*CHAPTER IV.*
*SCENE-SHIFTING.*
"What a world this is!--a cur of a world, which fawns on its master, andbites the beggar. Ha, ha! it fawns on me now, for the beggar has boughtthe cur."--EDWARD, EARL LYTTON.
A brilliant spring morning greeted Frideswide's eyes when she opened hercurtains in the little turret-room at Amboise where the chamberers werelodged. Avice was still asleep, but Frideswide, hearing sounds of lifewithout, and fearing it might be late, roused her, and they dressedquickly, and hastened to the Countess's rooms. They found that ladyrefreshed by her night's rest, and in the highest spirits. From thesanguine tone of her conversation, it might have been supposed that theconquest of England was only a thing to ask and have. They would soonbe back at Warwick or Middleham,--there could not be the least doubt ofit: King Henry would be restored amid the acclamations of a delightedand loyal people, that rebel would have his head cut off, and all wouldbe smooth as a looking-glass, and sweet as a bouquet of roses, for everthenceforward.
It was not Frideswide's place to utter a word. But in her heart shethought that she had no wish to return to Middleham. Were it in herpower to return to Lovell Tower, that would have been a differentmatter.
The process of dressing over, the ladies descended to Queen Marguerite'sdrawing-room, there to wait till the chapel bell rang for matins. TheQueen herself appeared in a few minutes, and gave them a kindlygreeting. She was accompanied by a youth of seventeen years, in whom itwas easy to recognise the Prince of Wales.
Edward Prince of Wales was "only the child of his mother." Neither inperson nor character did he bear any resemblance to the King. He wastall for his age, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and superlatively handsome.His beauty, nevertheless, was of rather too feminine a cast--thoughthere was no shade of weakness in his character, unless too great atendency to fiery rashness be considered in that light.
It may be said that the Prince did not enter the room unattended. Alittle allegorical person accompanied him, Cupid by name, who is said totake great delight in the making of mischief and the breaking of hearts.In this instance he certainly came for the latter pursuit. Well wouldit have been for Warwick's youngest and sweetest daughter if theelectric spark had not been shot that day from heart to heart, which wasto end in so soon making her a widow indeed, with a heart which couldthrob no more to any human love.
The King of France was now on his way to the chapel, as a loud ringingof bells and a trumpet-blast informed every body within hearing. QueenMarguerite marshalled her guests, giving her own hand to Clarence, thePrince conducting the Duchess. In pairs they slowly filed down thestairs of the tower, and crossed the court-yard to the chapel, where theEnglish Queen and Prince sat in the royal traverse, the former on theright hand of King Louis, and the latter on the left of Queen Carlotta.
Frideswide felt quite ready to echo Christian's opinion that neitherKing nor Queen of France was much worth looking at. King Louis hadstrong and by no means beautiful features, and he stooped in theshoulders to an extent which approached an appearance of deformity. TheQueen's features were more regular, but her face had a horse-likelength, and every thing about her was on a large and rather coarsescale. From the constant glances of fear cast by the Queen upon herhusband, Frideswide readily guessed that her married life was not ahappy one. In truth, poor Carlotta's brains had been frightened out ofher. She was not naturally at all deficient in intellectual power: buteighteen years spent under the influence of unceasing terror had socompletely broken her spirit and crushed her capacities of all kinds,that Carlotta was now a simple nonentity--good to sit, clad in robes andjewels, at a pageant, but in all other respects, outside her children'snursery, good for nothing at all.
After matins, breakfast was served in the Queen's drawing-room.Breakfast was only now beginning to be considered a social meal.Hitherto it had been much what afternoon tea is now--a light repast, towhich people came or not as they chose, and chiefly affected by womenand invalids. It had, therefore, mainly consisted of bread or cakes.Now fish and meat made their appearance in addition, and also theacceptable novelty of butter--novel, that is to say, in its new form ofbread and butter. It had long been used in cooking: but about this timeit permanently took the place of dripping as a relish to bread. Wine,ale, and milk, were the beverages used.
Never, perhaps, to the same extent as at this time, did the staff oflife appear under so many different forms. The more delicate kinds weretermed simnel and _pain de main_: wassel was the best kind of commonbread; cocket was a spongy loaf of cheaper flour; maslin was made ofwheat mixed with oats and barley. Griddle-cakes were peculiar to Walesand the counties bordering thereon. Spice-bread was plum-cake in allvarieties of richness. There was also brown bread, and Christmas bread,which last was made of fine flour, milk, and eggs. Manchet bread, whichwas of high class, seems to have borne its distinctive name rather inreference to shape than to material, and probably resembled a Yorkshiretea-cake.[#] There were beside all these, rolls, biscuits and cakes ofall sorts, maccaroons, gingerbread, and marchpane--a sweet cake of themaccaroon type.
[#] This is the explanation usually given by antiquaries; but inLancashire, within living memory, a manchet was a small square loaf ofvery white bread. Some writers make manchet (afterwards termed _chet_bread) the name of the simnel loaf; this is perhaps the trueexplanation.
After breakfast, Queen Marguerite proceeded to business. She held along sitting of her council--for the King being a prisoner, she wasvirtually and unavoidably the Lancastrian Sovereign. The Prince was yettoo young to assume this position, though circumstances had forced himto the front so early that his intellect was beyond his years. He hadinherited nothing of the mental weakness of his father.
The council consisted of the Prince, Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, JasparTudor Earl of Pembroke (brother of King Henry by the mother's side),Walter Lyhart Bishop of Norwich (the Queen's Confessor), RalphMackarell, her Chancellor, and several gentlemen of less note who werein the Queen's suite. The only ladies admitted in attendance on theQueen were the Countess of Warwick and the Lady de Vivonne, the latterof whom understood no English. Any thing of serious consequence couldtherefore be said in that tongue.
English had now almost entirely taken the place so many centuries heldby French as the Court language, and there is very little differencebetween the English of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. During thereign of Elizabeth a polishing process was slowly progressing, which hasnever ceased,--though how far all changes in this respect areimprovements, may reasonably be open to question.
The idea of a new campaign was now mooted. Marguerite was sure of helpfrom King Louis. The Duke of Burgundy was a more doubtful ally, whovacillated between the rivals as inclination or policy led him, and whowas at that time recently married to the youngest sister of Edward IV.,and yet entertaining and pensioning a number of the Lancastrian fugitivenobles. Just now the Red Rose was in the ascendant at his Court. Hispersonal liking for Edward was doubtful, and his fear and dislike ofWarwick were not doubtful. Two of the most prominent Lancastriannobles, the Dukes of Exeter and Somerset, both of whom were at hisCourt, did their utmost to incline him in their own direction, and theresult was that he openly offered his assistance to Queen Marguerite,while he privately sent underhand information to Edward of all her plansso far as they were known to him. This, at least, is generallybelieved. It is, nevertheless, very possible, that the Duchess Margaretmay be really responsible for much of her lord's apparent treachery.She was a woman to whose soul conspiracy and scheming were as the breathof life.
The preparations for the campaign were quietly maturing as the summeradvanced. It was arranged that Warwick was to precede the Queen,landing about September, and she was to follow with more troops, twomonths later. But in the mean time it was desirable that some meansshould be found to make the interests of Warwick identical with those ofKing Henry. No one knew better than Marguerite that Warwic
k's fidelitywas an article that had its price, and that he might be expected toserve any cause just so long as that cause served him. He wasperpetually at see-saw, and a very little additional pressure at eitherend would hoist or depress him in an instant. The fact of hisdaughter's marriage to Clarence made him more dubious than ever. True,Clarence himself was at the present moment a Lancastrian: but how longwould he remain so? He was even less to be trusted of the two: for whilesolid advantage was required to weigh with Warwick, caprice was enoughat any time to sway the actions of Clarence. Something, therefore, mustbe done to provide a make-weight for Warwick's family connection withEdward: and while the Queen was considering how it could be done, KingLouis made a suggestion to her which showed the best way to do it.
Human hearts will break through all state trappings, and will insist onbeing heard even through the roar of revolution. The young Prince ofWales, barely seventeen, had fallen passionately in love with the LadyAnne Neville, Warwick's youngest daughter, who was a year younger thanhimself. But people were grown up at that age in the eventful fifteenthcentury, which acted like a hot-bed upon the intellect and judgment ofits children. That the Prince should marry the Lady Anne Neville waspolitically most devoutly to be wished: it was ardently desired by boththe parties most concerned, by Warwick himself, and by every body butthe one person into whose hands the matter had to come for decision.But so well were the feelings of Queen Marguerite known to all aroundher, that no one but the King of France himself dared to suggest to herthe marriage of her son with Warwick's daughter. And when suggested,the proposal was at first received by the Queen with a blaze ofindignation. The wrath was all for Warwick,--certainly not for theinnocent Anne, whom she loved dearly for her own sake.
"What!" cried the Queen passionately, "does he ask to marry his daughterto the son of the woman he traduced? The wounds that he has inflictedon me will bleed till the day of judgment."[#]
[#] These are the Queen's own words.
King Louis had need of all his craft and cajolery (in both which he wasan adept when he chose) to bring the insulted woman to what heconsidered reason. Perhaps, after all, she yielded rather to thepleading eyes of her darling than to any political argument. But shedid yield: and usually, when Marguerite resolved to do any thing, shedid it graciously.
The marriage of the Prince of Wales and the Lady Anne was celebrated inthe chapel of Amboise, in July or August, 1470. It was attended by theusual ludicrous stratagems on the part of King Louis, who loved grandpageants only less than he detested paying bills for them. Accordingly,when hangings were to be put up, he bought new velvet for those partswhere they could be seen, and made old serve wherever they could not.On the present occasion, His Majesty had new robes made for himself andthe Queen, but the fronts only were of previously unused material,--for,as the King very truly observed, "when we are sitting in the traverse inchapel, who will see the backs of our clothes?" On this economicalprinciple, the gold trimmings on Queen Carlotta's dress were gold infront, but at the back tinsel was employed. A splendid diamond servedas a button to fasten the ostrich feather in His Majesty's hat (whichwas of a round form turned up with fur, like a tall "pork-pie" hat), butthe velvet of which the back portion was composed was creased and worn,and the back fur had been cut from an old cloak of the Queen's.
Queen Marguerite practised her economies in another fashion. Economywas far more necessary to her than to Louis, for she literally livedupon alms: but when she found velvet beyond her purse, she dressedherself in honest camlet, or, had it come to that, in uncompromisingserge. In truth, Marguerite was too high-souled to measure a man'sworth by that of his clothes. In velvet or in serge, she was still theQueen of England. By a little pinching, in this instance, velvet wasobtained for the bridegroom's dress: but there was not enough for theQueen also, and she therefore appeared contentedly in sendal, which costless, nor was she so mean a soul as to feel one pang in doing so.Warwick, who acquired wealth not as he ought, but as he could, had cashenough, and exhibited the fact by showering jewellery on the bride.
The ceremony over, congratulations were offered in abundance, and allthe suite knelt to kiss the hand of the Princess. It was the generalopinion that a splendid future lay before the young pair,--how could itbe otherwise? They were already dowered with rank, beauty, intellect,and devoted love. What did they lack except wealth and success, whichthe approaching campaign would undoubtedly confer on them? O blindeyes, which saw not the Angel of Death stand with folded wings behindthe bridegroom!--which read not the scroll, written within and without,with desolation, and mourning, and woe, to be crushed into those few andevil years which were the portion of the bride! Woe unto them thatlaughed now, for they should weep!
The remainder of the summer was busily filled with preparations for theapproaching campaign. On an early day in September, the Duke ofClarence, and the Earls of Warwick and Oxford, took leave of the ladies,and with banners flying, at the head of a mercenary host, set out forEngland.
"God guard you, my Lady!" said Warwick, with his last kiss to his wife."Farewell, my pretty ones!" to his daughters. "Only a short farewell.We meet at Westminster, two months hence, if His will be."
It was not. Never again were they to see his face.
Queen Marguerite did not remain long at Amboise after Warwick'sdeparture. She removed to Paris, to be nearer the scene of action,accompanied by the Prince and Princess, the Countess of Warwick, theCountess of Wiltshire, and the rest of her ladies. A very comical storyis told of the husband of this Countess of Wiltshire at the battle ofSt. Albans, where, says the sly old chronicler, "the said James set theKing's banner again an house end, and fought manly with the heels, forhe was afeared of losing of beauty, for he was named the fairest knightof this land."[#]
[#] Gregory's Chronicle.
On the thirteenth of September, Warwick and his army landed at Plymouth,some at Dartmouth and Exmouth. The Duke of Burgundy tried in vain tointercept him, his vessels being scattered by a great storm throughwhich Warwick passed safely. Burgundy, however, sent word to Edward ofthe port and time of Warwick's choice: but Edward was on a huntingexpedition, and, true to his character, he left matters to look out forthemselves. A man of no foresight, vigilance, nor strength of character,but capable of sudden rushes of violent bravery, it was Edward's habitto trust to the chapter of circumstances, which hitherto had usuallyturned in his favour. Moreover, he had in this instance a secret sourceof hopefulness, of which Warwick was not aware. Private overtures hadbeen going on between him and Clarence, by means of a lady in thehousehold of the Duchess, whom Edward had sent over primed withinstructions. Ostensibly she came, of her own accord, to join hermistress, and her _role_ of envoy was never suspected, for "she was nofool, nor loquacious."[#] Beyond this, Edward placed trust in Warwick'sbrothers, of whose fidelity he felt no doubt. The past was apparentlyforgotten.
[#] Comines.--Who this ambassadress was is not known.
Warwick had not landed a week when he found the whole country pouring into aid him. He set his face towards Bristol, where he had left hisheavy baggage when he fled to France. Here he was well received; andafter three days spent in collecting forces, he marched upon Nottinghamat the head of sixty thousand men.
King Edward was now at Lynn, in a fortified house, to which there was noaccess except by one bridge. He had "begun to look about him" when heheard of Warwick's approach, but he does not appear to have done muchbeyond it.[#] As he sat at dinner, news was brought to him that histrusted partisan, the Marquis Montague, had mounted his horse, and wascrying, along with others, "God save King Henry!" Edward treated thefirst rumour as mere nonsense: but when it was repeated, and Lord Riversshook his head with the remark that "things did not look well," Edwarddespatched Lord Hastings to see if it were true. He returned with thenews that it was less than the truth. Nearly the whole army haddeserted to Warwick, as represented by his brother Montague. If Edwardmeant to save himself at all, he must escape now.
[#]
Several chroniclers state that Edward fled from Nottingham to Lynnwhen he heard of Warwick's coming: but no hint of this movement is givenby Comines, who tells us that he received his version of the narrativefrom Edward's own lips.
At anchor off Lynn lay one English and two Dutch ships, ready to sail,having come laden with provisions for Edward's army. He hastilysummoned such of his nobles as were faithful to him, and about sevenhundred of the army, and fled on board one of the Dutch ships. LordHastings stayed behind to give a piece of deceitful advice to hismen--namely, that they should join Warwick, but retain their allegianceto King Edward and himself--and then followed his master. So hurriedwas the flight that Edward had no money, and no clothes but those hewore, and a cloak "lined with beautiful martens," which he had probablycaught up in departing. The three ships sailed away from Lynn with allthe speed they could make, and the day, which had opened on the tenthyear of Edward IV., closed on the forty-ninth of Henry VI.
Once more--and though he knew it not, for the last time--Warwick "hadall England at his bidding." He was king in all but name, for KingHenry still lay a prisoner in the Tower, and Queen Marguerite was inFrance. Warwick sent off Sir John Clare with hasty triumphantdespatches to the Queen, and himself marched on London.
Of course the news of his coming reached the capital before him, and thecitizens turned out to greet their favourite. Warwick's popularity withthem is said to have been due to three causes: first, he flattered them;secondly, he allowed them to engage in any acts of piracy they pleasedwith impunity; and lastly, he took care to be always heavily in debt tovarious citizens.[#] It became therefore the interest of London thatWarwick should triumph.
[#] Comines.
Warwick's first act was to march on the Tower, and summon it tosurrender. The terrified Constable delivered his keys to the LordMayor, who opened the gates for Warwick. Jaspar Earl of Pembroke andJohn Earl of Oxford entered with him. They went straight to the chamberin which the King was confined, and found that simple-minded man calmlyreading his Psalter, and not more disturbed by the tumult than to lookup and say,--"Pray you, Master Gaoler, what noise is this without?"
But Henry's tone changed the next instant, and the prisoner became theking.
"Ha! my Lord of Warwick here!--and Jaspar--my dear brother!" and he gavehim his hand affectionately. "My Lord of Oxford--God give you goodmorrow all! What means this?"
Warwick knelt at the feet of the King.
"It means, my Lord, that God hath saved King Henry."
And from all around rose the chorus. The King gazed from one to anotheras though he scarcely believed the evidence of his senses.
"Where are my wife and son?" was his next query.
"At Paris, my Lord, and soon to come hither, if God be serven."
"And the Earl of March?"
This was Edward's proper title in the eyes of a Lancastrian.
"Fled, my Lord,--fled the realm: and his wife is in sanctuary with herchildre."
It would not have been Henry VI. if he had not answered, "Poor souls!"
"All is o'er of the rebellion," broke in Oxford, always fiery and rash:"all is o'er, your Highness; and we pray you give us leave to conductyou to your own lodging."
"Nay," said the King, kneeling down at the table; "tarry till I havethanked God."
Then, the rest kneeling around bareheaded, he poured forth a ferventthanksgiving. Very simple as this man was in worldly wisdom, he waseloquent when he spoke to God. Then they took from him the prison garb,and attired him in royal robes, and led him to "the King's lodgings" inthe White Tower.
Here a singular ceremony took place. Warwick and his colleagues werenot content with merely restoring King Henry, but deemed it a bettersafeguard to give him the additional advantage of popular election.Accordingly they held a formal _plebiscite_--of whom composed we are nottold,--whether simply of the little group of Lancastrian nobles, or oftheir army of four thousand men, or generally of the citizens of London.This process completed, the King was set on horseback, and conducted tothe Bishop of London's palace.
But Warwick soon discovered that he had an account to settle with hisintensely discontented son-in-law. The deposition of Edward, in theeyes of Clarence, was not at all equivalent to the restoration of Henry.He had been ready enough to displace his brother, but hisintention--which Warwick had frustrated--had been to set himself, notHenry, on the vacant throne. Clarence was in a very sulky temper, andrequired a tiresome amount of smoothing. This desirable end was at lastaccomplished; and having been joined by his excellent brother, theArchbishop of York, who was always constant to one side--the winningone--Warwick proceeded to get up a splendid procession to St. Paul'sCathedral, which King Henry entered in state on the thirteenth ofOctober. He wore his crown, and Warwick carried his train, while Oxfordbore the sword before him. After the procession, Edward of March wassolemnly proclaimed a usurper through London.
Meanwhile, Edward, deserted and destitute, chased by Esterlings acrossthe sea, ran his vessel into Alkmaar, and landed, accompanied by hisbrother Richard and his few faithful adherents. He had no money to paythe captain, and he gave him all that he had, his fur-lined cloak. TheLord of Gruthuse, Governor of Holland for the Duke of Burgundy, receivedthe fugitives kindly, provided them with clothing, and conducted them tothe Hague, whence Edward sent a messenger to the Duke to notify hisarrival. This news was by no means a source of pleasure to that royaltrimmer, Duke Charles, whose endeavours to keep in with both parties areas amusing to readers of history as they were troublesome to himself.He did, however, grant to his brother-in-law a pension of five hundredcrowns per month; but he gave him little encouragement to come on to hiscourt, whither Edward nevertheless proceeded at once, as soon as he hadmoney to do so. When Edward presented himself at St. Pol, where theCourt was then residing, the poor Duke was in a ludicrous state ofindecision. On his one hand was his wife Margaret, to whom he was reallyattached, as he showed by marrying her as soon as he became his ownmaster--his father having set his face against the marriage forpolitical reasons: on the other side, the Lancastrian Dukes of Exeterand Somerset, who had resided for some years at his Court, and were hischosen friends. On both sides, as it seemed, was his own interest. Atlast he contrived to find a way out of the difficulty, which, as usualin such circumstances, was a crooked one. He publicly proclaimed hisintention of giving no assistance to Edward, and forbade any of hissubjects to enlist with him: while privately he presented him with fiftythousand florins, and quietly made ready at Ter Veere four or five largeships of his own navy, and fourteen more hired from the Esterlings, ormerchants of the Hanse Towns.
These preparations of course took time; and during that time QueenMarguerite would have been energetically working in England, had shefound it possible. But winds and waves were against her. She came downto the French coast in November, as had been agreed with Warwick: butshe could go no further. In an agony of impatience and longing, she wascompelled to waste at Harfleur time more precious than jewels. Herhusband wanted her, in every sense of the word. The Lancastrian party,deprived of her, was a body without a soul. Even Warwick, clever man ashe was, and little love as was lost between him and her, condescended toexpress a wish for the Queen's presence.
On the fourth of November, 1470, while things were in this condition, alittle life began in the sanctuary at Westminster, which was to end,fifteen years later, as sorrowfully as it had opened, in the Tower ofLondon. The long wished for son of Edward IV. came at last. But thenews does not seem to have lightened the discouraged hearts of theYorkists. Before the month was over, Sir Richard Widville, QueenElizabeth's own brother, had made his submission to King Henry.
The King was residing, quietly enough, at Westminster Palace, which henever quitted during his short tenure of power. Large grants were madeto the three Warwick brothers; and Henry, who could not conceive theidea of any body playing him false, seems to have placed himselfentirely in their hands. His sagacious wife would have taken a truerview of th
e situation. But she was a virtual prisoner on the Frenchcoast, bound there by the winds and waves of God.
Warwick was created afresh Lord High Admiral of England, Ireland, andAquitaine, with enormous powers: Clarence was made Viceroy of Ireland,and letters patent granted enabling him to do any thing he chose. Thewhole tone of the grants shows them to have really proceeded from thepersons to whom they were ostensibly made, and in whose hands the Kingwas an innocent toy, skilfully moved at pleasure. O for the wise headand the true heart of his one real friend!--of her who loved _him_first, and the crown and sceptre second. There were other friends, truein a sense: but to them the crown was the point of importance, and Henrywas interesting merely as the man who ought to be wearing it.
One of these last was with him--his brother Jaspar,--and early inFebruary, another fought his way to his side. The winds and waves, soonto have so dire a message for him, yielded now to the eager importunityof Exeter. The sight of Edward at the Court of Burgundy was more thanhis Lancastrian heart could bear. The bitter cruelty which he hadreceived at the hands of Edward's sister, his own wife, came back uponhim too vividly to be endured. Half driven by the one reason, halfdrawn by the other, he hastily left St. Pol, and journeyed across Franceto the port where Queen Marguerite waited for a fair wind from the east.And then it was that Frideswide Marston first saw the face which sheshould never forget again.
Henry Duke of Exeter was a Holand, but not one of the handsome Holandsof Kent, who were characterised by their lofty height, their statelycarriage, and their magnificent beauty. His grandfather, John deHoland, the first Duke of Exeter, had stepped out of the family ranks inrespect of personal appearance, being a short, dark-haired man, withpendulous cheeks and no good looks of any kind. Duke Henry had improvedupon this pattern, having inherited some of the attractiveness of hisbeautiful grandmother, the Princess Elizabeth of Lancaster. Two Holandqualities were his, derived from his grandfather--the fiery fervour andthe silver tongue. From both sides of his ancestry came his impulsivebravery; from the Plantagenet side his chivalrous generosity, hisdelicate courtesy: from all, the unswerving loyalty and faithfulnesswhich formed the most prominent feature of his character. Yet they werejoined by that shrinking from pain, and that despondent hopelessness,which an eminent psychologist tells us are manly, not womanlycharacteristics, inconsistently mingled with weakness of a type muchmore feminine than masculine. A strangely complex and inconsistentcharacter was this: a brave man who never feared disgrace nor death; atrue man, who would have died with his hand upon his banner and his faceto the foe; a man with distinct convictions, and courage to avowthem--yet a weak man. A voice that he loved would lead him in the teethof his own convictions, though a voice that he did not love could notmake him swerve for an instant. In this respect he was unlike all hisfamily,--most of all unlike his bluff and cruel father, the last act ofwhose life had been the invention of the rack, long popularly known inEngland as "The Duke of Exeter's daughter."
In a popular ballad of the day, wherein the state is described under thefigure of a ship, Exeter is selected as the lantern at the mast-head.The idea was doubtless originally taken from his badge--the fierycresset set aloft upon the pole--yet it was equally true to the fervent,devoted, transparent character of the man.
"The ship hath closed hym a lyght To kepe her course in way of ryght, A fyre cressant that bernethe bryght, With fawte was never spyed. That good lyght that is so clere Call Y the Duke of Exceter, Whos name in trouthe shyned clere, His worship spryngethe wyde."
The memory of the wife at whose hands he had endured what few husbandswould have borne, much less have pardoned, was to Exeter one of unmixedpain and bitterness. It could scarcely be said that he had loved her.He had liked her, and he would have loved her with very littleencouragement. But so far from encouraging the affection, she hadsmothered it in its cradle. She gave him no chance to love her.Repulsed and mortified, his heart--to which love of something was anabsolute necessity--had turned to their one child, the fair-hairedlittle daughter who resembled her mother in face, but her father incharacter. For her sake he had borne all this suffering inflicted byher mother; for her sake he had continued to live in the same house withhis wife, long after her company had become intolerable. Nay, not to beparted from Anne, he had done, and would have done, almost any thingrequired from him. They were parted now. The Duchess knew herdaughter's power over her husband, and she therefore insisted on keepingthe daughter by her side. She might become a useful tool some day, ifshe received proper training, which her mother meant to give her.
All that Exeter knew was that the only creature whom he loved, and wholoved him, was in the hands of enemies who would try hard to make herhate him. She was his one comfort in all the world, and she was keptaway from him. This was the bitterest drop in his bitter cup--and hiswife meant it to be so. Few men had suffered in the Wars of the Rosesas he had. To-day in prison, and to-morrow in sanctuary; forsaken byhis own soldiers, reduced to beg his bread barefooted until the Duke ofBurgundy took compassion upon him, robbed of every penny of hisinheritance by the woman who had sworn in God's presence to love andcherish him--all these painful memories were less to Exeter than thecruel separation from his only child. Deep down in his heart, scarcelyconfessed even to himself, was the hope that would break out of thatpassionate longing for her. If he could cross the Channel, if he couldget to London, perhaps, some day, at a window or through the curtains ofa litter, he might catch a glimpse of Anne. Even a wilder hope thanthis he cherished; for it might be possible to bribe one of his ownservants to obtain for him a secret and stolen interview with his ownchild. But would he ever find his child again? He might see the LadyAnne de Holand: but would she be the little Nan that he had left yearsago--the little Nan that used to climb upon his knee and kiss him andtell him that she "loved him so"? Better to keep that sweet remembranceundimmed, though it called up such hopeless yearning, than to meet acold, haughty maiden who would courtesy to him and call him "my graciousLord," and take the first opportunity of getting away from him. Thatwould be to lose his darling indeed, in a far worse sense than he hadlost her now.
It was not for Frideswide Marston to read all this. But she saw theweary, wistful look in the dark eyes, and she wondered whence it came.
How Exeter contrived to do what the Queen could not do, and make his wayto England, has not been explained. We only know that he did it, andthat on the fourteenth of February, 1471, he rode into London--whereKing Henry VI. reigned in the Palace of Westminster, where QueenElizabeth Widville pined in the Sanctuary, and where the Duchess Anne ofExeter held royal state at Coldharbour--safe from both rival Roses, forwhat Lancastrian would harm the wife of his King's most faithfulcouncillor, and what Yorkist would dare to touch the favourite sister ofhis sovereign?
In anticipation of the Duke's journey, Queen Marguerite had kindlysuggested that any of the suite who wished to do so might send lettersby him. Frideswide, who was longing for communication with home,undertook the tremendous task of writing both to her father and sister.The Duke turned over the letters which were put into his hands, andpaused suddenly when he came to the one addressed to his own home.
"Who writ this?" he asked of John Combe, who had brought the letters tohim.
Combe glanced at the address--"_To the hands of Mistress Agnes Marston,at Coldharbour, in the City of London, le these delivered._"
"I reckon, my gracious Lord, it shall be Mistress Frideswide Marston,that is of my Lady of Warwick's following."
"Pray you, desire Mistress Frideswide to come hither, for I would fainhave speech of her."
She came, and stood courtesying within the doorway.
"Come nigh, I pray you, Mistress," said the Duke, "and tell me, is thisfair dame of your kin?"
He held up her letter to Agnes, as he spoke.
"An' it like you, aye, my gracious Lord: it is my sister, that ischamberer unto your Lady."
The Duke looked thoughtfully at t
he letter.
"Think not my words strange," said he, "but answer me, if this your goodsister be of gent and pitying kind?"
"That is she, right surely."
"One that should do a kind deed for a man in need, an' it fell in herway?"
"I am assured of that, my gracious Lord."
"Then pray you, Mistress Frideswide, do me so much grace as to writeoutside your letter, that you do beseech her, for the love of you, togrant that the bearer thereof shall ask of her."
Frideswide looked, as she felt, astonished.
"Mistress Frideswide," said the Duke sadly, "you are here, as I, cut offfrom home and friends. But you have hope to return thither when Godwill, and I have none. My maid, I have one only child, that is the veryjewel of my heart, and they keep her from me. (He did not say who"they" were.) If you will do so much for me, I will myself deliver yourletter, an' it may be compassed, and pray your good sister to let mehave a word with my darling."
Frideswide Marston looked up into the sad earnest eyes, and then,without another word, stooped down and added the request to her letter.There was more wet on the cover than ink, when she had done.