Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century.
by Conrad von Bolanden · English · Gutenberg #33487 · 677,337 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century.
Author: Conrad von Bolanden
Release date: August 22, 2010 [eBook #33487]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33487
Credits: Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARBAROSSA; AN HISTORICAL NOVEL OF THE XII CENTURY. ***
Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
Transcriber's notes:
1. Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/barbarossaanhis00bolagoog
2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]
BARBAROSSA;
AN
HISTORICAL NOVEL
OF THE
XII Century.
BY
Conrad Von Bolanden
_PHILADELPHIA_:
Eugene Cummisky
PUBLISHER,
1037 Chestnut Street.
1867.
* * * * *
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by
EUGENE CUMMISKEY,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
* * * * *
J. FAGAN & SON,
STEREOTYPERS, PHILAD'A.
PREFACE
TO THE
AMERICAN EDITION.
The pleasant historical novel which is now offered to the American
public, refers to a period of history very much misrepresented, though
very frequently written about, or at least referred to by popular
writers. In the contest between Pope Alexander III. and the Emperor
Frederic Barbarossa, we see a very important phase of the long struggle
between the spiritual and civil power; a struggle, in which was fought
the battle of real liberty, and real Christian civilization, against
brute force and Pagan tyranny. Perhaps nothing has been so badly
understood as the real _casus belli_ in this struggle of centuries.
Most non-Catholics firmly believe that the conflict arose from an
effort of the Church to obtain universal dominion; to make princes and
people bow to her behests on all matters; to reduce the civil ruler to
the condition of a mere lieutenant of the Pontiff, to be removed at
will by that spiritual autocrat, and, of course, to improve the
condition of her own officials; securing for them the choicest and
fairest portions of all the good things of the earth. The Emperors and
Kings who were hostile to the Church are painted, on the other hand, as
the assertors of civil liberty, the William Tells that refused to
salute the tyrant's cap, even though it were called a tiara; the
heroes, that in a superstitious age braved the terrors of
excommunication, rather than sink into a degraded servitude, to the
heartless ambition of churchmen.
Nothing can be farther from the truth than this view of the subject. In
reality, what the Church fought for during this long struggle was--not
power, but--liberty. She refused to admit that she was a corporation
existing by the permission, or the creation of the State. She claimed
to be a spiritual society, existing by the fiat of the will of God,
entirely independent in her own sphere, having a government of her own;
executive, legislative, and judicial rights and duties of her own; an
end of her own, far above and beyond the affairs of this world. It was
for this liberty and independence that her martyrs had died, her
confessors languished in prison, her saints prayed and suffered. When
the rulers of the world became Christian, the difficulties in the way
of her liberty did not cease; they only assumed a new form. Open
opposition became oppression, under the specious name of protection;
and the State made every effort to restrain and shackle a power, the
indomitable energy and dauntless courage of which it imagined it had
reason to fear.
This was, indeed, one of the "empty" things which the sons of men,
crafty in their own generation, allow themselves to say when they speak
of spiritual things. The unrestrained power of the city of God on earth
cannot hinder, or in any way interfere with the true development of the
earthly commonwealth. Truth, morality, justice, are the surest
foundations of civil peace, liberty, and prosperity. Under the pretence
of defending their rights and those of their people, civil rulers have
endeavored to subjugate the Church, enslave her ministers, make her, in
a word, merely a piece of government machinery, to register their
decrees, and enforce them with her anathemas. Had they succeeded, the
only bulwark of freedom would have been swept away; for as man has no
right higher or holier than freedom of conscience, that is, freedom to
serve God rather than man, had this right been sacrificed to the
imperious demands of the civil power, other rights less important, such
as those which constitute civil liberty, would have been lost with it.
Thus the medieval Pontiffs--living in exile, wandering from one city to
another, often in prison, rarely suffered to live in peace--were the
martyrs of the highest and truest freedom. To their indomitable
courage, untiring perseverance, and clear-sighted intelligence, we owe
whatever idea of true freedom (that is of the existence of the rights
of man independently of the permission, toleration, or concession of
the civil power) still survives in modern society.
These fundamental truths are well illustrated in the following pages.
The special period of history chosen, serves to show clearly the real
points of dispute. Even Voltaire acknowledged that it was the "wisdom"
of Alexander III. that triumphed over the "violence" of Barbarossa. As
the same writer observes:--"Alexander revived the rights of the people
and suppressed the crimes of Kings." A Pontiff to whom such testimony
is borne by Voltaire, cannot fairly be accused of ambitious designs. In
his contest with Frederic, from the beginning to the end, he simply
asserted the independence of the Church. Antipope after antipope was
opposed to him, all of them were puppets of the Emperor; but in the
end, even Frederic was obliged to yield, and to acknowledge the patient
but determined Alexander as the Vicar of Christ.
The subserviency of these pretended Pontiffs is well described by our
author. There is no exaggeration here. These men were merely Vicars of
the Emperor, existing by his favor, the creatures of his breath. They
cared little for the ratification of their decrees in Heaven; so that
they knew that they pleased the rulers of this world! What the Emperor
wished bound, they did bind, and what he wished loosed, they did loose,
even the holy bonds of matrimony. Their degradation and that of the
courtier bishops, so graphically depicted in these pages, is a
practical proof of the great truth, that while there is no human
greatness more exalted than the dignity of the ecclesiastical
character, there is no fall lower than that of a churchman who,
forgetful of his calling, makes himself the slave of the world's power,
be it wielded by a crowned King or by an uncrowned mob.
The heartless repudiation of his wife by Henry the Lion, after the mock
sentence of the miserable Victor, and the recourse of Constance to
Alexander, himself a fugitive, and persecuted, is a touching instance
of the manners of the times, and of the protection the Church and her
real Pontiffs ever gave to the sanctity of marriage. Little do women in
our day think how much they owe to the Popes, who so bravely and so
constantly fought their battles in those rude and licentious ages,
protecting their innocence, defending their rights, making them the
companions, not the servants of those rough warriors. There was more
than one Constance in those ages: but never did any of them appeal to
the Head of Christendom, that her demand for justice was not heard, and
her rights courageously vindicated.
The simple threads of the love-story of Erwin and Hermengarde serve
pleasantly to connect together the other more important events of the
tale, and serve to illustrate on the one hand the finest type of
feminine affection and constancy, and on the other that of manly
nobility and courage. We think the author can fairly lay claim to
historical accuracy in the main events of his tale. Every matter of
public interest, even the wonderful pestilence which checked Frederic
in his victorious career at Rome, is related as given by contemporary
writers.
We venture to bespeak for BARBAROSSA a kind and gracious reception from
the American public. It is a well told tale, which will afford real
instruction, as well as pleasant amusement. It will serve to give true
ideas about medieval history, and to make Catholics more interested in
learning the truth about those real Pontiffs, who did battle for
religion and the rights of man against the Kings and rulers of the day.
We consider it a valuable contribution to our lighter literature, and
we hope to see it followed by many others of the same purpose and
object. The translator has done his work well, and we trust BARBAROSSA in
its English dress will become a universal favorite.
J. K.
PHILADELPHIA,
_Ascension Day_, 1867.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. INTRODUCTORY
II. THE AMBUSCADE
III. CHANCELLOR RINALDO
IV. THE BATTLE
V. AFTER THE VICTORY
VI. THE COURT FOOL
VII. FATHER AND DAUGHTER
VIII. THE ABBOT CONRAD
IX. FILIAL DEVOTION
X. THE TEMPTER
XI. THE JOURNEY
XII. THE TOLL
XIII. CASTELLAMARE
XIV. THE SIEGE
XV. THE ANTIPOPE
XVI. THE EMPEROR'S SLAVE
XVII. AN EVIL SPIRIT
XVIII. CONFIDENTIAL SECRETS
XIX. THE CONSULS
XX. THE ASSAULT
XXI. THE EMPEROR'S POLICY
XXII. VANITY
XXIII. THE MEETING
XXIV. THE WALK
XXV. THE CAPTURE
XXVI. TREACHERY
XXVII. THE BETROTHAL
XXVIII. THE POPULACE IN THE TWELFTH CENTURY
XXIX. HUMILIATION
XXX. AMUSEMENTS
XXXI. AT RIVOLI
XXXII. ALEXANDER'S AMBASSADOR
XXXIII. A WARNING
XXXIV. THE DIVORCED DUCHESS
XXXV. LAON
XXXVI. KNAVERY
XXXVII. THE SPY
XXXVIII. THE QUEEN OF FRANCE
XXXIX. UNDER THE OAKS
XL. A TRUE BISHOP
XLI. A HARDENED SINNER
XLII. THE ABBEY OF CLUNY
XLIII. IN THE CLOISTER
XLIV. POPE ALEXANDER III.
XLV. A KNAVE'S STRATAGEM
XLVI. THE SERMON
XLVII. THE DUEL
XLVIII. THE TRIUMPH OF FORCE
XLIX. HERMENGARDE'S CONSTANCY
L. THE CONSPIRATORS
LI. THE TRIBUNE
LII. SEDITION
LIII. BARBAROSSA IN ROME
LIV. THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY
LV. THE HAND OF GOD
LVI. CONCLUSION
BARBAROSSA.
_CHAPTER I_.
_INTRODUCTORY_.
Towards the middle of the 12th century, Milan had conquered for herself
a powerful supremacy throughout all of Upper Italy, and with the
exception of the proud Genoa and the maritime Venetian republic, all
the cities of Lombardy acknowledged her sovereignty. Lodi, Pavia, and
some few of the neighboring towns, had made bold attempts to assert
their rights, but all their efforts were unsuccessful; and had only
resulted in riveting more tightly their fetters, while the pride of the
Milanese, and a desire for more extended power, increased in proportion
to the failing strength of their adversaries. The majority bore in
silence the yoke which they could not shake off preferring the
advantages secured to them by prompt submission to the danger of losing
in the unequal struggle every vestige of their former independence.
Lombardy, it is true, was an appanage of the Germanic empire, but the
sovereignty of the Emperor was almost nominal, and only acknowledged by
the turbulent Lombards, when forced so to do by his victorious arms;
and whenever a war broke out between the Monarch, his great
feudatories, or the Church, the smouldering embers of rebellion at once
burst forth into open insurrection.
Scarcely had Frederic the First, of Hohenstauffen, mounted the throne,
when his attention was attracted to Italy by an event of grave and
unusual importance.
In 1158, whilst Barbarossa, as the Emperor was usually surnamed by the
Italians, was presiding over a High Court of Justice at Kossnitz, and
listening to the various cases submitted for his decision, two men,
wearing upon their backs a wooden cross as a symbol of their
misfortune, presented themselves before the throne with a long list of
grievances against the Milanese, by whom, they alleged, the city of
Lodi had been destroyed after the pillage and the exile of its
citizens. They had come now to implore the intervention of the Emperor,
whose power alone, they urged, could check the tyranny of the Milanese
and save from utter ruin the other cities of Lombardy.
Frederic at once dispatched one of his nobles, Schwicker, of Aspremont,
with a letter of reproof and menace to Milan. But on his arrival the
consuls and the people refused to listen to the message. They tore the
despatch to pieces, trampled it underfoot, and obliged the ambassador
to seek safety in flight.
Such a crime could not go unpunished, and Frederic, at the head of a
powerful army, crossed the Alps and appeared, when least expected, in
the plains of Lombardy. Meanwhile the Milanese were putting into
execution their perfidious designs against Como and Lodi, and offered
to the Emperor the sum, enormous for that age, of four hundred gold
_marks_, on condition that he would recognize their sovereignty over
these cities.
But the proposition was indignantly rejected. "Wretches," said he to
the Milanese ambassadors, "do you presume to bribe me to palliate your
treachery? Do you propose to the Emperor of Germany to become a partner
in your baseness? Even were it in my power to sell the half of my
domains, I would rather turn your city into a paltry village than
countenance this exercise of arbitrary despotism over a country which
has as much right to liberty as yourselves." The result of the
interview was a solemn engagement, on the part of the Milanese, to
indemnify Lodi and Como for all damages sustained, as the powerful
alliances of Milan, her military strength, and the comparative weakness
of the German army, did not, at the time, permit of the absolute
subjection of Lombardy.
Thence Frederic marched towards Tortona, an ally of the Milanese, which
had attacked and ravaged the territory of Pavia. Explanations were
demanded, but, confiding in the strength of its fortifications, Tortona
haughtily refused. The Emperor at once attacked the town, stormed the
works, and reduced it to ashes.
This terrible example dismayed the Milanese, who were ignorant of the
fate in store for them, but they had learned to appreciate the energy
and courage of the Emperor, and they began to estimate the necessity of
strengthening and renewing the alliances which had formerly existed
between them and the neighboring States.
Scarcely had the Emperor recrossed the Alps, and received the crown
from the hands of Pope Adrian IV., when the Milanese resumed their
depredations upon Lodi. Far from making amends for their former
damages, and thus fulfilling the stipulations of the treaty, they
marched a powerful army against the city, imprisoned or killed the
inhabitants, and only retired after laying waste the vineyards, and
destroying the crops throughout the entire province.
Again the inhabitants of Lodi sought the assistance of the Emperor.
Barbarossa was incensed beyond measure at this insolent disregard, not
only of his threats, but even of his Imperial supremacy. Such audacity
demanded prompt repression, and Imperial edicts were at once issued to
all the spiritual and temporal princes of the Empire, summoning them to
join the Army destined to operate in Italy.
In the month of June, 1158, the German army crossed the Alps, and Milan
was besieged and taken after a heroic defence.
Again Frederic, either through pity or a desire to spare the noble
city, or through the temptation of a costly bribe, delayed the
execution of his threats, although urgently counselled to inflict upon
Milan the fate of Tortona. But he humbled the pride of the haughty
Lombards: all their rights and privileges were confiscated, and they
were compelled to rebuild Lodi and Como, while all duties and customs
were henceforth to revert to the Imperial treasury; a fine of nine
thousand silver marks was imposed, and as a guarantee for the
fulfilment of these and many other conditions, three hundred of the
principal citizens were to be given up and held as hostages.
The Emperor then disbanded the greater portion of his German levies,
and convoked a Diet of the princes, prelates, counts, and chief civil
dignitaries, who in general assembly were to attend to the pacification
of Italy, and the re-establishment of order, and to define precisely
the respective rights of the sovereign and his subjects.
An immense camp was pitched in the midst of the vast plain which is
watered by the Po; in the centre stood the Imperial tent, and around
it, in order of rank, those of the princes. Streets at right angles
divided the various quarters of this city of canvas, and to avoid all
danger of collisions, the Germans and Italians were encamped on
opposite sides of the river. Frederic had invited four of the most
celebrated _juris consults_ of Bologna, and had given them as
coadjutors twenty-eight counsellors from the other Lombard towns, in
order to investigate and define thoroughly the origin and spirit of
their statute laws and their oral traditions.
From his throne, Frederic opened the assembly with a solemn discourse.
"Called to the supreme power, by the grace of God," said he, "our task
is to elevate the courage of the good, to restrain and punish the
evil-doer. At the close of the late campaign which we have terminated
so fortunately; the pacification of the country demands our earnest
attention, for it is only simple justice that we should protect, by our
arms, the people who are governed by our laws. But before anything be
written, or decided concerning our respective rights, duties, and
privileges; we must establish what is equitable and expedient,
necessary and useful, according to the locality and the epoch; for once
these laws adopted and promulgated, there will be no further discussion
admitted in the matter, they will be rigidly and exactly enforced."
The Italians were astonished at the ability of the young monarch. His
talents and his policy compelled their respect, for it became evident
that under such a ruler, their only safe course of action would be
implicit obedience.
Whilst the Bolognese legists insisted upon privileges being accorded to
the Emperor, based upon the old Roman law, the Lombard counsellors
complained of an autocratic despotism, in the decisions, subversive of
their own peculiar rights, and inimical to the interests of their
country. For example, all revenues from tolls on rivers and bridges,
and tonnage dues in ports and harbors, were to revert hereafter to the
Emperor; and all duties on grain, salt works, and fisheries, with the
right of coinage, hitherto a prerogative of the dukes, counts, and free
cities, were in future to belong exclusively to the Imperial treasury.
Barbarossa had destroyed the autonomy of the Lombard cities, and
reduced them to be mere dependencies of the empire. Still, so long as
he remained in Upper Italy, no open signs of discontent were
manifested, but scarcely had he turned towards Rome, when the revolt
broke out. In order to pacify, if possible, the malcontents, Otto de
Wittelsbach; the Chancellor Rinaldo, and the Knight of Goswin were at
once sent to Milan. But the exasperated populace assembled before the
dwelling of the ambassadors, who with much difficulty escaped being
torn to pieces.
This unexpected outrage excited the rage of the German nobles who
accompanied the Emperor, and the rebellious city was threatened with
sack and pillage, while its inhabitants were doomed to slavery. This
fierce menace, however, by no means disheartened the Milanese, who
determined to employ every means of resistance in their power, and to
die gloriously rather than wear the fetters of serfdom. The struggle
began at once, and while Barbarossa was celebrating the festival of
Easter at Bologna, the Lombards seized the Imperial treasury, in which
were lodged the enormous sums which he had collected in Italy. Then
they burned the castle and hung all the garrison, who were Italians, as
traitors to their country.
The Emperor hastened back with his little army, but he arrived too
late; the Milanese had retreated behind their works, and from the walls
of the city could see Frederic, in his anger, lay waste all the
surrounding country; for, weak in numbers and destitute of siege
artillery, his army was powerless against the town. Scarcely had he
left the neighborhood, when the Lombards took up again the offensive,
and retaliated upon the Emperor's allies for the havoc which he had
caused in their territory. Joining their forces to those of the
Brescians, they took Lodi and Cremona, and made several attacks upon
the Imperialist forces; and such was the vindictiveness displayed; that
several abortive attempts were made to assassinate the German Emperor,
who was unable to check or punish these acts of hostility. His army was
composed almost entirely of Italians, and although the rebellious city
of Cremona was taken and burned, his reprisals were without result.
This continual strife and its attendant misfortunes, equally disastrous
for both factions, reduced Lombardy almost to a desert. The devastated
fields produced no more crops, and the ground being unable to sustain
even the native population, the foreign troops suffered severely from
famine. Barbarossa convoked again his knights and nobles, thanked and
rewarded them publicly for their devotion to his cause, and disbanded
the Germans, promising to open the campaign with a strong army, early
in the following spring.
_CHAPTER II_.
_THE AMBUSCADE_.
After a winter spent in harassing the enemy and in petty skirmishes
with the Emperor's adherents, the Milanese inaugurated the year 1161,
in a more serious manner, by the capture of several fortresses, some by
assault, others through treachery. Frederic was still unable to make
any serious resistance to his enemy's advance; for the German
reinforcements had not yet arrived, and his own little army, in order
to hasten the fall of Milan, was besieging the towns of Como and
Neulodi, so that his operations were limited almost to a strictly
defensive policy, whilst, in person, he rode at the head of a small
escort, through the province, reassuring his declared allies and
conciliating those whose sentiments were as yet doubtful.
It was a beautiful morning. A small troop of armed men, whose
appearance was that of banditti, were keeping guard at the foot of a
hill, about two days' journey from Milan. The soldiers, wearied by a
long march, were stretched upon the ground, and about a dozen horses,
with heaving flanks, stood close by, showing clearly that they had
shared the fatigue of their riders.
The chief of the band stood a little to their rear, and with his arms
crossed on his breast, appeared to be reflecting profoundly. His costly
armor and proud bearing was not that of a robber, for his shield was
magnificently embossed in silver, the border of his surcoat richly
embroidered, and his sword-belt inlaid with precious jewels. By his
side stood a man of short stature, apparently quite at his ease. He
wore a pointed hat, and on his bronzed face beamed an expression of
knavery and deceit, which, with his sparkling eye and a continued sneer
around the mouth, gave to his whole physiognomy a most malevolent
character. He carried a cross-bow and a quiver full of bolts on his
back, and by his side hung a long rapier.
"Nothing!" said the knight, angrily. "Ah! Griffi, if you have deceived
me, you shall be flogged."
"Flogged! my lord Pietro! I, Cocco Griffi, the son of the high and
mighty Consul Nigri of Milan! I flogged!" said the little man, with
marked astonishment.
"Yes, without fail!"
"How, my lord Pietro! your native city boasts of giving liberty to the
Italians. Would it not be barbarous to flog a loyal citizen?"
"You have most richly deserved it! At this very moment, the Milanese
are destroying one of the strongholds of German tyranny; and I, who
would so gladly have shared in the glorious work, have been decoyed
here by your specious tale, to await, uselessly, the coming of that
accursed Barbarossa, while my countrymen are celebrating their
triumph."
"I crave your pardon, my lord! The destruction of a castle, already
half in ruins is scarcely a deed worthy of your heroism," replied
Griffi, in a half serious, half jocular tone. "Ah! it would be another
thing had it been necessary to storm the Castle of Cinola. But as
Barbarossa's worthy governor, Bonello, has in a fit of patriotism
opened the gates, I could see but little opportunity there for a
display of your valor. For the prowess of the brave Milanese will not
go further than the draining of some wine-casks and the destruction of
some old furniture; they may perhaps burn the castle, but, this done,
they will return within their city walls."
Pietro made no reply, but with a glance of contempt upon the speaker,
again turned to gaze into the distance.
"On the other hand," continued Griffi, proudly, "you will have, thanks
to me, a chance of doing here something truly heroic. I learned that
the Emperor, with a feeble escort, was about to proceed towards the
North; I managed to insinuate myself among the soldiers, and discovered
the road by which he was to travel; and then galloping night and day,
came here, to show you how to rid the country of its oppressor, by his
death or capture! And yet, as a reward for all this, you threaten to
flog me!"
"But if we succeed!" said Pietro, his face flushing with enthusiasm,
"if we succeed, I will fill your hat with gold pieces. I will have your
name engraved upon tablets of bronze, and your statue erected in every
public square in Lombardy."
Cocco scarcely heeded the last words, so intently did he gaze towards
the distant horizon. Suddenly he seized the arm of the knight:
"Look there!" he cried, "there, near the forest; see that armor shining
in the sun. It is Barbarossa himself, followed by eighteen knights and
seventy varlets!"
"Oh! the wretch!" exclaimed the Milanese, with an expression of mingled
hatred and anger.
"I beg you, my lord," said Pietro hurriedly, "take off your helmet, and
turn your shield, or their reflection will betray our presence," and,
as his advice was followed, he at once resumed,--
"Now let us make every arrangement in order that the tyrant may not
escape. Remain here with your men, in observation, whilst I ride over
to Cinola to get reinforcements."
"Aye! and meanwhile, Barbarossa will get away. Oh! fool that I am! why
am I here, without my own brave troopers? One bold stroke, and the yoke
of my beloved country would be broken!"
"Fear nothing," said Cocco, "those iron-clad soldiers would need wings,
to escape now. Mark yonder little valley with its sloping meadows and
its narrow stream! The Germans are making toward it, for the road
passes close by, and good pastures are too rare now in Lombardy for
them to neglect so favorable a chance for resting their horses. So,
while his Imperial Majesty is taking his ease, our troops will come up,
and it will be an easy task to seize this red-headed tyrant by the
beard."
Griffi whistled and clapped his hands, and, at the sound, an active
little horse ran toward him.
"Cocco," said the knight to his companion, "my good friend, Cocco, lose
no time--but, stay, let two of my troopers go with you; an accident
might happen, and remember that you hold in your hands the liberty of
Italy."
"Bah! my lord Pietro," replied the other, "I will give you leave to
flog me, if my horse, Molo, does not easily distance your stiff
troopers!" and as he spoke he sprang upon the back of the nimble
animal, and soon left far behind him the soldiers whom the knight had
detailed as his escort.
Pietro concealed himself behind a bush, whence he could observe the
enemy's movements. The Germans continued to advance. In front, rode the
knights in complete armor,--he could even distinguish Barbarossa's
banner with its richly embroidered lion, and it seemed as though he
could recognize the lofty stature of the Emperor himself.
As Cocco had foreseen, they entered the valley, in which, midway, stood
the ruins of an ancient cloister.
The emotion of the Milanese increased as he watched the little troop.
He forbade his men to rise from the ground, lest their bright helmets
might reveal their presence, and, gazing earnestly towards the city,
his whole person betrayed the feverish restlessness of one who felt as
much anxiety for the deliverance of his country as hatred for the
tyrant whose iron arm weighed so heavily upon Italy.
_CHAPTER III_.
_THE CHANCELLOR RINALDO_.
The Imperial escort had halted in the valley, the horses were unsaddled
and grazing in the meadows, while the soldiers in groups were resting
beneath the shade of the pines and oak-trees.
Three of the knights had chosen the most picturesque spot among the
ruins, and from the slight elevation, on which they stood, could
discern all the surrounding country, and even the lofty summits of the
Alps, which bounded the horizon toward the North. It was to this
direction that was turned the anxious gaze of one of the knights, who,
with his hands resting on his sword-hilt, stood before the gateway of
the ruined church. But little above the middle height, he was
powerfully built, and his long mantle, thrown behind him, showed that
his arms, legs, and feet were cased in mail, and that above his
ordinary armor he wore a coat of silver links which came down to the
knee. On his head was a steel helmet of proof, which shone brilliantly
in the sun, and a heavy two-handled sword with a double hilt, and in a
plain leathern scabbard, completed his accoutrement.
At first sight, the form of the young soldier scarcely seemed to
warrant his ponderous armor. Strikingly handsome, with hands of
remarkable delicacy, with a bright fair complexion, and a mouth around
which played a smile of frankness and amiability, it needed a second
glance to discover that, under this engaging exterior, was concealed a
violent energy, an iron will, and a pride without limit. His full blue
eyes inspired confidence, but at times his glance could threaten as
fiercely as it now seemed kind and gentle. His brow was high and broad,
his nose aquiline, and his beard and hair of a bright red.
Such was the appearance of the Emperor Frederic I., the mightiest
sovereign of his age, and one of the most illustrious men of whom
history has made mention.
His two companions were striking contrasts. The first was tall, with a
grave dark face, and long black hair; and his stern features indicated
the soldier whose life had been passed in action. Thoroughly devoted to
his sovereign, the Count Palatine Otho de Wittelsbach was the faithful
and constant attendant of the Emperor.
The other was a small fair man, with a gentle and smiling face. Unlike
Otho, he was not in armor, but wore a long embroidered gown, green
trunk-hose, and a black hat. Yet in spite of his amiable expression,
there was an air of dissimulation about him, and his eyes were as false
and deceitful as his language was elegant and persuasive. He was the
celebrated Chancellor Rinaldo, Count of Dussel, and Archbishop of
Cologne, in whom the Emperor reposed the most implicit confidence, a
confidence fully justified by the political talents of the wily
statesman. It was said that his ideas were even more progressive than
those of the prince himself, and that he pushed him forward in his
policy, despite the many serious obstacles in the path of his Imperial
sovereign.
The Emperor was still gazing toward the north, when a young man of
handsome bearing and with an almost childlike expression of amiability
on his features, approached, holding a cup of wine. Frederic's whole
expression changed to one of almost paternal fondness, as he glanced at
the young soldier.
"Always mindful of your godfather, my good Erwin," said he, draining
the goblet. "By my faith, if the repast be but proportionate to your
attentions, we shall feast most regally to-day."
"The table awaits you, Sire," said the young man, pointing to a shield
which was placed on a stone near by. "Pray, pardon the frugality of the
entertainment." Barbarossa turned towards the shield emblazoned in blue
and white _lozenges_, on which was placed the Emperor's meal,
consisting of bread and a little smoked meat.
"Sit down, gentlemen," said he. "Ah! not so bad; I see that Bavaria has
sent us her food as far as Lombardy."
"Aye!" replied Count Otho, "and her contingent will be here soon to aid
us with their good lances. According to the last despatches, the
advanced guard should arrive to-morrow."
"It is full time to chastise these disloyal Guelphs," said Frederic.
"The rebellion has become general; Milan openly defies us; Genoa grows
each day more factious, and even Venice, despite our Chancellor's
eloquence, has assumed an air of insolence."
"Right and reason," replied Rinaldo, "have but little chance of success
against fraud and dissimulation."
"Well answered," cried Otho; "I am glad to hear such sentiments
proclaimed. We must draw the sword, and prove to these insurgents that
they owe obedience and respect to their sovereign."
"You are right, my lord Count," said Rinaldo, glancing at the Emperor.
"After vainly trying mildness and conciliation, it would be rank
cowardice not to use the sword."
At the close of their frugal repast, the Emperor directed his
chancellor to read to him, until it was time to mount again; and
Rinaldo, taking a book which was brought to him by the young knight
Erwin, opened it at a marked page, while Otho, too thorough a soldier
to care much for literature, withdrew on one side.
"We have learned the ideas of His Holiness as to the origin of all
power," said the Chancellor to the Emperor, who was seated on the
pedestal of a fallen column. "The following letter from Pope Gregory
VII. will fully explain what these ideas mean, and to what they tend.
"'The Church is our common Mother, the source and origin of all light
and vitality. It is on this account that all emperors and kings,
princes and archbishops, bishops and prelates, are her vassals. Thanks
to the power of the Apostolic keys, she can make and unmake them, for
the power which she delegates is not for a passing fame, but for a holy
eternity. To her, then, they all owe a respectful and modest
obedience.'"
Until then, the Emperor had listened in silence, although his features
betrayed the violent emotions of his inner self. Suddenly interrupting
the Chancellor, he exclaimed,--
"By my faith, the reasoning is highly logical! The Church rules all!
She can make and depose both emperors and princes!--All must passively
obey her mandates!--What arrogance!--Princes are naught but simple
vassals of the Pope!"
"Absolutely nothing else," replied Rinaldo; "the Pope is the sun, the
Emperor the moon, who receives from His Holiness light and brilliancy
and power."
"Enough! enough!" cried Frederic, angrily; "mark the place and close
the book--the reading of such enormities is an insult to the Imperial
dignity." A crafty smile played around the Chancellor's lips as he
replied,--
"Great men, unluckily, make great blunders; but for your unfortunate
oversight, no Pope would have ventured to make such an extravagant
claim to universal sovereignty."
"Was it not the duty of Charles to defer to the request of Rome?"
"Most certainly! but his liberality to the Church might have been more
measured, and the honors conceded more judiciously denned. Hold the
Pope's stirrup!--yes, the Emperor must even stoop to that--although it
is, in reality, a mere idle form," added the Chancellor, hurriedly, as
Frederic's face colored up. "Surely none can blame the Popes if they
construe what was a mere form into an obligation of importance."
"When I held the stirrup of His Holiness, my lord Chancellor," said
Barbarossa with great dignity, "it was the homage paid by a Christian
to the chief of Christendom."
"A most excellent reason, Sire," replied the Chancellor, in an
insinuating tone. "The fulfilment of a Christian's religious duties can
but honor an Emperor. But I have yet to learn in what way those duties
interfere with the prerogatives of a Sovereign."
"Well!--you would elevate then the monarch's rights above the
Christian's responsibilities?"
The smiling glance of the statesman dwelt for an instant upon his
sovereign, who had given his minister to understand that he regarded
his opinions as somewhat heretical and very difficult of realization.
Barbarossa was willing to admit, to a certain extent, the superiority
of the temporal over the spiritual power, but he still hesitated before
the impiety of claiming the supremacy.
"Although you may place the Emperor above the Christian," resumed the
Chancellor, "you will not on that account cease to be one. I will say
even more: to reign, truly, the separation of the Empire from the
Papacy is a necessity. Look towards the monarchs of France and Saxony;
for them the Pope has never been anything more than the Bishop of Rome,
chosen from among the most worthy prelates. They were the temporal
masters of the Roman Pontiff, although ever the first to honor him as
the Head of the Church. And what, to-day, is the Papal supremacy over
the Emperor, what is his influence? You selected Victor as Sovereign
Pontiff, while the College of Cardinals elected Roland, who, under the
title of Alexander III., reigns in spite of you! Victor, the feeble
creation of your own hands, will fall as soon as your support be
withdrawn, while Alexander, your triumphant adversary, is seated more
firmly than ever upon the throne of St. Peter. His legates, only, are
received in Spain, in France, in England; they only are acknowledged
throughout the civilized world!"
"Enough of this!" said Frederic. "To what end serves your discourse? It
is but a waste of time to prove to me, now, that during the past two
years we have plotted, and toiled, and fought in vain."
"In vain! Sire!--but why? Because you neglected the golden opportunity!
Milan, the bulwark of Alexander's power, was in your hands; you should
have levelled her to the ground!"
"Always ready, my lord, to tell me what should have been done! Why was
not this advice offered sooner?"
"It is not yet too late," replied Rinaldo. "The German bands have
passed the Alps; let their first exploit be the capture of Milan."
"Naturally; and their second?"
"The overthrow of the present _status_ of Italy, and the installation
of Victor at Rome."
"And then the heretic Barbarossa, the persecutor of the Holy Church,
will be put under the ban of the Universe!" replied Frederic, with a
bitter laugh.
"Heretic? No! But the astonished world will hail in you the worthy
rival of the great Emperor. What did Charlemagne, and Otho, and Henry
III. do? Did they not give Rome to the Popes? And if you, their
successor, should place in Rome a bishop of your own selection, who
could dispute your authority? Act, break down all opposition, and the
Papacy, henceforward, will be no more the enemy, but the obedient
vassal of the Germanic Empire." Whilst Rinaldo spoke, Barbarossa seemed
lost in thought; every word of the crafty statesman produced its
effect, for it answered the ambitious cravings of his own nature, which
had long aimed at the subjection of the spiritual to the temporal
power. Could his dreams be realized, the Emperor would reign supreme,
and the Church, shorn of all her prerogatives, would remain, as she had
existed during the dark ages, the source of all faith, but a mere fief
of the Empire.
The difficulties of the undertaking did not escape him, but far from
causing discouragement, they pleased him the more, by their bold and
hazardous originality. Rinaldo, in silence, with folded arms and
down-cast eyes, watched narrowly the effect produced on the Emperor by
his discourse.
Suddenly Otho of Wittelsbach advanced hurriedly.
_CHAPTER IV_.
_THE BATTLE_.
"Bad news! Sire," cried the Count Palatine. "Cinola, your strong
fortress on the Adda, is in the hands of the enemy."
Barbarossa sprang to his feet, and gazed with surprise upon the Count.
"Cinola taken!" cried he angrily,--"when--by whom?"
"To-day, by the Milanese; but here is a man who will give full details
to your Majesty."
And he pointed to a soldier who, until then, had stood at a short
distance from the group.
"Ah! is that you, Gero?" said Frederic, whose extraordinary memory
never forgot a name or a face. "Tell me at once, everything!"
"The tidings which I bring to your Majesty are most unfortunate. Cinola
was, this morning, surrendered to the Milanese."
"Surrendered?" said the Emperor, angrily.
"Yes, Sire,--surrendered by the base Guelph, the traitor Bonello, to
whom your Majesty had intrusted the command of the fortress."
The face of the Emperor grew black with rage.
"What is the strength of the Milanese?" he asked.
"About three hundred men."
"Have they burned the Castle?"
"I am ignorant of that fact, Sire! As soon as the banner of the Guelphs
was hoisted over the citadel, I hastened hither. But some time must
elapse before they can sack and burn the place, as their first visit
will doubtless be to the wine-cellars."
"How many Germans were with you in the Castle?"
"Three and a half, your Majesty,--for one of them had lost a leg. Poor
fellows! they are in a pitiable condition, for their lives are in
danger!"
"Gentlemen," said the Emperor to his knights, who were grouped around
him, "we must not lose an instant; this new outrage must be punished at
once!"
The knights looked at each other with astonishment; and even the daring
Otho shook his head.
"Sire!" said he, "the Guelphs are too much our superiors in numbers."
"Since when has the Count Otho learned to count his foes?" inquired the
Emperor.
"But," observed the Chancellor, whom the sudden resolution of the
Emperor had alarmed, "would it not be more prudent to await the arrival
of the German troops?"
"No! the punishment should always follow closely upon the crime. What!
these traitors have dared to lay their plans under my very eyes, and
yet you speak of waiting!--It would be a public admission of our
weakness."
"To accommodate ourselves to circumstances," replied the Chancellor,
"is not weakness, but rather wisdom. The Emperor should not expose his
person needlessly. Pardon my frankness, Sire; it is your duty not to
court unnecessary danger."
"Know, my lord," said Frederic, "that on the battlefield, he most
easily escapes death who braves it most! But, rather death itself, than
tame submission to such an outrage as this!"
"Well, then, may Heaven help you!" said Rinaldo, despairingly,--"three
hundred against eighty;--the odds are too great;--it is an unpardonable
piece of rashness!"
"Be it so, my lord! But what can three hundred traitors do against
eighty German nobles, fighting for the honor of their name, in the
cause of their sovereign? If I had with me only ten loyal knights, I
would prove to the world, that, in Germany, courage and chivalry are
not mere empty names! Come, gentlemen, to horse!"
"To arms! to arms! Long live the Emperor!" cried the knights, inspired
by the courage of their sovereign.
"Your peaceful calling will render your presence useless in this bloody
work of justice," said the Emperor, turning to his Chancellor. "It will
be better that you should await our return. Stay, ride off immediately
towards the German troops, who are on their march, and bid the princes
hasten their arrival!"
"May God preserve us!" said Rinaldo, perceiving that the Emperor wished
to keep him out of danger. "I am ready to die with my sovereign."
"Your fidelity needs no such act of heroism to prove its value," said
Barbarossa. "Besides, I have by no means decided, as yet, to leave this
world for another! But a truce to this discussion. Seek the princes,
salute them in my name, and bid them march at once upon Milan!"
Rinaldo anxiously watched the tall form of the Emperor through the
crevices of the walls, as his heavy step resounded beneath the arches
of the ruined church. The shrill blast of the trumpet assembled the
knights who were already in the saddle. Without touching the stirrup,
the prince vaulted upon his mail-clad steed, and in a few minutes the
little band disappeared in the direction of the south-west.
"There goes a man who probably rides to meet his death," said Rinaldo
to himself. "His pride despises danger, and yet, though I know the
strength of his arm, some trifling accident may ruin everything. Whilst
I seek the princes, the Milanese may exult over his corpse, and Rome,
raising again her humbled head, topple down the edifice built up so
laboriously!"
The Chancellor started, as a voice addressed him.
"If you are ready, my lord Count, we will set forward," said the
soldier whom Barbarossa had left behind as escort to the minister.
"You should not have weakened the little troop by your absence, for
your lance would be more than ever useful to-day to His Majesty."
"Pshaw!" replied the man, "I have no fears about the result. The
Guelphs never can stand before Count Otho and his brave lances.
Besides, Barbarossa leads them, and I never saw his eye flash so
fiercely as when he bade me stay with you."
Rinaldo mounted his horse and, accompanied by the soldier, rode swiftly
towards the north.
Meanwhile the Emperor pushed forward. His knights rode behind him in
stern silence, but with a look of grim determination upon their bronzed
faces, and naught was heard, save the clatter of their horses' hoofs,
and the rattle and clank of their armor. Barbarossa was carefully
examining the distant limits of the plain, where could be seen what at
first seemed only dark moving shadows; soon, however, the gleam of
helmets and lances was distinctly visible, and even the heavy step of
troops on the march could be distinctly heard. Barbarossa hesitated for
a moment, as if in doubt what course to pursue, when Count Otho
approached.
"I think I know those troops," said he. "As we were leaving the ruins,
I saw several horsemen, on yonder hills, riding towards Milan. They are
doubtless the enemy's videttes, who are carrying to the conquerors of
Cinola the tidings of our advance."
"Gero," said the Emperor, "you are the least heavily armed. Ride
forward and see what is the strength of that detachment; I want to know
if they have any infantry in the rear, and whether there are any
lancers posted in the wood, to take us in flank."
The trooper galloped off. The other soldiers at once dismounted to draw
their saddle-girths and prepare for the fight, and the drinking-cup,
which passed freely from hand to hand, contributed greatly to increase
their courage.
Barbarossa took no refreshment, but he carefully reconnoitred the
ground. Not an inequality of its surface, not a stream or marsh escaped
his eye. On the right was a little wood, which might serve the enemy to
mask his movements, and as the ground on which he stood was slightly
elevated, he determined to await the enemy there, in order to give
greater impetus to the charge of his own troopers.
Gero soon returned, followed at a distance by several of the enemy's
horsemen, thrown out as scouts.
"The Guelphs are moving in three columns--in the centre is about two
hundred Infantry. The wings are much weaker. I could see nothing in the
woods."
"The Milanese seem very confident," said the rough soldier Goswin;
"they think that five Lombards are at least equal to one German, and so
neglect their tactics. Ah! well! I killed twenty of them at Lodi
without dinting my sabre, and am rather curious to see how many I can
exterminate to-day, and not turn its edge."
"Yes," added Frederic, with a laugh; "and these good people have
surnamed you, in consequence, 'The Lombard-eater.' You are in luck
to-day, Master Goswin, for you will have enough to satisfy even your
appetite.--But to work, gentlemen! The enemy will not leave us much
longer the choice of the attack, so we must give him something to do."
He divided the escort into three columns, giving the right wing to
Count Otho, the left to the knight of Goswin, and reserving to himself
the command of the centre. The Lombard tactics were usually to kill the
horses of the knights, who, dismounted and in heavy armor, would then
become comparatively less dangerous; but the monarch understood the
danger.
The Milanese advanced about a hundred yards, and then halted. Unlike
the stern silence of their adversaries, they shouted, and sang, and
clashed their weapons as if to prove that they felt assured of victory.
Barbarossa rode along the front of his little band, which calmly
awaited the attack:--
"Valiant friends," said he, "have faith in your good cause! You draw
the sword against treachery and rebellion! Trust in God; it is he who
chastises the perjurer! Confide in the strength of your good right
arms, and show to the world, that you are worthy to bear the name
of Germans! Let St. Michael, the patron of our country, be your
rallying-cry! Couch your lances! Forward, Charge!"
"Saint Michael, Saint Michael for the Emperor!" rang through their
ranks, as they dashed upon the foe.
The Milanese cavalry, with a savage yell, advanced to meet their
enemies, while their infantry, in close column, awaited the shock of
the German horse. Soon the clash of arms and the wild cries of the
combatants proclaimed that they were fighting hand to hand. Barbarossa
was everywhere in the thickest of the _melee_; the Milanese leader fell
before his lance, and then the Emperor, sword in hand, broke through
the enemy's centre. Soon each knight had stretched an adversary on the
ground. The ranks of the infantry first faltered, and then gave way,
and many a foot-soldier found death beneath the hoofs of the trampling
chargers, as he vainly endeavored to pierce the serried line of German
steel. Still the Lombards fought stubbornly, and the hope of
terminating at one blow the slavery of their country, animated them to
desperate efforts. Their bravest champions had fallen beneath the
Emperor's sword, and still, to the cry of "Death to the tyrant!" they
fought on. Suddenly Frederic's horse was pierced by a pike-thrust,
and fell heavily upon him. Crushed under his steed, the Emperor was
well-nigh powerless, and the blows of his enemies rained upon his
armor.
A cry of triumph revealed to the Germans the danger of their sovereign.
Erwin broke through the Lombard ranks, and for an instant deverted
their attention to himself. Other knights came up. Erwin, unhorsed, was
holding his buckler above the Emperor's head. Suddenly the cry of "St.
Michael to the rescue" rang above the din of the battle, and Otho, at
the head of his brave lancers, charged the foe. The fight was over, and
soon the Milanese infantry were fleeing, broken and in disorder, across
the plain.
_CHAPTER V_.
_AFTER THE VICTORY_.
In the midst of the battle-field stood Barbarossa, surrounded by the
dead and the dying. His mantle, pierced and torn, and stained with
blood, hung over his armor, whose strength had protected him so well
against the weapons of the Lombards; for, save a slight contusion, he
was unwounded. Far away in the plain could still be seen the German
cavalry, chasing the scattered fugitives, but near him were only a few
of his own wounded men. Before him lay a dying Guelph, the blood
welling in torrents from his breast, who gazed upon the Emperor with an
expression which, even in his last moments, bespoke his bitter hatred
for the oppressor of his country; powerless and crushed, his impotent
rage broke forth in fierce invective.
"Tyrant," said he, in a broken voice, "when will thy bloody work be at
an end! Immolate the last of the Lombards to thy pride; drink their
heart's blood, if thou wilt!--we will gladly yield it to thee in
exchange for our freedom!--But--be accursed!--thou and all thy race!"
He fell back and expired. The Emperor gazed sadly upon the corpse, for
the words of the dying man and his malediction had strangely moved him;
but just then, Otho of Wittelsbach rode up with his men, in charge of
some prisoners.
"I have spared these rascals, Sire," said the Count Palatine, "that
some of them, at least, may expiate their treachery on the gibbet."
Frederic turned towards the prisoners, but even before he spoke, his
angry glance showed what fate was in store for them. Still he was
silent for an instant, in the hope that some of them might sue for
mercy. But there was no appeal, and pointing to a tree, he said,--
"Let them die!"
Undismayed by the approach of death, the Lombards met their fate in
silence. None asked for pardon. They died martyrs to the holy cause of
freedom, and in the defence of the most sacred rights of their native
land. But their last glance was one of implacable hatred for the
tyrant.
"Count Palatine, take possession of the fortress of Cinola at once,
before the Milanese can strengthen themselves in the works," said
Barbarossa. "We will wait here for Goswin, and then follow with the
wounded."
Wittelsbach mounted, and rode away.
Erwin had remained near the prince, and Barbarossa turned with a kind
smile towards the boy, who had so bravely fulfilled his knightly duties
in the fight, and who had so efficiently protected the life of his
sovereign.
"You have well merited your godfather's thanks, my young friend," said
he, "and we will not prove ungrateful. Ask me what favor you will, I
promise that it shall be granted."
Erwin bowed in silence, but before he could speak, Goswin rode up,
bringing with him as prisoner the knight Bonello, the late treacherous
governor of Cinola.
"Ah! by Saint Guy, Sire, this has been a brave day's work," said he,
pointing to the dead bodies. "I would have finished mine long since,
but for this noble chevalier. I must admit that he is a gallant
soldier, although, alas! a most foul traitor!"
Frederic gazed contemptuously upon his former partisan. Bonello was a
man still in the prime of life, and, though short in stature, well and
powerfully built. His visage, though dejected, was calm. Like the
majority of the inferior nobility, he had been long one of the warmest
adherents of the Emperor, although he had acted as such rather through
necessity than from choice. His glance fell before that of his
sovereign.
"Are you ready to die the death of a traitor?" asked Frederic.
"I am ready to die," answered Guido; "but I implore you to withdraw the
epithet of traitor!"
"And why, pray?"
"Sire, Guido Bonello was a traitor only on the day when he swore
allegiance to his country's tyrant, forgetting, for a moment, that he
was a Lombard."
"Are you not ashamed to seek thus to disguise your felony?" asked
Frederic.
"Sire, we may bow in obedience to the monarch, who by his victorious
arms has conquered Lombardy. But when tyranny reigns in the place of
justice, when our rights are trampled underfoot, when our country is
laid waste and her inhabitants held to ransom, when the Emperor's iron
heel is placed upon the necks of a kneeling people, then, Sire,
obedience becomes a crime! It is better to die free, than live as
slaves! If it needs be that Italy obey you against her will, exile her
population and replace it with serfs."
The monarch, as grand justiciary of the Empire, had allowed the
prisoner full freedom of speech in his defence; but when he had
concluded:
"The usual Lombard argument," he exclaimed; "the invention of some
facts, the misrepresentation of others! You call tyranny the energetic
punishment of traitors whom I had loaded with favors; legitimate
taxation you term extortion! But who, then, have given greater
evidences of tyranny over the weak than the Lombards themselves?
Remember Como and Lodi--think of the excesses committed there before
our army restored order! Were not those cities, the so-called allies of
Milan, only her slaves? But it is not for a sovereign to seek excuses
before a traitor! Go, the gallows awaits you!"
Calmly, without bravado as without faltering, the prisoner heard his
sentence; but as the men-at-arms advanced to seize him, he raised his
head:
"There exists an ancient custom," said he, "honored even among the
heathens. All those who are condemned to death, are permitted to make
one last request, which is granted to them."
"'Tis well--what is yours?"
"Delay the execution for three days."
"Why ask for this delay?"
The tone of the prisoner changed. His confidence left him, his lips
trembled convulsively; and a tear stood in his eye.
"Pshaw!" he said, "I can scarcely believe myself guilty of such
weakness! But there are times when the feelings of a father are
stronger than the duties of the patriot. Let me see my child once more;
she is the sole fruit of my once happy marriage. When one is so near
his last hour, there is much to be done."
"You need feel no shame for such sentiments," replied Frederic, "they
only do you honor. I will grant your request. Goswin, take charge of
the prisoner."
The Emperor turned away to give orders for the care of the wounded and
the burial of the dead. Litters were hastily constructed of lances and
the branches of trees, and then, escorted by a few knights, Barbarossa
rode over to Cinola, whither he was soon followed by the other troops
and the wounded Germans.
_CHAPTER VI_.
_THE COURT FOOL_.
Scarcely was the Emperor installed in the fortress, when the German
levies began to come in, and Frederic was extremely gratified by the
arrival of several bishops, whose presence, he hoped, would lend great
moral strength to his cause, although they came, not as messengers of
peace, but in complete armor, and attended by well-appointed troops.
Foremost among the temporal chiefs were Henry the Lion, Duke of Saxony
and Bavaria, next to Barbarossa himself, the most powerful prince of
the Empire; Leopold, Duke of Bohemia; and the mighty counts of Dachau,
d'Andech's and d'Abenberg. Duke Henry of Austria had not yet arrived,
although his army stood close at hand in the defiles of the Alps.
In the immense plain before the castle a vast camp rose, as if by
magic. Over the white tents fluttered the pennons of the knights, and
before the pavilions of the princes were hoisted their several
standards, rich in gold and silver embroidery. Through the canvas
streets pressed a gay crowd in rich dresses and shining armor, while
knights surrounded by their brilliant retinues, rode in every
direction.
In the middle of the camp stood the Imperial pavilion, and toward it,
as to a common centre, seemed to tend all the varied parts of the
strange tumult.
Meanwhile a sad spectacle might have been witnessed before the gates of
the fortress, distant a thousand paces from the camp. From the open
postern of the huge round tower, which formed the principal salient of
the fortification, Bonello was being led out to execution. The three
days' respite had expired, and the certainty of his speedy death,
joined to the sorrow that he had not yet seen his child, had left upon
the prisoner's face traces of deep anguish. His trembling knees could
scarcely support him as he followed the jailers who were conducting him
to the scaffold from which hung the fatal knot.
The condemned man made every effort to meet his fate with courage, but
when, a few steps from the gallows, the executioner seized the rope,
all his fortitude deserted him, and he halted.
"What is the matter now," cried the brutal soldier who commanded the
escort. "Until now you have given proofs of bravery; do you tremble at
the sight of a piece of hemp?"
Bonello raised his head, and with tears in his eyes, in a voice choking
with emotion, replied,--
"I do not fear to die, but--oh! my child, my darling child!"
And he covered his face with his hands.
"What serves this everlasting whimper about your child; yesterday was
your day, but you got a reprieve by your lamentations; but we can't
wait any longer; so come and be hanged at once!"
"You are a fool, cousin," cried a shrill voice; "do you think any one
will let himself be hung, if he can help it?"
The executioner turned and glanced angrily at the speaker; a small man,
almost a dwarf in stature, with intelligent features and eyes beaming
with malice, he was dressed in the garb of a jester, and wore on his
head a bright scarlet cap with asses' ears. Both cap and jacket were
covered with a great number of little bells, which rang merrily with
every movement. He was seated on a stone, his chin resting on his
hands, and laughing ironically in the face of the enraged soldier.
"Hold your tongue," said the latter, "or I'll hang you too by the
ears."
"Do you want to get me out of the way for my fool's bauble?" said the
jester, in the same careless tone. "I warn you if you aspire to be my
successor, you will have to prove that there are more brains in your
head than there are in a pumpkin. You are making a poor beginning,
cousin Hesso, or you would not hang this miserable wretch so early in
the morning."
"The man must be hung now, because his time has come!" said Hesso,
furiously. But the arms of Henry the Lion, which were embroidered on
the jester's coat, prevented any violence on his part.
"You would be right, if you were not such a liar," replied the fool.
"Your long ears heard the Emperor say yesterday, 'Let him be hung
to-morrow!' What was true then, will be equally so fourteen hours
hence. Till then the poor devil's time is his own."
Hesso hesitated for an instant, but the idea that he should suffer the
interference of a court fool to delay an execution, was enough to
put him beside himself with rage. Turning towards the prisoner, he
cried,--
"Enough of this; fasten up the traitor to the gibbet!"
The assistants obeyed, and already the noose was around the prisoner's
neck, when, with a sudden spring, and before the executioner could
interfere, the jester drew a knife from his belt, and cut the rope.
"What means this!" exclaimed Hesso.
"Thwarted! thwarted," cried the fool; "don't you see! cousin mine, that
this man has not yet been to confession? The head and the body of the
poor devil belong to you and the crows, but neither you, nor your
friend Beelzebub, have any right over his soul! Let this man first
comply with his duties as a Christian!"
"By Satan! what's that to me? Here, you men, tie a new knot, and hang
up the traitor at once!"
"Then you will be hung too, cousin," said the jester. "Would you really
dare to execute a man without confession? I came here to witness the
death of a bandit, but not to see the devil steal his soul! If you have
any respect for your own life, cousin, you will put off the business
until I bring here a monk, or a bishop, or if needs, the Pope himself!"
This said, he rushed toward the encampment.
Hesso bit his lips sullenly, but he knew the positive order which
existed, that no one was to be put to death, without first receiving
the succors of religion.
"Lead the prisoner back to his dungeon," said he, "until the fool and
the priest have finished their task."
The jester stopped before a tent whose splendid appearance denoted the
princely rank of its occupant. In front of the entrance floated a
banner on which were blazoned the arms and bearings of episcopal
dignity. Upon the threshold stood a man, evidently of high rank, gazing
idly at the busy movement of the camp. He wore a long tunic,
magnificently embroidered on the cuffs and collar; his hands sparkled
with rings of gold and precious stones; his expression was engaging,
and he smiled cordially as the fool approached.
"I'm in luck!" cried the jester; "I was only looking for a monk, and
I've stumbled on a prelate in all his glory."
"What do you want, rascal?"
"To save a soul from Satan, cousin Adelbert! There is a poor fellow
near here who is going to be hanged; he is still in the bonds of sin,
and I want you to come out and cut them, so that he can spring from the
gallows straight into Abraham's bosom!"
"But, Lanzo," replied Adelbert, "don't you perceive that I have neither
sword nor dagger in my belt."
"Oh! cousin, your tongue is sharp enough of itself. Come with me!"
"What! a prelate follow a fool! Rogue, you ought to be flogged."
"Well then! let the prelate lead the way. I warrant he will not lose
the trail."
"Whom do you mean?"
"Why, the prelate, of course."
"And of whose trail do you speak?"
"Zounds! Why, the fool's, to be sure! you look very much like me,
cousin, although your cap has no ears, for your surcoat is nearly as
motley as mine."
"Leave me instantly!" said Adelbert.
"You are willing, then, to leave this poor wretch to Satan."
"Yes, beyond doubt; and you with him! Find a monk, if you can."
"Hey?--Well, I am learning something new every day," said Lanzo,
ironically. "I never thought before, that a monk was worth more than a
prelate; but I'll remember in future.--Ah, I am in luck, here comes a
monk!--two of them.--I may say three, instead of one!" he cried, as
several monks dismounted and approached the tent.
They were dusty and travel-stained, and apparently fatigued with a long
journey; the eldest addressed the prelate, while his companions stood
on one side in an attitude of deep humility.
"Deign to pardon my boldness," said he, after the usual greetings; "we
have just arrived in your camp, and seek a friendly shelter. Our rules
prescribe the greatest discretion; but, in these troublous times, it is
no longer an easy task to hold our pastoral office. Perhaps, your
Excellency will deign to offer us an humble place beneath your tent?"
But the modest request seemed to irritate the prelate. He drew himself
up, proudly, and glanced disdainfully upon the speaker, as he replied,
sharply,--
"The tent of a bishop is not an inn for mendicant friars."
"If you want to keep company with bishops, or priors, or even canons,
holy father," said Lanzo, "you must wear a _pelisse_ of _sables_, and
let the hair grow on your shaven poll."
"Would you be kind enough," said the embarrassed monk, turning to the
jester, "would you be kind enough to use your influence with this noble
gentleman. We are messengers from the Archbishop Everard of Salzburg."
"What!" sneered Adelbert. "Monks acting as the envoys of an archbishop?
Has your master no abbot or canon at the head of his chapter? Your
cowls are out of place amid the splendors of a court! I warn you that
His Majesty has little love for your cloth, and he is right."
"Ah!" exclaimed Lanzo, "if my cousin Barbarossa could only use the
monks as train-bearers and courtiers for his pet Pope, we would soon
have little need for bishops and canons!"
With an angry look at the jester, Adelbert re-entered the tent. The
monks seemed greatly embarrassed. Their scornful reception was the more
mortifying, because it was the first visit which they had ever paid to
the high dignitaries of the Church.
"Be of good cheer, sons of Saint Benedict," said Lanzo; "on the word of
a fool, I promise you comfortable lodgings and a hearty meal! But you
must do me a service in return!"
"Most gladly, my son," replied the monk.
"Come with me then, I'll show you the way," said Lanzo, and they left
the spot, followed by the others, leading their horses.
"You merely ask me to perform a pious duty," said the priest, when
Lanzo had explained the affair; "had we not better go at once to the
poor wretch?"
"There is no need of haste," replied Lanzo. "They dare not hang him,
until he has confessed and received absolution. You need fear no
rivalry in the matter, either; for my cousin Barbarossa hates your
fraternity, and will not allow a monk within the limits of the camp. So
that we have no one here, save prelates in velvet and ermine, who will
have nothing to do with a confession.--Holloa, there, you idlers, make
way for honest people!" cried the jester, striking with his cap a crowd
of servants who were blocking up the entrance to a narrow street.
Close at hand, in the middle of an open square, stood the tent of Henry
the Lion, and behind were the lodgings of his suite and the stables for
their horses.
"Here, Balderich!" said the jester to one of the servants, "take these
animals to the stables, and feed them well."
And, as the varlet led away the horses, Lanzo conducted the monks to
his own tent, where he offered them some food and wine.
"I am aware," said he, "that you abstain from meat; but, with the best
will in the world, I cannot give you any fish, although there is plenty
of it in camp."
The monks said their _benedicite_ and ate what was set before them.
"Will you not change your dress, Father Conrad?" asked one of them, of
him who seemed the superior.
"Not yet, my son," replied Conrad; "for the present it will suffice to
shake off the dust."
"Whilst the monks were attending to the needs of their chief, the fool
examined intently the imposing figure of his guest, as though seeking
to guess at his identity.
"My son!" said he to the monk, "if those are your children, you must be
their father?"
"Certainly! friend Lanzo."
"Then, may Heaven forgive me, for I have led a worthy abbot to the tent
of a fool."
"You see how deceitful appearances sometimes are," replied the abbot,
with a smile.
"Yes!--yes. Henceforth I'll go blindfold, and open my ears wider than
ever, to see better what lies before me. But now, my lord Abbot,
whenever it may please you, we can set out on our mission. As to you,
my holy friends and worthy guests, during our absence comfort
yourselves with what is before you; the ham comes from the Duke's own
table, and the wine from his cellars."
And Lanzo and the Abbot left the tent.
_CHAPTER VII_.
_FATHER AND DAUGHTER_.
On a rough stone, in the deep and gloomy dungeon of the fortress of
Cinola, sat Guido de Bonello, his body bent forward until his head
almost rested upon his knees, his manacled hands hanging helpless under
the weight of his fetters, and his tearful gaze fixed despondingly upon
the ground. He was a brave man, and had often looked death boldly in
the face; and if he was now so unmanned, it was from no thought of his
own sad fate; his fears were for his daughter, so soon to be left
without a protector. Suddenly the sound of steps met his ear, and he
raised his head quickly, in the fond hope of distinguishing the light
footfall of a woman. The key grated in the lock, the door swung back
upon its hinges, and the chief turnkey, followed by Lanzo and the
Abbot, entered the cell.
"Here is the priest," said the jailer, sullenly; "get through your
business as soon as possible, for you must be hung at once. If I am to
have as much trouble with all my other prisoners, in future, I would
rather resign my office now, and have done with it."
"I am entirely at your service, my son," said the Abbot, kindly, as he
approached the prisoner.
"Thanks, holy father," replied Guido; "but you are mistaken if you
expect to find a criminal here!"
"Of course!" exclaimed the jester. "Nowadays they never hang any but
honest men; the scoundrels go scot-free. Come, come, cousin, if for
nothing else, you merit the gallows for being such a tender father, and
touching a fool's heart. God knows it was nothing but pity which
prompted me to get you a confessor."
Without noticing the idle babble of the fool, the prisoner gazed
earnestly upon the Abbot, who seemed deeply grieved at the sight of his
sad condition.
"You have no hardened criminal to deal with," said he, divining the
priest's thoughts. "My sole fault has been that I drew my sword to
resist the bloody despotism of the Emperor. I feel confident that you
have not visited the camp of Barbarossa to encourage the crimes and
errors of the heretic, for your calm and pious eyes show clearly that
you are no sycophant sold to the tyrant! As an unworthy sinner, I will
gladly avail myself of your kind arm in this my last journey. But first
let me beg you to administer aid to my spiritual necessities." The
clatter of horses' feet in the court-yard interrupted the prisoner; the
sound of light footsteps was heard along the passage; the door swung
open, and a slight veiled form entered the dungeon;--the daughter of
Bonello was in her father's arms. In the doorway stood Pietro Nigri,
gazing, with deep emotion, upon the scene.
The prisoner, passionately embracing his daughter, wept and sobbed
bitterly; for the thought that he held now to his heart, perhaps for
the last time, all that he loved on earth, was agonizing in the
extreme.
The young girl's face was calmer. She uttered neither complaint nor
lamentation. For a moment her head reposed upon her father's breast,
and then, raising it, she put back the gray hairs which covered his
brow, and gazed fondly into his eyes.
"My father!" She could say no more; but the tone was enough to show the
world of deep emotions which filled her heart at this awful moment.
Disengaging herself from his embrace, she looked around her.
Women, in trying circumstances, often give proof of marvellous energy
and force of character. Mastering for the moment her grief,--dismissing
every painful thought,--the young girl sought only to cheer the last
hours of the condemned.
"Take off these heavy fetters which crush him," said she to the jailer;
"put him in some other less frightful cell, I implore you!"
"I have no desire to be hung in his place," growled the man.
"Oh!" said she, pleadingly, "it can be no crime to soothe the last
moments of a dying man!" and she emptied the contents of her purse into
the jailer's hand.
The effect of the gold was magical; he smiled, bowed, and muttered some
excuse for his churlishness.
"Noble lady--you are too kind--yes, you are right, it would be inhuman
to torture the poor wretch unnecessarily. I will conduct him to the
upper tower, and, as he cannot wear his chains on his last journey, I
may as well rid him of them now."
And, taking a key from the bunch at his girdle, Guido's manacles fell
upon the ground.
"Captain Hesso would be incensed, were he to see this, but it matters
little; he won't come back again today, and to-morrow all will be
over."
These last cruel words wellnigh broke the young girl's heart. The
jester observed her changing face, and his own ready sympathies were
awakened.
"Yes," said he, "to-morrow all will, probably, be over; but, one word
from me to the noble Duke, would falsify your prediction. I cut the
rope once, and I would do it again if the fancy took me."
"I owe you many thanks, my kind friend," said Bonello, pressing the
hand of the jester. "I would not be here now, if your kind heart and
good knife had not acted so promptly."
"Pshaw! It Was a silly thing to do, my good sir; but if you would do
something really of use, you should send this reverend gentleman to the
Emperor, to get His Majesty to open your cage."
"If you have access to the court, holy father," said Bonello, "use your
influence in my behalf! I have never opposed the Imperial supremacy,
and only took up arms to resist oppression; but if the Emperor will
spare my life, I will consecrate it, hereafter, entirely to my child."
"Sir knight, be assured that I will do all in my power. A mission of
grave importance summons me to the Emperor's presence without delay.
May God grant that I may find him mercifully disposed! I will return as
speedily as possible, to announce to you the result of my efforts."
And the prelate, followed by Lanzo, took his departure for the Camp,
while Guido, his daughter, and Pietro Nigri, were conducted by the
jailer to a lofty and well-lighted chamber of the upper tower.
"If you wish anything," said he, "open this window and call; I shall be
close at hand."
He lingered for an instant, and then left the room, carefully locking
the door behind him.
The travellers evidently stood in need of refreshments; but the sad
fate awaiting Bonello, had prevented his child from all consciousness
of physical wants. Every movement of the girl betrayed her inward
suffering; but, with the desire of soothing his last moments, she
strove bravely to conceal every trace of her own emotion.
Pietro was pale and suffering; although severely wounded in the late
unlucky battle, the proud Milanese felt still more deeply the dangers
menacing his beloved country. Wrapped in contemplation of the German
camp, he stood at the open window, entirely forgetful of the
unfortunate Guido and his daughter.
"I have been awaiting you impatiently, for two days past, my child!
Were you delayed by the insecurity of the road?"
"Not at all, father; it was Pietro's wound which prevented me
travelling more rapidly."
"Were you not annoyed?"
"On the contrary," she replied; "the German knights paid us every
attention in their power."
"What strange people those Germans are!" said Guido. "I have often
admired their courteous treatment of women. But your appearance in
their camp would, of itself, bring you a host of valiant champions."
"Heaven preserve us from such chivalrous support," said Pietro, whose
violent hatred for the Germans would not suffer him to listen to a word
in their praise.
"To be just towards the virtues of our enemies, is no proof of either
weakness or treason."
"No; but to admit the virtue of an enemy, is not becoming in a sincere
patriot," replied Nigri.
Bonello knew Pietro's blind hatred for everything that was German, and
had calculated upon a similar answer, the injustice of which it was
most easy to show by simple facts. During their discussion, Hermengarde
had approached the window, and now gave way to the emotions which she
had so long controlled. The tears coursed down her cheeks, for she
could see distinctly the gallows and the executioners. Raising her eyes
appealingly towards Heaven, which shone clear and pure above the
smiling landscape, she thought of the promised intercession of the holy
abbot, and she prayed to God and the Holy Virgin, for the safety of her
beloved and unfortunate father.
Her tears ceased, and in a calmer tone, she turned towards him:--
"Without doubt, the Emperor will pardon you. The Almighty knows your
innocence, and will not suffer you to die the death of the guilty."
"Let us hope so, my child!"
"For my part, I expect nothing," said Nigri. "The heart of the tyrant
Barbarossa knows neither pity nor justice.--Hermengarde, resign
yourself to the worst, and do not cherish a vain hope."
"Oh! Pietro," said she, turning away.
"Rather be proud of your father's death; he is a martyr to the cause of
his country's freedom!"
"Enough! enough!" interrupted Bonello. "A girl of fourteen cannot
understand such heroic sentiments, dear Pietro! But if my hours are
numbered, as you seem to think; if I am soon to leave you forever,"
(and Guido mustered up all his courage to preserve the appearance of
calm resignation,) "it is you, Pietro, who must endeavor to replace me.
You know my wishes; receive Hermengarde's hand now, until the priest
can unite you forever."
Tears streamed from the prisoner's eyes and fell upon his gray beard,
as he took his daughter's hand to place it in that of Pietro. But the
words of the young man had made too painful an impression upon her
heart, and turning from him, with a burst of bitter weeping,
Hermengarde threw herself upon her father's bosom.
_CHAPTER VIII_.
_THE ABBOT CONRAD_.
The condemned man could not easily have found a more powerful advocate
than the Abbot Conrad, the friend of the great Archbishop of Salzburg,
whose opposition had hitherto prevented the recognition in Germany of
the Anti-Pope Victor. Frederic had neglected nothing to obtain the
active co-operation of the Princes of the Church, but all in vain;
neither threats nor entreaties could induce Eberhard to countenance the
schism. He had not even replied to the Emperor's summons to accompany
him to Italy, in order that it might not be imagined that he would make
any compromise with heresy and error.
Many of the bishops regulated their conduct by that of the eminent
Archbishop of Salzburg, and as long as the feeble and irresolute Victor
was not universally acknowledged as Pope, the Emperor could not hope
for a complete realization of his ambitious projects. In fact, Victor
was as humbly submissive to Frederic's slightest wishes as Alexander
III. was inflexibly opposed to them. As powerful and bold as Barbarossa
himself, he disdained to play the part of lackey to the Emperor, and
refused to enthrall the liberty of the Church and make religion the
mere stepping-stone to a despotic prince. Such a man was dangerous to
the Emperor's projects, and every effort was made to drive Alexander
from the throne of St. Peter. Eberhard was the head of the Papal
faction in Germany, and as Conrad was said to possess great influence
with the Archbishop, it was most natural to suppose that Frederic would
gladly oblige the monk whenever it was in his power to do so.
The long expected arrival of the Abbot was promptly noised through the
Imperial camp, and scarcely had he returned to the jester's hospitable
tent, when he found himself surrounded by the courtiers. Adelbert was
one of the foremost, and the prelate strove, by most humble excuses, to
atone for his former incivility. Conrad retained his native modesty,
and smiled as he witnessed the assiduity of the German nobles.
"His Eminence the Bishop regrets that he is not to have the honor of
offering you his hospitality," said Adelbert. "But His Majesty has
ordered the most sumptuous apartment of his own tent to be prepared for
your reception, my lord Abbot. His Eminence has overwhelmed me with
well-merited reproaches for my unlucky mistake of this morning. But I
could scarcely imagine that so illustrious an Abbot would have been
thus disguised beneath a monk's cowl!"
"Lord Adelbert, I beg that you will cease these apologies; the mistake
is of too little importance to be referred to a second time."
"I feel deeply mortified, my lord!" continued Adelbert. "Your
celebrated order is welcomed by all, and surely its virtuous superior
should have been received with open arms."
The abbot began to feel an intense disgust for this obsequious
servility, and was well satisfied when he reached the monarch's tent.
At the farther side of the square, on which it stood, was planted a
tall flagstaff where floated the proud banner of the Emperor. On either
side, midway between it and the tent, were two knights in complete
armor, who, with drawn swords, mounted guard over the Imperial shield.
This was in conformity with a traditional custom, and the duty was
shared, in turn, by every noble, spiritual and temporal, of the court.
Unlike the rest of the camp, a profound silence replaced the noisy
bustle. Warriors in shining mail, and courtiers in rich dresses, stood
around the pavilion; but their grave and respectful deportment showed
that they were near the presence of their sovereign.
The Emperor and his chancellor were seated at a table, in deep
consultation. Frederic had much reason to be gratified with the
alacrity shown by the majority of the German princes in obeying his
summons; but the absence of many of the bishops was a bad omen for the
success of his cause. Some, it is true, had sent both men and money,
others merely excuses; but the Emperor could not but feel that there
was a very evident disinclination to hold converse with a schismatic.
His numerous and well-organized army could easily have overrun and
conquered all Italy, but his long cherished project, the submission of
the spiritual power of the Church to the temporal sovereignty of the
Empire, could not, in that age, be attained by force of arms.
He was particularly indignant against the Bavarian Episcopacy, whose
primate, Eberhard of Salzburg, was the chief and most zealous adherent
of Alexander III. A threatening message had been dispatched to the
Archbishop, demanding his immediate presence; but, instead of appearing
in person at the head of his men-at-arms, the primate had delegated an
humble monk as his representative to the Court.
"In truth!" exclaimed Frederic, "I am beginning to weary of this;--the
Archbishop appears to despise both threats and entreaties!--By Heavens!
he shall feel my anger!"
"Violence would be out of place here," remarked the Chancellor, dryly.
"Your Imperial Majesty is scarcely in a condition, at present, to break
the cross and mitre."
"Must we then sue humbly for the aid of this egotistical old priest?"
said Frederic, bitterly. "I would have you know, my lord, that we are
not yet reduced so low as that! If the Archbishop does not offer us a
valid excuse, he shall be punished by banishment."
"Banishment!" replied the minister, with a laugh. "The sentences, which
Victor fulminates, will all turn to smoke, for the world has little
scruple in ridiculing the Anti-Pope. You may use force, but it will be
at the expense of your own reputation. You know well that Eberhard is
profoundly respected by all, and his example has been the chief cause
of the non-recognition of Victor's claims. The people revere him as a
saint, and if you would ruin your own cause irretrievably in the
estimation of the world, you have only to punish the Archbishop."
"What then does your wisdom suggest?"
"As neither prayers, nor threats have availed," replied the crafty
statesman, "try diplomacy. Assume the mask of Organizer of the Church.
Receive the Abbot Conrad with cordiality, and trust to me for the
rest."
"What is your plan?"
"To persuade Eberhard to visit your court,--the game will be in your
own hands then."
"In my own hands! Bah! Eberhard will never break faith with Alexander!"
"Probably not! but if he should come here, I will spread the report
that he has acknowledged Victor. And, what is still more important, the
holy man will have paid a visit to the heretic Barbarossa,--a visit
which would never be made, were you to continue to be the avowed enemy
of the Church."
"Your reasoning is specious," said the prince; "that game may be
successful!"
"May be?--only may be!" replied Dassel, somewhat offended by Frederic's
incredulity. "My policy is not a _game_; it is no mere fancy of the
brain."
"I perceive," answered Barbarossa, "that science is irritable, and her
adepts petulant. We will therefore bow before your invention, which you
insist is not a mere game, but a deadly war-engine levelled against
Alexander III."
"Eberhard's apparent defection will be your rival's death-blow, for
Victor's recognition will be its natural and immediate consequence,"
said the Chancellor. "And now, Sire, if you will permit me, I will
summon the Archbishop's envoy. The monarch assented, and the Count
drawing aside the silken curtains of the tent, beckoned to a
chamberlain. A few moments after Conrad entered."
"Welcome, my lord Abbot," said Frederic, rising. "We are pleased with
the judicious choice thus made by our Metropolitan of Salzburg. We are
always glad to receive a counsellor whose wisdom can enlighten us in
matters of difficulty."
Conrad bowed and handed a sealed packet to the Emperor. Frederic
hurriedly tore open the envelope; it only contained the Abbot's letters
of credence.
"Be seated," said Barbarossa, pointing to a chair. "The Archbishop, I
perceive, alleges his advanced age as an excuse for his refusal to our
invitation. We regret these obstacles--but what says he to our
request?"
"He cannot send the contingent demanded by your Majesty. All his troops
are needed to defend his own territory against his ambitious neighbors.
But he is prepared to offer a tribute of money!"
"Money!--I want none of it!" said Frederic, proudly. "Loyalty and
attachment are alone of value in our eyes. Our sovereign power would be
weak indeed if obedience could be replaced by gold! But enough of this;
we can do without the Archbishop's assistance; our forces are strong
enough already to take the field! Tell me, though, what does he think
of the true head of the Church? We trust that he is not one of those
who compound with heresy?"
"Submission to the legitimate Pope is one of the first duties of a
prelate," replied Conrad. "But in the opinion of him who sent me
hither, it is not Victor but Alexander who has a right to the title.
The Archbishop has commissioned me to make this observation to your
Majesty."
"There it is again!" cried Frederic, "always observations!"
"Allow me, Sire, to lay before you the reasons which have influenced
the convictions of the Archbishop," said Conrad.--"Immediately upon the
death of Adrian IV., the Sacred College unanimously elected Roland, now
Alexander III."
"Unanimously?" interrupted Barbarossa. "If I recollect aright, all the
Cardinals were not present!"
"True, three were absent,--but two of them were held as prisoners by
your Majesty," replied Conrad.
"The answer is devoid of reason, my lord Abbot. Those two Cardinals had
incurred my displeasure. We merely invited them not to leave our
court,--but they could scarcely be called prisoners;--however,
proceed!"
"Alexander's energetic, inflexible character was known, and it was
decided to depose him. A powerful faction elected Cardinal Octavian,
and Alexander was forcibly expelled. In consequence of this, the
Archbishop Eberhard, and every other prelate who is learned in the
sacred canons, regard Victor's election as illegal, and look upon
Alexander as the legitimate Pope."
"This is strange!" said the Emperor, forced to blush before the
Abbot's arguments. "We certainly had never considered the question in
this light.--We will have to be influenced by the Archbishop's
opinion.--Hitherto we had thought differently. Your Metropolitan should
have explained before the Council of Pavia, to which he was convened,
the reasons which you have just advanced!--If we are in error, if we
have indorsed so far the Anti-Pope, it is your master's fault. We much
desire an interview with the worthy prelate, and regret exceedingly,
that we cannot at once profit by his experience. The more so that, had
he so willed it, this schism might have been long since ended."
The Abbot was dumb with surprise, but he still hesitated to give faith
to the entire sincerity of the Emperor.
"The schism grieves us much," continued Barbarossa. "The Defender of
the Faith, more than any one else, must deplore its continuance.
Hitherto we have done all in our power in order that Victor, whom we
supported, should be acknowledged by the whole Church. But what you
have just told us, as coming from the Archbishop, creates grave doubts
in our mind."
"In any case," said Rinaldo, timidly, "it would be well if His Eminence
of Salzburg should join the Court.--His presence alone would remove
many obstacles."
"Although in feeble health, the venerable Bishop will not hesitate
before the fatigues of the journey, if he were once assured that his
influence would effect the unanimous recognition of the true Pope!"
added Conrad.
"Let us hope so, at least!" replied the Emperor, and turning towards
Rinaldo, he added, "You will write to this effect to the Archbishop;
and, in the meantime, my dear Abbot, you are our guest."
He rose, and bowed graciously to the prelate, as a signal that the
audience was at an end; but the Abbot, preoccupied with Bonello's case,
after a moment's hesitation, began to plead in his behalf.
"Deign to excuse me, Sire, if I venture to implore your clemency for a
most unfortunate man. A Guelph knight, named Bonello, is to be hung
to-day. Spare his life, Sire, and in future he will no longer mix in
political strife, but devote himself entirely to the education of his
only daughter. She is almost a child, and needs a father's care; the
more so that her extraordinary beauty is in itself a grave danger to
one so young. If your Majesty desires to show me any favor, you will
listen to my earnest prayer."
The Emperor reflected for a moment.
"What you ask is impossible," said he; "the sentence must be executed!"
"Although your Majesty cannot pardon the traitor," said Rinaldo, "you
can easily offer him to the Archbishop of Salzburg's friend. Bonello is
only a Lombard noble; it would be an original present to a German
bishop."
Barbarossa divined the Chancellor's meaning, but he was inflexible.
"Not another word; the traitor must die!"
Conrad read in the Emperor's expression the uselessness of further
appeal, and he could only rejoice that he had been able to prolong,
although but for a few short hours, the life of the condemned. He might
at least prepare him for the great journey into eternity.
"Hasten to discharge your holy mission," said Barbarossa, "for
to-morrow at daybreak Bonello shall be hanged."
The prelate bowed, and left the tent.
"You should let the poor devil live," said the Chancellor, in a
discontented tone.
"The poor devil might live," replied Barbarossa, "but the rebel must
die;" and he took his place again at the table.
"If I aspired to the empire of the world, the blind goddess of justice
would be obliged to make more than one sacrifice on the altar of
expediency," remarked the Count of Dassel. "The Abbot Conrad solicited
the Guelph's pardon; Conrad is the friend of the Archbishop Eberhard,
and Eberhard is the soul of the Episcopacy."
"Must we purchase the loyalty which is ours by right, by making
concessions and granting impunity to crime?"
"Your Majesty's notions of justice utterly confound my poor wisdom,"
said Rinaldo respectfully. "At this moment I am in an awkward dilemma.
I see dangerous breakers ahead; a species of conspiracy against the
realization of your gigantic enterprise, and I neither dare to show the
peril nor attempt to avoid it. It is truly painful for a sincerely
devoted heart."
"Explain your meaning," said the Emperor.
The Chancellor rose and approached the table, his knit brows and eager
eyes wearing an expression of stern determination.
"Henry the Lion is Duke of Saxony and Bavaria," he continued. "He is
the most powerful lord of Germany. As a Guelph, his attachment to
Alexander is patent; we hold the proofs at hand. To conciliate Henry by
gifts of power or territory would be dangerous. Proud, haughty, and
ambitious, he can hope for nothing from you, and will naturally turn to
that faction which can offer him the most solid advantages. Even now,
perhaps, he may be only awaiting a plausible excuse for leaving the
Emperor and joining the party of Alexander III."
The Chancellor paused for a moment, as if expecting a reply; but he
received none.
"Henry the Lion is allied to the wealthy and powerful Berthold of
Z[oe]hringen," continued Dassel. "In the event of a rupture,
Z[oe]hringen also would be arrayed against us. Is the Emperor in a fit
condition to resist this coalition?"
"The assertion is a bold one, my lord, and yet I must confess that your
fears are not entirely groundless," answered Barbarossa.
"I have shown the danger to your Majesty; let me now explain how it may
be averted. The Lion espoused Clemence, a sister of the Z[oe]hringen;
by her he has no male issue. Now, to a prince who seeks to perpetuate
the glories of his race, there can be no condition more painful than
this, and it is even said to have caused more than one curious family
discussion. Should the Duke repudiate Clemence, your cause would be
gained; for by the very fact of the divorce he would be obliged to
break with Z[oe]hringen and Alexander, and become your partisan."
Frederic shook his head, as he replied,--
"This master-stroke of policy is not without its merit, but is the
proceeding honest or honorable?"
"Ah!" cried Dassel, "I felt sure that the Emperor's love of justice
would prove the only real obstacle to the success of the house of
Hohenstauffen. Ah, well!" he continued ironically, "we shall at least
be martyrs to the cause of justice."
The Emperor was silent; Rinaldo had wounded his conscientious scruples,
but the Chancellor spread out before him a parchment, and looked
steadily upon his sovereign, as he prepared to employ this last
terrible weapon.
"Henry the Lion is ambitious," said Barbarossa; "his strength and his
alliances make him really dangerous. But, your plan is a good one, if
it were feasible!"
"And why not, Sire? If the Emperor could divorce himself, what can
prevent the Duke? If I mistake not, you did not ask permission of the
Pontiff when, upon the pretext of consanguinity, you repudiated
Adelaide and married Beatrice. Think you that the Pope Victor will
hesitate to annul the Duke's marriage, if the Emperor so orders it?"
"Measure your words, my lord Chancellor! If I still hesitate, it is
because of the crying injustice of which poor Clemence would be the
victim. She is a noble woman!"
"Doubtless, and I pity her sincerely; but are the tears of a woman to
baffle your projects for glory and dominion?"
This remark terminated the discussion. The proud aspirations of
Barbarossa for universal Empire smothered every other feeling. He loved
power and fame, and to them he sacrificed every other sentiment.
"But the Duke's assent to our projects is by no means certain," said
he, less to discuss the subject than as & mark of his discontent.
"I will take care of that," said the Chancellor; "the Lion must be
speedily influenced to an open rupture!"
_CHAPTER IX_.
_FILIAL DEVOTION_.
The oftener Bonello saw his daughter, the more unwilling he became to
die. Alas! what will become of her, poor orphan, he thought. Then
again, at times, he turned to his project of her marriage with Nigri,
and felt reassured. But Pietro had so deeply wounded her feelings by
his violent and inconsiderate outburst, that he no longer desired that
union for his child. She might perhaps seek shelter in a convent! Yet,
in those times of civil strife, the walls of a cloister were but an
insecure protection! Whilst he lamented in the bitterness of his
thought, Pietro Nigri recommenced his wild harangue on the subject of
the expected pardon.
"I should be sorry, sir knight, to allow Frederic to suppose for an
instant that I feared death."
"Our positions are very different, young man," replied Bonello. "The
cares and sentiments of a father are often more potent than the
chivalrous heroism of a youth!"
"You should be able to master your emotions," said Nigri. "The ties of
mere human affection should be as nothing compared with the duties
which we owe to our country. If we fear the rope and the scaffold,--if
the approach of death is to excite our tears,--we will deserve, by our
weakness, to bear the German yoke."
"You really do yourself injustice, Pietro!" said the prisoner, glancing
towards the window where his daughter stood, anxiously awaiting the
return of the Abbot. At last she perceived some horsemen approaching
the eminence on which the fortress was built. It even seemed to her
that she could distinguish the monk's robe; but what meant those armed
men? Were they the Abbot's escort? Her heart beat violently. They drew
up at the foot of the hill, and the prelate, leaving his attendants,
ascended with hasty steps the path which led to the Castle.
"It is he!--he is coming--he is coming," cried Hermengarde, excitedly.
"See how the holy man hastens. No! his is not the air of a messenger of
evil; it is mercy and pardon that he will announce! My father!--oh, my
father!" said she, embracing Bonello, and smiling through her tears.
"You are right, perhaps, my child; but wait a moment."
"Oh! do not doubt it, it is certain! You are pardoned; a voice from
within tells me that I am right!"
The key grated in the lock, and the Abbot entered with a solemn and
dejected mien.
"I have come in person," he said, "to communicate the result of my
mission. I have only partially succeeded. Sir Knight. But the Emperor
has respited you for to-day."
The prisoner was not for an instant deceived by the mild form under
which the Abbot veiled his failure. But the childish sentiments of
Hermengarde did not take in at once the dread truth.
"Holy Father," said she, "your vague words alarm me. I implore you,
tell me clearly if the Emperor has pardoned my father?"
The prelate looked sadly at the young girl.
"At first the Emperor positively refused to listen to my prayers for
mercy; however, by my persistent supplications I have attained a
satisfactory result."
"Ah! only for to-day!"
"We may feel perfectly easy, dear child. To-day not a hair of your
father's head will be harmed!"
"But to-morrow!--Great God! what may happen tomorrow?" she cried, with
anguish.
"Trust in God, my child," said the monk; "he alone is master of the
future."
"Oh! unhappy creature that I am.--You hesitate to tell me the fearful
truth!--You dread my tears!--Do you not see, dearest Father, that my
eyes are dry?--that I am calm and resigned?--For God's sake, speak to
me!" cried Hermengarde. "This uncertainty is worse than death! I am
strong enough to bear anything but that,--we have no time to lose in
idle tears now. The few short hours that are left us must be spent in
trying to avert to-morrow's fearful doom!"
Hermengarde spoke earnestly, and her touching distress suggested a last
hope to the good Abbot.
"Your pleadings may soften the Emperor, my child," he said. "I will
gladly use my influence to get you to his presence.--You may be more
successful than I."
"You have failed! Then, indeed, all hope is lost," she cried,
despairingly.
"Calm yourself, my child," said Guido, "all is not lost yet."
"Oh! I am calm, my Father; my mind is entirely composed.--Reverend Sir,
take me at once, I beseech you, to the Emperor!"
And with wonderful stoicism she began her preparations; for though her
heart was wellnigh breaking within her, she had summoned all her
courage for this one last effort.
"Pietro," said she, after a moment's hesitation, "will you not come
with me?"
"Pardon me, noble lady, if I cannot accede to your request; the sight
of the tyrant has always been insupportable to me.--What will it be
now, when I behold you a suppliant at his feet?"
"Ah! Pietro, do not refuse me the support of your arm!"
"Fear not, my daughter," said the Abbot; "I will not leave you for an
instant. This young man appears too much excited, and we must act with
the greatest calmness!"
Hermengarde seized the prelate's hand, and they immediately left the
tower.
Conrad's retinue was composed of gentlemen of the Imperial household,
for Barbarossa always treated with great distinction all those whose
favor he wished to gain. As they descended the hill, Hermengarde's
beauty attracted the admiration of the knights, one of whom dismounted
as she approached, and respectfully held the stirrup for her to mount.
For her remarkable loveliness could not fail to conciliate the kind
feelings of all those who in that chivalric age treated woman with such
distinguished courtesy. The little band moved slowly along the main
road to the Imperial tent, for such was the bustle and movement that
their progress was more than once arrested by the crowd. Although for
the first time within the precincts of a camp, Hermengarde scarcely
remarked the tumult, nor noticed the looks of open admiration which her
beauty called forth from all, so entirely was she a prey to her own sad
thoughts. As they passed the tent of Henry the Lion, they met, the
Chancellor Rinaldo, who, richly dressed and surrounded by a brilliant
retinue, was about to pay a visit to the Duke.
"Whither go you thus, my lord Abbot?" he asked; "ah, well! I see you
are not easily discouraged; and in truth," he added, bowing to the
young girl, "your _protegee_ is worthy of your best efforts, to which I
sincerely wish you every success."
"The result would most certainly be successful, my lord," said Conrad,
"if my slight influence was but backed by you."
Rinaldo said nothing, but as he gazed on Hermengarde, his bold
imagination at once conceived a plan of which it alone was capable.
"My support is cheerfully offered, my lord Abbot," said he, after a
moment's silence. "As much through respect for you, as from interest in
this amiable young lady; but we must take every precaution, and not act
rashly. I have a trifling affair to arrange with the Saxon Duke, and
will then at once join you. Pray, in the meanwhile go into my tent."
The Count directed one of his attendants to show every respect to the
prelate and his suite during his absence, and then, after a few words
of cheer to the young girl, continued on his way.
"What a lucky meeting!" said the Chancellor, who never neglected even
the most unimportant circumstance. "The Lion can never look at this
girl calmly. She is rather young, it is true, and a few years more
would be in her favor; still, compared with Clemence, the Duke will not
hesitate an instant."
He had by this time arrived at the Saxon tent, and dismounting, he left
his escort in the ante-chamber, passing himself into an inner
apartment. Beckoning to a servant who was in waiting,--
"Can I speak with your master?" he asked.
"In a few moments, my lord! The Duke is at present with his family, and
desires not to be interrupted."
In the adjoining room he could hear the deep voice of a man mingling
with the gay laugh and joyous prattle of children.
"There is no hurry about it," replied Dassel.
And he paced the ante-chamber, seemingly immersed in grave thought, but
in reality listening to what was said in the Duke's chamber.
Henry the Lion was a bold and courageous monarch, ever occupied in the
extension of his territories. His dream was to unite under his sway all
the provinces of Northern Germany, as Frederic had done with those of
the South. Under the pretext of converting the heathen, he had been
engaged for many years in a war with the Slaves, but the aggrandizement
of his kingdom was a motive far more potent than could be the triumph
of the true faith.
The innovations attempted by Frederic in the affairs of the Church met
with little favor in his eyes, for he made no secret of his leanings
towards orthodoxy, and although, as a vassal of the Empire, he fought
against the Lombards, still in his heart he sympathized with their
resistance to the encroachments of the Emperor. He refused to recognize
Victor, the anti-Pope, whose slavish nature he despised, and whom he
openly treated with contempt as occupying a position to which he was
not legally entitled. It needed all Frederic's diplomacy to secure the
co-operation of the Duke in the struggle which he was about to
inaugurate, for Barbarossa had long felt the necessity of detaching him
from the support of Alexander III., and it seemed as though the crafty
Chancellor had discovered a sure means of success.
Whilst the minister was plotting his dishonorable combinations, the
Duke, all unconscious of the visit awaiting him, was seated in the
bosom of his family, Henry was a tall, powerfully built man, with dark
hair and eyes, a heavy beard, and a frank open expression upon his
sun-burned features. His remarkable strength had gained him the surname
of the Lion. He was impatient of all repose, and chafed bitterly at the
inaction to which the Emperor had condemned him.
Near him sat the Duchess, busied with her embroidery. Not without
personal and intellectual attractions, she was sincerely attached to
her husband, but the affection which he had once felt for the lovely
Clemence had long since made way for other sentiments. Honoring her
virtues, he could not but feel deeply mortified that he was without an
heir, and to his intimate associates he had more than once hinted at
the possibility of a divorce.
"Look, Clemence! what a fine boy our little Hildegarde would make,"
said the Duke, playing with the silken curls of the child who had
glided between his knees. "He would be old enough now to play with
arms, or sharpen arrows, and in a few years could fight by my side!"
"And perhaps die there, husband!"
"Our five daughters run no risk of dying a hero's death!" he replied
bitterly. "Ah! I would give the half of my left hand if one of those
girls were a boy!"
"Henry, do not cherish such gloomy thoughts. You make me tremble for
our future!"
"Never mind! a hand for a son!" continued Henry, with growing rage. "If
my death-bed could be surrounded by five sons, I should feel that my
toils had not been altogether unavailing. Ah! those five young lions
could complete the work which their father had begun, and their
combined efforts might defy the Emperor. But it is a painful, a
bitterly painful thought, that I shall die and leave to helpless girls
the great work which I have so painfully achieved."
Clemence let fall her work and gazed upon her husband; despite her
gentle nature and her sentiments of Christian resignation, she was much
depressed by his violent outburst.
"Pardon, dear Henry!" she said; "your views are selfish ones. He who
toils only for earthly fame, gives little thought to Eternity. In this
world, we should be contented with the consciousness that we have
always acted honestly and from noble motives!"
"A sad fate!"
"But the best, the most really meritorious! The true crown of glory is
eternal and unfading! What we accomplish on earth is often valueless
hereafter, for what then avails a lifetime spent in strife, and storms,
and troubles! I implore you, dear husband, do not question the decrees
of Providence; think less of earthly greatness, for pride leads to
forgetfulness of God, and to eternal perdition!"
"You are right," said the Prince, who had listened calmly while
Clemence was speaking, "if we are to measure honor's reward by what
comes after death; but I maintain that I would gladly exchange some
leaves of my heavenly crown, for the prospect of an earthly heir."
A slight noise was heard, the curtains were lifted, and Lanzo with a
serious face entered the room.
"Whence come you, knave?"
"From the gallows, godfather!"
"What! am I the sponsor of a gallows-bird?"
"You have no reason to be ashamed of it, cousin, since it appears to be
the fashion, nowadays, to hang honest people!"
"Who has been hanged?"
"Oh! just now, no one; but those who have the halter around their necks
are not always the worst off. It may be that your Grace or the Emperor
would send an honest citizen to execution; but, when the devil in
person leads a man to the scaffold, it is another thing!"
"You are not bright to-day, Lanzo!"
"And why not, master?"
"This stupid speech about the devil leading a man to the scaffold."
"My luminous idea was a true one, though," said the jester. "Would you
like me to show you one of Satan's tricks?"
"I am somewhat curious; let us see."
"Be good enough then to open wide the eyes of your understanding, for
he who is blind in spirit, although carnally lucid, cannot discover the
wiles of the demon. The works of his diabolical Majesty are, like
Beelzebub himself, of a spiritual essence. The first and chief agent of
the devil is--guess what, cousin!"
"What do you mean?"
"Pride! Whenever Satan can entangle a man in the meshes of pride, it is
all over with him! Pride rises, and aspires to rise. Let us suppose
that our individual is a duke, he covets the Empire; and to accomplish
his purpose, would destroy every barrier to his ambition, even were it
necessary to be guilty of a crime. Should he be an Emperor, he desires
the power of God, and even the Pope must be his humble vassal. If you
look around, cousin, you can see for yourself, that is, if your eyes
are worth anything. Should the proud man have an excellent wife, whose
only fault is that she has not borne him a son, the poor creature
becomes a martyr, for pride has no respect for the feelings or rights
of others, and only dreams of seeing his own power and glory reflected
in the persons of his descendants, long after his own flesh has become
the food of worms!"
The Duke started, and turned towards his wife; but Clemence seemed
absorbed in her work and heedless of the fool's discourse.
"Shall I show you some more of the devil's tricks, cousin?"
"No! I have had enough for to-day!"
"His diabolical Majesty has not only snares and pitfalls to catch
fools, but also executioners to hunt them up! If I mistake not, one of
these gentry is about to pay you a visit, cousin! Come, I will show him
to you, but take good care of yourself, noble Lion!"
The prince looked anxiously to where Lanzo pointed, for he knew that
his jester often veiled really serious truths beneath the semblance of
frivolity.
"Here is His Majesty's servant!" said the fool, as Rinaldo entered,
with a smile.
"Forgive me, my lord, for thus disturbing your family party for a
moment; I could not resist the temptation of being the messenger of
good news!"
"You are welcome, my lord; and these news are?"
"That to-morrow we break camp, and march upon Milan."
"At last!" cried the soldier; "it is, indeed, good news that you bring
me. Camp-life is demoralizing, and we should have finished long since
with our enemies!"
"So I have urged," replied Rinaldo. "His Majesty wished at first to
await the arrival of the Austrian duke, but your counsels have modified
the plan. I must really admire your influence over one who is so little
patient of advice or control. Your Highness is as great in the council
as in the field."
[Transcriber's note: Initial text of paragraph missing--possibly "The
Duke was ..."] secretly flattered by this homage to his pride. "My
observations have only served to develop the great military talent of
the Emperor."
"With an ironical smile, scarcely perceptible around the corners of his
mouth, Rinaldo answered,--
"A monarch is none the less great, because he listens to reason and
follows good advice! But I have come to summon your Highness to a
council of war, in which the plan of campaign against Milan is to be
discussed. It will be very select, and only a few princes and prelates,
who are experienced in the art of war, will be present."
"At what hour?"
"So soon as you shall have arrived?"
"Halloa, without there! my cloak!" cried the Duke.
"Oh! there is no need of such haste!" said Dassel. "Before starting, I
must solicit a favor of your Highness."
"On what subject, pray?"
"Oh, a mere peccadillo! But, by your leave, I would make my confession
in secret."
As they entered an adjoining room, Lanzo hurriedly concealed himself
behind the hangings, as though this presumption was one of his
privileges.
"What is the matter?" asked the Duke of Rinaldo, who stood before him
with down-cast eyes, and an appearance of irresolution and
discouragement.
"I am really a guilty man," said the Chancellor, after a moment's
silence. I meant to await a more favorable occasion; but--I was an
unwilling listener to your conversation with the Duchess, and much as I
dislike to interfere with your domestic happiness, I have been unable
to restrain myself.--That you, the most powerful prince of the Empire,
should be without an heir to your glory--so mighty a tree, full of sap
and vigor to remain barren--truly, it is a sad reflection!"--The Lion
raised his eyes upon the Chancellor, whose face wore an expression of
deep chagrin.
"A sad reflection, say you!--A man must learn to carry the burden which
he cannot shake off!"
"Which he cannot?--Very true, _if_ he cannot; but, for my part, I have
imagined that this accident, so fatal to your race, might be remedied.
Mayhap, it will need great strength of mind on your part, or even some
violence?" said the tempter, in an insinuating tone.
"Nothing more?"
"I cannot now say! The Emperor's first wife was childless; he divorced
her and married Beatrice. This union has been blessed with a numerous
progeny."
An expression of mingled regret and anger passed over the features of
the Duke, who sat twisting his beard, in silence.
"Frederic could do it;--Adelaide was his relative!"
"Oh, that was the pretext, I know," said the Chancellor; "but we can
easily find another equally good; and it is certain that the Pope
Victor will gladly yield to a demand made by the Emperor, or even,
indeed, to your own request. If consanguinity were a substantial ground
for a divorce, it seems to me that the extinction of a noble house
would be quite as valid a plea. Do not let this matter drop. I feel
sure that your Grace will pardon my indiscretion and importunity."
"There is no indiscretion, my lord! It is not the first time that I
have pondered over this matter; but it is strange, how different an
almost familiar thought appears when couched in words!"
"It is merely the realization of our long cherished desires," said the
statesman but he thought within himself,--"It is a remorse for an evil
deed!"
For a moment the Duke was silent, and then, with his eyes turned
towards the ground, he resumed,--
"I agree with you, that my marriage has become insupportable to
me; but to commence the affair, and to carry it to a satisfactory
result,--hum!--I think that rather comes within the scope of your
talents and intelligence, my dear Chancellor!"
"With pleasure!--You can count upon me in every way," replied Rinaldo,
and, for once, he spoke the truth. "But, in the first place, it will be
necessary to secure the Emperor's consent, and, through him, that of
the Pope. Perhaps, to-day you may have the opportunity of discussing
the matter before four competent persons,--will that suit your Grace?"
They left the room. Henry called for his cloak, and sword and helmet.
Lanzo was seated on the ground, playing with his bells.
"Cousin!" said he, looking up, as they approached, "have you forgotten
all about the snares of the devil?"
As if to increase the Duke's remorse, Clemence and her children entered
the room. The Duchess had heard her husband and hastened, according to
the old German custom, to bring him his sword and helmet. The
Chancellor bowed low before the princess, and his calm and smiling face
gave no presage to the noble lady of the misfortune which menaced her
happiness; but Henry, less skilled in dissimulation, averted his gaze,
as he said,--
"You should not take this trouble, Clemence!"
"It is ever my pleasure to serve my noble husband," she replied,
presenting him his helmet.
The Chancellor's visit alarmed her, for she knew the violent and
impetuous temper of her lord, and she feared lest some misunderstanding
might arise between him and the Emperor.
"Where are you going, Henry?" she asked. "Are you summoned to His
Majesty?"
"Summoned,--no; that is to say, yes. I am summoned to a Council of War
about to take place;" and, in company with the Chancellor, he left the
tent.
"Great God! what is the matter?" said Clemence. "I have never seen him
thus!"
"Nor I neither," replied Lanzo, who was still seated upon the ground.
"He looks marvellously like a man whom the devil is leading to the
gallows!"
"What a fearful speech, Lanzo!"
"What a wicked man, Clemence!"
"Do you dare to speak thus of your master, Sirrah?"
"Oh! I have given him up, noble lady, and have entered your service;
for, methinks you will soon have grievous need of a faithful servant!"
"Why so?"
"Why so?--hum!--the why would only worry you. Never question a fool too
closely, noble dame, for fools tell the truth!"
"But I would know the truth, Lanzo!"
"Good! Then pray for your husband."
"I have already done so, to-day."
"Then do it again."
"But why?"
"Because he is in bad company, and needs your prayers!"
_CHAPTER X_.
_THE TEMPTER_.
Frederic awaited Dassel's return, in a state of feverish anxiety for
the success of his mission. He had carefully pondered over his
Chancellor's proposition, and he now dreaded lest the refusal of Henry
to the contemplated divorce might interfere with the realization of his
cherished projects. The very possibility of failure was painful to him,
but when the Chamberlain announced the Duke's arrival, he dissembled
his agitation and advanced cordially to meet him.
"Are you at last satisfied, my dear Duke," said he, motioning to a
seat.
"Certainly, I must be satisfied," replied the Duke, who seemed uneasy
and dispirited.
"The princes will be here shortly, and we will open the Council without
delay, for the measures against Milan must be decided upon at once.
This proud and rebellious city shall feel all the weight of our
displeasure,--our own opinion is in favor of utterly destroying this
hot-bed of treason, and we trust that your Grace thinks with us."
The Duke remained silent, his eyes still fixed upon the ground.
"My plan is the result of mature deliberation," pursued Barbarossa;
"but we would listen to your counsel."
"As your Majesty pleases," replied Henry.
The Emperor glanced towards Rinaldo, who answered by a look of
astonishment.
"Your Grace seems out of spirits;--you will, I know, pardon my remark,"
said Frederic, cordially. "I trust that you have received no bad news
from the Duchy, or that you have no domestic annoyances!"
"Domestic annoyances, only, Sire!" said Rinaldo.
"How so?"
Dassel read in Henry's silence, an invitation to take upon himself the
explanation of the affair, and he began to paint in gloomy colors and
with crafty skill the misfortune of the Duke, who, with all his power
and renown, was doomed to leave no posterity to reflect his greatness
and his fame.
"These sad facts have been the subject of our interview," he said.
"Your Majesty will readily appreciate the natural despondency of a
prince who looks beyond the present and who labors for ages yet
unborn!"
"Really, I am deeply grieved," said Barbarossa, "but I can perceive no
remedy. It does not seem as though Clemence were destined to realize
your Grace's desires."
"Pardon my boldness," said Rinaldo, "if I venture to allude to your
Majesty's course of conduct in a similar conjuncture."
"Very true! but every husband cannot, in the same case, do as I have
done," said Frederic.
This remark was calculated to excite the pride of the Duke, who had
always regarded Barbarossa as the main obstacle to his own desires of
personal aggrandizement.
"The Emperor must fully understand and examine my position," said
Henry, raising his head proudly. "I must observe that, were our cases
reversed, your Majesty would meet that courtesy from the Duke."
"Particularly from the Duke of Saxony and Bavaria, who does not idly
bear the title of 'the Lion,'" added Frederic. "But, in truth, the
business is serious and difficult; and although the reason assigned for
the divorce appears a valid one, it is not in our power to pass
judgment. Pope Victor alone enjoys this prerogative."
The last observation was judiciously calculated. It was necessary that
Henry should understand, positively and clearly, that it was only
Frederic's Pope, who, upon the Emperor's order, would pronounce the
dissolution of the marriage. He wished to be assured of Henry's
defection from the party of Alexander III., from whom the Saxon prince
had nothing to hope in the matter of the divorce. Frederic gazed at him
attentively, for the Lion's silence appeared an encouraging omen, as he
hitherto had been a zealous supporter of the claims of Alexander III.
to the throne of St. Peter.
"We doubt not," resumed Barbarossa, after a moment's silence, "that his
Holiness, upon our representations, will be persuaded."
"I would solicit your Majesty's intervention in this business, that it
may be brought to a satisfactory conclusion as speedily as possible,"
said the Duke.
"As we have been ourselves in a similar position, we shall be able to
advance most excellent reasons for its immediate solution. But I would
advise that the Duchess be not informed of our project; it would cause
her unnecessary pain, and a woman's tears must not influence in anyway
the course of events."
The Chancellor seeing that his plot was progressing favorably, withdrew
to seek for Conrad and his fair charge. He was anxious for
Hermengarde's success, but less through pity for her misfortune than in
the hope that it might further his own vile schemes. He found them in
his own tent, which stood close by the Imperial pavilion. Hermengarde
was seated in a corner of the apartment, gazing first at the sky and
then towards the entrance, where she eagerly watched for the
Chancellor's return. She trusted that her tears and entreaties would
soften the heart of the Emperor. The monk had opened his breviary, and
was praying, as Rinaldo entered smiling at the success of his plot
against the Saxon Duke. He approached the young girl, and said
kindly,--
"Pardon me, noble lady, if I have made you wait. In cases like yours,
all depends upon choosing a seasonable moment. I think that moment has
arrived."
These words awakened her hopes; but the thought that in a few moments
her father's fate for weal or woe would be decided, took away her
courage.
"Do not be alarmed; all will be well. Have no fear, and when you are
before the Emperor, speak as your heart dictates. In such a case, that
language is always more eloquent than studied words."
"Have you any hope?" asked Conrad, who sought to read the statesman's
thoughts.
"Most excellent, my dear Abbot. The Emperor, I am positive, will grant
Bonello's pardon. But hasten! and when you are summoned, lose no time."
He said a few more kind words to the young girl, and then left the
tent. Meanwhile Frederic passed into the council-chamber, where the
nobles sat discussing the siege of Milan and the future fate of the
city. Obizzo, chief of the Italian auxiliaries, inveighed bitterly
against the tyranny of the Milanese, and insisted upon making them
submit to the same severe measures which they had inflicted upon Lodi.
Obizzo's neighbor, dressed in full episcopal robes, and with a sword by
his side, scarcely listened to the Italian's arguments, but watched
eagerly the door of the Imperial chamber as though awaiting the
presence of the monarch. It was Bishop Gero, of Halberstadt, elevated
to that dignity by the powerful will of Barbarossa, in spite of all
laws and justice, after the banishment of Bishop Ulrich.
That worthy prelate had sought refuge with the primate of Salzburg, and
as Gero had heard of the arrival of the Archbishop's envoy, he began to
fear the loss of his benefice. The bishops of Osnabruck and Minden,
creatures of the Emperor, also spoke in favor of extreme measures. The
Count Palatine, Otho of Wittelsbach, always impatient of long speeches,
found Obizzo's harangue tedious, and began to grow angry. At this
moment was heard the deep voice of Henry the Lion, the curtain was
drawn aside, and Barbarossa, accompanied by the Dukes of Saxony,
Bohemia, and Rottemburg, entered the room. Behind them came the
Chancellor Rinaldo. The nobles bowed respectfully to the Emperor, who
seated himself upon the throne prepared for him, whilst they placed
themselves in a half circle before him. On his entrance, the Chancellor
had arranged the curtains so as to leave a small opening, behind which
stood an attendant awaiting his orders.
"Reasons of grave moment have decided us," said Barbarossa, "not to
await the arrival of the Duke of Austria, but to march, to-morrow, upon
Milan. With God's help, it will be for your gallantry to punish the
crimes which this city has committed against justice, against the
supremacy of the German nation, and against the Majesty of our own
person. Conscious of their guilt, as they must be, these rebels cannot
expect a war according to the dictates of generosity, but one of
extermination. We desire to know whether our trusty allies agree with
the expectations of our adversaries. The question then is this: shall
the campaign be carried on with inexorable severity, or does the enemy
deserve that we should exhibit a certain leniency, and a respect for
persons and property?"
Henry the Lion, to whom belonged the right of speaking first, reflected
for an instant. His chivalrous disposition did not sympathize with this
war of extermination proposed by the Emperor, and a similar thought
could be read in the countenance of the Duke of Rottemburg and the
Count Palatine Otho.
The schismatical bishops, who understood at once that Barbarossa had
determined upon the total destruction of the city, bent their heads in
token of adhesion. They could scarcely wait for the moment of the
ballot, so eager were they to give signs of their obedience. Obizzo
moved impatiently upon his chair, unable to understand the hesitation
of the Duke of Saxony.
"I came here with my Saxons and Bavarians to fight against the enemy,"
said the Lion; "to punish the rebels, and to make them acknowledge your
sovereignty. But all this can be accomplished without laying waste this
beautiful country. Why destroy their vines, uproot their trees, ruin
their crops, burn their villages and hamlets? I am no partisan of
useless cruelty."
"In other circumstances we would agree with you, noble Duke," replied
Frederic; "but we think that Milan should receive the same treatment
which she has inflicted upon other cities."
The Margrave Obizzo could no longer keep silence.
"Why show mercy to the scourge of all Lombardy? Milan has shed torrents
of innocent blood, and has left to her victims only the choice between
death or slavery! Yes," he cried, "Milan has a thousand times merited
her destruction. And what I advance here, my lords, is not merely my
individual opinion, but the sentiment of all Lombardy."
Obizzo's arguments coincided with the desires of the Emperor, but as he
was about to continue, the latter stopped him by a look.
"You have not exaggerated, Margrave," said he, "but your emotions have
carried you, perhaps, too far. What is your opinion, my Lord of
Rottemburg?"
Although at heart opposed to the destruction of Milan, a punishment, in
his opinion, much too severe, this prince was too anxious to conciliate
the Emperor's favor to venture upon a remonstrance, and he yielded an
immediate assent to the monarch's views.
The Duke of Bohemia likewise voted in favor of sack and pillage.
"And you, Count Palatine?" again inquired Barbarossa.
"I share the opinions of Duke Henry!" replied Wittelsbach; "the enemy
should not have cause to think us savages!"
"If you wish to gain the enemy's good graces, my dear Count, you must
treat him more gently in battle!" said the Emperor, recording the
votes, which, as might have been expected, were in accordance with the
Imperial wishes.
The Duke of Saxony dropped his heavy sword, with a loud crash upon the
floor, and twisting his long beard, glared angrily upon the vile
courtiers.
"You are not obliged to conform to the decisions of the Council," said
Frederic, endeavoring to calm the Duke's anger; "we will trust to your
own discretion in your relations with the enemy.--But," continued he,
"some one must inform the Abbot of St. Augustine, whose monastery is
near Milan, that he must solicit us to spare his convent and its
dependencies. Those monks are determined opponents of His Holiness Pope
Victor, and warm partisans of the Cardinal Roland."
Henry was about to say a word in defence of the Abbot, and urge that
religious discussions were scarcely a valid reason for burning a
monastery; but he reflected at the impossibility of obtaining from
Alexander III. the dissolution of his marriage, and he was silent.
"Those monks are your Majesty's most dangerous enemies," said Obizzo;
"they continually excite the people and kindle the spirit of rebellion,
on the pretext that your Majesty robs the Church of her liberty, and
seeks to submit everything to your power."
Rinaldo here made a sign to the attendant, who immediately disappeared.
"As far as I know," said Werner, Bishop of Minden, who never let pass
an opportunity for the display of his learning, "those monks follow the
rule of St. Augustine, which Rule, Book II., chap. 12, forbids them
expressly, taking part in worldly affairs, and recommends study and a
life of contemplation."
"Pardon," interrupted Barbarossa, who feared a learned dissertation,
"St. Augustine's rule has no connection with the question now before
us."
"Certainly," said the prelate, humbly; "the rule has no connection with
the rebellion. I merely cited it to show that I heartily approved of
the punishment of the Augustinians."
"It seems to me," said Gero, Bishop of Halberstadt, "that these monks
richly deserve punishment, since they have refused to acknowledge the
Pope appointed by the Emperor, to whom belongs, by immemorial custom,
the right of nominating the Roman Pontiff. For this reason alone, if
none other existed, the followers of St. Augustine deserve to be
treated as rebels."
Not a voice was raised in defence of the poor monks, and it was decided
that their monastery should be destroyed.
The Emperor was returning his thanks to the princes for their able
counsels, when the silken curtain which closed the entrance to the tent
was thrown wide open. On the threshold stood the stately form of the
Abbot Conrad holding by the hand the trembling Hermengarde--a shrinking
girl by the side of a gray-haired man. Near them stood Erwin, the
Emperor's godson; for the youth, touched by the girl's misfortunes, had
hastened to offer his services in her cause. His relationship to
Barbarossa permitted him to follow the Abbot to the council-chamber,
where he intended to use every effort to advance the cause of the
unhappy Hermengarde.
The Emperor appeared surprised and annoyed, the presence of the Abbot
and his charge explained the purport of their visit, and a sombre frown
augured ill for their success; but the nobles who were present could
not but sympathize with her grief.
"Pardon, Sire," said the Abbot, bowing respectfully to the Emperor and
the nobles; "my faith in your generosity emboldens me to plead, once
more, in favor of the unfortunate. Before you stands a wretched
daughter, whom the father's death will leave a helpless orphan, at a
time when a fierce war is raging throughout the land. Will not your
Majesty deign to lend an ear to pity?--it is a virtue which becomes a
monarch, as much as justice."
While Conrad spoke, Hermengarde had fallen upon her knees; but spite
all her efforts, she could only falter out--
"Pity--mercy!--for the love of God! Be merciful!"
Barbarossa remained seated; his scowling gaze turned upon the Abbot.
"You might have spared yourself this effort, my lord Abbot," said he
violently; "do you imagine that a woman's tears could succeed, where
your arguments have failed?"
"I had hoped it, Sire. It is natural to the human heart to be touched
by the tears and prayers of the innocent. I hoped for nothing less from
your Majesty's!"
They were alarmed at the bold demeanor of the Abbot, but the Lion bowed
his head approvingly, and Barbarossa's scowl deepened. During the
scene, Rinaldo had narrowly scanned the Duke's countenance, as if to
mark the effect produced upon him by the remarkable beauty of the fair
suppliant. But the crafty statesman was wrong if he imagined that a man
of the Lion's character could be ensnared so easily. Had the Duke given
any indication that the plot so skilfully imagined would be successful,
the Chancellor would have urged Bonello's cause, but Henry's
countenance remained impassive. Hermengarde was still upon her knees
weeping bitterly, and her face hidden in her hands. At times she looked
upon the Emperor, striving to collect her thoughts, but the stern face
of the monarch appalled her.
"Pity!" she cried. "Spare my father's life; he regrets his crime! Oh!
pardon him!"
"Enough of these lamentations!" said Barbarossa; "let some one lead
this woman hence!"
The Bishop Gero hastened to comply with the Emperor's wishes, whilst
the latter explained to those present the crime of which Bonello had
been guilty.
"If you consider our sentence unjust, speak, and the criminal shall be
released," said he.
"Bonello is a valiant soldier, although he has drawn his sword in a bad
cause," replied Otho. "Still, I implore you to pardon him for his
daughter's sake."
"Pardon him, Sire. I fear your sentence may cause the death of two
persons," said Henry, pointing to the pale and trembling Hermengarde.
"This time justice must take its course," answered Barbarossa.
"The sentence is perfectly just," added Werner, of Minden. "Who would
deserve death, if traitors were allowed to go unpunished?"
The two other bishops nodded in token of approval; they never dissented
from any apparent desire of Barbarossa.
"You perceive, my lord Abbot, that it is impossible for us to
pardon----"
He interrupted himself abruptly at the sight of Hermengarde, who fell
fainting upon a chair.
"Enough of this, my lord Conrad, you may withdraw," and he motioned
that they should take away the girl.
At this moment Erwin advanced, already deeply interested in
Hermengarde's suffering; his godfather's stern refusal to her appeals
affected him painfully. Bowing to the Emperor, with a bright flush upon
his face, he said,--
"Pardon, Sire, if I venture to recall to Your Majesty's memory the
recent battle, and the promise then made to grant me a favor."
"Ah! I trust that you will not make an improper use of my promise,
Erwin?"
"An improper use--no, upon my honor. The favor which I now solicit,
Sire, is the life and liberty of Bonello, this young girl's father."
"Is this petition serious, Count?" said Barbarossa, turning to him,
angrily.
"It cannot be more so, Sire," answered the young man, promptly.
"Reflect well, boy, on what you ask," said the Emperor, fiercely. "Do
not play with our promise--it is sacred; but----"
And he raised his right hand menacingly.
"If my petition were dictated by egotism, it might be considered an
abuse of your Imperial promise; but I merely solicit the life and
liberty of a man whose protection is necessary to his daughter's
happiness. In this I merely perform an act of humanity, and perhaps of
chivalry."
"Well," said Barbarossa, after a moment of angry silence, "since you
persist in a demand which we cannot refuse, be it so! Bonello is free!
But you, Count Erwin of Rechberg, for the improper use to which you put
our word, we withdraw from you our favor. You are banished from the
Court----"
He did not conclude, for Erwin, almost stupefied with astonishment,
threw himself at his feet, and taking the monarch's hand,--
"Sire," said he, "in pity, withhold this sentence--do not banish me
from your presence--at least not now! Let me remain near you--you who
are so menaced with perils on every side. Ah! let me still continue to
watch over your precious life, and prove to you my gratitude for the
almost paternal love and care which, until to-day, you have ever shown
me! As a boy, I played upon your knees; it was from you I learned to
use the sword and the lance; you have been to me a second father! Ah!
my beloved godfather, do not send me into exile! Without you I care not
to live!"
The touching prayer of this devoted heart produced its effect upon the
monarch, from whose face all sternness gradually passed, to give place
to an expression of a more kindly nature.
"Rise," said he; "you are a great flatterer, Erwin! It may be, too, a
crafty knave! What think you, gentlemen?"
The nobles were somewhat surprised at this exhibition of feeling on the
part of their sovereign, but their satisfaction was evident. The
Emperor continued,--
"We must not give any evidence of weakness, and as a punishment for the
great interest which you have shown in favor of this culprit, you shall
be banished, for a week's time, from our camp. This punishment will
enable you to conduct to her home, the damsel whose cause you have so
chivalrously advocated."
Emotion and fear at first did not allow Hermengarde to take in all the
details of the scene. But when the youth came to tell her of her
father's pardon, her joy and gratitude knew no bounds. Rising
hurriedly, she would have thrown herself at the Emperor's feet, but he
waved her away impatiently.
"You have no cause to thank me," he said. "Farewell, madam; this
business has wearied us!" He signed to her to withdraw, and Conrad,
Rechberg, and Hermengarde left the tent.
_CHAPTER XI_.
_THE JOURNEY_.
Erwin thought it advisable to accompany Bonello and his daughter until
they had reached a place of safety. Well aware of the dangers of the
road, and the bitter party feeling throughout Lombardy, he feared lest
the old man might lose his life, were he to meet any of the soldiers
from Lodi, Pavia, Cremona, or the other cities which were leagued
against Milan. He therefore procured a strong armed escort to protect
his friends in case of attack. Whilst the Count of Rechberg was making
his preparations, Hermengarde and the Abbot hastened to the castle to
communicate the glad tidings of their success to the prisoner, who, in
a transport of joyful emotion, threw himself upon his daughter's
breast, with tears of pious gratitude. The Abbot looked on calmly.
Pietro Nigri, as though he regretted that the tyrant had granted his
old friend's pardon, gazed on in gloomy indifference. After the first
moments of their joyful greeting, Guido requested to be informed of the
details, and the Abbot Conrad related the scene which had taken place
between the Emperor and the young Count.
"Where is the noble youth?" asked Bonello; "why did you not bring him
here?"
At that moment was heard the clatter of horses' hoofs, and the clank of
armor, in the castle-yard, and Erwin, hastily dismounting, made his way
towards the tower. Bonello watched him anxiously; and when the Count,
in brilliant armor, entered the room, he rushed towards him, seized his
hand, and fell upon his knees.
"Most excellent young man!" he cried; "you are my preserver! may God
reward you for your kindness to my child! Heaven grant me the power to
prove to you my gratitude! Anything which you may ask of me shall be
yours. May God bless and keep you."
The old man spoke in a voice choked with emotion. Erwin interrupted
him, for he was pained to see Bonello at his feet.
"Rise, my lord, I beg of you. Your thanks overwhelm me. I have only
acted as any other gentleman would have done, in my place. I merely
crave the favor of accompanying you to your home."
At this new mark of kind consideration, Bonello was about to utter
further words of gratitude; but the Count interrupted him by the
announcement that all was ready for their departure. They left the
tower, and entered the court-yard of the castle, where stood
Hermengarde's palfry, and a splendid courser for her father. The
parting between Bonello and the Abbot was touching; they embraced one
another, and the prelate returned to the camp. Pietro Nigri mounted
sullenly, glancing haughtily upon the young girl, and contemptuously at
her father.
"Farewell, lady," he said; "I wish you every happiness. As to you,
Sir," he added, "I sincerely trust that you may never have cause to
regret the life which you owe to a tyrant's mercy,--a life destined to
be passed unprofitably, for all that concerns the honor and well-being
of your country."
He dashed off before Guido could reply, and the others hastened to
leave the castle, where some of them, at least, had suffered so
acutely.
At the foot of the hill, they struck towards the south, and then
diverged from the main road. Erwin was anxious to please his guests,
and readily yielded to Bonello's guidance. The latter was perfectly
familiar with the country, and desired to avoid any meeting with the
Italian soldiery. For, though firmly resolved never to draw his sword
again, he was pained at the sight of so many Lombards hurrying to join
Barbarossa's legions and attack Milan, the most important bulwark of
Italian independence, so they took a cross road which speedily led
them to the summit of the plain. Every precaution had been taken
against the marauders who then infested the country. In front, rode
two men-at-arms; then came Rechberg, followed by Hermengarde and her
father, and four other troopers closed the rear of the escort.
"We must hasten," said Guido, "in order to arrive before nightfall at
the monastery of San Pietro; it will be sufficient for the first day's
journey, and by starting at dawn to-morrow, we shall reach my castle
before the evening."
Erwin had wished to learn some of the particulars about Bonello's
family, and he at once profited by the present opening.
"Only by to-morrow evening?" said he; "then your castle must be near
the Lower Alps?"
"In their very midst, Count; in the very heart of the Alps," replied
Guido. "If, as I suppose, you like mountain-castles, mine will please
you. Years ago, when I visited Germany, I used to admire your
fortresses perched upon the craggy peaks, like immense eagles' nests.
The evident disposition of the Teutonic nobility to shun the cities and
low grounds, and occupy the heights, is a mark of sound judgment. Our
ancestors, also, knew how and where to build their strongholds. Did you
ever see Castellamare?"
"Is that your dwelling?"
"Yes," answered Bonello. "The Romans from whom I am descended, erected
the fortress, and it has been in my family from time immemorial."
"Doubtless, during your absence, your son commands in the castle?"
"I have no son," answered the old man, somewhat sadly.
"That pale-faced young man, who was with you at Cinola, is perhaps one
of your relations?"
"Pietro Nigri? Oh, not precisely, but almost!" Here the young girl's
horse plunged violently.
"Take care, my child; your horse seems inclined to be troublesome,"
said Guido. "Pietro," he resumed, "is the son of the Milanese Consul
Nigri. He is a most worthy young man; he was my daughter's escort to
Cinola."
They approached the monastery, around whose walls the twilight mist was
slowly rising. Still, from afar, could be seen the dark red windows of
stained glass; and the gilded cross upon the tower, illuminated with
the rays of the setting sun, shone bright through the evening haze.
Bonello gazed eagerly upon this glad haven of rest, as they hastened
forward.
At the sound of the bell, a grating was drawn aside.
"Open, open, brother Ignatius!" cried the lord of Castellamare to the
monk, who examined the appearance of the visitors. "We wish a lodging
for the night, and a flask of your best wine."
Soon a key grated in the lock, the gates opened, and the little
cavalcade rode into the court-yard.
"You are most welcome, my lord," said Ignatius, cordially; "pardon me
if I have made you wait. We are obliged to be most prudent, for the
country is filled with marauders, who have little respect for the
sanctity of our poor cloisters. Your arrival here is truly gratifying
to us all; but we regret our superior's absence."
"Where is he?"
"In Genoa."
"I am extremely sorry," said Guido; "for we might have talked together
until matins."
The horses were led to the stables, and a lay brother conducted the
travellers to the refectory. Several long benches and tables, two
comfortable arm-chairs, a handsome crucifix upon the wall, and a bronze
_aspersorium_, composed all the furniture of the room. Seating himself
in one of the arm-chairs, Guido at once entered into conversation with
the lay brother, whose mission it was not only to receive, but also to
entertain all visitors to the convent.
"The holy Abbot is at Genoa, you say?" inquired Bonello. "He absents
himself so rarely that there must have been grave reasons for his
journey."
The monk glanced distrustfully at Erwin, and was silent. Rechberg
concluded that the Order belonged to Alexander's party and had incurred
the displeasure of the Emperor. The repast was soon brought in, and the
tired travellers partook eagerly of the three copious dishes. The
servants were entertained in another room. The rest of the evening was
passed in conversation; but Bonello made no allusion to political
affairs, and the monk imitated his example, although it was evident
that he would gladly have spoken of the German army and the perils now
menacing the Church. But the presence of the young nobleman imposed
silence upon his curiosity.
Erwin felt this reserve the more so that he feared lest Guido might
suspect him of repeating to the Emperor what he had already overheard.
He would gladly have talked with Hermengarde, but it seemed as if she
meant to model her conduct by her father's, and all his attempts to
engage her in conversation were ineffectual.
"She considers me the enemy of her country," he thought; "perhaps
avoids me as a heretic. At least she might remember what I have done
for her sake."
The idea was painful to him, and he was heartily glad when they
separated for the night. Next morning they resumed their journey. The
summits of the Alps grew more distinct, and Hermengarde's spirits
appeared to brighten as they approached her home. She conversed gayly
with Rechberg and asked many artless questions about Germany and its
inhabitants, and he was charmed with the interest she evinced in his
native land.
"Have you any mountains like those in Germany?" said she, pointing to
the Alps.
"Yes, lady; and our mountains are covered with forests in which roam
the stag, the roebuck, and the wild boar; but the bear, much to the
delight of the traveller and the chagrin of true hunters, becomes every
day more rare.
"Bears! but is it possible that any one can regret the disappearance of
those fierce animals!"
"Oh! a bear-hunt has its charms!"
"Very dangerous ones, I should think."
"But it is precisely on account of their danger that this sport is
attractive, fair lady. To slay a timid stag requires little courage,
but a struggle with the bear needs both bravery and skill. The
bear-hunt is the school in which we take our first lessons in the art
of war."
The Count's earnestness proved that he spoke of one of his favorite
pastimes.
"In what part of Germany is your domain, Count?" said Hermengarde,
after a short pause.
"In Suabia."
"If I mistake not, Suabia is the birthplace of the Hohenstauffen?"
"Precisely, noble lady! The castles of Hohenstauffen and Rechberg are
neighboring ones. Our families have always been intimate and are even
connected by ties of blood."
Erwin almost regretted his last remark when he reflected that his
relationship with Barbarossa would be a poor recommendation in the eyes
of the young Lombard.
"I fear that our journey will be unpleasantly interrupted," said
Bonello, who, for some time, had been watching a gray speck on the
summit of the mountain.
"In what way, sir knight?"
"Do you see that castle? It is the dwelling of the Emperor's prefect,
Herman, who is in charge of yonder bridge. He is a cruel, bad man, and
levies tolls to suit his own pleasure, particularly when the travellers
are wealthy or of high rank. He has on several occasions seized upon
persons and held them prisoners until a high ransom has been paid for
their release."
"But this is a crying injustice," said the Count, "and should be
reported to His Majesty, who would punish Herman severely for his abuse
of power." Bonello shook his head, with a smile.
"Herman merely executes the Emperor's orders," said he. Rechberg looked
at the speaker with astonishment. He was loth to believe that such an
insult to his sovereign were possible. Bonello resumed,--
"Barbarossa knows perfectly well all about his deputy here, but there
are other exactions of which I believe him still ignorant. He has
reduced several families to utter beggary, and when he can squeeze
nothing more out of them himself, he sells them to the Jews. This is
what he calls 'balancing his accounts.' I have known instances where he
has stretched the poor wretches on the rack to extort from them their
last pennies. In short, this Herman, the terror of the country, is a
disgrace to humanity. But there are other deputies of the Emperor in
some of the cities, who are equally merciless in their exactions."
"I can scarcely credit your statements," replied the young Count; "but
I feel sure that upon the first complaint of such enormities Frederic
would interfere."
"You make a grave mistake," said Bonello. "I have personally
represented the facts to the Emperor, but in vain; his invariable
answer has been, that it was the duty of his agents to collect the
taxes and imposts, and if they were obliged to resort to extreme
measures, that it was doubtless the fault of the inhabitants who
refused to pay their dues."
They rode on in silence. The young Count was dejected, for he began to
perceive that it was natural for men like Bonello to resist such an
arbitrary exercise of tyranny.
_CHAPTER XII_.
_THE TOLL_.
They reached the bridge. On either side were two massive towers, over
which floated the Imperial standard. Heavy barriers closed the pathway,
and a strong body of men-at-arms defended the approach. Halfway from
the bridge, on the summit of a lofty hill, stood the castle of Herman,
built to command the road, which, as the main avenue to Genoa, was
extensively travelled, and yielded an important revenue to the Imperial
treasury. The castle had been destroyed by the Italians, during the
reign of Henry V., but had been rebuilt by Frederic, at the time of his
second invasion of Upper Italy, at which time Herman had been installed
as Governor.
The soldiers were clustered beneath the porch; but a sentinel was
watching from one of the loop-holes of the tower, and as he caught
sight of the travellers, called out gayly to the others, "Halloa!
comrades, here comes a rich prize: a Lombard knight, some Genoese
merchants, and a lady! Levy a heavy toll, _Dietho_, they can afford to
pay it; and if you will follow my advice, you will get something for
us; the Emperor cannot find fault if honest folks think now and then of
their own pockets!"
The challenge of the sentinel interrupted him, and the soldiers left
the porch and drew up in front of the tower.
"What is that you say about merchants?" said Dietho, glancing sharply
at the strangers. "These are no merchants, but a troop of armed men."
"Pshaw!" continued the first speaker, as he looked again. "There are
only six,--two before and four behind; for I don't count those in the
middle. It is only some of those lazy Genoese. And we are twelve here,
and pretty determined fellows too! Now, Dietho, don't forget to lay it
on heavily!"
"We will lay it on heavily," said another; "for since yesterday we have
had no luck at all."
Dietho, who wore the purse at his girdle as a sign that it was he who
received the tolls, carefully examined the travellers, but he seemed
discontented, and shook his head.
"There is nothing to be made here; these people advance too boldly. I
believe they are Germans."
"Well, and what of that," said the warder, who had descended from the
tower. "No one passes here gratis."
"What do you say, Dietho? Do you think a piece of gold each for the
gentlefolks, and two silver pennies for the servants, would be enough?"
Dietho shrugged his shoulders.
"It would be enough," he said; "but I fear they will refuse to pay it."
"Then we will force them!" cried several of the soldiers, brandishing
their pikes. "A piece of gold for each gentleman, and two pence a piece
for the servants, is little enough!"
Rechberg had left Hermengarde's side, and at the head of his little
troop rode forward to ascertain if Bonello's complaints were really
well founded. As he approached, his noble bearing and costly armor,
with the splendid horse which he rode, gave a high idea of his
importance to the men-at-arms.
"Look how his gilded helmet shines," said they, "and mark the gold on
his spurs and his baldric; he is certainly a count, at least; or,
mayhap, the son of some duke!--Oh! that fellow can pay, Dietho; ask at
least three gold pieces!"
Rechberg continued to advance towards the closed town, whose guardians
made no movement towards opening the passage.
"Take down the barrier, and allow me to pass," he said, politely.
"One moment, noble sir!--Don't you perceive that the Imperial banner
floats above the tower? There is a toll to pay. Frederic would find it
a hard matter to keep up his army if his taxes were not paid up!
Besides, his Hungarian Archers need their wages. In short, the times
are hard and the toll dear!"
The Count was provoked at the observations thus made, for they were of
a nature to incense the Italians, and render the Emperor still more
unpopular among them. However, he mastered his anger, and asked what
there was to pay.
"Four gold pieces!" cried a voice, for Dietho hesitated.
"All right, you hear, four gold pieces, on account of the hard times,"
added Dietho. "The lady and her companion will also pay eight more, and
each servant two pence, in all twelve gold pieces and twelve pennies!
Little enough, too, if you but think what an army Frederic is
organizing at present."
"As well as I remember," said Erwin, "the legal toll is a penny for
each person. By what right do you raise it a hundredfold?"
"I told you once already," replied Dietho;--"it is because the times
are hard."
"Besides, we are not here to give explanations to milk-sops," said a
voice from within. "Pay, or leave the bridge!"
"Miserable hound! do you dare to speak thus to a knight?" cried Erwin,
passionately. "Here are your twelve pennies; now clear the way!"
"The varlets may pass," said Dietho, coolly pocketing the money; "but
for the others to cross this beautiful bridge, which has cost so much
money to build, there are just twelve pieces too few!"
"If you do not do your duty at once," said the knight, laying his hand
on his sword, "I will compel you."
At this, the guard burst into a loud laugh of derision.
"Come on then," they cried; "if that is your game, we will give you a
lesson in arithmetic."
Rechberg was disposed to force the passage, but Bonello hastened to
interfere.
"Have no difficulty with those people," he cried; "I will pay what they
ask!"
"No! you shall not," said the Count. "This robbery of travellers, in
the name of the Emperor, is a crime which must not go unpunished. Leave
me; it is a meritorious action to chastise such scoundrels!"
All at once Herman appeared; he had overheard the quarrel, and now came
to give assistance to his men.
Erwin lowered his visor, for the prefect knew him, and the young man
wished to be positive of his complicity.
"What is the matter?" asked Herman.
"It is fortunate that you are here, my lord," replied Dietho. "This
young man has been threatening to use his sword against us because we
would not allow his whole party to cross for twelve paltry pennies."
"For twelve pennies!--You and your retinue!--You could not have
seriously thought it," said Herman to the Count.
"Twelve pennies are just the legal tax, for we are but nine persons in
all."
"Ah!" said the prefect; "perhaps you mean to teach me my duty, and what
I have the right to ask?"
"The law has fixed the tariff sufficiently."
"Has it, indeed! Dietho, what did you charge this gentleman?"
"Twelve pieces of gold for the three nobles, and twelve pennies for the
servants.--Pardon me if my demand was too moderate."
"It was, indeed, too moderate," cried Herman, glancing towards
Bonello.--"You traitors have compelled the Emperor to cross the Alps,
and now, if I am to judge by your lowered visor, you wish to force the
bridge!--Very well, come on. We are ready for you!"
The Count, at last fully convinced that the Governor was as guilty as
his soldiers, raised his visor, and showed his face flushed with anger.
Herman was thunderstruck, and could scarcely falter out,--
"Oh, my dear Count, pardon! I crave you a thousand pardons! It is all a
mistake,--but who could have supposed for a moment--?"
But the more he endeavored to apologize for his villainy, the more
embarrassed he became. The soldiers, meanwhile, perceiving the sudden
change in their master's demeanor, hastened to remove the barrier.
"It is not my place to pardon," said Rechberg; "you must explain your
gross abuse of authority to His Majesty, who shall be acquainted with
everything."
He turned abruptly, and crossed the bridge with his companions.
The prefect tore his hair with impotent despair as he saw the troop
file past him.
"To behave thus to the Emperor's favorite! What a dreadful misfortune!"
he cried. "Comrades, make no excuses, no recriminations! I would not
care for the complaints of Italy. Frederic would credit nothing which
was denied by an honest German. But this Erwin of Rechberg!--Oh, if I
could atone for this stupid mistake!"
The travellers soon after reached a convent, whose reputation for
hospitality was widely spread; for, in that century, the monasteries
were the best, and indeed, almost the only hostelries.
After a brief rest they resumed their journey, and it was near
nightfall when they entered a deep and narrow Alpine valley, through
which they were obliged to pass.
"We are very near Castellamare," said Bonello, "and but for the
windings of the road, should already have perceived the castle!"
"This is a magnificent country, my lord!" said Erwin, admiring the bold
and wild landscape.
"It is almost the same as far as the shore," resumed Guido. "The valley
gradually narrows into a defile overhung with immense masses of rock,
and when we leave it, the wide expanse of the sea bursts, unexpectedly,
upon the traveller's gaze."
The road narrowed visibly. The setting sun gilded the Alpine summits,
and long, dark shadows darkened the lower slopes. At a turn of the
road, the sunlight flashed brightly upon them, and Erwin, raising his
dazzled eyes, beheld the fortress of Castellamare standing out from the
giant boulders in bold relief.
"What a magnificent spectacle!" exclaimed Rechberg. "I have never seen
a castle in a better or more commanding position!"
Following, for a short time, a steep mountain-path, they drew up before
a gateway, hollowed in the solid rock, and soon after entered the
fortress of Castellamare.
_CHAPTER XIII_.
_CASTELLAMARE_.
Rechberg's visit to Castellamare opened to him a future replete with
new hopes and desires and fond aspirations. He resolved to study
attentively the character of his young hostess; and, if the examination
proved favorable, to demand her father's consent to their marriage. But
he experienced a cruel uncertainty, when he reflected upon the possible
opposition of the Emperor.
On her part, the young girl made no secret of her gratitude to the
Count. The memory of his kindness to her father rendered her cordiality
perfectly natural.
Her attentions to Erwin were delicately prompted by a wish to make his
visit as agreeable as possible. With a keen appreciation of the
beauties of nature, she knew how to select the fairest landscapes, and
would point out to her guest all the most brilliant effects of light
and shade among the lofty crags.
After a week had passed in amusements of this kind, on their return
from a neighboring excursion, Hermengarde and the Count found the
court-yard filled with horses and men-at-arms fraternizing, cordially,
with her father's retainers. Evidently some persons of importance had
arrived, but the appearance of their steeds denoted that the visit was
to be a brief one.
As they crossed the court, Hermengarde remarked a familiar face among
the troopers; the man looked up, and, putting down the goblet from
which he was drinking, approached with a respectful bow. She at once
recognized Cocco Griffi, whom she had known as a confidential servant
of the Milanese consul Gherardo Nigri, in whose palace he was often
intrusted with many important duties.
"Is that you, Griffi?" she asked. "Whence come you?"
"From Milan."
"And whose suite is this?"
"It belongs to our noble Consul Gherardo Nigri--your old friend,--if I
may still venture to call him so?" added Griffi, seeing Hermengarde's
expression change.
A marriage between herself and Pietro had long been projected by the
heads of the two families; but, in spite of her father's anxiety for
their union, it was repugnant to her, and she hurriedly retired to her
own apartments, with a heavy heart. Still, for the present, the
businesslike appearance of the little troop seemed a guarantee against
the realization of her fears.
Gherardo Nigri, the leading spirit of the Milanese Republic, had been
hastily recalled from Genoa, where he had been for some time
negotiating an alliance, offensive and defensive, between the two
cities. The report of the immediate advance of the Emperor's powerful
army greatly discouraged him; for, fully penetrating Barbarossa's
designs, he foresaw, in a not far distant future, the fall, and perhaps
the total destruction, of his proud city. Similar fears agitated all
those who had accompanied him to Castellamare. Among them was one, in
ecclesiastical costume, whose exterior indicated a personage of
importance. This was Galdini Sala, Archdeacon of the Cathedral, and
destined, as Archbishop of Milan, afterwards to play an important part
in the history of his country. By nature taciturn and reflective,--his
eyes usually downcast,--Sala became animated and bold whenever it
became necessary to assert the rights of the Church, which alone could
resist human passion and the encroachments of Imperial despotism.
Consequently, Galdini's opposition to Barbarossa was more than violent.
"The circumstances are most serious," said Bonello; "but we must not
forget that God alone is the arbiter of human destiny. Barbarossa seeks
to unite in his own person the spiritual and the temporal power; but we
have seen others, as bold and powerful as he, fail in the like
attempt."
"You are right," replied Gherardo; "no power can subdue the Church. The
papacy is eternal,--as immovable as the rock on which it is built, and
which, God has promised, shall endure forever. But, alas! dear Guido,
what fearful disasters must result from the strife which is now
preparing!"
"It would be easy to prove," said Galdini Sala, "that the Church has
never had an enemy so dangerous to her peace as this same Barbarossa.
From the times of Nero until the conversion of Constantine, the bloody
tyrants strove only to tear away her members. Frederic does not tear
away; he stifles! his deadly work is the more dangerous, that it is
wrought in silence. The Pagans would have overthrown Christianity, in
order to prevent their own conversion; but this despot seeks to destroy
the order of things which has existed for centuries. The Roman Emperors
sought to protect and save their own paganism. Frederic would subvert
the Christian world, in order to build up, upon its ruins, his own
Imperial omnipotence."
"I am not well versed in history," said Count Biandrate, a secret
partisan of Barbarossa; "but I know of other emperors who were
decidedly hostile to the Papacy: Henry IV. for example."
"True," replied Sala; "but the Church has saved the world from
destruction. The military operations of Henry IV. against her were
terrible; his hatred for the Papacy, beyond all bounds; but Barbarossa
is still more to be feared. In him you see none of that cruelty which
marked Henry's conduct; on the contrary, he appears frank, and
generous, and brave, and he well knows how to surround himself with all
that can flatter the eyes. So far, he has not attacked the Pope, sword
in hand; but he holds his nets ready to throw over Spain and England,
Germany and France, in order to ensnare all Christendom in his baneful
schism. It is to this end that he never ceases to proclaim his regret
for the sorrows of the Holy Church, and his great desire for the
acknowledgment of the legitimate Pope, and the downfall of heresy. All
hypocrisy, diabolical equivocation!" cried Sala, angrily; "it is he
himself who has caused the schism; it is he who has wounded the unity
of the Church, in order the more easily to destroy her. He seeks to
control everything,--to become the master of the Universe,--and will
brook neither a superior nor an equal!"
"Your words, my lord Archdeacon, are harrowing, but they are not
exaggerated," said Nigri. "And it is the more to be regretted that many
refuse to see their peril. Genoa, through jealousy of Milan, is
wilfully blind and will not reflect that the time may come, when she
too will feel the yoke. Barbarossa is skilful in taking advantage of
these dissensions between us Lombards. His policy is to destroy, one by
one, our cities; so that Italy may count none but insignificant
villages, submissive to his Imperial supremacy."
"According to my belief," said Guido, "I repeat what I have already
declared:--God alone holds the destinies of the world in his power.
What Barbarossa tries now, many others have attempted, but the efforts
of all have proved abortive; Frederic will not be more successful.
Then, dear friends, trust in God, and do your duty; the rest will come
in good time."
At these words he raised his goblet, the others imitated his example;
but in spite of his efforts, the meeting was disheartened and
depressed, and shortly after the consul observed that it was time to
think of their journey.
"We have no time to lose," said he, "for there is much to be done in
Milan; it will be hard enough to resist the attack."
They mounted to return to the city, and Bonello watched from the
window, the little troop as it wound through the valley.
"Farewell, dear Gherardo," said he sadly; "perhaps this has been our
last meeting! How gladly they hasten to shed their hearts' blood for
their liberty, their Church, and their country! while I, unhappy
wretch! am doomed by my promise, to sloth and inaction!"
The cavalcade disappeared from his gaze, and he reentered the family
room, when Count Rechberg communicated his intention of leaving the
castle on the following day.
"Why this haste, Count?" said Guido. "I trust that you have had no
cause to regret your visit?"
"Oh! by no means, but I must go. The Emperor granted me only eight
days' leave of absence, and I must not exceed them."
"You have no cause for such haste," resumed the Lombard, sadly. "Milan
is well supplied with everything, and her fortifications are strong.
Months may elapse before Barbarossa can take the city."
"The Emperor's will is energetic," replied Erwin.
"Oh! I well know that iron will!" said Guido. "Frederic will destroy
the works, and reduce the citadel by famine; but still before this
happens, many weary days will pass. Some months hence, you will still
be in time for the fighting. Stay with us. We will go to Genoa
together, and look upon the wonders of that proud city; we will visit
her churches, her magnificent palaces, her dock-yards, and her fleet;
there is much there to repay you for the journey, and, if you wish it,
we can cross over to Corsica."
But nothing could influence the youth's resolve, although it was with
deep regret that he left Bonello and his daughter; both of whom
reiterated their warmest thanks.
"Permit me, dear Count, to offer you a trifling souvenir," said the
lord of the castle, drawing a heavy gold chain from a casket. "Wear
this in remembrance of me, and may our friendship ever remain as pure
and true as this noble metal! Have you nothing, Hermengarde, to give to
our worthy friend?"
At these words, the young girl took from one of her waiting-women a
richly chiselled cup of gold, on whose cover was sculptured St. George
trampling upon the Dragon.
"Deign to accept this slight mark of our friendship and gratitude!"
said she.
"I trust, my dear Count, that we shall meet again ere long," added
Guido. "Milan is not far distant, and an excursion to our mountains
will break the monotony of your camp-life."
"I will gladly avail myself on every possible occasion of your
invitation," answered Rechberg. "Farewell, dear Bonello; God keep you,
noble lady!"
And as she extended him her hand, he knelt and kissed it.
Guido accompanied his guest to the court-yard, and in a few moments,
the hoofs of the knight's charger were ringing upon the drawbridge of
the castle.
_CHAPTER XIV_.
_THE SIEGE_.
Erwin was soon able to realize the devastations committed by the
Emperor's army. In the place of smiling hamlets and rich villas,
nothing could be seen but smoking ruins; the fruit-trees had been
uprooted, the vines pulled up, the crops laid waste. Here and there
were the bodies of peasants swinging from the trees, the ground was
strewed with booty abandoned carelessly by the marauders. The plain
once so green and smiling, appeared as sad and barren as a Russian
steppe.
This desolation afflicted. Erwin painfully, and he rode rapidly forward
to escape the mournful spectacle. Soon could be seen the tents of the
Imperial camp, with the varied standards floating proudly above the
sharp roofs of the canvas city. The vague hum of the multitude was
mingled with the clang of arms and the strains of martial music, and
the noise of the workmen in the trenches. From the elevated point on
which he stood, Erwin could distinguish the beleaguered city with its
mighty walls above which towered the brilliant edifices and lofty
turrets. As he gazed with admiration upon the town, Rechberg could not
but experience a feeling of sorrow at the thought that all this
greatness and power was doomed to destruction. After a short ride he
found himself in the interior of the camp, where it was easy to
perceive that he was almost entirely surrounded by the Italian
contingents.
The complete investment of the city was impossible, and Frederic, in
consequence, had established four distinct attacks, surrounded by
strong palisades and deep ditches as a protection to the sorties of the
besieged. Although, at intervals of distance, the camps commanded all
the avenues of approach, and it was impossible for the garrison to
receive any supplies or reinforcements, or hold any communication with
the exterior. As it had been decided to reduce the place by famine, a
rigid blockade was enforced, and the different leaders were relieved
from the necessity of constructing any of those clumsy machines, under
cover of which in those days the assaults upon the works were
conducted. However, Henry the Lion had ordered the building of an
immense tower whose proportions excited general astonishment. It was
upon wheels, six stories in height, and could accommodate beneath it a
thousand soldiers. The upper part was narrower and provided with doors,
through which the garrison could pass, by means of temporary bridges,
on to the walls of the city. Sorties from the town were of almost daily
occurrence, and the personal hatred of the combatants gave to these
engagements a most sanguinary character. Whilst the Italians were
engaged in this work of mutual self-destruction, Frederic was preparing
to submit them all to his Imperial sway.
While the besieged were ready to suffer every extremity in defence of
their sacred rights, the greatest agitation reigned in the camp of the
Italian auxiliaries. Sworn enemies, for years detesting each other,
they were now compelled to live in the forced proximity of a narrow
camp. Leagued together by their common hatred for Milan, the old leaven
still, at times, broke out into open violence, and it required the most
stern and almost cruel severity of the Emperor to preserve anything
like order among them. Frederic had learned, by experience, that fear
was the only master whom they would obey.
Rechberg perceived an immense crowd of strangers pressing towards the
vast open space in the middle of the encampment. Jousts and military
games were, in that age, so much the fashion, that, even under the
walls of a beleaguered town, a place was set apart for the purpose. But
on this occasion it seemed as though the crowd's attraction had another
motive than mere amusement. Frederic's banner floated in the air, and
the Imperial eagle fluttered bold and haughty above the multitude. On
horseback, in the midst, stood a herald in a scarlet tabard and with a
silver-mounted truncheon in his hand, and immediately behind him, a
man, who, in a few weeks' time, had become the terror of the Italians.
It was Hesso, the chief of the Imperial police, surrounded by his men
fully armed. He glared fiercely upon the crowd.
"What does that blood-thirsty dog want here?" was muttered on all
sides. "See how he is looking for some new victims! the poor devils
whom he hung this morning are hardly cold, before he wants to begin
again!"
Although Hesso could not understand their words, he could read their
thoughts.
"You hate and fear me, do you!--Ah well! there's no love lost between
us," he growled, with a still fiercer expression in his eyes.
The loud blast of the trumpets resounded, and the herald commanded
silence. Thousands awaited with trembling anxiety. The man of the
scarlet tabard made another sign; but still the dull murmur went on
unceasingly; he raised his truncheon, and when, after many efforts,
silence had been enforced, he proclaimed, in a clear and distinct
voice, the wishes of the Emperor.
"In the name of our sovereign liege, listen to the punishments to be
enforced against all evil-doers. All fighting in the camp is strictly
forbidden. Should the offender be a knight, his arms will be taken from
him, and he will be expelled from the army. If he is a varlet, he will
be flogged, his head shaved, and his shoulder marked with a red-hot
iron, unless his master redeems him by the payment of fifty pennies."
The herald paused to give his hearers time for reflection. The first
article had produced a bad effect upon the Italians, who were
accustomed to great license in respect to their personal quarrels, and
on all sides black and angry glances were exchanged.
"Flogged, shaved, and marked with a hot iron, for that trifle!" said
the crowd. "It is too severe!"
"Do you hear that, Migleo?" said a voice. "He values us at fifty
pennies a piece--it's absurd!"
The herald again commanded silence.
"If any one wounds a soldier, he shall lose his hand; whoever kills one
shall be decapitated!"
"I say, Migleo, what would you look like, with a shaved head?"
"Don't you think, Robbio, that in the course of a fortnight, the most
of us will have neither heads nor hands? For my part, it is as
impossible for me to keep my hands off a Pavian, as it is to meet a
chicken without wringing its neck?"
"And I can't look at a Novara man, without wanting to spit in his
face," said a Pavian, who stood by; and it was with difficulty the two
were kept from fighting, even under the eyes of Hesso himself.
"Silence, fools!" said Robbio; "do you want to get into the
executioner's clutches, already?"
"For the first theft, a varlet shall be flogged, shaved, and marked
with the iron; for the second, he shall be hanged!" added the herald.
"There is one omission in the law about theft," said a voice. "It is
forbidden to the varlets to rob, but there is nothing said about the
masters. What would happen if the offender were a count, a duke, or a
king?"
"Silence," cried another voice, whose piercing tone bore a great
resemblance to that of the jester Lanzo. "Don't you know that the
nobles never steal? they merely indulge their illustrious desires!"
"Whoever shall hold any communication with the Cardinal Roland, falsely
styling himself Pope Alexander III., shall be put under the ban of the
Emperor; it is permitted to kill him wherever found!"
"Do you hear that? to pillage is not to steal; the Emperor can permit
anything."
"Alexander is the true Pope; Victor is the anti-Pope; is that not so,
comrades?"
"Certainly. Long live Alexander!"
"Whoever shall obtain supplies for the Milanese, shall lose his hand;
the informer shall be rewarded."
This last article, although the most barbarous, met with general
approval among the Italians, who only found fault with the punishment
as being too mild. They forgot the iron yoke under which Frederic kept
them, to remember only their hatred for their detested rival Milan.
"Long live the Emperor! Down with Milan! Death and destruction to the
Milanese!"
The trumpets again sounded, and while the soldiers gave free vent to
the expression of their hatred, the herald and his escort left the
ground.
Rechberg had listened to the proclamation, and would have pursued his
journey, but the dense crowd forced him to remain and hear the
imprecations lavished upon the Emperor, as soon as Hesso was out of
sight.
"Laugh on!" thought the young man. "You may laugh as much as you
please, but you will not be able to violate those orders with
impunity."
At this moment, two asses' ears ornamented with bells, approached the
Count. Lanzo, with a good deal of difficulty, had elbowed his way
through the crowd, and had gained a neighboring spur-post, where he
climbed up, and then sprang, with the agility of a monkey, upon the
Count's stirrup; a moment after, he was behind his saddle. The crowd
laughed and applauded the jester's activity, and Rechberg allowed him
to retain his seat, for he saw nothing impertinent in the proceeding of
the fool, whose loyalty he esteemed, and whose jests would serve to
amuse him.
"Whence come you, Lanzo?"
"From the fulfilment of my duty, noble Count."
"Yes; but how?"
"How? I have only just discovered it; I had no positive end in view,
until now. But I perceive, my lord, that your mission is of vast
importance. The Emperor, the Pope, and the kings, are very
insignificant personages compared with you."
"And why so, Lanzo?"
"Because you have the court-fool behind you!"
"But I cannot see in that an omen of greatness."
"Oh, I will explain, if you will only try to understand me!" said the
jester. "I will begin with the Pope, that is, providing Victor be
really the Pope,--a matter, about which some quite sensible people
begin to doubt. For the last two years, Barbarossa has been holding
council upon council, and yet all of them together have not succeeded
in proving that Victor is the Pope. This establishes clearly, either
that Victor is a fool, or else that he is a puppet of the Emperor,
since he is so ready to accept what Alexander refuses. If he had any
brains, he would know that an honest monk is better that what he is."
"You have a bad tongue, Lanzo."
"Possibly! But you will see that it tells the truth. Then we have the
king of England and the king of France. They are fools too. I made the
reflection when I saw their ambassadors kneel before the Emperor. If
they had brains, they would guess that Frederic means to catch them
all, one after the other, in his nets."
"You are a statesman of wonderful foresight, Lanzo!"
"Of course I am; my ears show that;--and then, the Emperor is as mad as
the others.--But, I forgot.--Ah! after all I cannot see that there is
much harm in having a madman for one's godfather! If Frederic were
wise, he would not try to conquer the world. He is getting ready to
swallow Milan, the head of Italy. After the head, the rest will come
easily enough; but it is a food not easily digested. The earth belongs
to God, and not to the Emperor, and one of these days Frederic's
madness will draw upon himself the wrath of an avenging God."
"Well spoken, Lanzo! you ought to be a member of the Emperor's
Council."
"God preserve me from it! my honesty would be exposed to too sore
temptations.--But I see in the steel of your helmet a little sprite
which mocks at me. My argument has a weak point, then?--Tell me, where
did you get that splendid gold chain?"
"Why do you ask me?"
"Answer me first."
"From the knight Bonello,--him whose cause you espoused so warmly."
"Tell me, my lord, how did it happen that you became so deeply
interested in this traitor's misfortunes? All the camp was astonished
at the boldness with which you braved the Emperor's displeasure. No one
but you would have risked his sovereign's anger to save a traitor's
life. Was it craft on your part, or wisdom?"
"How dare you ask such questions? Is it not our duty to aid all who are
unfortunate?"
"Well answered! But the sprite in your helmet is mocking at me again, I
fear you have not told me all the truth. When you pleaded Bonello's
cause, had you no other motive than pity?"
"You are right."
"Ah! I have a little intelligence sometimes!--Bonello has a
daughter!--Some men of sense saw her without being dazzled--that is,
another species of madness! I would ask some more questions, if I were
not afraid that your steel scabbard might make an intimate acquaintance
with my back."
"Still, you are not going to stop there?"
"Certainly not, if I may go on!"
"Go on, then!"
"Well," said the little man, "your heightened color confirms what I had
already more than half guessed! But have you reflected on what you are,
and what this girl is? I am afraid, in this, you have acted
inconsiderately. Go to your godfather, and ask him permission to marry
the daughter of ----, a traitor!"
Erwin's countenance changed.
"Ah, how pale you become!" said Lanzo. "You see, dear Count, wise
men should always look to the issue of their projects. But don't be
down-hearted; this Lombard angel is still only a child, and, in a few
years' time, things may change a good deal." And he sprang to the
ground.
"You are not leaving me thus, Lanzo? Methinks, a light collation, with
me, in the Imperial tent, should not be refused."
"Many thanks, Count! Believe me, there are other things to be done in
Barbarossa's tent, besides giving lodgings to a poor devil."
And Lanzo turned boldly to the pavilion of Henry, the Lion.
_CHAPTER XV_.
_THE ANTI-POPE_.
Although Lanzo was merely the Duke of Saxony's buffoon, the Count could
not but feel very uneasy, as he thought of their late conversation. The
allusions to his intimacy with Bonello annoyed him, and he felt
surprised to think that hitherto he had been blind to all the
difficulties in which his position as godson to the Emperor had
involved him. For it was highly probable that Barbarossa would refuse
his consent to any alliance between him and the family of Bonello.
Under the influence of these reflections, Rechberg proceeded through
the camp, without at first remarking the extraordinary calm which
pervaded everything. The deserted streets and empty tents seemed to
indicate that the troops were on some expedition, but when he
approached the tent, or rather the palace of the Emperor, he saw on
each side of the road both knights and men-at-arms drawn up in order of
battle. Frederic's tent and all those in its vicinity were decked with
flowers and ornamented with rich carpets, and Erwin soon learned that
it was for the solemn reception of the pretended Pope Victor, whose
entrance into the camp was already heralded by a full flourish of
trumpets.
In the eyes of the young Count, Victor was merely an illustrious and
important personage, for he could not admit his claims to the Papal
throne, which, of right, belonged to Alexander III. He knew Victor's
irresolute character, and as his very appearance was disagreeable to
him, he decided not to present himself to the Emperor until after the
ceremonies of the reception were concluded.
The Emperor had taken infinite pains to receive his Pope with becoming
pomp; not because he wished to honor the head of the Church, but
because he thought it expedient to give as much importance to the man
whom he considered necessary to the accomplishment of his own projects,
and with this view all the actions of the Emperor manifested a profound
respect for the Head of the Church. He rode on his left hand, a little
to the rear, as though he did not presume to put himself on an equality
with the chief of Christendom. Barbarossa wore a scarlet doublet, over
which was thrown the Imperial mantle, clasped with gold links and
silver crescents. On his head was the crown, and in his hand the
sceptre. His face was dignified and composed, and as they neared the
camp and the crowd could judge better of his movements, he was more
demonstrative in his attentions to the Anti-Pope; whose hand never
ceased from blessing the bystanders.
Victor's tall stature, his bearing, and even his costume, were rather
those of a temporal prince than those of a spiritual shepherd. Over his
shoulders hung a scarlet robe, richly embroidered in gold, and on his
long curling looks was placed the triple crown of Rome; his features
reflected the pride and arrogance of his disposition.
Immediately after the Emperor rode Henry the Lion, the Dukes of
Austria, of Bohemia, and of Rottemburg, and the Landgrave of Thuringen,
followed by a brilliant array of princes and nobles. The escort was
preceded by the military band, which marched, with a flourish of
trumpets, about a hundred yards in advance of the Pope. But, although
on all sides there were soldiers and martial standards, there was no
religious display, no religious banners or chants; not even a cross was
to be seen; for Victor's entry to the camp showed plainly that he was
but a creature of the Emperor, from whom he derived all his pomp and
greatness.
Frederic dismounted before his tent, and following an ancient custom,
came forward respectfully, to hold the Pope's stirrup. But here the
Cardinal Octavian, for such was his real title, showed an utter want of
tact. Affecting to be deeply engaged in conversation with his immediate
attendants, he permitted the Emperor to remain too long in his
humiliating posture.
Frederic colored up with anger and mortification, while his Chancellor
smiled with inward satisfaction. Rinaldo had long advised the
discontinuance of this idle and useless ceremony, but the Emperor, with
more foresight than his minister, judged that the moment was not yet
ripe for the abolition of a custom which seemed to establish the
supremacy of the chief of Christendom.
At last Octavian dismounted; he took the monarch in his arms and gave
him the kiss of peace, and then, turning towards the assembled
multitude, he gave them his benediction, and entered the Imperial tent.
_CHAPTER XVI_.
_THE EMPEROR'S SLAVE_.
The first service which Barbarossa exacted of Victor, was the solemn
excommunication of Alexander III., and his partisans, in presence of
the army, and in front of the walls of Milan. A few days after his
arrival at the Camp, an immense tribune, draped with black cloth, and
provided with numerous seats, was erected at a safe distance from the
city. In the centre was an elevated platform, and behind this a throne
for the Emperor, whence he could communicate his desires to the various
speakers. Thousands of soldiers from all parts of the Camp surrounded
the tribune, and a crowd of curious spectators lined the towers and
walls of the city.
At the appointed hour, the Emperor, the nobles, the false Pope, and the
prelates, ascended the platform and took seats according to their
respective rank. Alberic, the Pope's chaplain, first, in a noisy
harangue, explained the object of the assembly. He denounced Alexander
and his adherents as heretics, and extolled Victor as the legitimate
Pope.
Lighted tapers were then handed to the nobles and the clergy; and
Octavian, mounting the pulpit, began to recite, in a voice trembling
with passion, the usual lengthy formula of excommunication, at the
close of which, as the sentence of malediction was thundered out, the
Emperor, nobles, and clergy extinguished their candles.
This solemn farce, enacted by Frederic's orders, in the immediate
vicinity of a city whose inhabitants were enthusiastic partisans
of the cause of Alexander, was received by the Milanese with shouts
of derision; and scarcely had the anathema been uttered when a
speaking-trumpet was heard upon the walls.
"Octavian," it cried, "wrongfully surnamed Victor, slave of the
Emperor, we scorn your maledictions.--Heaven blesses whom you curse,
and curses whom you bless!"
Few of the soldiers present had ever before heard a speaking-trumpet,
and these words seemed supernatural, while the distant echo gave
credence to the speedy realization of the prophecy. But Frederic, more
enlightened, skilfully parried the blow, and aware of a report which
had been circulated latterly, that an angel had descended from heaven
to curse Victor and his partisans, he looked on in scornful silence,
while the crowd broke out in clamorous surprise.
Suddenly a straw effigy of the Pope, crowned with rags, with a paper
mitre on its head, and a scroll with the inscription, in large letters,
of "Pope Victor" in its hand, was hurled from the walls by a catapult,
and fell close to Octavian's feet, while, amid a burst of contemptuous
laughter, the voice again shouted through the trumpet, "Straw Pope!
Straw Pope!"
Octavian was thunderstruck, and stood gazing with a wild stare upon the
effigy, and his face assumed an expression so ridiculously stupid, that
Rinaldo and the bystanders, remarking the absurd resemblance between it
and the figure, could with difficulty restrain their mirth.
Frederic reflected grimly for a moment, but soon found means to turn
this incident to profit.
"Resume your seat!" he said to Victor, and then rising with the fierce
and decided manner which so well became him, he commanded silence. Even
Rinaldo's face wore a serious expression, and all awaited,
breathlessly, the monarch's harangue.
"What means all this? What seeks Milan with these sinful mockeries?
Will that accursed city never respect anything? She turns into ridicule
even the holy symbols of spiritual power; she mocks at the legitimate
Head of the Church; and that her insults may be the better heard, a
miserable speaking-trumpet cries them from the walls! Remember the
tyranny which reigns in Milan, think of the destruction of Lodi and the
misfortunes of Como; think of all those things, and then tell me if
that city does not merit destruction!"
Frederic ceased, but his words had produced the desired effect.
"She deserves her fate!" cried, eagerly, the soldiers of Lodi and Como
who were present; "she deserves her fate; down with Milan!"
"Yes, she deserves it," resumed the Emperor, "and this time we
ourselves will execute the decrees of justice!" He paused, and raising
his hand to his brow, took off the crown. Then, his eyes raised to
heaven, and his right hand extended, he cried, with a loud voice,--
"I, Frederic of Hohenstauffen, king of the Germans and Emperor of Rome,
do swear before Almighty God and the ever blessed Virgin Mary, by the
holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and all the Saints of Paradise, that this
crown will no more grace my brow until the city of Milan shall have
been destroyed in chastisement for her crimes!"
The Emperor made the sign of the cross, and delivered the diadem into
the keeping of the Imperial Chancellor.
This solemn oath electrified the Italians.
"Long live the Emperor!" shouted a thousand voices. "Long live the
Emperor! Down with Milan!"
In the midst of the applause, Barbarossa, well satisfied with the
result of his harangue, left the tribune, followed by his nobles.
Meanwhile Victor, who had returned to his tent, gave free vent to his
anger, and while Alberic was divesting him of his mantle, shook his
head with most unequivocal marks of resentment.
"Straw pope!" he exclaimed; "straw pope! the wretches, to compare me,
the legitimate Head of the Church, to a man of straw!"
"It is most infamous!" replied the chaplain; "it merits the vengeance
of heaven."
"Patience, the Milanese will pay dearly for their insolence. It needed
but this to fill the cup of Imperial anger. This city must be destroyed
and levelled with the earth. Henceforth whoever dares to intercede for
this new Nineveh, is the foe of the Church, of the Pope, and of the
Emperor."
"And the speaking-trumpet," added Alberic; "that abominable
speaking-trumpet!"
"True, I had almost forgotten that," replied Victor. "What was it they
called me? Straw Pope!--the villains! I am the true Pope, both by the
choice of the people and Imperial sanction. Yes, of course I am," he
repeated, as though wishing to persuade himself that it really was so.
"Alexander can never be more than the Cardinal Roland, for he was
neither elected by the people nor confirmed by the Emperor."
"Most certainly, there is no doubt of the fact," added Alberic,
quickly, for he knew Victor's anxiety in the matter.
"But what was it they really called me?--I think I heard the words
'Slave of the Emperor'!"
"That was what they said," my lord. "It was a ridiculous epithet, for
you, who seek to defend the prerogatives of the Church, can be slave to
no one."
These words were bitterly ironical, for Octavian remembered his base
servility to the wishes of his master Barbarossa, and he moved uneasily
upon his chair, as he resumed,--
"I give to the Emperor what is his by right, and in this I obey the
commands of our Lord; but in all that concerns the Church, I am
inflexible and yield obedience to no earthly power. Have I not often
given proofs of this? Did I not do so only on the day before yesterday,
when the Emperor urged me to pronounce the separation of Henry and
Clemence? And did we not, in virtue of our sacred office, refuse the
demand?"
"I admired your energy, my lord."
"There are no excuses, no threats which can decide us to annul this
marriage!" continued Octavian. "If monarchs could, at their pleasure,
divorce their wives, we should have little justice and order. No, by
the eternal salvation of my soul, to which may God be merciful, I will
never countenance a like enormity!"
As Victor finished, Rinaldo entered the room. Octavian's tirade had not
escaped the watchful observation of the courtier. Indeed, although
rarely bold enough to resist the Emperor's commands, there were times
when Octavian, either through shame or anger, refused obedience. Like
all men of contracted and timid ideas, he sometimes tried to show proof
of energy. Deploring his position, but without greatness of soul enough
to consent to break his chains and retire to a subordinate capacity, he
gave full vent to his ill-temper against all whom he had no especial
cause to fear. Humble and submissive towards the Emperor and his
ministers, he was disdainful and supercilious to his
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