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.