, as it would instantly be surmisedthat they were going to join him. They kept as much as possible to thebye-ways and moor roads, which were less frequented, and also lesscapable of ambush, than the high roads: but they could not keepaltogether out of human sight and hearing. Many a cottager woke up inthe dark to hear a rush of horses, and to see the flash of the lanternsas the fugitives fled past. It was a wretched journey, especially forthe Duchess, who was by no means in health to stand it. But the Duchesshad a spirit which carried her above all pain and languor. She wouldhave no halts made for her. She entertained a strong dislike and fearof Edward personally, and if report spoke truly, not without goodreason.
Before Dartmouth was reached, Frideswide Marston had most heartilywished herself, a score of times at least, within the safe shelter ofLovell Tower. Oh, if she could wake up from this hurried snatch ofsleep under an elderbush, to find herself in that little white bed inthe turret chamber, with Dorathie's head beside her on the pillow! Itseemed to Frideswide as if, that wish granted, she could never complainof any thing again.
Along the wild hill-passes of "the back-bone of England," winding roundthe Peak, keeping clear of Stafford Castle, where the Yorkist Duke ofBuckingham had his home, skirting Shropshire and Hereford, taking theferry over the Severn, down through Somerset, avoiding alike theuncivilised neighbourhood of Exmoor, where bandits loved to congregate,and the too civilised neighbourhood of Exeter, they came into thosesafer parts of Devon where the exiled Courtenays were lords of thehearts, though they had lost the lands,--where once more "the King" wasHenry VI., and his adherents would meet with honour and help. NearTotness they were met by William Newark, Warwick's nuncio, who conductedthem to boats moored in the river awaiting them. It was a great reliefto change their weary saddles for the boats in which they dropped downthe lovely Dart, and found Warwick's fleet, of eighty ships, ready toweigh anchor the moment they arrived, lying off Kingswear.
The voyage, however, had not been long before they discovered that thesaddles had been the safer mode of conveyance. The wind, though low,was not unfavourable: but they had scarcely passed Portland when theywere met by the very enemy from whom they were endeavouring to escape.As they rounded the little peninsula, ships of war stood before them,with King Edward's standard and Lord Rivers' pennon flying from themasthead.
An evil augury for Warwick was that pennon. With any weaker commander,the fleet would have obeyed its Lord High Admiral, as Warwick had beencreated a year before. But Lord Rivers was a conscientious man of oneidea, and he thoroughly believed in Edward's right. The ships joinedbattle, and the ladies of course were kept below.
Oh for that little white bed and Dorathie!
Never till then had Frideswide Marston looked death in the face, andnever after that day could she be as she had been, again.
Warwick was a less honest and true-hearted man than Rivers, but he wasalso a better general. The battle was short and sharp, but the victoryremained in the hands of Warwick. His ships got safely away, but theywere not by any means out of their troubles. It seemed as though bothGod and man were against them that night. Before they could reachBeachy Head, there came on them a terrific tempest, and they were tossedup and down in the Channel like toys of the storm. To add to all otherdistresses, the Duchess of Clarence, whose mental energy had hithertoborne her through her physical sufferings, sank beneath them at last,and became alarmingly ill. It was not until the morning of the fourthday that they found themselves off Calais, and a few hours before, theDuchess had given birth to a child which had not survived the event manyminutes. But Calais was Warwick's old home; he had been Governor of thetown for years. Here, at least, he might hope for rest and aid.
They cast anchor under shelter of Cape Grisnez, and sent John Wrightashore in a little boat to notify to Vauclere, Warwick's deputy incommand, that his master was about to land.
Warwick himself paced the quarter-deck impatiently. What were thosesluggards ashore doing, that his own state barge was not sent off atonce to land the ladies? Why did Vauclere not appear, cap in hand, toexpress his satisfaction at the return of his master? When at last hesaw his squire return alone, Warwick's patience, never very extensive,failed him utterly.
"What means all this?" he roared in a passion.
"My Lord," shouted John Wright back from the boat, "Messire de Vauclerebegs your Lordship will not essay a landing, for the townsmen will notreceive you."
"Not receive _me_!" cried the Earl in amazement. "Me, their ownGovernor! Lad, didst hear aright? Is Vauclere beside himself?"
"In good sooth, nay, my Lord, and he is sore aggrieved to have no betterwelcome for your Lordship than so. 'Tis the townsmen, not he, as hebade me for to say, and he earnestly desires your Lordship to make forsome other French port."
Warwick could hardly believe his ears.
"But surely," he answered in a rather crestfallen tone, "they will neverrefuse to receive my Lady Duchess? Have you told Vauclere in what caseshe now is?"
"My Lord, I told him all things: and he replied that he was soretroubled it should so fall out, but he had no power. He hath, howbeit,sent two flagons of wine for Her Grace."
"No power!" repeated the Earl. "Wherefore then is he there? Leave mebut land in safety, and Messire de Vauclere, and my masters thetownsmen, shall soon behold if I have any power or no! No power,quotha! Well! better luck next time. Get you up, lad, and bring thewine, for 'tis sore needed. Bid the shipmaster stand southward. Were wein better case, they should find their ears tingle ere they were mucholder! Messire de Vauclere shall one day hear my name again, or I muchmistake!"
And away strode the Earl wrathfully, to communicate the disappointingnews to his suffering ladies.
Southwards, for two days more, they slowly sailed. The storm was over,and the wind had dropped almost to a calm. But at the end of two days,with much difficulty, the vessel containing the Earl and his family wasrun into the mouth of the Seine, and between Harfleur and Honfleur theylanded on the soil of Normandy.
In France the scene was changed. Louis XI. had been pleased to take upthe Lancastrian cause--the cause of the King who had of old, as a child,been made the rival of Louis's father, and whose troops had been soignominiously driven out of France by the Maid. In France, therefore,Warwick was received with honour and material help. Every provision wasmade for the wearied ladies at Valognes, where they took up theirtemporary abode: but for some weeks nothing would tempt Warwick fromHonfleur--not even the remonstrances of his friend the Duke of Burgundy,who sent to entreat him to come to his Court. One important point waswanting--Queen Marguerite would make no move towards conciliation. Invain King Louis assured her that Warwick's help was absolutely essentialto the Lancastrian cause. The Queen might have welcomed him, but thecruel defamation of her name the woman knew not how to forgive. Sheonly relented after long importunity, and then on the stern conditionthat in the presence of the Kings of France and Naples, Warwick shouldsolemnly retract all his accusations, and beg her pardon for hisinfamous falsehoods. She also insisted on this retractation beingpublished in England. Finding that no better terms could be obtainedfrom his insulted sovereign, Warwick was compelled to eat this mostunpalatable piece of humble-pie with what appetite he might. He waitedon the Queen at Angers, where he begged her pardon on his knees, andformally unsaid all the imputations which he had made upon hercharacter. Even then all present could see that Marguerite found it avery bitter task to receive her enemy into favour. After thishumiliating scene, the Earl rejoined his ladies, and some weeks laterthey travelled together to the Castle of Amboise, where their royalhosts were then residing.
The Castle of Amboise stands on one of those natural platforms of rockwhich in and about Touraine gem the vale of the Loire; the little townclustering at its foot, between it and the river, while the Palacetowers above all. Were it not for them, the scenery would b
e as flat asthe sea. But wherever they stand up there is a little oasis of beauty,for they are generally clad in verdure, as well as crowned with somepicturesque edifice of the Middle Ages.
It was after dark when the barge which bore the fugitives was moored atAmboise. Royal footmen stood on each side of the landing-stage, bearinglarge torches, and royal ushers handed the ladies from the barge, andled them into the Castle. As Frideswide was modestly following hermistress, the last of the group, rather to her surprise, a hand wasoffered her, and a voice asked her in English if she were not verytired.
Frideswide looked up into the pleasant face of a man of some thirtyyears of age, who wore the royal livery of England. Livery, it must beremembered, was not at that time any badge of servitude; all the King'sequerries, household officers, and gentlemen ushers, wore his livery.This man was of fine proportions, had bright, dark, intelligent eyes,and wore--what few then did--a long beard and moustache. There was akind, friendly expression in his face which made Frideswide feel at herease. She answered the sympathising inquiry by a smiling affirmative.
"Well, here may you find good rest," said he. "At the least, after allthese stairs be clomb, which I fear shall yet weary you somewhat. Shallwe, of your good pleasure, make acquaintance? I am the Queen'shenchman."
"Master Combe?" asked Frideswide, looking up.
"John Combe, and your servant," said he. "Truly a lowly name--it couldscarce be shorter--but it hath serven me these thirty years, and yetshall, if it please God."
The name was no unknown sound to Frideswide Marston, for John Combe hadbeen Queen Marguerite's personal attendant--equerry, secretary,confidant, friend--ever since that dark and evil day when, stung byWarwick's cruel stab in the dark, the beautiful young Queen, to avoidall ground for evil surmisings, had selected a boy of fourteen to ridebefore her. Truest of the true had John Combe proved to his royal lady.He was low down, indeed, in her household--no peerage ever adorned hisname, nor order glittered on his breast--but there was not a man abouther whom Marguerite would have trusted as she trusted him. His feelingtowards her was one of reverential tenderness--the sentiment of adevotee towards his chosen saint. In fact, it was John Combe's natureto look out for, to protect, to love, whatever he found in need of it."The man who wanted him was the man he wanted." A timid, shrinkinggirl, who looked frightened and uncomfortable, would have won JohnCombe's notice, though a dozen luxuriously-appointed beauties werefluttering about him in vain. What had originally attracted him toMarguerite herself was not the beauty nor the Queen, but the lonely,helpless, calumniated woman.
The world holds a few John Combes. Would there were more!
The long stretch of stairs came to an end at last, and John Combe ledFrideswide into the private closet of Queen Marguerite. It was thefirst time she had ever seen the royal lady who to her was theincarnation of every thing that was fair and noble. While the Queen wasoccupied with the Countess and her daughters, Frideswide had time tolook at her.
Marguerite of Anjou was now just forty years of age, but she stillretained, in every item but one, that wonderful beauty which had won herthe reputation of the loveliest woman in Europe. The once brilliantcomplexion was dimmed and faded by long years of anxiety and privation.But the graceful figure, lithe and slender, was not changed--thegracious bearing was no less fascinating than of old--the blue eyes werebright and sparkling still, and the golden hair held its own without asilver thread. She received the Countess with the affectionate concernof an old friend who was sorry for her recent suffering, and herdaughters with motherly kindness. Perhaps there was just a shade more ofit for the Lady Anne than her sister. But Anne was the younger, and wasat that moment looking the more wearied of the two. Then the Queenturned to the suite, greeted Mother Bonham as she might have done herown old nurse, and gave her hand to kiss to Frideswide and Avice. TheEarl, who had been first to wait on King Louis, made his appearancelast. Marguerite received him with cold civility, very different fromher manner to the ladies. But she condescended to converse with him onpolitical affairs, though it was in a grave and distant style.Marguerite showed to most advantage when she spoke, for then her facelighted up, her eyes were animated, and her natural vivacity made itselfapparent. Let her be silent, and the face grew grave and sad, as shehad good cause to be.
Before much of this political converse had gone on, the Queen, by amotion of her hand, summoned John Combe, who, whatever he might bedoing, always seemed to keep one eye upon every act and gesture of hisroyal mistress. She desired him to call the Lady de Vivonne, and aplump, lively, gesticulating Frenchwoman accordingly sailed into theroom. To her care the Queen committed the ladies who had accepted herhospitality, desiring her to see that they wanted for nothing: and theLady de Vivonne carried them off to the apartments already prepared forthem. Here were several other women, both French and English, whobusied themselves in offering help. One of the latter, a girl of abouttheir own age, devoted herself to Frideswide and Avice.
"Gramercy, my damsels, but you must be a-weary!" said she. "I wis I waswhen we hither came. You shall yet have seen none, as I reckon, saveour own Queen?"
"None at all," answered Avice. "I would right fain see my Lord Prince."
"And the King and Queen of France--be they here?" said Frideswide.
"They be so," replied Christian, as they found the girl was named: "but,gramercy! they be not much to look at."
"Ill-favoured both?"
Christian pulled an affirmative face. She was evidently ready tocontinue the conversation to any extent; but both the chamberers were sotired that when their duties were over, they were only too thankful tolie down in bed. Only, before they dropped asleep, Frideswide said,--
"What shall be the next move?"
"God wot," said Avice, gravely.
"Know you if the Queen hath or no any leaning toward our doctrine?"
"Hush, prithee! I cannot tell, in any wise. The King is good man andholy--men say, holy as any saint. The Queen, I have heard, is a greatalmsgiver--or so were, when she had alms to give. Poor lady! now 'tiswell nigh come to asking alms, with her."
"Poor lady!" echoed Frideswide.
And then they went to sleep.