Herman was thunderstruck, and could scarcely falter out,--

"Oh, my dear Count, pardon! I crave you a thousand pardons! It is all a

mistake,--but who could have supposed for a moment--?"

But the more he endeavored to apologize for his villainy, the more

embarrassed he became. The soldiers, meanwhile, perceiving the sudden

change in their master's demeanor, hastened to remove the barrier.

"It is not my place to pardon," said Rechberg; "you must explain your

gross abuse of authority to His Majesty, who shall be acquainted with

everything."

He turned abruptly, and crossed the bridge with his companions.

The prefect tore his hair with impotent despair as he saw the troop

file past him.

"To behave thus to the Emperor's favorite! What a dreadful misfortune!"

he cried. "Comrades, make no excuses, no recriminations! I would not

care for the complaints of Italy. Frederic would credit nothing which

was denied by an honest German. But this Erwin of Rechberg!--Oh, if I

could atone for this stupid mistake!"

The travellers soon after reached a convent, whose reputation for

hospitality was widely spread; for, in that century, the monasteries

were the best, and indeed, almost the only hostelries.

After a brief rest they resumed their journey, and it was near

nightfall when they entered a deep and narrow Alpine valley, through

which they were obliged to pass.

"We are very near Castellamare," said Bonello, "and but for the

windings of the road, should already have perceived the castle!"

"This is a magnificent country, my lord!" said Erwin, admiring the bold

and wild landscape.

"It is almost the same as far as the shore," resumed Guido. "The valley

gradually narrows into a defile overhung with immense masses of rock,

and when we leave it, the wide expanse of the sea bursts, unexpectedly,

upon the traveller's gaze."

The road narrowed visibly. The setting sun gilded the Alpine summits,

and long, dark shadows darkened the lower slopes. At a turn of the

road, the sunlight flashed brightly upon them, and Erwin, raising his

dazzled eyes, beheld the fortress of Castellamare standing out from the

giant boulders in bold relief.

"What a magnificent spectacle!" exclaimed Rechberg. "I have never seen

a castle in a better or more commanding position!"

Following, for a short time, a steep mountain-path, they drew up before

a gateway, hollowed in the solid rock, and soon after entered the

fortress of Castellamare.

_CHAPTER XIII_.

_CASTELLAMARE_.

Rechberg's visit to Castellamare opened to him a future replete with

new hopes and desires and fond aspirations. He resolved to study

attentively the character of his young hostess; and, if the examination

proved favorable, to demand her father's consent to their marriage. But

he experienced a cruel uncertainty, when he reflected upon the possible

opposition of the Emperor.

On her part, the young girl made no secret of her gratitude to the

Count. The memory of his kindness to her father rendered her cordiality

perfectly natural.

Her attentions to Erwin were delicately prompted by a wish to make his

visit as agreeable as possible. With a keen appreciation of the

beauties of nature, she knew how to select the fairest landscapes, and

would point out to her guest all the most brilliant effects of light

and shade among the lofty crags.

After a week had passed in amusements of this kind, on their return

from a neighboring excursion, Hermengarde and the Count found the

court-yard filled with horses and men-at-arms fraternizing, cordially,

with her father's retainers. Evidently some persons of importance had

arrived, but the appearance of their steeds denoted that the visit was

to be a brief one.

As they crossed the court, Hermengarde remarked a familiar face among

the troopers; the man looked up, and, putting down the goblet from

which he was drinking, approached with a respectful bow. She at once

recognized Cocco Griffi, whom she had known as a confidential servant

of the Milanese consul Gherardo Nigri, in whose palace he was often

intrusted with many important duties.

"Is that you, Griffi?" she asked. "Whence come you?"

"From Milan."

"And whose suite is this?"

"It belongs to our noble Consul Gherardo Nigri--your old friend,--if I

may still venture to call him so?" added Griffi, seeing Hermengarde's

expression change.

A marriage between herself and Pietro had long been projected by the

heads of the two families; but, in spite of her father's anxiety for

their union, it was repugnant to her, and she hurriedly retired to her

own apartments, with a heavy heart. Still, for the present, the

businesslike appearance of the little troop seemed a guarantee against

the realization of her fears.

Gherardo Nigri, the leading spirit of the Milanese Republic, had been

hastily recalled from Genoa, where he had been for some time

negotiating an alliance, offensive and defensive, between the two

cities. The report of the immediate advance of the Emperor's powerful

army greatly discouraged him; for, fully penetrating Barbarossa's

designs, he foresaw, in a not far distant future, the fall, and perhaps

the total destruction, of his proud city. Similar fears agitated all

those who had accompanied him to Castellamare. Among them was one, in

ecclesiastical costume, whose exterior indicated a personage of

importance. This was Galdini Sala, Archdeacon of the Cathedral, and

destined, as Archbishop of Milan, afterwards to play an important part

in the history of his country. By nature taciturn and reflective,--his

eyes usually downcast,--Sala became animated and bold whenever it

became necessary to assert the rights of the Church, which alone could

resist human passion and the encroachments of Imperial despotism.

Consequently, Galdini's opposition to Barbarossa was more than violent.

"The circumstances are most serious," said Bonello; "but we must not

forget that God alone is the arbiter of human destiny. Barbarossa seeks

to unite in his own person the spiritual and the temporal power; but we

have seen others, as bold and powerful as he, fail in the like

attempt."

"You are right," replied Gherardo; "no power can subdue the Church. The

papacy is eternal,--as immovable as the rock on which it is built, and

which, God has promised, shall endure forever. But, alas! dear Guido,

what fearful disasters must result from the strife which is now

preparing!"

"It would be easy to prove," said Galdini Sala, "that the Church has

never had an enemy so dangerous to her peace as this same Barbarossa.

From the times of Nero until the conversion of Constantine, the bloody

tyrants strove only to tear away her members. Frederic does not tear

away; he stifles! his deadly work is the more dangerous, that it is

wrought in silence. The Pagans would have overthrown Christianity, in

order to prevent their own conversion; but this despot seeks to destroy

the order of things which has existed for centuries. The Roman Emperors

sought to protect and save their own paganism. Frederic would subvert

the Christian world, in order to build up, upon its ruins, his own

Imperial omnipotence."

"I am not well versed in history," said Count Biandrate, a secret

partisan of Barbarossa; "but I know of other emperors who were

decidedly hostile to the Papacy: Henry IV. for example."

"True," replied Sala; "but the Church has saved the world from

destruction. The military operations of Henry IV. against her were

terrible; his hatred for the Papacy, beyond all bounds; but Barbarossa

is still more to be feared. In him you see none of that cruelty which

marked Henry's conduct; on the contrary, he appears frank, and

generous, and brave, and he well knows how to surround himself with all

that can flatter the eyes. So far, he has not attacked the Pope, sword

in hand; but he holds his nets ready to throw over Spain and England,

Germany and France, in order to ensnare all Christendom in his baneful

schism. It is to this end that he never ceases to proclaim his regret

for the sorrows of the Holy Church, and his great desire for the

acknowledgment of the legitimate Pope, and the downfall of heresy. All

hypocrisy, diabolical equivocation!" cried Sala, angrily; "it is he

himself who has caused the schism; it is he who has wounded the unity

of the Church, in order the more easily to destroy her. He seeks to

control everything,--to become the master of the Universe,--and will

brook neither a superior nor an equal!"

"Your words, my lord Archdeacon, are harrowing, but they are not

exaggerated," said Nigri. "And it is the more to be regretted that many

refuse to see their peril. Genoa, through jealousy of Milan, is

wilfully blind and will not reflect that the time may come, when she

too will feel the yoke. Barbarossa is skilful in taking advantage of

these dissensions between us Lombards. His policy is to destroy, one by

one, our cities; so that Italy may count none but insignificant

villages, submissive to his Imperial supremacy."

"According to my belief," said Guido, "I repeat what I have already

declared:--God alone holds the destinies of the world in his power.

What Barbarossa tries now, many others have attempted, but the efforts

of all have proved abortive; Frederic will not be more successful.

Then, dear friends, trust in God, and do your duty; the rest will come

in good time."

At these words he raised his goblet, the others imitated his example;

but in spite of his efforts, the meeting was disheartened and

depressed, and shortly after the consul observed that it was time to

think of their journey.

"We have no time to lose," said he, "for there is much to be done in

Milan; it will be hard enough to resist the attack."

They mounted to return to the city, and Bonello watched from the

window, the little troop as it wound through the valley.

"Farewell, dear Gherardo," said he sadly; "perhaps this has been our

last meeting! How gladly they hasten to shed their hearts' blood for

their liberty, their Church, and their country! while I, unhappy

wretch! am doomed by my promise, to sloth and inaction!"

The cavalcade disappeared from his gaze, and he reentered the family

room, when Count Rechberg communicated his intention of leaving the

castle on the following day.

"Why this haste, Count?" said Guido. "I trust that you have had no

cause to regret your visit?"

"Oh! by no means, but I must go. The Emperor granted me only eight

days' leave of absence, and I must not exceed them."

"You have no cause for such haste," resumed the Lombard, sadly. "Milan

is well supplied with everything, and her fortifications are strong.

Months may elapse before Barbarossa can take the city."

"The Emperor's will is energetic," replied Erwin.

"Oh! I well know that iron will!" said Guido. "Frederic will destroy

the works, and reduce the citadel by famine; but still before this

happens, many weary days will pass. Some months hence, you will still

be in time for the fighting. Stay with us. We will go to Genoa

together, and look upon the wonders of that proud city; we will visit

her churches, her magnificent palaces, her dock-yards, and her fleet;

there is much there to repay you for the journey, and, if you wish it,

we can cross over to Corsica."

But nothing could influence the youth's resolve, although it was with

deep regret that he left Bonello and his daughter; both of whom

reiterated their warmest thanks.

"Permit me, dear Count, to offer you a trifling souvenir," said the

lord of the castle, drawing a heavy gold chain from a casket. "Wear

this in remembrance of me, and may our friendship ever remain as pure

and true as this noble metal! Have you nothing, Hermengarde, to give to

our worthy friend?"

At these words, the young girl took from one of her waiting-women a

richly chiselled cup of gold, on whose cover was sculptured St. George

trampling upon the Dragon.

"Deign to accept this slight mark of our friendship and gratitude!"

said she.

"I trust, my dear Count, that we shall meet again ere long," added

Guido. "Milan is not far distant, and an excursion to our mountains

will break the monotony of your camp-life."

"I will gladly avail myself on every possible occasion of your

invitation," answered Rechberg. "Farewell, dear Bonello; God keep you,

noble lady!"

And as she extended him her hand, he knelt and kissed it.

Guido accompanied his guest to the court-yard, and in a few moments,

the hoofs of the knight's charger were ringing upon the drawbridge of

the castle.

_CHAPTER XIV_.

_THE SIEGE_.

Erwin was soon able to realize the devastations committed by the

Emperor's army. In the place of smiling hamlets and rich villas,

nothing could be seen but smoking ruins; the fruit-trees had been

uprooted, the vines pulled up, the crops laid waste. Here and there

were the bodies of peasants swinging from the trees, the ground was

strewed with booty abandoned carelessly by the marauders. The plain

once so green and smiling, appeared as sad and barren as a Russian

steppe.

This desolation afflicted. Erwin painfully, and he rode rapidly forward

to escape the mournful spectacle. Soon could be seen the tents of the

Imperial camp, with the varied standards floating proudly above the

sharp roofs of the canvas city. The vague hum of the multitude was

mingled with the clang of arms and the strains of martial music, and

the noise of the workmen in the trenches. From the elevated point on

which he stood, Erwin could distinguish the beleaguered city with its

mighty walls above which towered the brilliant edifices and lofty

turrets. As he gazed with admiration upon the town, Rechberg could not

but experience a feeling of sorrow at the thought that all this

greatness and power was doomed to destruction. After a short ride he

found himself in the interior of the camp, where it was easy to

perceive that he was almost entirely surrounded by the Italian

contingents.

The complete investment of the city was impossible, and Frederic, in

consequence, had established four distinct attacks, surrounded by

strong palisades and deep ditches as a protection to the sorties of the

besieged. Although, at intervals of distance, the camps commanded all

the avenues of approach, and it was impossible for the garrison to

receive any supplies or reinforcements, or hold any communication with

the exterior. As it had been decided to reduce the place by famine, a

rigid blockade was enforced, and the different leaders were relieved

from the necessity of constructing any of those clumsy machines, under

cover of which in those days the assaults upon the works were

conducted. However, Henry the Lion had ordered the building of an

immense tower whose proportions excited general astonishment. It was

upon wheels, six stories in height, and could accommodate beneath it a

thousand soldiers. The upper part was narrower and provided with doors,

through which the garrison could pass, by means of temporary bridges,

on to the walls of the city. Sorties from the town were of almost daily

occurrence, and the personal hatred of the combatants gave to these

engagements a most sanguinary character. Whilst the Italians were

engaged in this work of mutual self-destruction, Frederic was preparing

to submit them all to his Imperial sway.

While the besieged were ready to suffer every extremity in defence of

their sacred rights, the greatest agitation reigned in the camp of the

Italian auxiliaries. Sworn enemies, for years detesting each other,

they were now compelled to live in the forced proximity of a narrow

camp. Leagued together by their common hatred for Milan, the old leaven

still, at times, broke out into open violence, and it required the most

stern and almost cruel severity of the Emperor to preserve anything

like order among them. Frederic had learned, by experience, that fear

was the only master whom they would obey.

Rechberg perceived an immense crowd of strangers pressing towards the

vast open space in the middle of the encampment. Jousts and military

games were, in that age, so much the fashion, that, even under the

walls of a beleaguered town, a place was set apart for the purpose. But

on this occasion it seemed as though the crowd's attraction had another

motive than mere amusement. Frederic's banner floated in the air, and

the Imperial eagle fluttered bold and haughty above the multitude. On

horseback, in the midst, stood a herald in a scarlet tabard and with a

silver-mounted truncheon in his hand, and immediately behind him, a

man, who, in a few weeks' time, had become the terror of the Italians.

It was Hesso, the chief of the Imperial police, surrounded by his men

fully armed. He glared fiercely upon the crowd.

"What does that blood-thirsty dog want here?" was muttered on all

sides. "See how he is looking for some new victims! the poor devils

whom he hung this morning are hardly cold, before he wants to begin

again!"

Although Hesso could not understand their words, he could read their

thoughts.

"You hate and fear me, do you!--Ah well! there's no love lost between

us," he growled, with a still fiercer expression in his eyes.

The loud blast of the trumpets resounded, and the herald commanded

silence. Thousands awaited with trembling anxiety. The man of the

scarlet tabard made another sign; but still the dull murmur went on

unceasingly; he raised his truncheon, and when, after many efforts,

silence had been enforced, he proclaimed, in a clear and distinct

voice, the wishes of the Emperor.

"In the name of our sovereign liege, listen to the punishments to be

enforced against all evil-doers. All fighting in the camp is strictly

forbidden. Should the offender be a knight, his arms will be taken from

him, and he will be expelled from the army. If he is a varlet, he will

be flogged, his head shaved, and his shoulder marked with a red-hot

iron, unless his master redeems him by the payment of fifty pennies."

The herald paused to give his hearers time for reflection. The first

article had produced a bad effect upon the Italians, who were

accustomed to great license in respect to their personal quarrels, and

on all sides black and angry glances were exchanged.

"Flogged, shaved, and marked with a hot iron, for that trifle!" said

the crowd. "It is too severe!"

"Do you hear that, Migleo?" said a voice. "He values us at fifty

pennies a piece--it's absurd!"

The herald again commanded silence.

"If any one wounds a soldier, he shall lose his hand; whoever kills one

shall be decapitated!"

"I say, Migleo, what would you look like, with a shaved head?"

"Don't you think, Robbio, that in the course of a fortnight, the most

of us will have neither heads nor hands? For my part, it is as

impossible for me to keep my hands off a Pavian, as it is to meet a

chicken without wringing its neck?"

"And I can't look at a Novara man, without wanting to spit in his

face," said a Pavian, who stood by; and it was with difficulty the two

were kept from fighting, even under the eyes of Hesso himself.

"Silence, fools!" said Robbio; "do you want to get into the

executioner's clutches, already?"

"For the first theft, a varlet shall be flogged, shaved, and marked

with the iron; for the second, he shall be hanged!" added the herald.

"There is one omission in the law about theft," said a voice. "It is

forbidden to the varlets to rob, but there is nothing said about the

masters. What would happen if the offender were a count, a duke, or a

king?"

"Silence," cried another voice, whose piercing tone bore a great

resemblance to that of the jester Lanzo. "Don't you know that the

nobles never steal? they merely indulge their illustrious desires!"

"Whoever shall hold any communication with the Cardinal Roland, falsely

styling himself Pope Alexander III., shall be put under the ban of the

Emperor; it is permitted to kill him wherever found!"

"Do you hear that? to pillage is not to steal; the Emperor can permit

anything."

"Alexander is the true Pope; Victor is the anti-Pope; is that not so,

comrades?"

"Certainly. Long live Alexander!"

"Whoever shall obtain supplies for the Milanese, shall lose his hand;

the informer shall be rewarded."

This last article, although the most barbarous, met with general

approval among the Italians, who only found fault with the punishment

as being too mild. They forgot the iron yoke under which Frederic kept

them, to remember only their hatred for their detested rival Milan.

"Long live the Emperor! Down with Milan! Death and destruction to the

Milanese!"

The trumpets again sounded, and while the soldiers gave free vent to

the expression of their hatred, the herald and his escort left the

ground.

Rechberg had listened to the proclamation, and would have pursued his

journey, but the dense crowd forced him to remain and hear the

imprecations lavished upon the Emperor, as soon as Hesso was out of

sight.

"Laugh on!" thought the young man. "You may laugh as much as you

please, but you will not be able to violate those orders with

impunity."

At this moment, two asses' ears ornamented with bells, approached the

Count. Lanzo, with a good deal of difficulty, had elbowed his way

through the crowd, and had gained a neighboring spur-post, where he

climbed up, and then sprang, with the agility of a monkey, upon the

Count's stirrup; a moment after, he was behind his saddle. The crowd

laughed and applauded the jester's activity, and Rechberg allowed him

to retain his seat, for he saw nothing impertinent in the proceeding of

the fool, whose loyalty he esteemed, and whose jests would serve to

amuse him.

"Whence come you, Lanzo?"

"From the fulfilment of my duty, noble Count."

"Yes; but how?"

"How? I have only just discovered it; I had no positive end in view,

until now. But I perceive, my lord, that your mission is of vast

importance. The Emperor, the Pope, and the kings, are very

insignificant personages compared with you."

"And why so, Lanzo?"

"Because you have the court-fool behind you!"

"But I cannot see in that an omen of greatness."

"Oh, I will explain, if you will only try to understand me!" said the

jester. "I will begin with the Pope, that is, providing Victor be

really the Pope,--a matter, about which some quite sensible people

begin to doubt. For the last two years, Barbarossa has been holding

council upon council, and yet all of them together have not succeeded

in proving that Victor is the Pope. This establishes clearly, either

that Victor is a fool, or else that he is a puppet of the Emperor,

since he is so ready to accept what Alexander refuses. If he had any

brains, he would know that an honest monk is better that what he is."

"You have a bad tongue, Lanzo."

"Possibly! But you will see that it tells the truth. Then we have the

king of England and the king of France. They are fools too. I made the

reflection when I saw their ambassadors kneel before the Emperor. If

they had brains, they would guess that Frederic means to catch them

all, one after the other, in his nets."

"You are a statesman of wonderful foresight, Lanzo!"

"Of course I am; my ears show that;--and then, the Emperor is as mad as

the others.--But, I forgot.--Ah! after all I cannot see that there is

much harm in having a madman for one's godfather! If Frederic were

wise, he would not try to conquer the world. He is getting ready to

swallow Milan, the head of Italy. After the head, the rest will come

easily enough; but it is a food not easily digested. The earth belongs

to God, and not to the Emperor, and one of these days Frederic's

madness will draw upon himself the wrath of an avenging God."

"Well spoken, Lanzo! you ought to be a member of the Emperor's

Council."

"God preserve me from it! my honesty would be exposed to too sore

temptations.--But I see in the steel of your helmet a little sprite

which mocks at me. My argument has a weak point, then?--Tell me, where

did you get that splendid gold chain?"

"Why do you ask me?"

"Answer me first."

"From the knight Bonello,--him whose cause you espoused so warmly."

"Tell me, my lord, how did it happen that you became so deeply

interested in this traitor's misfortunes? All the camp was astonished

at the boldness with which you braved the Emperor's displeasure. No one

but you would have risked his sovereign's anger to save a traitor's

life. Was it craft on your part, or wisdom?"

"How dare you ask such questions? Is it not our duty to aid all who are

unfortunate?"

"Well answered! But the sprite in your helmet is mocking at me again, I

fear you have not told me all the truth. When you pleaded Bonello's

cause, had you no other motive than pity?"

"You are right."

"Ah! I have a little intelligence sometimes!--Bonello has a

daughter!--Some men of sense saw her without being dazzled--that is,

another species of madness! I would ask some more questions, if I were

not afraid that your steel scabbard might make an intimate acquaintance

with my back."

"Still, you are not going to stop there?"

"Certainly not, if I may go on!"

"Go on, then!"

"Well," said the little man, "your heightened color confirms what I had

already more than half guessed! But have you reflected on what you are,

and what this girl is? I am afraid, in this, you have acted

inconsiderately. Go to your godfather, and ask him permission to marry

the daughter of ----, a traitor!"

Erwin's countenance changed.

"Ah, how pale you become!" said Lanzo. "You see, dear Count, wise

men should always look to the issue of their projects. But don't be

down-hearted; this Lombard angel is still only a child, and, in a few

years' time, things may change a good deal." And he sprang to the

ground.

"You are not leaving me thus, Lanzo? Methinks, a light collation, with

me, in the Imperial tent, should not be refused."

"Many thanks, Count! Believe me, there are other things to be done in

Barbarossa's tent, besides giving lodgings to a poor devil."

And Lanzo turned boldly to the pavilion of Henry, the Lion.

_CHAPTER XV_.

_THE ANTI-POPE_.

Although Lanzo was merely the Duke of Saxony's buffoon, the Count could

not but feel very uneasy, as he thought of their late conversation. The

allusions to his intimacy with Bonello annoyed him, and he felt

surprised to think that hitherto he had been blind to all the

difficulties in which his position as godson to the Emperor had

involved him. For it was highly probable that Barbarossa would refuse

his consent to any alliance between him and the family of Bonello.

Under the influence of these reflections, Rechberg proceeded through

the camp, without at first remarking the extraordinary calm which

pervaded everything. The deserted streets and empty tents seemed to

indicate that the troops were on some expedition, but when he

approached the tent, or rather the palace of the Emperor, he saw on

each side of the road both knights and men-at-arms drawn up in order of

battle. Frederic's tent and all those in its vicinity were decked with

flowers and ornamented with rich carpets, and Erwin soon learned that

it was for the solemn reception of the pretended Pope Victor, whose

entrance into the camp was already heralded by a full flourish of

trumpets.

In the eyes of the young Count, Victor was merely an illustrious and

important personage, for he could not admit his claims to the Papal

throne, which, of right, belonged to Alexander III. He knew Victor's

irresolute character, and as his very appearance was disagreeable to

him, he decided not to present himself to the Emperor until after the

ceremonies of the reception were concluded.

The Emperor had taken infinite pains to receive his Pope with becoming

pomp; not because he wished to honor the head of the Church, but

because he thought it expedient to give as much importance to the man

whom he considered necessary to the accomplishment of his own projects,

and with this view all the actions of the Emperor manifested a profound

respect for the Head of the Church. He rode on his left hand, a little

to the rear, as though he did not presume to put himself on an equality

with the chief of Christendom. Barbarossa wore a scarlet doublet, over

which was thrown the Imperial mantle, clasped with gold links and

silver crescents. On his head was the crown, and in his hand the

sceptre. His face was dignified and composed, and as they neared the

camp and the crowd could judge better of his movements, he was more

demonstrative in his attentions to the Anti-Pope; whose hand never

ceased from blessing the bystanders.

Victor's tall stature, his bearing, and even his costume, were rather

those of a temporal prince than those of a spiritual shepherd. Over his

shoulders hung a scarlet robe, richly embroidered in gold, and on his

long curling looks was placed the triple crown of Rome; his features

reflected the pride and arrogance of his disposition.

Immediately after the Emperor rode Henry the Lion, the Dukes of

Austria, of Bohemia, and of Rottemburg, and the Landgrave of Thuringen,

followed by a brilliant array of princes and nobles. The escort was

preceded by the military band, which marched, with a flourish of

trumpets, about a hundred yards in advance of the Pope. But, although

on all sides there were soldiers and martial standards, there was no

religious display, no religious banners or chants; not even a cross was

to be seen; for Victor's entry to the camp showed plainly that he was

but a creature of the Emperor, from whom he derived all his pomp and

greatness.

Frederic dismounted before his tent, and following an ancient custom,

came forward respectfully, to hold the Pope's stirrup. But here the

Cardinal Octavian, for such was his real title, showed an utter want of

tact. Affecting to be deeply engaged in conversation with his immediate

attendants, he permitted the Emperor to remain too long in his

humiliating posture.

Frederic colored up with anger and mortification, while his Chancellor

smiled with inward satisfaction. Rinaldo had long advised the

discontinuance of this idle and useless ceremony, but the Emperor, with

more foresight than his minister, judged that the moment was not yet

ripe for the abolition of a custom which seemed to establish the

supremacy of the chief of Christendom.

At last Octavian dismounted; he took the monarch in his arms and gave

him the kiss of peace, and then, turning towards the assembled

multitude, he gave them his benediction, and entered the Imperial tent.

_CHAPTER XVI_.

_THE EMPEROR'S SLAVE_.

The first service which Barbarossa exacted of Victor, was the solemn

excommunication of Alexander III., and his partisans, in presence of

the army, and in front of the walls of Milan. A few days after his

arrival at the Camp, an immense tribune, draped with black cloth, and

provided with numerous seats, was erected at a safe distance from the

city. In the centre was an elevated platform, and behind this a throne

for the Emperor, whence he could communicate his desires to the various

speakers. Thousands of soldiers from all parts of the Camp surrounded

the tribune, and a crowd of curious spectators lined the towers and

walls of the city.

At the appointed hour, the Emperor, the nobles, the false Pope, and the

prelates, ascended the platform and took seats according to their

respective rank. Alberic, the Pope's chaplain, first, in a noisy

harangue, explained the object of the assembly. He denounced Alexander

and his adherents as heretics, and extolled Victor as the legitimate

Pope.

Lighted tapers were then handed to the nobles and the clergy; and

Octavian, mounting the pulpit, began to recite, in a voice trembling

with passion, the usual lengthy formula of excommunication, at the

close of which, as the sentence of malediction was thundered out, the

Emperor, nobles, and clergy extinguished their candles.

This solemn farce, enacted by Frederic's orders, in the immediate

vicinity of a city whose inhabitants were enthusiastic partisans

of the cause of Alexander, was received by the Milanese with shouts

of derision; and scarcely had the anathema been uttered when a

speaking-trumpet was heard upon the walls.

"Octavian," it cried, "wrongfully surnamed Victor, slave of the

Emperor, we scorn your maledictions.--Heaven blesses whom you curse,

and curses whom you bless!"

Few of the soldiers present had ever before heard a speaking-trumpet,

and these words seemed supernatural, while the distant echo gave

credence to the speedy realization of the prophecy. But Frederic, more

enlightened, skilfully parried the blow, and aware of a report which

had been circulated latterly, that an angel had descended from heaven

to curse Victor and his partisans, he looked on in scornful silence,

while the crowd broke out in clamorous surprise.

Suddenly a straw effigy of the Pope, crowned with rags, with a paper

mitre on its head, and a scroll with the inscription, in large letters,

of "Pope Victor" in its hand, was hurled from the walls by a catapult,

and fell close to Octavian's feet, while, amid a burst of contemptuous

laughter, the voice again shouted through the trumpet, "Straw Pope!

Straw Pope!"

Octavian was thunderstruck, and stood gazing with a wild stare upon the

effigy, and his face assumed an expression so ridiculously stupid, that

Rinaldo and the bystanders, remarking the absurd resemblance between it

and the figure, could with difficulty restrain their mirth.

Frederic reflected grimly for a moment, but soon found means to turn

this incident to profit.

"Resume your seat!" he said to Victor, and then rising with the fierce

and decided manner which so well became him, he commanded silence. Even

Rinaldo's face wore a serious expression, and all awaited,

breathlessly, the monarch's harangue.

"What means all this? What seeks Milan with these sinful mockeries?

Will that accursed city never respect anything? She turns into ridicule

even the holy symbols of spiritual power; she mocks at the legitimate

Head of the Church; and that her insults may be the better heard, a

miserable speaking-trumpet cries them from the walls! Remember the

tyranny which reigns in Milan, think of the destruction of Lodi and the

misfortunes of Como; think of all those things, and then tell me if

that city does not merit destruction!"

Frederic ceased, but his words had produced the desired effect.

"She deserves her fate!" cried, eagerly, the soldiers of Lodi and Como

who were present; "she deserves her fate; down with Milan!"

"Yes, she deserves it," resumed the Emperor, "and this time we

ourselves will execute the decrees of justice!" He paused, and raising

his hand to his brow, took off the crown. Then, his eyes raised to

heaven, and his right hand extended, he cried, with a loud voice,--

"I, Frederic of Hohenstauffen, king of the Germans and Emperor of Rome,

do swear before Almighty God and the ever blessed Virgin Mary, by the

holy Apostles Peter and Paul, and all the Saints of Paradise, that this

crown will no more grace my brow until the city of Milan shall have

been destroyed in chastisement for her crimes!"

The Emperor made the sign of the cross, and delivered the diadem into

the keeping of the Imperial Chancellor.

This solemn oath electrified the Italians.

"Long live the Emperor!" shouted a thousand voices. "Long live the

Emperor! Down with Milan!"

In the midst of the applause, Barbarossa, well satisfied with the

result of his harangue, left the tribune, followed by his nobles.

Meanwhile Victor, who had returned to his tent, gave free vent to his

anger, and while Alberic was divesting him of his mantle, shook his

head with most unequivocal marks of resentment.

"Straw pope!" he exclaimed; "straw pope! the wretches, to compare me,

the legitimate Head of the Church, to a man of straw!"

"It is most infamous!" replied the chaplain; "it merits the vengeance

of heaven."

"Patience, the Milanese will pay dearly for their insolence. It needed

but this to fill the cup of Imperial anger. This city must be destroyed

and levelled with the earth. Henceforth whoever dares to intercede for

this new Nineveh, is the foe of the Church, of the Pope, and of the

Emperor."

"And the speaking-trumpet," added Alberic; "that abominable

speaking-trumpet!"

"True, I had almost forgotten that," replied Victor. "What was it they

called me? Straw Pope!--the villains! I am the true Pope, both by the

choice of the people and Imperial sanction. Yes, of course I am," he

repeated, as though wishing to persuade himself that it really was so.

"Alexander can never be more than the Cardinal Roland, for he was

neither elected by the people nor confirmed by the Emperor."

"Most certainly, there is no doubt of the fact," added Alberic,

quickly, for he knew Victor's anxiety in the matter.

"But what was it they really called me?--I think I heard the words

'Slave of the Emperor'!"

"That was what they said," my lord. "It was a ridiculous epithet, for

you, who seek to defend the prerogatives of the Church, can be slave to

no one."

These words were bitterly ironical, for Octavian remembered his base

servility to the wishes of his master Barbarossa, and he moved uneasily

upon his chair, as he resumed,--

"I give to the Emperor what is his by right, and in this I obey the

commands of our Lord; but in all that concerns the Church, I am

inflexible and yield obedience to no earthly power. Have I not often

given proofs of this? Did I not do so only on the day before yesterday,

when the Emperor urged me to pronounce the separation of Henry and

Clemence? And did we not, in virtue of our sacred office, refuse the

demand?"

"I admired your energy, my lord."

"There are no excuses, no threats which can decide us to annul this

marriage!" continued Octavian. "If monarchs could, at their pleasure,

divorce their wives, we should have little justice and order. No, by

the eternal salvation of my soul, to which may God be merciful, I will

never countenance a like enormity!"

As Victor finished, Rinaldo entered the room. Octavian's tirade had not

escaped the watchful observation of the courtier. Indeed, although

rarely bold enough to resist the Emperor's commands, there were times

when Octavian, either through shame or anger, refused obedience. Like

all men of contracted and timid ideas, he sometimes tried to show proof

of energy. Deploring his position, but without greatness of soul enough

to consent to break his chains and retire to a subordinate capacity, he

gave full vent to his ill-temper against all whom he had no especial

cause to fear. Humble and submissive towards the Emperor and his

ministers, he was disdainful and supercilious to his inferiors.

For once, Victor seemed decided to give an evidence of character. He

remained seated, and replied coldly to the salutations of the

Chancellor. But the wily courtier paid no attention to his insolence;

and seating himself quietly, he began,--

"Before submitting to your Holiness the message intrusted me by our

sovereign lord the Emperor, I desire to offer my sincere regrets for

the grave scandal caused by the Milanese."

"The devilful blindness of these Godforsaken people is the surest proof

of our legitimacy," interrupted Victor; "we have therefore no need

either of your commiseration or your sympathy. You will communicate

this reply to the Emperor. We will now examine whether this message, in

case it should be a petition, merits our consideration."

It needed all Rinaldo's self-command to remain serious at Octavian's

speech, and particularly at the air with which it was uttered. If

Victor really were what he tried to seem, the Count of Dassel would

have had good reason to be provoked; but as he had known the Pope for

many years, his arrogance only excited a smile, as he answered,--

"In this business, I am well aware that the well known wisdom of your

Holiness has no need of my sympathy. I will therefore, as such is your

desire, explain the purport of the Emperor's communication. It concerns

the rupture of the marriage between the Duke of Saxony and his wife

Clemence."

"We have already expressed our opinions decidedly on that point,"

replied Octavian.

"True, a few days ago," said Rinaldo; "but at present His Majesty

desires to terminate the matter without delay, and requests you to

appoint a time when the divorce shall be solemnly pronounced in

public."

"Must I then repeat what I have already said?" replied Victor, with

surprise. "The marriage is legal, and cannot be annulled. The question

of consanguinity is, by no means, clearly established, and the degree

is too remote."

"Nevertheless, the Emperor desires the divorce for grave political

reasons," said Rinaldo, quietly.

"Political reasons! What have we to do with politics?"

"Very true, affairs of state are not your province, still, your

Holiness might have some consideration for the Emperor's wishes."

"Very well, my lord chancellor! you say that the affairs of state are

not our province, and yet in the affairs of the Church we must consult

the Emperor's wishes. If that were so, what position should we occupy?

The Milanese have defined it perfectly: 'the base slave of the

Emperor'!"

"Your Holiness should remember that you owe everything to the Emperor."

"I beg your pardon, my lord chancellor; I hold my power in virtue of my

election by the Cardinals and the people."

"The Cardinals!" Dassel cried, ironically; "how many of them voted for

you? if I remember rightly, only two. And you speak of the people's

choice? The pagan Jugurtha reproached the Roman people with its

corruption; yet, without the rich bribes paid by your friends, even

that venal people would not have pronounced in your favor."

Octavian colored violently at the insult.

"I have no wish to wound your Holiness," continued Dassel, "but simply

to warn you against any feelings of ingratitude to the Emperor."

"Admitting what you have said to be true, was not our election ratified

by four plenary councils?"

"Four plenary councils!" sneered Rinaldo. "There should have been four,

but the Emperor has never been able to bring the Bishops together. You

should know of what value is a plenary council where there are no

Bishops! But let me beg you to put an end to this useless discussion. I

only wish to transmit the Emperor's orders and carry back to him your

answer."

"The Emperor's orders! Oh! this is too much, my lord!"

"Yes; but if you prefer, we will call it the Emperor's request," said

the minister, rising as he spoke; "orders or request, it matters

little! since the Emperor insists upon implicit obedience to the one,

as to the other. Perhaps, upon reflection, you will perceive that your

disobedience may possibly have most disagreeable consequences."

"For the love of God! do not leave me," cried the alarmed Victor. "Only

show me how I can, in defiance of my duty and my conscience, annul a

legal marriage? I am always ready to show my obedience to His Majesty;

I only implore him not to insist upon this flagrant violation of divine

and ecclesiastical laws."

"Have you the power to loose?"

"Yes; but not the bonds of an indissoluble marriage."

"The consanguinity between Henry and Clemence is a valid cause of

divorce. Their genealogical tree shall be submitted for your

examination; you can then conscientiously annul the marriage."

Victor was dreadfully embarrassed, and sought in vain an escape from

the dilemma. On the one side, he felt ashamed of his weakness, and his

conscience reproached him bitterly; but on the other, he saw that most

disagreeable consequences would result from his refusal. The tone of

the Chancellor, his gloomy and threatening demeanor, his readiness to

leave the apartment, alarmed Octavian, on whose forehead stood great

drops of perspiration, a striking proof that bad actions are often more

painful in their accomplishment than those dictated by a worthy motive.

"May I then announce to the Emperor, that you will obey him?" resumed

Dassel; "or shall I transmit your refusal, so that His Majesty can at

once proclaim the illegality of your claims to the Papal throne?"

"I will obey," faltered Victor.

"At last you have come to a wise decision," said the courtier, whose

face immediately resumed its cordial expression. "May I ask when your

Holiness will fulfil your promise?"

"Whenever it may so please the Emperor."

"Your visit will be most agreeable to His Majesty," Dassel resumed. "I

have only now to request your Holiness to confer the Episcopal mitre

upon some young man, high in favor with His Majesty, to whom he wishes

to offer this mark of his confidence. He thinks that it would be well

for the ceremony to take place next week, in the Cathedral of Pavia.

One of the candidates is the young Count Biandrate, whose nomination to

the Archbishopric of Ravenna was delayed, owing to some objections on

the part of your predecessor, Pope Adrian."

"I must confirm His Majesty's choice, and will be at Pavia on the day

mentioned."

The Chancellor bowed and withdrew. Ashamed and cast down, the Pope

stood motionless, gazing at the door through which Dassel had

disappeared. He seemed scarcely to credit his humiliation, as he

murmured,--

"Aye, I am the Emperor's slave, naught but his miserable, degraded

slave!"

_CHAPTER XVII_.

_AN EVIL SPIRIT_.

After communicating to Barbarossa, Victor's promise of obedience,

Dassel took his way towards the tent of Henry the Lion, to announce to

the prince the speedy dissolution of his marriage. The Saxon Duke

lodged in the Augustinian convent in front of the city. In spite of the

decisions of the council of war, this cloister had been neither

pillaged nor burned, for it stood in the midst of his camp, and served

as his headquarters; and the demand for its destruction, urged by some

of the Italians, had met with a stern refusal.

"In the North," he said, "I spare neither time nor money in building

churches and monasteries. Why should I consent to destroy them in the

South? You must understand, once for all, that I will not do violence

to my principles, in order to gratify your hatred for the Milanese."

These words put an end to the discussion; the beautiful church was

spared, but the anxious monks were driven to take shelter within the

city. Ever since Henry had begun to entertain seriously the idea of a

divorce, he had lost the air of frankness and good-nature which had

formerly characterized him. He walked with downcast eyes, his brows

were knit, his head stooped, and a heavy burden seemed to oppress his

intellect. While Rinaldo urged the divorce, the Duke remained

irresolute; his pride prompted him to the step, but his heart opposed

it. A union of fifteen years had proved the sincere affection and

unalterable fidelity of his wife, who lived only in her husband's love.

He could not call to mind a single unkind word; Clemence, on the

contrary, had always striven to make her husband forget his cares and

anxieties. And even now, although well aware of this scheme for their

separation, she never gave utterance to one murmur or reproach; all her

efforts were directed to conceal her sadness and despair. But his

wife's anguish was not unknown to the Duke. He admired the generous

spirit of the noble woman, and it cost him many a heartache, to feel

himself, as it were, compelled to do her such a cruel wrong. Had the

Duchess reproached him with his injustice, the struggle would have been

less difficult, but this mute sorrow, this submissive love disarmed

him. It was in vain that he looked back over years long gone by, he

could discover nothing worthy of dissatisfaction, for each succeeding

year since their marriage gave new proofs of Clemence's affection and

fidelity.

Sad thoughts filled his mind as he sat beneath an arbor of clematis in

the convent garden. His back leaning against the wall, his limbs

stretched out and his hands clenched upon his breast, his haggard,

downcast face denoted the painful struggle raging within him, which

from time to time took vent in a deep sigh.

A child's clear voice awoke him from his mournful revery. At the end of

the grove his wife appeared, leading his little daughter Adelaide by

the hand. As soon as she perceived her father, she ran towards him, but

suddenly stopped at a short distance with an air of indecision and

doubt.

"Well, well! little one, come on!" said Henry, forcing a smile.

The child obeyed, but it was plain that she did not feel at ease, for

she looked anxiously towards her mother.

Henry seemed annoyed as Clemence seated herself beside him, but

although the noble woman had remarked his grave and troubled expression

and divined its cause, her strong will concealed her sad emotions.

"Father, why do you always wear these iron clothes?" said the child,

playing with the rings of his coat of mail.

"Because it is necessary in time of war, my child. Would you not like

to have one like it? See how it shines and sparkles!"

"No, father; it is too hard and stiff; I like my mother's dresses

better."

"If you were a boy, instead of a little girl, it would please you

more."

These words produced a strange effect upon the infant. She first turned

towards Clemence who seemed ready to burst into tears, and then threw

her arms around her father's neck, as if to prevent him reproaching her

mother.

"I want to be a boy, father!" said Adelaide, laughing through her

tears.

"You do, do you? and what for?"

"So that my mother may not cry any more!"

"Nonsense, little chatterbox; why should your mother cry?"

"Oh yes, she does cry, and a great deal too; only when you come, she

dries her eyes, and smiles."

The Duke was touched; these artless words from the mouth of his child

contained a reproach which shamed him. Until then, he had never spoken

to his wife of the proposed divorce, and even now, although the

opportunity seemed favorable, he hesitated, for the consciousness of

his injustice deprived him of his courage.

Clemence read his thoughts, and a mingling of love for her husband and

pity for his weakness, joined to a faint hope that, even yet, he might

be weaned from his determination, decided her to speak.

"Dear Henry," she began, "a wife's duty is to watch and pray, whenever

a danger menaces her lord. I can no longer remain silent in the

presence of the schemers who seek to beguile you. The sinful projects

of the chancellor Rinaldo will destroy your eternal soul. Believe me,

no motive can excuse an evil deed; nothing can make innocent that which

the laws of God forbid. I am ready, if it were possible, to make any

sacrifice to your happiness, even were my heart to break in the

attempt!"

Tears choked her further utterance; but the Duke well knew that her

words were not an idle speech, but that they were dictated by true and

sincere affection.

"Why do you allude to this circumstance, so painful to us both," he

said. "There are some things which must be placed even above the

feelings of the heart. On the honor of a knight, Clemence, I look upon

you as the noblest of women, and yet, with me the Guelphic dynasty in

the North will end."

"I know the chancellor's famous discovery of our consanguinity!"

replied the Duchess. "Henry, you know that the plea is false. If our

divorce will make you happier, I would submit, without a murmur; but

the certainty that this divorce will imperil your immortal soul, wrings

my heart with anguish. Henry! I implore you, give up this guilty

project! Trust to the future.--Perhaps--perhaps, my days are numbered."

At this moment a horse's hoofs rang on the pavement of the outer court,

and almost immediately Rinaldo stood before the arbor. Clemence rose

hastily; although pale and trembling, her tears had ceased, and she

gazed upon the chancellor with a look of horror. Slowly leaving with

her child the presence of her husband, she cast upon him one lingering

glance in which were reflected the feelings of her soul.

Robed in the magnificent costume which he wore only on great occasions

of ceremony, wearing on his finger the pastoral ring of the

Archbishopric of Cologne (conferred upon him by the Emperor), a costly

chain of triple gold around his neck, and on his head a splendid mitre,

the Count of Dassel, with a smiling face, saluted the Saxon Duke.

"I have ridden over to examine the tower which your Highness has

built," he said, with a low bow; "what a noble piece of work! I can

only compare it to the one constructed by the Emperor for the Siege of

Cremona."

This was one of Henry's weak points, and the crafty Dassel knew it.

"You are in error, my dear Count," he replied; "it is very true that my

Imperial cousin constructed a splendid machine for that siege, but his

tower could not accommodate, by two hundred men, as many as mine.

Besides, it could only be moved slowly and with much danger."

Rinaldo did not venture to doubt the superiority of the ducal

construction.

"Oh, if that is the case, the perfection of your edifice threatens to

become dangerous."

"Dangerous! and how so?"

"Yes," said Dassel; "dangerous to the fame and aspirations of more than

one hero who has built up his dreams of glory and renown upon the

taking of Milan. Think of the disappointment of the Count Palatine

Otho, of the Duke of Austria, of the Landgrave of Thuringen, and a host

of other illustrious captains, when they see the Suabian lion float

over the ramparts of the city."

The Duke laughed boisterously.

"The thoughts of your triumph recalls to me naturally the certitude of

your good fortune. His Holiness, the Pope, has expressed his readiness

to annul the marriage which you have contracted with your relative."

At these words the Duke's face darkened as his right hand began to play

with his beard, while the left sought angrily his sword-hilt.

"It only remains for your Highness to indicate the day and hour for

this wished-for divorce," added the Chancellor.

"Hum! you appear very much interested in my affairs," replied the Duke.

"Why this precipitation?"

"Was it not your desire, my lord?"

"Certainly, it was my desire. But I will not submit to dictation from

any one, and it may suit me better to leave matters as they are."

The courtier appeared surprised.

"Oh! that amazes you; yes, I said it might suit me better to leave

matters as they were, my dear Count."

"Your Highness is certainly the best judge of your own affairs,"

replied Dassel, cautiously, as if he felt himself in the presence of an

unchained lion; "still I must observe that matters are already pretty

far advanced."

"Well, turn them back again. That must be an easy matter for you; you

have experience in such things."

"May I venture to inquire the reasons which have influenced your

Highness to this sudden change?"

"The reasons!" he cried angrily; "the reasons! because it would be

infamous! Why do you stare at me thus? Look there!"

And he pointed to where, at the extremity of the garden, Clemence, half

hidden by the rose-trees, was kneeling before an image of the Madonna.

Near her stood the little Adelaide with clasped bands, gazing

alternately at the image and at her weeping mother. Rinaldo saw the

mother and the child; he understood the Duke's anger; he resolved to

complete his infernal work.

"She is a pious woman," he said; "a model for her sex! The separation

will be most painful to her. I understand it well; but it is also

painful for a valiant prince to witness the extinction of his race."

"Oh! the pangs of separation, the grief which they cause a loving

heart, may be healed in time," said Henry; "but, my dear Count, this

action will be not only cruel and pitiless, but it will be criminal in

the sight of God."

"Criminal in the sight of God! this is a new phase to give to the

affair. The Pope annuls your marriage; he knows his privileges, and is

responsible for the consequences."

"Yes, your Pope," replied Henry, with an angry sneer. "Tell me, can the

act of that puppet of the Emperor make an evil act a good one?"

"This is certainly a grave point for a timid conscience," said Dassel,

ironically.

"But yourself, my dear Count? Years ago, the Emperor put that

archiepiscopal ring on your finger; tell me, how it happens that you

have not yet been consecrated? All that is needed is your request.

Victor will be delighted. But--and it is natural enough--you despise

the consecration of the Anti-Pope! And yet you pretend that his

intervention ought to be sufficient for me?"

"There is no hurry about my consecration," replied Rinaldo, quickly;

"but your Highness makes a mistake in being influenced by such scruples

of conscience, which are, to say the least, exaggerated."

"Exaggerated!"

"Certainly! Is it not the Emperor's prerogative to appoint the Bishop

of Rome? The history of the Empire is there to prove the correctness of

my assertion."

"Without any doubt, my Imperial cousin needs, for the accomplishment of

his designs, a very submissive Pope. I shall not discuss this subject.

The Northern bishops, likewise, owe me obedience.--There is but one

difference in our positions,--none of my bishops is the supreme chief

of Christendom."

"There is still another difference," resumed Rinaldo, with some

hesitation, "and that is, your cousin Frederic is laying the

foundations of a dynasty which is destined to rule the world, whilst

your works will perish with you."

The Duke of Saxony was speechless, as, with contracted features, he

rose and stood like a bronze statue before the tempter. The vulnerable

point of his armor had been touched; for many years Henry's dream had

been, to found an independent empire in the North, and all his efforts,

all his warlike enterprises looked to this end. Dassel made a last

effort to excite the Duke's ambition.

"You have, it is true, several lovely daughters; but you cannot

bequeath your domains to them. All your conquests will revert to the

Empire; nothing will remain to them, save their titles and their rights

of dower."

"Stop a moment, Count!" cried Henry, furious at seeing his conquests,

so painfully made, disposed of thus summarily.

"I am well aware, that my words may have offended your Highness; but,

pardon my frankness, they were none the less just."

"It is false, I tell you! entirely false! Do you imagine that for years

I have toiled and fought, have borne hunger and thirst, and a thousand

fatigues of every kind, only to descend to the tomb like a brainless

fool?"

"I regret it sincerely, my lord; but, since you refuse the divorce

which is proposed, you must take the consequences."

"Refuse it! No; I must consider the matter further. What shall be,

shall be; yes, on my honor!"

Rinaldo trembled with pleasure.

"Go, and thank my Imperial cousin!" continued Henry. "This divorce must

be pronounced, even should it insure my own ruin! Still, beg his

Majesty not to carry the matter further than I wish myself."

_CHAPTER XVIII_.

_CONFIDENTIAL SECRETS_.

Rinaldo took his way towards the Imperial pavilion, for he was anxious

to report the result of his interview with the Duke of Saxony. He was

informed by one of the chamberlains that Frederic had gone to the

apartments of the Empress, and Dassel decided to await his return in an

adjoining room. He had taken but a few steps in a hall littered with

cuirasses and swords and lances, when he heard the Emperor's voice,

speaking in an angry tone. It was scarcely calculated to produce a

reassuring effect upon the statesman, but he approached the partition

and listened attentively.

Upon leaving the Empress, Frederic had met Count Rechberg in the

antechamber. For some time the young man had been thinking seriously of

asking the Emperor's consent to his marriage with Bonello's daughter,

and the uncertainty of the result of his application produced a state

of painful anxiety. He was seated in a corner, his head resting on his

hands and his elbows on his knees, when the monarch entered, and was so

absorbed in his reflections that he was unconscious of his presence.

Frederic looked at him with some surprise, and shook his head. At this

moment Erwin sighed deeply, and the Emperor involuntarily shuddered.

"Erwin!" said he, with a loud voice.

The young count sprang up hastily, and stood, with heightened color,

before his sovereign.

"What is the matter, my boy? For some time past you seem out of

spirits. Can nothing amuse your sad thoughts? Tell me what ails you."

Erwin only answered by a still deeper blush. The man who by a word

could render him happy, was before him, and yet, trembling like a

criminal, he did not dare to speak.

"Are you dumb? Ah! now I begin to be really curious to learn the secret

which saddens your young heart."

"I must really help this poor fellow," thought Rinaldo.

"Come, Erwin, your reticence displeases me. What motive can there be

for silence with your godfather?"

Rechberg looked sadly at the Emperor, as if to show him how painfully

he felt this reproach.

"Well! if you have confidence in me, speak out! What is the matter? For

some time past I have noticed your mournful and dejected appearance,

and I hoped to have received your confession without being obliged to

ask for it."

"Pardon, Sire; it is not my want of confidence in your Majesty which

has closed my mouth, but rather the conviction that my cares were

unworthy of your notice."

"Your cares!" resumed Barbarossa, looking at the young man more

attentively. "True, true, it is some piece of childishness; I might

have guessed it sooner."

Rinaldo's entrance on one side, and the Empress on the other,

interrupted Frederic.

"Beatrice," said he, "I give this sick boy up to your care. I know that

you are a skilful physician;" and he left the room with the Count of

Dassel.

Beatrice, the wealthy daughter of Count Reinald, of Upper Burgundy, was

but sixteen years of age when she was chosen by Frederic as his wife.

In spite of the opposition to his marriage made by Pope Adrian IV; in

spite of the representations of the Church and the reputation of the

world at large, Barbarossa's passion was so violent that he disregarded

every obstacle, and on the repudiation of his first wife, Adelaide,

conducted Beatrice to the altar.

At the time of which we speak, Beatrice was twenty-one years of age;

beautiful, gracious, and accomplished; she was considered the most

amiable princess of the age, and she gladly undertook to console a

youth whom she esteemed as much for his own virtuous qualities as on

account of his relationship to the Emperor.

Dismissing her attendants, she called the young man to her side, and in

a few moments had learned his story. She listened to him coldly,

without even a smile, and when all was told, merely remarked,--

"I desire that you make a formal demand for the hand of the fair

Hermengarde as soon as possible."

"I humbly thank your Majesty; but I scarcely dare to take a step which

may not be approved."

"What do you mean? Not approved! and by whom?"

"By the Emperor, who will never consent to my marriage with the

daughter of one whom he looks upon as a traitor."

"Nonsense, Erwin! the Emperor cares nothing about love-affairs! He only

wants to see you happy."

"Your Majesty may be mistaken in this," replied Rechberg.

"Has the Emperor ever said anything to you on this subject?"

"Nothing. But I feel assured that he will refuse his consent."

"I understand, my dear Erwin. You are one of those people who like to

take trouble on interest. I see that I must help you, as His Majesty

has ordered me to be your physician. So, the very first medicine which

I shall prescribe is to keep up your spirits. In the meantime, I am

going to prepare you a sovereign remedy;" and she left the room.

"Richilda," said Beatrice, entering her private chamber, "can you not

point out some knight whom I can intrust with a message of importance?"

"The whole army is at your Majesty's orders," replied the waiting-maid.

"No! no! I mean a good sword, on whom I can entirely depend."

"What does your Majesty think of the knight Goswin? He is brave,

discreet, and would ride to Egypt for your Majesty."

The Empress' clear and musical laugh rang through the room.

"You are crazy, Richilda! Goswin, that vulgar soldier! Upon my word, he

would be a beautiful messenger."

"Pardon, madam; I had no intention of offending you; but, not to be

guilty of another mistake, it would be well if I knew your Majesty's

intentions."

"Ah! you are curious! But after all, you may as well know all. I have

long desired to see this Hermengarde, who has so dazzled with her

beauty all the knights who have met her. I think of sending a brilliant

embassy to invite her to my court."

"A most excellent idea," said Richilda.

"I have heard a great deal of her noble efforts in her father's behalf,

and I am curious of knowing intimately one whose filial devotion I have

so much admired."

"But will your invitation be accepted? The lady of Castellamare is only

a child yet,--I believe not more than fourteen years of age. She cannot

leave the castle without her father's permission, and it is scarcely

probable that he will allow his daughter to go where he was treated so

roughly himself."

"Your objections are not entirely unreasonable," replied the Empress.

"But, as a general thing, parents are not opposed to their children's

happiness, and will do a good deal to advance it, even if they have to

forget their own personal injuries. But I have just thought of a

messenger who will probably be a successful one. Come, let us go to

work at once."

_CHAPTER XIX_.

_THE CONSULS_.

Meanwhile the Milanese were bearing up courageously against all the

fatigues and privations of the rigorous siege. The same spirit appeared

to animate all classes of the population; merchants, workmen, and

nobles were menaced by the same danger, and each and all fought bravely

in defence of his rights and the liberty of his country.

Bold sorties were of daily occurrence, and every effort made to

introduce convoys of provisions into the city; but the investment was

so complete, and all avenues of approach so carefully guarded, that the

attempts were always repelled with severe loss. Although as yet there

was no scarcity of food, still the possibility of famine at some future

day decided the Consuls of Milan to call a council in order to devise

the best means of averting the danger. They were fully persuaded that

Frederic would not raise the siege, and that they had little aid to

expect from their allies.

Genoa, Pisa, and Venice had long envied Milan's power, and would glory

in her fall; while the other towns bowed before the formidable armies

of the house of Hohenstauffen, and were disposed to acknowledge its

supremacy. Their chief reliance was in the success of skilful

diplomacy; and for this they counted upon the talents and abilities of

one whom the people looked up to as a saint--the Archdeacon Galdini

Sala. At the urgent request of the Consul Nigri, the Archdeacon

repaired to the hall where the council was deliberating with closed

doors, and after a few words of introduction from Gherardo, expressed

his views in favor of a continued and obstinate defence.

"If the people are firm," he said, "Barbarossa cannot hope a speedy

surrender. I am convinced that Milan cannot be taken by assault, and

that the enemy will endeavor to reduce it by famine."

"But is there no means by which we can obtain provisions?" asked the

Consul of the merchants. "If Barbarossa ever succeeds in introducing

hunger, his most redoubtable ally, within the walls, our cause is lost!

No pains, no money must be spared to avert this terrible disaster, even

should we be obliged to spend our last penny, and turn into coin our

jewels and the holy vessels of our churches!"

"The Church will not be backward if the sacrifice be needed; but before

arriving at this extremity, every other resource must have been

exhausted."

"It is not money that we need," said the Consul Oberto, a worthy old

man, with a snowy beard; "it is not money, for the richest bribes would

fail to get an ounce of bread through the gates. The Emperor's blockade

is too rigidly enforced, and all attempts to force it have proved a

bloody failure."

"Perhaps it would be advisable," said Galdini, "to put the people on

rations. So far they have eaten and drunk as though the supply were

inexhaustible."

"I am surprised," replied Oberto, "that a man of your shrewdness could

propose such a measure. The courage of the people would quail at the

bare possibility of a danger to which hitherto they have not given a

thought. And," he continued, in a lower tone, "you know well its

fickleness, and how little it requires to bring about the most fearful

results. The simple report of a defeat excited an insurrection some

years ago, in which the Milanese destroyed the palace of a man who had

sacrificed everything in the cause of liberty. With even a distant

prospect of famine, the citizens would begin to murmur, and probably

rise in open mutiny, for they would think it better to wear the yoke of

Barbarossa than to die of starvation."

Sala was too just, too practical, to question the reality of the

picture.

"Our future looks gloomy," said Nigri. "Should famine begin to decimate

our ranks, we shall be obliged to capitulate, and it may perhaps be

advisable not to await the last moment. The Emperor might take into

consideration our voluntary surrender, and grant us more favorable

terms. I propose to open negotiations with him immediately."

The archdeacon opened his eyes with astonishment at Nigri's proposal.

"Open negotiations with Frederic," he cried; "and on what basis?"

"On the most equitable basis," said Oberto; "he who surrenders

willingly, always has less to suffer from the conqueror."

"You make a very grave mistake, my lord!" said Galdini; "there is no

possible compromise with the tyrant; offer to him the enjoyment of all

your rights; abandon all the revenues of the principality, nothing will

suffice him."

"But what does he want then?" inquired Cino, the consul of the workmen,

a man of rough manners and herculean build, but of very limited

intelligence. In spite of the gravity of the situation, Galdini could

not repress a smile, as he answered,--

"Barbarossa aspires to universal dominion. He seeks to hold in his own

grasp all control of rights and liberties; he wishes to make paltry

villages out of our independent cities. Everything must give way before

his Imperial supremacy; all must bow at the footstool of the conqueror.

Religion, the Church, all that which we look upon as holy, are in his

eyes mere machines of government. Such is Frederic's gigantic dream of

power; can we, I ask, negotiate with such a man? No! we must conquer,

or perish in the attempt!"

The archdeacon had spoken calmly, but with energy, and all felt that he

had by no means exaggerated the position. For a moment there was a

profound silence, which neither Nigri nor Oberto dared to break, and

then the street without seemed suddenly animated, there was a noise of

hurried feet and shouts and cries of alarm. Nigri rushed to a window

and anxiously inquired the cause.

"To arms! to the walls!" answered a citizen, who in full armor was

hastening towards the ramparts; "the tower of Henry the Lion is moving

on the city!"

"The tower! the tower!" cried Cino, pale with fear; "take my word for

it, before nightfall there will be many mouths less to feed among our

fellow-citizens!"

All the consuls seemed equally alarmed, the object of the council was

forgotten, and they hastily withdrew. Nigri detained the archdeacon,

and taking him on one side, said,--

"One moment, I beg you, my lord Galdini. The words spoken here might,

if known, discourage the people. I trust that I may count upon your

discretion."

"Your recommendation is needless," replied Sala; "not a word shall pass

my lips. Let us hasten, with God's aid, to repel the assault." He

pressed Nigri's hand, and the consul hurriedly buckling on his armor,

they repaired to the ramparts.

_CHAPTER XX_.

_THE ASSAULT_.

Milan was in mortal fear. The colossal form of the monstrous machine

approached still nearer to the doomed city. The streets were filled

with an anxious crowd of women, children, and men-at-arms, all pressing

with hurried steps to the scene of danger. From every door rushed the

alarmed citizens, buckling their armor as they ran. Wagons filled with

caldrons of pitch and boiling oil, creeked as they labored slowly

forward, and the shouts of the leaders, the orders of the consuls, and

the continued challenge of the sentinels, completed the wild and

confused tumult. And still the tower moved slowly on.

The garrison, to repel the attack, brought forward two large machines,

which threw stone balls and heavy missiles, and four smaller ones,

called catapults, which were to rain stones and arrows upon the

besiegers. From the summit of the walls the enemy could be

distinguished moving from their camp, in four bodies, and impatiently

awaiting the orders to rush forward to the support of the Saxon banner.

The city walls were lined with crossbow-men and archers, ready to fire

into the loopholes of the town as soon as it should be within range. In

the open space between the houses and the ramparts, the noblemen and

civic guard were drawn up, ready for the moment when the drawbridges

should be lowered and the fight become general. Everything was

conducted in an orderly manner, each man knew his duty. The women and

children had disappeared; on their knees, in the churches, they were

seeking the aid of Heaven in the strife which was so soon to begin.

All the machines were ready to commence their work of destroying the

town. The two largest were loaded with stones, so large that it

required the united strength of four men to lift them; and fires were

lighted, at intervals along the wall, on which were placed huge iron

vessels filled with oil and pitch.

Still the tower advanced. Its motive power could not be seen, and it

was a terrible spectacle, this enormous giant creeping silently along,

as though impelled by the breath of a demon.

From within could be distinguished the dull grating of the machinery,

and from the loopholes peered the fierce faces of the German archers as

they discharged a cloud of arrows upon the besieged.

Anselmo, the chief of the Milanese artillery, an old man, still

vigorous, with bold features and a quick eye, examined the tower

carefully, as it neared the walls. The troops, watchful of the least

movement of their leader Oberto, were ready to act; but if Anselmo's

skill did not succeed in destroying the tower, they felt that the city

would be taken.

"Let go the catapults!" cried Anselmo, his eyes always fixed upon the

machine.

The order was immediately executed, and the old man stepped back to

judge of the effect. There was a deep silence, and all gazed anxiously

upon the stern visage of their leader, as he touched the spring of the

engine. There was a violent shock and a cloud of stones dashed full

upon the front of the tower; but the hay and brushwood, with which it

was bordered, broke the force of the concussion. A second discharge was

attended with a like result.

"By my holy patron saint!" cried Anselmo, shaking his head, "the jade

is solid. If four hundred weight of stone have no more effect than a

shower of snow-balls, we have little chance of escaping Barbarossa's

companions. However, let us try again."

A larger stone was brought forward and put into the catapult; a moment

after it whistled through the air and struck heavily against the tower,

but without producing any impression.

"It is useless to try," said Anselmo; "the devil himself must have

built that tower!"

"Would it not be advisable," said Nigri, "to arrange the smaller

machines for the reception of the stormers, as we cannot prevent the

assault?"

"Let go the catapults!" interrupted Anselmo.

But it was all in vain, the advance of the machine could not be

checked; and the garrison turned their attention to the smaller

engines, which were filled with missiles of every kind, and to the

pitch and boiling oil, which was to be poured upon the enemy as he

clambered up the walls.

"Attention! hold everything in readiness!" said Anselmo; "mix well the

tow with the oil and pitch. Be lively, boys! take care that your casks

be filled."

Already, severe fighting was going on, in the open space between the

tower and the walls. On both sides bolts and arrows flew unceasingly,

and wherever a head appeared at a loophole it became a target for the

archers. Germans and Milanese had both suffered severely, for the

arrows and stones penetrated through every opening.

"Those Milanese fight very gallantly," said Henry the Lion, as an arrow

struck his helmet. "We have already lost fifty men in the tower."

"The foul fiend seize this style of battle!" said Otho of Wittelsbach,

who awaited, with impatience, the moment when the tower should close

upon the walls.

"We shall encounter worthy adversaries, Count," replied Henry. "They

are loading their engines in our honor!--I only trust that the fire may

not ruin the tower! The Milanese are skilful artificers."

"Upon my honor, as soon as we are on their walls, they may burn it and

welcome," said Otho.

The scene soon began to change; the Milanese had covered their ramparts

with boiling pitch, and had lighted a fire at the spot where Henry

designed to halt the tower, while barrels filled with burning tow were

rolled over on the heads of the assailants.

"Forward now!" cried Anselmo. "Get ready the fireballs!" and he rushed

to where the smaller machines were raining a cloud of projectiles upon

the drawbridges.

The battle now raged fiercely. The burning tow balls had communicated

their fire to the machine, the top of which was in flames; the Germans

worked diligently to keep the conflagration in check, until they should

be close enough to sally out upon the bridges, while the Milanese with

locked shields and drawn swords awaited the attack.

For a moment there was a deathlike silence, and then the bridges fell,

and Henry of Saxony and Otho de Wittelsbach, followed by their troops

in good order, sprang upon the ramparts. They were resolutely met. Otho

had one foot upon the wall, but he was driven back; and though his

blows made large gaps in the ranks of the enemy in this fierce

hand-to-hand encounter, their places were filled at once with new

combatants. The Lion raged, and although a foeman went down at every

thrust of his heavy sword, he was still upon the bridge, and could not

advance a step upon the rampart. The tower was now in flames, and a

cloud of projectiles darkened the air already black with smoke from the

burning resin. Still the struggle went on, and many a German knight and

Lombard noble fell to rise no more.

Henry and Otho fought on; but in vain: their efforts were powerless to

break the wall of steel which the brave Milanese opposed to their

assailants. So far, the combat had continued without any decided

advantage; for, although they could hold their enemy in check, the

citizens were unable to drive him from his position. The image of their

patron saint waved proudly above them, and the cry of "Saint Ambrose to

the rescue!" rang through the air.

In the midst of the tumult were heard shouts of defiance and of cheer.

"Brothers, think of your liberty! Death to the tyrant!" shouted Pietro

Nigri, who was fighting in the foremost ranks.

"For Church and Country! Death to Barbarossa!" cried another voice.

"Death to the traitors! Death to the rebels!" thundered Otho of

Wittelsbach, cutting down an adversary at every blow.

The battle became more desperate, and the ground was covered with the

bodies of the dead and wounded, whose blood mingled with the boiling

oil. Fresh troops came up from the besiegers' camp, anxious to take

part in the conflict. The tower was now burning fiercely, and to the

cries of the soldiers and the clash of swords and cuirasses, were added

the groans of the dying and the crackling of the flames, which issued

from every loophole, fit ornaments to this bloody tragedy.

"Back! back!" was heard on all sides; "the bridge is on fire!".

But, though like burning serpents the flames were twisting themselves

around the frail passage, although many of the soldiers had retreated

from the _melee_, Henry of Saxony, the Count Palatine, and a few other

knights still held their ground. Careless of the enemy in their rear,

they gallantly fought onward towards the city. It was in vain; the

courage of the besieged increased with the danger. A horrible crackling

noise was heard; the tower had commenced to give way, and was sinking.

Then those who were on the bridge lost their last hope; an instant

more, and all would be lost, for already it was wrapped in flames.

At this moment, the consul Oberto, a white flag in his hand, sprang

forward upon the ramparts, and, as the shrill blast of a trumpet pealed

out,--

"Valiant knights! noble gentlemen!" he cried; "cease this fearful

strife! We value courage, even among our foes; the burning ground is

giving way beneath your feet; lower your weapons, and return peacefully

to your camp."

From this act of generosity there was no appeal. Henry sheathed his

sword, and retired. An instant after, the bridge gave way, and then the

tower shooting up one vast column of fire, tottered and fell.

The fight cost the besiegers six hundred men, and the Milanese

loss was equally heavy; but it had proved one thing, at least, to

Barbarossa,--that Milan could not be taken by assault.