"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.