The unwelcome change was at hand. The Duchess of Exeter had petitioned her brother for Frideswide Marston, and no choice was allowed the latter. One evening in January, Queen Marguerite's gaoler entered her bower, as he politely termed it—she called it her dungeon—in Wallingford Castle. As gaolers went in those days, Sir Thomas Thwaytes was fairly civil to his illustrious captive.
"Dame," said he, "please you, take your leave of Mistress Marston, whom it is His Highness' gracious pleasure to command otherwhere."
Frideswide turned rather pale, as was but natural. Her first idea was that the alteration had reference to her mistress rather than herself. But Sir Thomas soon undeceived her. Her sister was going home; and Frideswide was to take her place with my Lady of Exeter. Every fibre of Frideswide's heart and nerves revolted at the very name. Take service under the woman who had ruined the life of that man with the soft sad eyes, for whose miserable story her compassion had been intensely awakened! But Frideswide had no choice. And then the thought flashed upon her that perhaps she might serve him there. At least she could do what Agnes had done, and help him, if he should seek it, to obtain private interviews with his daughter.
Queen Marguerite took an affectionate leave of her young attendant. She gave her a token, or gift, in the form of a table-book—one of those little ivory books, turning on a pivot, for memoranda, which have lasted in the same form for many a century. This one was among the few relics of 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 Simon Quyxley, an officer of the garrison, who was going on pilgrimage to Canterbury, and meant to stay a few weeks with his friends in London on his way thither. He delivered Frideswide at Coldharbour; and before she well set her foot inside the house, she found herself in the arms of her sister Agnes.
Fortunately for the sisters, the Duchess was spending the evening at Court, and they were free to be alone together if they chose. Agnes hurried Frideswide upstairs to the maidens' chamber, which was at that moment empty, and each rapidly poured her story into the ear of the other—a process which left Agnes comforted, and Frideswide indignant.
"Tarry here I must," said the latter: "but trust me, Annis, so far as lieth 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 travelling fellows, sweeting?"