"I am very old now, my dear child; death may come at any moment, and
leave you without a protector. The Emperor Barbarossa has again crossed
the Alps, and opened the campaign. What will become of you in a country
where robbers and marauders can kill and plunder with impunity? No! I
would not die in peace unless the walls of Castellamare were defended
by some valiant knight."
"Dear father," she said, with emotion, "do not allude to this painful
subject. You are strong; your health is excellent; why, then, speak of
what may still be far from us, and which can only serve to make us
unhappy?"
"You speak, dear child, as all do at twenty; youth lives thus careless
of the future, and with scarcely even a thought for what the morrow may
bring forth. Thank God, my health is good, but, at my age, a man should
always be prepared for his last journey, and should accustom himself to
the thought of death, which may come when he least expects it. As I
have said, your isolation troubles me, and you should relieve my heart,
Hermengarde, of this anxiety. You have seen and known Rapallo
intimately; you tell me yourself that he is noble, and generous, and
worthy of you--"
The young girl was silent; her lips moved convulsively, and tears fell
from her eyes.
"Do not weep, my child; doubtless you are thinking of the gallant
Erwin; he deserves all our sympathy, but why cherish a vain hope? He is
dead; he has fallen beneath the weapons of the Saracens, like so many
thousands of brave knights, victims of their devotion to the faith. As
you must resign all thought of him for spouse and protector in these
troublous times, another must take his place. Your marriage is the most
ardent desire which your father now has. If you truly love him, you
will relieve his heart of the burden which oppresses it."
Her tears ceased to flow, and she reflected seriously if it were not
her duty to make the sacrifice which her filial love seemed to exact in
order to secure her father's happiness.
At this moment the door opened, and Rapallo entered the room. The young
man was scarcely above the middle height; his face beamed with
frankness and benevolence, though his features were rather agreeable
than positively handsome.
"Here you are at last, my dear Rapallo!" said the old man. "We were
just speaking of you. You are right welcome now, although you have been
neglectful of us lately."
Heribert bowed respectfully to the lady, pressed Bonello's hand
cordially, and took a seat by his side.
"I was compelled to accept the invitation sent me by the Lombard
confederation, which I am about to join," said he.
Bonello shook his head with a marked expression of disapproval.
"At least, I trust that you have made no positive engagement without
consulting me?" he said. "Will you risk your life in an enterprise
which has no chance of success? Heribert, Heribert, this is not well
done! you have been very imprudent. I augur nothing good from this
attempt."
An animated discussion followed between them; Hermengarde profited by
it to leave the apartment unnoticed, and retired to her own room, where
she could weep at her ease.
"Without doubt, I admit all that," replied Guido, after his guest had
explained the motives which had induced his acceptance of the
invitation sent to him. "I will even go further. I will suppose that
the league increases, that the cities and the nobles have given in
their adherence to it, that the necessary funds can be procured, that
its generals are skilful, that it can command everything necessary to
sustain the struggle: one thing will still be wanting, and that
is--unity. So long as Pavia, Genoa, Lodi, Pisa, and Florence, that is
to say, the most important cities of Northern Italy, support the
Emperor's cause, every attempt at independence will only aggravate our
condition."
"Must we then always wear our chains?" cried the young man, in whose
eyes shone a fire which Guido had never before observed in him.
"As long as Italy deserves her chains, she will wear them, and she does
deserve them for her intestine divisions," replied Bonello. "Besides,
be convinced that, in a military point of view, we are far inferior to
the Germans. We have been taught this again by the late bloody battle
fought near the walls of Rome. Forty thousand Romans have been routed
by twelve thousand Germans, and of the forty thousand scarcely one half
have escaped from the field."
"That affair is not so important as was at first supposed," answered
Rapallo.
"Naturally the Lombards have tried to depreciate their enemy's success.
But it is certain, my lord Rapallo, that, at the siege of Ancona, the
German advanced guard, even without its usual leader, Frederic, well
nigh annihilated the Roman army. Give the Emperor time to install his
Pope on the throne of Saint Peter, and conquer the Sicilian princes,
and you will soon see then how easily he will overcome the Lombards."
"But the yoke which we bear is intolerable. The cries and complaints
which we hear on all sides, are heartrending."
"Yes, our countrymen know very well how to complain. However, I readily
acknowledge that their murmurs are well-grounded; but this new
insurrection will be entirely to the Emperor's advantage; he will find
in it an excuse to weigh us down with new extortions. So, my dear
Rapallo, listen to an old man's advice: have nothing to do with the
league, and do not compromise yourself in a rebellion which will have
no better success than all those which have preceded it."
Heribert changed the subject, and soon after took leave of his host.
"I should have wished to speak to you," said Guido, "upon another
business, which probably would not have seemed disagreeable; but as you
appear in a hurry, we will reserve it for your next visit."
_CHAPTER L_.
_THE CONSPIRATORS_.
The young nobleman galloped rapidly through the narrow valley of
Castellamare, and more than once turned in his saddle and gazed
earnestly upon the ancient walls of the lofty castle.
"What could he have meant?" he asked himself, "The good old man
probably wishes to give me a suit of that costly armor which I have so
often admired. If he do so, I will send him the best horse in my
stables." In his excessive modesty, he had not suspected the old man's
intentions, for he had never allowed such a hope to dwell in his
imagination for a moment.
After a long ride, he entered a ravine, shut in on every side by lofty
mountains. The heights were covered with trees, but below, all was
barren and desolate. A few fruit-trees stood here and there as vestiges
of former cultivation, and some stakes, almost decayed by time, rose
from among the thistles and rank grass. In the lower part were the
ruins of an ancient monastery, of which the four walls and the tower
alone remained, and although of comparatively recent date, the stones
were covered with parasitic plants. Heribert fastened his steed to a
fragment of the wall, near which stood a number of other horses, all
saddled, but browsing upon the abundant herbage.
He then proceeded to the church, where the profound silence would
scarcely have allowed him to suppose, that he was in the immediate
vicinity of hundreds of men all breathlessly awaiting an orator of a
kind widely different from those who had formerly spoken there.
A rostrum of moss-covered stones had been erected on the place where
the altar had once stood, and upon it was a man depicting in fervid
language the misfortunes and disasters of Lombardy. His audience, who
were all in armor, listened to him with passionate and earnest
attention; at times they applauded his words, at others their shouts of
menace and defiance proved that he had succeeded in arousing their
resentment. Rapallo, fearing to interrupt the harangue, stopped at the
door.
"Dearly beloved brethren," cried the orator, with a piercing voice,
"you have seen that Barbarossa is insensible to our grievances. In vain
you have protested against the insolence of his prefects, against the
injuries done to your property, the drudgery which has been imposed
upon you, the ill treatment which you have borne; in short, against all
the acts of violence and oppression of which you have been the victims.
The Emperor has remained deaf to all your complaints. Do you know the
reason?"
The orator paused for a moment; his lips compressed, his nostrils
dilated, he seemed to infuse into his hearers, by his looks, the fury
with which he was himself animated.
"It is," he resumed in a still higher key, "because he looks upon you
as slaves, whose necks are fitted to bear the yoke of his tyranny.
Think of what he once said at Pavia: 'Italy is a conquered province,
she has lost all her rights; to demand any of her former privileges is
an act of rebellion.' Yes, this is what he said openly, the despot! I
heard him with my own ears; yes, he dared to say, that you have no
longer any rights, that you are nothing but his vassals."
A dull murmur ran through the assembly.
"Thus, brothers, when we appeal to right and justice, we are guilty of
rebellion. With such principles, what have we left to hope for? Are you
astonished now that an abstract has been made of your lands, of your
houses, of your herds, of all your wealth, and that you have been taxed
in consequence? Do you not know, brothers, that you no longer possess
anything, but that all belongs to the Emperor? Gather in your harvests,
the bailiffs come with their satellites and take what they please.
Prayers and tears are unavailing. Only enough is left us to barely
prolong our own wretched existence, and that of our children; and this
is all that is necessary for slaves, who live merely in the interest
and for the service of their master."
The murmurs became more threatening, for passion was working in the
hearts of all.
"Poor slaves," he continued, "life is only a burden destitute of every
joy. For this we have been deprived of our rights to hunt and fish, for
this we are not allowed an instant which we can devote to the most
innocent amusement. Woe to him who would leave his work to take a
moment's rest. Is it right and just that your lives should be consumed
in the most painful drudgery, that you should be subjected to every
privation, whilst your masters revel in every luxury?"
The orator had attained his object, for he was compelled to pause an
instant in order to allow his auditors to give vent to their rage in
fierce imprecations against the oppressors of their native country.
"In ancient times the barbarians overran our fair land, but they only
passed over her surface; by bending the head to the storm, its fury was
soon spent, and the evils could be repaired. Barbarossa, on the
contrary, has put about our necks a yoke from which there is no relief.
We must build with our own hands the fortresses which threaten us; with
our own hands we must construct for these cruel vultures--I mean for
the worthy prefects of the Emperor--those nests from which they can
swoop down upon us with impunity, to pillage and murder. Will you
always submit to slavery? Are you willing to be oppressed until death
sets you free? Will you not, at last, rise in your might, and expel the
tyrants?"
"Liberty forever! Death to the tyrants! Down with Barbarossa! May he
die, he and his infamous satellites!" was heard from all parts of the
ruined church.
"Yes! liberty forever," resumed the orator in a calmer tone; "the hour
of our deliverance is at hand; profit by it, for it may pass, never to
return. At present the Emperor is before Rome. The most solid bulwarks
to our liberty are the Church and Alexander, the successor of Saint
Peter. If Barbarossa succeeds in overthrowing him, we shall lose
forever all hope of shaking off the yoke imposed upon us by the Germans
and the Emperor." And the orator descended from his rude platform amid
the clamorous applause of his auditory.
The speaker was a nobleman of great respectability, whose patriotism
was equalled by his benevolence towards the needy and distressed. He
had exaggerated nothing; but, on the contrary, had endeavored to
palliate; and this very circumstance had increased the effect of his
discourse. The pitiless severity of the prefects was, unfortunately, a
positive and general fact, and the harsh sentiments of the Emperor
towards unhappy Italy were only too evident. By adroit allusions, the
orator had awakened all the memories of his hearers. A great number of
them had felt the avidity of Frederic's agents; many had even suffered
cruel tortures; and as they related their misfortunes, each imparted to
his hearers the hatred by which he was himself convulsed.
Soon the assembly arrived at a paroxysm of fury. On all sides were
heard fierce curses and expressions of grief and anger. Their arms
shook with menacing sound; their eyes flashed; the audience seemed
inspired with indignation.
At last another orator mounted the rostrum, and the noise gradually
ceased.
"It is the Milanese Pandolfo," was said in a low tone; for all that
came from Milan was received with great respect. Milan had won the
martyr's crown.
"I bring the good wishes of my city to all the brothers of the Lombard
League," said Pandolfo, with a clear, ringing voice. "You have heard,
no doubt, that Milan is no longer a mere heap of ruins; her walls have
risen; her fortifications have again appeared, and soon she will stand
more proud, more threatening, than in former days. But walls and towers
are not enough to defend us against tyranny; what we need above all,
what already constitutes our strength, is a powerful organization, and
an extension of the Lombard League. Many powerful cities have already
joined her; and next to Milan I can cite Brescia and Bergamo, Cremona
and Placenza, Parma and Modena, while others are ready to raise the
standard of Italian liberty. We no longer hold our meetings in the
midst of ruins, or in narrow ravines, but in the open country. Whilst
you are still forced to tremble before the minions of tyranny, and
escape by stealth, to meet here, we defy Barbarossa's prefects, for we
are now powerful, and strength gives us courage. Fear not for the
interests of our sacred cause. Neglect nothing to gain over to it your
kinsmen, your friends, and your neighbors. Encourage the timid, arouse
the cowardly. The victory is ours, and the chains of slavery will be
broken from the very moment in which we shall be united."
Until then, Pandolfo had spoken in a calm and measured tone, and he
observed with great satisfaction the favorable impression which had
been produced by his report on the progress of the league. But soon, to
arouse still more the minds of his audience, he began to paint the
unhappy condition of Italy, and his language and manner became more
passionate.
"Dear brothers," he said; "you have all seen at Milan, of what Frederic
is capable, and what is the fate which threatens you. Perhaps you think
that your misfortunes have reached their furthest limit, but you are
mistaken. You are robbed, you are beaten, the fruit of your toil is
torn from you, your horses and your oxen are stolen before your eyes,
but as yet they have not carried away your wives and your children. You
are treated with harshness, but they have not yet pillaged your
churches; they have not profaned and desecrated your sanctuaries."
"Yes they have!" cried a voice, trembling with anger; "yes they have!
Our bailiff--may God curse him!--has carried off everything of value
which was in our church; he tried to force our old priest to pray for
Barbarossa and the high-priest Caiphas (the Antipope Pascal). Our good
priest protested, and was shamefully beaten, and we ourselves, for
refusing to pray for our oppressors, were driven from the church with
blows and curses."
"All this is but a drop in the bucket," resumed Pandolfo. "Do you not
know, brothers, that the Church, the Pope and the Clergy, are slaves
like ourselves? Is it not right and proper that the Pope and the Clergy
teach, pray, and preach in conformity with the Emperor's orders? Since
you are Frederic's property," he added with bitter irony, "it is only
reasonable that he should watch over your minds and your bodies; of
course always in accordance with his own personal interests. You seem
astonished! Perhaps you think that I exaggerate? If so, it is because
you do not know what an Emperor is, and what ideas he has of his own
importance. Are we not told that the ancient Romans worshipped their
sovereigns? Go to Rome, you will still see there the statue of the
divine Augustus. Aye, the Pagan emperors called themselves gods, and
their subjects were compelled to pay them divine honors."
"What infamy! what impiety!" exclaimed the audience.
"Has not Barbarossa already assumed the title of Augustus? As he
affects to imitate the Roman emperors in all things, he will finally
oblige us to adore him as a divinity."
A derisive laugh interrupted the speaker for a moment.
"You laugh, brothers, you imagine that I am jesting? I speak in sober
earnest. The tyrant's pride will not stop short of the abomination of
idolatry. You shake your heads; it appears impossible? Let me only ask,
did it not seem impossible ten years ago, that you would become slaves;
that the time would come when you would no longer have possessions, or
rights, or liberty? Is not the Emperor to-day Pope? Is not the
pretended Pope the Emperor's humble slave? Does not the Emperor pretend
to an authority over the Church which is wellnigh divine? Is it not he
who lays down the forms of preaching and prayer? Thanks to him, our
bishops have been replaced by the minions of tyranny, and our good
shepherds by ravening wolves who tear the flock."
"He is right! all that is only too true; Pandolfo is right!"
"Barbarossa is the Antichrist!"
"He is a child of Satan!"
"A worthy successor of Nero!"
"An infamous tyrant!"
"Curses upon him! may he die unabsolved!"
"Long live our Holy Father the Pope! May God save Alexander!"
"Yes, long live the Pope! may God protect him!" resumed Pandolfo, who
was charmed with the enthusiasm which he had excited. "The sovereign
Pontiff is the rampart of liberty, the only real defence against
Imperial despotism. Why is it that Barbarossa has turned all his rage
against Alexander? It is because he knows that he can never accomplish
his perfidious ends so long as the Christian world shall retain him
whom God himself has appointed to be the guardian of right, and
morality, and liberty. The Pope suffers and struggles in our cause; let
us unite with him, let us bravely flock to freedom's standard. Raise
your right hands, and swear allegiance to the Lombard league."
Instantly a hundred hands were stretched forth in breathless silence. A
heavy cloud overshadowed the sun and seemed to threaten the roofless
cloister. A violent wind rushed through the dismantled windows and
shook the parasitic plants upon the crumbling walls.
"As it is better to die gloriously than live in shameful slavery,"
cried Pandolfo, whose clear voice rang through the ruined building, "we
promise obedience and fidelity to the principles of the Lombard league.
We swear to devote our property and our lives to our faith and our
country, to the Church, and to liberty. We take God as witness to our
loyalty; may He doom us to eternal torments if we violate our oath!"
"We swear it;" and the oath unhesitatingly pronounced by a hundred
voices was repeated by the echoes of the surrounding hills. The
assembly then broke up, and the conspirators separated; on their
features might be read the thoughts which filled their minds, and the
noble resolutions to which they had subscribed. Less than a quarter of
an hour afterwards the ruins had become once more silent and deserted.
_CHAPTER LI_.
_THE TRIBUNE_.
Whilst the deputies of the Lombard cities were travelling through the
province and working at the organization of the league, Frederic and
his army were encamped before the walls of Rome. Informed of the storm
which threatened from the North, he would have raised the siege and
marched at once against the rebels, but Dassel dissuaded him. It was
first necessary, the statesman urged, to expel Alexander from Rome, and
place Pascal upon the throne of Saint Peter.
Henry the Lion, the Duke of Austria, and nearly all the princes of note
had refused to send their contingents against Rome, and remained
quietly in their homes, for they had begun to foresee the designs of
the Emperor.
The German and Italian bishops, however, eagerly took part in the
siege, and, clothed in armor, prepared to use the sword and lance to
overthrow the successor of St. Peter. For the monarch had at last
humbled the pride of the prelates, who, for the most part, were his
mere tools, whose consciences were fettered with golden shackles. Rich
and powerful, their ambition urged them to further the projects of the
Emperor, which in abasing the Papacy lessened the power of the temporal
princes.
Frederic's army was numerous, brave, and accustomed to victory. A
division commanded by the Archbishop of Mayence and Cologne, had
already achieved some successes, but Rome still held out, and her fall
seemed yet uncertain. Everything presaged a long struggle, much to the
dissatisfaction of the Emperor, who had just learned the increasing
development of the Lombard league and the advance of William of Naples,
who was marching to the assistance of the eternal city.
"Your advice is replete with danger," said Barbarossa to his
Chancellor; "the Lombards are rising _en masse_; they have decapitated
or hung my lieutenants, and are working diligently upon the
fortifications of Milan, whilst we stand here idle. It is a mistake, an
evident mistake."
Rinaldo merely smiled with the air of one who feels certain of success.
"When we can strike at the heart of our enemy it would be folly to try
only to wound his foot," said he. "Rome is the heart; Alexander is the
life of the confederation. Let Alexander fall, the rest must die of
necessity."
"Your arguments are good, but mere argument will not harm a hair of
Roland's head."
"Every precaution has been taken against contingencies," continued
Dassel, without replying to the Emperor's observation. "The Pisan fleet
guards the mouth of the Tiber, our Brabancon troops scour the country;
in short, Roland's escape is impossible."
"It is most probable that he will not put your precautions to the
test."
"Within three days at the latest, my Emperor and Lord will hear in the
Church of St. Peter the solemn mass which I myself will celebrate as a
thanksgiving," said Dassel, calmly.
Frederic gazed at him in astonishment.
"My captains watch most diligently," resumed the statesman, "and Roland
would need wings to get away again! If I had a hundred more gold pieces
to spend, perhaps the worthy Romans would open their gates to us
to-morrow. My promises, too, have a good deal of weight: abolition of
all taxes, re-establishment of the Senate, privilege of electing the
Pope!"
"Ah! you have promised all that?" said Frederic.
"Certainly! but when you are in the city, you can only keep as many
promises as it suits you; for, personally, you are pledged to nothing.
I assure your Majesty that I have never seen a city which can be so
easily deceived as Rome: all that is necessary is to promise.
Everything is false among the brave Romans."
"I know and appreciate them as they deserve," replied Frederic. "All
that remains of their ancient glory is an overweening pride, which I
mean to humble."
"Hark!" cried Dassel, "what is that noise?"
An extraordinary clamor was heard in the direction of the square of St.
Peter, where an immense mob shouted and howled in such confusion that
it was impossible to understand their meaning.
A marble column stood in the centre of the square, but in place of the
image of the Holy Virgin, which it usually supported, it now served as
a pedestal for the tailor Guerrazzi, while the sacred statue was laid
upon the ground beside it, and a dense crowd pressed forward to listen
to the excited orator. The tailor laughed and wept alternately, waved
his hands, beat his breast, and tore his hair, while his voice assumed,
by turns, an expression of menace or of flattery, as the occasion
required. Guerrazzi was a paid agent of the Chancellor, and it was his
pockets which received the gold pieces of which the latter had spoken,
and which were to be distributed among the conspirators. The Romans
were sharing the common lot of all those nations who are mad enough to
suppose that schemers have any other object in view than self-interest;
they were deceived and sold by the very men whom they considered to be
their most devoted champions.
The orator pointed proudly towards a circular tower, which stood in
front of him, commanding the square, with which it communicated by a
bridge and a wide street. This building, whose lofty walls overlooked
the whole city, was the mausoleum of Adrian, afterwards called the
castle of Saint Angelo, and at present the Pope's last refuge.
"Look there!" cried the tailor, who was trying to flatter the national
pride of his audience by recalling the mighty deeds of their ancestors;
"look there at Adrian's mausoleum! there stands a memento of Roman
grandeur. How magnificent it still is! I see before me the sons of the
Gracchi, of the Scipios, of Brutus, the descendants of the masters of
the world. But what are we to-day? We are mere pigmies in comparison
with our progenitors. Ah!" said he, weeping, "there was a time when
Rome dictated laws to the world, and all nations paid tribute to
her majesty. Then our Senate, like a council of gods, sat in the
Capitol!--And now?--But who has robbed us of this greatness? Who
governs the universe after despoiling the Roman people of its
power?--The Pope!"--and the angry tailor paused.
"It is true!--It is true!"
"Well said!"
"What wisdom!"
And the crowd burst out in frantic applause.
"Romans!" continued the orator, "fellow-citizens! the Popes are the
successors of that Saint Peter who thrice denied his master; but
many of them seem to take as their model the thief, the traitor
Judas!--Consequently, all the Popes are great men, but"--(here he
paused and pointed to the castle)--"all the Popes are not saints!"
Again the mob applauded, but the wily orator, seeing at once that he
trod on dangerous ground, made a skilful diversion.
"No one will dispute the fact that our Holy Father Alexander is one of
the greatest of the Popes!" and his voice rang out loudly, as though to
prevent all denial. "But although Alexander is a great and holy
personage, will he restore to the Romans those privileges of which they
have been deprived? No, fellow-citizens, he will not, because he
cannot! He swore to hand down the spoils intact upon the day that he
assumed the triple crown. But be comforted, fellow-citizens; we have a
powerful protector, and that protector is the Emperor! Yes, the Emperor
will bring back to Rome her pristine splendor; he will give her once
more all that was hers, for he glories in being the defender of right
and justice! Again you will have a Senate seated in the Capitol, for
the power of priestcraft has had its day. Your ancestors had the right
to elect the Pope; this right will again be restored to you. And do you
know why Barbarossa refuses to acknowledge Alexander? Solely because he
was not elected by the Roman people!"
A murmur of approbation and pleasure ran through the crowd.
"Neither Alexander nor Pascal will sit upon the pontifical throne; you
can choose for Pope whom you please. Such is the Emperor's will." The
orator was fast gaining his point, for if the Romans no longer
possessed the energy of their ancestors, at least they had their pride.
"Rome will again reign supreme; all her liberties, all her privileges
will be restored, and she will once more rule the world as before the
usurpation of the Popes. The Emperor has promised it, and Barbarossa
keeps his word. But, you will ask, what does he require in exchange?
Nothing, nothing except to receive from your hands the dignity of Roman
patrician, nothing but the privilege of nominating the Pope of your own
choice! Will you accept the hand stretched out to you by the noble
Emperor, or will you close your gates against the defender of your
liberties?"
"Long live the Emperor! Long live Barbarossa!" was shouted on all
sides.
"Long live Frederic and the Rome of Augustus!" And the cries of the
populace rent the air.
"Rejoice, O Rome! mistress of the world," cried the excited tailor,
"thou wilt once more see thy Senate, thy Capitol, the tribunes of thy
people!
"Romans," he added, with increasing energy, "to your work without
delay, every moment is of value: Elect your tribunes, send them
immediately to the Emperor; tell him that you confer on him the title
of Roman patrician, and that you wish to choose a Pope who will defend
your rights and liberties!"
Guerrazzi descended from the rostrum, and the election of the tribunes
began.
_CHAPTER LII_.
_SEDITION_.
The Pontiff was watching the people from the summit of the castle. He
was overwhelmed with sadness; for he had long known the fickleness of
the Romans, and the ease with which they could be misled caused grave
fears of an early defection from his cause. Still he gave no evidences
of discontent or ill humor; his sorrow was only that of a tender father
mourning over the errors of a loved, though wayward child.
Near him stood Conrad of Wittelsbach, the deposed Archbishop of
Mayence, a prelate of grave and dignified demeanor, whose features
indicated firmness and energy. His efforts to bring about a
reconciliation between Alexander and Frederic had been fruitless; the
angry Emperor looked upon the Pope as the only obstacle to peace, and
his renunciation of the pontifical throne was the essential condition
on which he insisted.
"Poor misguided people; what a tumult!" said Alexander. "Hark how they
cheer for the Emperor! What terrible ingratitude!"
"The Romans in this respect differ in no way from the rest of mankind,
most Holy Father. To-day they cry Hosanna! to-morrow, Death! But it
seems as though they were coming to see us," added Conrad; "the crowd
is pressing in this direction."
In fact the mob, under the leadership of Guerrazzi and other
demagogues, was moving towards the castle, and already the shouts of
"Long live the Emperor!" were heard uttered with such violence that
they even reached the Imperial camp. On the bridge the people stopped
and glared at the portcullis with an air of hatred and defiance.
Frangipani the governor of Saint Angelo, at once repaired to the
presence of the Holy Father, to inquire if he would receive the
tribunes of the Roman people.
"The tribunes of the Roman people?" repeated Alexander, with surprise.
"The designation appeared to me as extraordinary as it does to your
Holiness," replied the soldier; "but, however it may be, the so-called
tribunes of the Roman people desire an audience of your Holiness."
"Alas!" exclaimed the Pope, "their blindness is even greater than
I supposed. However, let them come, I will receive them in the
council-chamber."
A dense crowd entered the castle and were led by Frangipani to the room
which had been designated. The pontifical court had adjourned but a few
minutes before, and the cardinals' chairs were still around a long
table, at the upper end of which stood the throne of St. Peter. Along
the walls were shelves covered with books and parchments, for the
archives of the Church had accompanied the Pope in his flight.
As soon as the last tribune had entered, the doors were closed and
guarded by the soldiers, whose measured steps along the corridors,
joined to the clank of their armor, produced a marked impression upon
their excited minds. They looked anxiously around as if in dread, but
Guerrazzi, who perceived the general impression, hastened to reassure
them.
"Do not be in the least alarmed," he said, "we have nothing to fear.
The people surround the Castle, and would not leave one stone upon
another, if any violence were offered to us. We possess their
confidence, we must show ourselves worthy of our trust. Believe me,
since the time of Romulus and Remus, no tribunes have ever been chosen
with so much promptness and discrimination as ourselves. Since, in
spite of my unworthiness, the people have seen fit to elevate me to the
dignity of the tribuneship, I intend, as certain as I can trace my
origin directly back to Romulus, to show myself worthy of the honor,
and to defend the people's rights with all my energy."
At this moment the Pope, accompanied by Conrad of Mayence, entered the
hall by a side-door.
Guerrazzi's colleagues, generally, belonged to the dregs of the people,
and modelled their conduct upon his. Still, although the crafty tailor
felt persuaded of their devotion to his cause and their own ambitious
schemes, he felt that they were overawed by the calm majesty of the
Pontiff, before whom they preserved a silence which induced Alexander
to suppose, at first, that they had come to solicit his forgiveness for
the insurgents.
But Guerrazzi was not a vulgar rebel; he was a villain ready for
anything, an accomplished scoundrel. Approaching the Pope with
assurance, he drew himself up, threw back his head, and spoke thus:
"Sir Pope, we, the tribunes of the Roman people, wish you to understand
that the Emperor has offered us his friendship, and that we have
accepted it. No harm shall be done to your person, but you must resign
the sovereign dignity, in order that the Roman people may, as is its
right, choose a Pope. As you are a pious and a holy man, you may,
perhaps, hope that our choice will fall again upon yourself as a fit
person to occupy St. Peter's chair."
The demagogue was silent and awaited the Pontiff's answer, but there
was none; the arrogance and importance of the harangue rendered any
reply impossible.
The tailor had more skill and craftiness than the Holy Father. People
of elevated sentiments can never understand all the insincerity and
baseness of which vulgar minds are capable, and Alexander could not
suppose that the speaker only sought to lead him into a snare which
would make him odious to the people.
"I am aware, Holy Father," he continued, "that you desire to put an end
to the war. Many hundreds of Roman citizens are in the hands of the
enemy: Frederic has promised their release if we throw open our gates;
but he threatens to hang them and treat Rome as he has treated Milan,
in case we persevere in our resistance. He will demolish our
fortifications, will put us to the sword or send us into exile, and
will turn this noble city into a heap of ruins. It is in your power to
avert all this and save us from inevitable misery, by resigning the
throne and ordering the surrender of the city."
Despite the wickedness which appeared in the harangue, the Holy Father
was moved by the picture. He would gladly have gone into exile, or even
to death itself, in the discharge of his duty, but the people seemed
ready to yield everything rather than persevere in the struggle.
"My son," said Alexander, after a moment's reflection, "you have
undertaken a matter which is beyond the scope of your abilities, and
which is even contrary to justice; I will therefore make you no reply.
It is to be deplored that the Romans are less disposed to do battle for
God and his Church, than to make arrangements with the Emperor, whose
only object is the gratification of personal ambition. His intention is
to destroy the Church of God in Rome."
"Allow me to say, Sir Pope, that the Emperor has not come here as a
destroyer, but rather as a protector of our rights and liberties."
"You cannot believe that, poor misguided people that ye are!"
As if in answer to these words of the Pope, the yells of the infuriated
mob were heard before the fortress.
"Long live Barbarossa!--Election of the Pope!--Down with the government
of the priests!--Hurrah for the Senate!"
These words, and others of a similar nature, showed the spirit which
animated the populace.
"Listen to them, then, Holy Father! mark with what enthusiasm they
acclaim the Emperor!" said the tailor, insolently. "Barbarossa is
really a great man, an Emperor worthy of the name of Augustus. I
recollect well the time when he came to St. Peter's with Pope Adrian.
Oh, the happy days! Why cannot you, too, become the Emperor's friend?
Every difficulty would then be removed."
"You do not understand me, my son; personally, I have no dislike to
Frederic, but it is my duty to oppose his perverse designs."
"Do you not admit that Pope Adrian was a wise and saintly Pontiff?--The
people have always so considered him."
"And they were right."
"Why then could he be the friend of Barbarossa, whilst you are not so?"
Among the rare qualities of Alexander III. must be counted the truly
Christian patience with which he listened to the reproaches of wicked
men, and the mildness which he employed in trying to convince them of
their perversity. But the Holy Father was compelled to admit the
hopeless impossibility of impressing upon this rabble the great
importance of his contest with Frederic.
After a moment's reflection, he went towards the table and sought among
the parchments.
"Here is a document," he said, "written by Pope Adrian. It will show
you that our predecessor was gravely annoyed by the Emperor's conduct
which always was hostile to the independence of the Church. 'God be
thanked,' he writes to the German bishops, 'that you have remained
faithful! God be thanked for giving you the ability to judge,
dispassionately, between Frederic and the Holy See! This schism which
he has instigated will recoil upon his own head; it is like a dragon,
which, wishing to fly to heaven, has fallen to the earth, and has been
swallowed up. He who would exalt himself, shall be abased. This fox
seeks to lay waste the Lord's vineyard; this guilty son forgets all
gratitude and all fear. He has fulfilled none of his promises, he has
deceived us in everything; he deserves then to be treated as a rebel to
his God, as a heathen, as an outlaw.' You see then, my children, how
severely Adrian judged the Emperor. What would this saintly Pontiff
write now; what sentence would he pass upon Frederic at the time when
he is persecuting with still more virulence the Church of God?"
A savage yell, which seemed to approach the castle, interrupted
Alexander, and Frangipani appeared.
"Holy Father," said the soldier, "I can no longer endure the presence
of these bandits; allow me to drive them away by force."
"By no means; let no blood be spilled! Tell them," he said, turning to
Guerrazzi, "that there can be no alliance between Christians and the
enemies of God; tell them, distinctly, that Rome has naught to fear, so
long as she fights against the foes of the Church!"
He withdrew, and a few moments later, Guerrazzi was again upon his
column, haranguing the rabble which pressed eagerly around him. The
tailor inveighed bitterly against the harshness of Alexander, who, he
asserted, had no pity for the sufferings of the people, and was
disposed to resist the Emperor at any cost.
"I represented everything to him," he said, "I reminded him of Milan,
of your inevitable destruction if you rejected the proffered mercy! I
reminded him of our captive brothers who will certainly be hung, unless
we stretch out our hand to Barbarossa. With tears in my eyes, I
besought him to have pity upon us, upon our wives, upon our helpless
children; my words would have touched a heart of stone, but they were
powerless to move this barbarian. Do you call such a one a holy man, a
father?--He is a tyrant, a destroyer!"
Guerrazzi at last had carried his point; the crowd was rampant with
sedition.
"Death to Alexander! Down with the tyrant!"
"Forward!" resumed the tailor, violently,--"brave people, rise in your
might, break your chains, and go to meet your Augustus!"
He sprang to the ground, for his task was accomplished, and the fire of
sedition was spread rapidly through the masses. Rinaldo's emissaries
urged on the revolt, and soon nothing was heard but wild panegyrics of
Barbarossa, and curses against the Pope.
Each day the excitement increased in Rome, where the Chancellor had
already distributed large sums of money, and where the seditious
harangues of Guerrazzi, Bariso, and many others embroiled everything.
Alexander was denounced as a merciless savage.
"Soon, brothers, you will suffer all the pangs of hunger," said the
tailor, always speaking from his favorite column. "You will be obliged
to feed upon roots, and leather, and old shoes, and other things too
disgusting to mention. What does Alexander care for our sufferings, he
is well provided with every luxury behind the walls of St. Angelo."
"The man of the castle has no heart!" cried Bariso, who had replaced
Guerrazzi upon the pedestal; "if he had, would he compel us to bear
this misery, and submit to the misfortunes which ruined Milan? Yes, the
Emperor has sworn to destroy everything with fire and sword, if we do
not surrender within a week."
"Alexander will not resign the pontifical chair," said another voice.
"What does it signify to him if his obstinacy causes our destruction?
Barbarossa desires to restore to Rome her ancient splendor and her
liberty. Alexander has other intentions, he claims everything for
himself. He cares for neither our honor, nor our glory; he is plotting
our ruin!"
Every day there were popular meetings in different quarters of the
city, and loud complaints were launched against Alexander, while some
of the insurgents even went so far as to shout, through the loopholes
in the walls, words of encouragement to the enemy.
At last Frederic stormed a portion of the works, and burned the church
of Santa Maria della Torre; the conflagration spread, and the vestibule
of the dome of Saint Peter was destroyed.
From the summit of St. Angelo, the Pope saw the flames surround the
tomb of the prince of the Apostles; but although his face glowed with
indignation, and his lips trembled with emotion at the sacrilege, he
remained undaunted in his resolution to endure every trial in the
interest of the Church. He wept, and his tears were doubtless carried
to the foot of the eternal throne of God, where they pleaded for pity
and forgiveness.
After the capture of the Vatican, Barbarossa attacked the castle of San
Angelo, but the assault failed. Several other positions were also in
the possession of the Papal troops, but a longer resistance seemed of
no avail. It was useless to remain in a city the people of which was
hostile.
Alexander saw the precarious condition of the desecrated Church, and
resigning himself to his fate, determined to seek safety in flight. But
the enemy had evidently foreseen the contingency, and every disposition
had been made to prevent the escape of the Pontiff.
A cordon of troops was drawn around the citadel; these were doubled
after nightfall, and so great was the importance which the Emperor
attached to the Pope's capture, that none but Germans were detailed on
the service, for Frederic had little confidence in his Italian
mercenaries.
The gigantic castle of Saint Angelo rose towards heaven, and the gilded
statue of St. Michael glittered upon its summit. The helmeted sentinels
in full armor, their lances poised upon their shoulders, paced the
bridge with measured tread. At times they looked towards the castle,
then upon the river, and then towards the distant horizon; for they
knew that the Pope would seek to escape.
Further on, a strong detachment of soldiers were sleeping on the
ground, with their helmets and lances carefully piled near them. Among
these might have been seen the knight Goswin and the tailor Guerrazzi,
who were engaged in earnest conversation.
The frankness of the worthy German found little to sympathize with in
the crafty Italian; but Guerrazzi, who never lost the opportunity of
showing his zeal for the Emperor, had offered to keep him company and
share the fatigues of the night-watch. Of course no fault could be
found with this, but Goswin looked upon his companion much as a dog
would on a cat which fawned upon him. The German, it is true, had a
very limited intellect, but his natural good sense taught him that the
Italian was full of tricks and artifice.
At first he paid no attention whatever to Guerrazzi, as if to show him
that his presence was a matter of perfect indifference, and he walked
up and down the banks of the Tiber immersed in thought.
But Goswin was not a philosopher, and could not remain for hours at a
time in a revery, so he very soon began to weary of the silence, and
finally approached Guerrazzi.
"A very fine evening!" said the knight, opening the conversation like
one who did not know what to say.
"We are in the month of July, noble sir, and at this season, I think,
the custom ought to be to sleep all day and work at night."
"Sleep all day!--you?" said Goswin; "did I not see you on the square,
haranguing the Romans, and working them up as a baker kneads soft
dough? And if I mistake not, you were at the allied camp before
daybreak? Don't you sleep either day or night?"
"Not when there is anything to be done, my lord; and there will be, as
long as Rome is not entirely in the power of the Emperor!"
"What means that statue on the top of the tower?" asked Goswin,
pointing to the castle.
"Ah! that is a strange story," replied the tailor, laughing. "They used
to call the fort, Adrian's Mausoleum, but ever since an angel lighted
on it, it has been named the tower of Saint Angelo."
"An angel came there? This is a strange story."
"I will tell it to you in a few words. It happened one night while
Gregory the Great occupied the throne of St. Peter, that a terrible
pestilence had broken out in Rome. None knew whence the scourge came,
nor what caused it, but he who was smitten fell dead at once; the very
air was infected, and it is since then that it is customary to say when
a man sneezes: God bless you!--that means: may God preserve you from
the pestilence! Now, when the disease had reached its height, Pope
Gregory ordered a general fast and a procession through the city, to
implore God's pity. Nothing was of any avail, although the physicians
opposed the procession, on the ground that the concourse of so many
persons would necessarily tend to spread the contagion. Gregory,
absorbed in pious meditations, mounted to the summit of that tower,
precisely as Alexander has since done. The people marched slowly
onward, chanting the _miserere_; at every moment their ranks grew
thinner, as a corpse fell to the ground. Suddenly the sky became
illumined, and an angel was seen upon the tower. He held in his hand a
fiery sword, which he brandished over the city, and then he seemed to
return it to the scabbard. At the same instant the plague disappeared.
It is for this that you see there the image of the blessed Archangel
St. Michael, who protects us still, for since then the pestilence has
never appeared among us."
"This is indeed a marvellous legend!" said Goswin. "The flaming sword
in the hand of St. Michael clearly shows the punishment which God
intended for the Romans."
"There is no doubt about it," sneered Guerrazzi.
"You laugh?"
"Certainly; for I look upon the legend as an idle tale: old women often
see miracles where our cool, good sense perceives nothing which is not
entirely natural."
"But did not the plague cease?"
"Yes; but it would have disappeared all the same without St. Michael's
interference."
The tailor's irony shocked the honest German, whose pious faith saw
nothing astonishing in the visitation of the glorious archangel.
"If all the Romans thought as you do, they did not deserve St.
Michael's assistance."
"Bah! the St. Michael of the mausoleum is not an article of the Creed!
Although I may think the story of the apparition false, I am not a
pagan."
Goswin stared angrily at the tailor, and turned away.
Whilst this scene was passing upon the bridge, Alexander was hurriedly
preparing for his flight. The garrison was ignorant of the intentions
of his Holiness, but in the antechamber of the apartment, the bishops
and cardinals were kneeling, and reciting fervently the prayer for the
safety of travellers.
The door of the Pope's chamber was open, and through it might be seen
the Head of the Church and two ecclesiastics, all clothed as pilgrims,
kneeling before the little altar, on which burned two candles before a
large crucifix.
The cardinals and bishops prayed with voices tremulous with emotion.
"Aid thy servants, who have faith in thee, O God! Send us assistance
from thy holy place, and from Sion protect us! O Lord, be our strength
to resist the enemy, and let him not prevail against us! Praised be the
Lord! May he grant us a prosperous journey! Show us thy ways, and
direct us in thy paths. The crooked road shall be made straight, for
God has commanded his angels to protect thee on thy way. Lord, listen
to my prayer, and let the voice of my supplication come unto thee."
"The Lord be with you," said the Pope at the altar.
"And with thy Spirit," answered the cardinals.
"Let us pray," added the Pope. "O God! thou who hast caused the sea to
be crossed as the dry land, thou who hast guided the magi by thy holy
star, grant to us a prosperous journey; and may we, under thy gracious
protection, arrive in safety at the goal to which we direct our steps.
"_Amen_!" answered the cardinals.
There was a profound silence, which was broken by the entrance of
Frangipani, who in full armor stood motionless before the door. The
bishops and cardinals remained seated, but the tears were coursing down
their cheeks, for as they looked upon the Pope, they trembled for his
safety.
Without, was heard the measured tramp of the sentinels, then soon all
again was still.
Alexander knelt once more at the foot of the altar, and raising his
eyes to the crucifix,
"O my God! my Saviour!" said he with emotion, "protect the flock which
I am compelled to abandon! Be merciful to thy deluded people, for they
know not what they do."
He paused and bent his head; then suddenly looking up, he exclaimed in
a loud voice:
"O Almighty God of justice, look upon thy Church: turn thine eyes
towards thy spouse. See her misery, her forlorn condition, her
persecution, her danger! How far wilt thou allow this wickedness to
triumph, O Lord? O Lord, if thou hast pity on our misfortunes and our
griefs, come to the aid of thy Church! Awake, O Almighty God, bare thy
avenging arm! O Sweet Jesus, deign to save thy holy Church."
Alexander's voice became stronger, and his features more animated, as
though he had seen a vision. His words also had a supernatural
expression, and the Pontiff seemed to have received, directly from the
Almighty, the power to bless and curse.
At this critical moment, the representative of God upon earth had
repassed in his mind all the circumstances by the aid of which he had
struggled so long for the holy cause which had just been overthrown.
The giant grasp of the Emperor had clutched on the Church, and God
alone could compel him to leave his prey. The Pope felt all this, and
consequently it was to God that he looked for assistance, to him that
he addressed his prayers.
The cardinals and bishops remained kneeling in deep emotion, as the
Pope, rising with the air of one who had confided everything to
faithful hands, bestowed upon them his solemn benediction. Then he took
his pilgrim's hat and staff, and, followed by his companions, descended
the steps of the altar.
Frangipani had got all his men under arms in order to cover the Pope's
flight by a vigorous sortie, in case it was noticed by the besiegers.
Goswin had just lain down upon the ground and had begun to doze.
The sentinel stood upon the bridge, his head bent forward upon his
breast, scarcely awake. A heavy cloud veiled the moon and threw long
shadows upon the city; a few doubtful rays glided upon the surface of
the stream and played here and there upon the armors. Suddenly a small
postern was cautiously opened and three persons came out from the
castle.
Goswin was seated upon the ground, his face towards the river, his back
against a stone. The fatigues of the day forced Rinaldo's spy to
struggle against sleep, and he was scarcely conscious of what he saw,
everything was dim and indistinct before him. But the sense of hearing
had become more acute in proportion as the other faculties of the
tailor had diminished.
An almost imperceptible noise came from the tower, and in a moment
Guerrazzi was on his feet peering eagerly into the night. He fancied
that he perceived human forms moving away under cover of the darkness,
and he hastily gave the alarm.
"Halloa! up! look yonder; they are escaping from the castle."
The drowsy soldiers heard a fall, a shout, and then a splashing in the
water.
"What is the matter with you? what are you shouting about?" asked
Goswin. "Halloa! there he is again; ah! he has sunk a second time,"
said the soldier, pointing with his lance towards the water. "The
idiot! why did he jump into the river if he did not know how to swim?"
"Who has jumped into the river?" asked the sentinel.
"The Italian; I don't know what was the matter; he suddenly cried out
that some one was leaving the castle, and then sprang into the Tiber.
Did you see anything?"
"Nothing at all; everything was quiet; the idiot was dreaming, I
suppose."
"All this comes because of his want of respect for St. Michael," said
Goswin. "The devil has blinded him so that he took the water to be the
solid ground. I should have liked to save him, but it is not possible
to fish in the dark."
The soldiers crowded around the bridge and gazed at the water, which
was carrying the villain's body away.
_CHAPTER LIII_.
_BARBAROSSA IN ROME_.
Alexander was in safety at Gaeta before his flight was discovered by
the Romans. Frederic's anger knew no bounds.
"He has succeeded, after all, in eluding your guards and your
Brabancons," he said to Rinaldo, who communicated the fact to him.
"If we were unable to seize the Pope in Rome, we shall be more
successful at Beneventon or Naples," replied the Chancellor. "It is
probably a piece of good luck by which not only Alexander but also his
champion, King William, will together swell the triumph of the Roman
Emperor."
The news spread rapidly through the city, and a thousand details were
added, all in favor of the Pope's sanctity. Some even asserted that he
had penetrated unseen the line of sentinels, and that Guerrazzi had
perceived and tried to seize him, but had been thrown by invisible
hands into the Tiber. As he was going, added the crowd, the Holy Father
had fulminated the anathema against Barbarossa, and had called down the
vengeance of Heaven upon the head of the wicked Emperor, while a flash
of lightning had pierced the clouds, announcing the most dire
misfortunes.
These marvels were related everywhere, and acquired additional credit
from their very circulation.
Frederic determined to make his triumphal entry into Rome on the 3d of
August, when he and Beatrice would be crowned in the Church of St
Peter, and receive the allegiance of the inhabitants. It was necessary
that Frederic should enter Rome with becoming pomp, and immense
preparations were being made for the reception. St. Peter's Square and
its vicinity was profusely decked with flags, and flowers, and laurel
crowns; and tall poles, hung with streamers and appropriate emblems,
were set up in all the streets through which the procession was to
pass. Frederic had announced three days of popular festivity, during
which he was to appear in public, robed in the Imperial purple, and
dispense his bounties in person. The Romans were favorably disposed;
all the avenues were alive with crowds of citizens in their holiday
attire, and in each house everything was being made ready for the
banquet.
In the army, too, every one was busy; the squires and men-at-arms
brightened up their armor and polished their lances and bucklers; in
the ecclesiastical quarter, the chaplains were preparing the sumptuous
vestments of the prelates, while the nobles were assembled in Council
near their sovereign, deeply intent upon the organization of the
cavalcade.
Heaven alone appeared unwilling to take part in the festival. Until
then the burning sky had diffused a stifling heat, but on the eve of
the ceremony heavy clouds began to collect upon the distant horizon,
and pile up in dark masses, whence flashed lurid sheets of fire, while
the thunder rolled menacingly. Still the air was calm, and scarcely a
puff of wind fluttered the gay pennons of the knights. All nature
seemed hushed in dread expectancy.
Goswin was seated at his door, watching the darkening sky, and as the
weather became more overcast and the lightning blazed more fiercely, he
shook his head uneasily.
"Tighten the tent-cords, Bruno," he said, turning to his squire; "we
shall have a storm soon."
Hardly was the order given before the tempest burst forth in all its
fury. The tents were prostrated or else whirled away by the wind; and
on all sides were heard the shouts and cries of the soldiers struggling
amidst a deluge of rain to repair the wild confusion.
Fortunately the hurricane was of short duration, and subsided as
rapidly as it had arisen; but it seemed as though a threat from Heaven
weighed down the army and the city. The lightning had ceased, and the
thunder rolled no longer, but the clouds, which had been chasing
rapidly through the air, suddenly stopped, as though they had reached
their destination, and hung over Rome, gloomy and mournful as a
funeral-pall.
Knights and pages looked with apprehension upon this ominous calm. To
most it seemed as though the storm was only massing its strength in
order the better to destroy all within its reach.
"What a singular tempest!" exclaimed Frederic, who had been driven from
his tent by the violence of the gale; "it is as though chaos had come
again."
As if in answer to the Emperor, a dazzling flash furrowed the sky, and
extended from above the camp to the Eternal City, as though to presage
its destruction, and then the lightning again blazed forth, and crash
succeeded crash, while the rain poured down in torrents. Then there was
a pause, followed by three deafening peals, at regular intervals, and
all was still.
The statue of the Archangel no longer guarded the summit of Saint
Angelo; the tempest had hurled it from its pedestal. All was wild
uproar; and the affrightened soldiers sought shelter where they could
from the violence of the storm.
"Woe to us!" they cried; "our last day is at hand; we must all perish
in this deluge!"
But although the environs of the city were laid waste, no one was
fatally injured, and soon the clouds rolled away, and the stars shone
out brightly in the dark azure of the cloudless sky.
During the height of the storm, two soldiers were riding towards the
camp, but it was in vain that they spurred on their jaded steeds; the
terrified animals tumbled and stood still, as each flash burst forth.
So far as his appearance went, one of these horsemen belonged to the
highest rank of the aristocracy; his armor was costly and richly
arabesqued in gold, and his helmet bore a Count's coronet; but on the
shield the only device was a simple cross, the emblem of the crusaders.
His face, half hidden under his casque, was bronzed by the suns of
Asia, and his eyes shone brightly, as if he would have defied the fury
of the elements. He rode on calmly, with loosened rein, and at times
patted his charger's neck, with words of encouragement.
"What is the matter, my good Velox?" he said; "we have braved many a
storm before. Courage, good horse, we will soon be there."
On his arrival at camp, the stranger requested to be taken at once to
the Imperial tent.
Frederic was seated at a table; before him a parchment was spread out,
which he was reading attentively, and occasionally crossing out words
and writing marginal notes. He was correcting the sermon which his Pope
was to deliver next day in the Church of St. Peter.
A heavy step was heard, and the Emperor looked up, angrily, for he had
expressly forbidden all intrusion. But when the curtain of the tent was
drawn aside, and a man of tall stature and noble bearing entered,
Frederic uttered an exclamation of glad surprise. Throwing down his
pen, he sprang forward and caught Rechberg in his arms.
"God be thanked! You are back at last.--Come here, my boy, and let me
look at you!" and the Emperor led him to the table. "Why, you have
grown to be a man, Erwin! Your eyes glow with the fire of the Eastern
sun, and your face has gained a look of energy and resolution."
He again embraced him, and laying aside the sermon, ordered in some
refreshments.
"You are wet to the skin, Erwin; change your clothes first," said
Frederic. "Why did you travel in this horrible weather?"
"The storm broke upon me suddenly, and as far as I can judge, it has
done some damage in the camp. All I need do is to change my surcoat."
The powerful figure of the young man stood out in bold relief before
the Emperor, who looked upon him with an expression of almost paternal
interest, which softened his stern features.
"How does it happen that we have had no news of you for the last two
years?"
"The Infidels captured me while I was asleep, and for eighteen months I
have been in a dungeon, with scarcely a hope of release, for the ransom
which they demanded was exorbitant."
"I don't blame them," said Frederic, laughing; "you cost them dear
enough. All the pilgrims returning from the Holy Land relate marvels of
your prowess."
"At last the Knights of the Temple stormed the fortress where I was
confined, and delivered me."
"Ah! the Templars!--Valiant warriors! Their courage is wonderful, and
their daring amounts wellnigh to rashness; but how did you get back to
Europe?"
"On a Norman ship, which landed me at Tarentum."
"Well! you will tell me all your adventures when we have more leisure.
I look forward with pleasure to their recital. But you arrived most
opportunely for the celebrations of our late victories. We are to crown
Pascal to-morrow in the Church of St. Peter."
Rechberg made no answer, but his face wore a pained expression.
"As I have just returned from Palestine," he said, after a brief pause,
"I trust, my dear godfather, that you will excuse me from taking part
in Pascal's glorification."
"Very good! I understand," exclaimed the Emperor, with a slight frown.
"The Crusader is not inclined to recognize our Pope! Well, well, be it
so! you shall be entirely free to act in everything which concerns your
conscience."
The two kinsmen continued their conversation until a late hour of the
night.
_CHAPTER LIV_.
_THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY_.
At last the day so anxiously longed for by Barbarossa arrived; the
tents which had been overthrown by the storm were again pitched, and
the Romans completed their preparations for the festival.
Still all hearts appeared to suffer from this fictitious joy; no one
seemed at his ease; a dull presentiment hovered over Rome, where all
felt vaguely that the angel of vengeance was at hand.
A crowd of citizens dressed in holiday attire, was assembled upon the
main road leading from Saint Angelo to the Basilica of St. Peter. The
settled gloom of their features contrasted strikingly with their
brilliant costume, and as they glanced towards the castle, where had
stood formerly the statue of St. Michael, they shook their heads and
sighed.
"Saint Michael has protected us for centuries," said an old man, "but
he has disappeared now! May God have mercy on us!"
"You are alarmed at nothing, Master Bartholomew," replied his friend
Anselm; "you know that metals attract the lightning, and as the statue
was of gilded bronze, it could scarcely escape the fluid at that
exposed point."
"You are very wise, Anselm," resumed the first speaker; "but the statue
has stood there unhurt during all the storms of five hundred years! not
one had power against it until the eve of our reception of this
schismatical Emperor!"
"It is nothing but the merest chance!"
"Take care, Bartholomew," added a third, "the Emperor has hosts of
friends, and it might be dangerous to speak against him."
"I am certain that chance has had nothing to do with it!--I take care!
Anselm, do you think that an old man of eighty-seven years of age is
afraid to speak the truth? Yes, Barbarossa is a schismatic, he is the
scourge of the Church. He will bring bad luck to Rome, and I know there
are many who think as I do, but have not courage enough to express
their opinion!--Look how money has been lavished here for the last four
weeks! but see if the gold and the treason which it purchased do not
burn those who are guilty!"
And Bartholomew started off again in the direction of the Castle of
Saint Angelo.
"He is right in the main," said Gervase; "not a man in Rome has a doubt
who is the lawful Pope, but what could we do? the terrible Barbarossa
would have demolished Rome, as he did Milan, without the slightest
scruple."
"Certainly he would," replied Anselm.
"Is it true that Alexander has anathematized the city?"
"No, no!" exclaimed several voices; "he did not even curse Barbarossa."
"I can speak positively on this point," said Anselm, "Frangipani heard
the Pope's very words as he was kneeling before the image of our
Saviour; this is what he said:--'Arise, O Lord, and judge between me
and my enemies! O Almighty God, stretch out thine arm against the
enemies of the Church!'--This was precisely what happened, and nothing
more."
"It is quite enough! he called down Heaven's vengeance upon us, and we
may expect the most direful calamities!"
"Nonsense!" said Anselm; "all this is merely the effect of yesterday's
tempest."
"What a time that was, what a storm!"
"Yes, and cries and groans were heard in the air."
"And some people even saw a cross of fire above St. Peter's Church."
"Did not the hurricane come from the direction of Gaeta? Such a thing
was never known before; I tell you it was more than natural."
"You are a fool, Ambrose."
"Alexander is at Gaeta, and Rome may yet regret that she deserted the
Head of the Church. Say what you please, that was no ordinary storm.
Did you not notice in what a gloomy terrible manner it burst upon the
city?"
"Cheer up; mayhap you will be elected to the Senate, and the
embroidered toga will soon make you forget your scruples of conscience.
But here comes the procession."
At this moment the bells of St. Peter began to toll.
"Come to my house," said Ambrose, "we can see it so much better from
the balcony."
The cavalcade advanced; first came a body of knights occupying the
entire width of the street; at their head rode the herald of
the Empire, dressed in a splendid tabard. On either side was a
standard-bearer, clad in a sumptuous costume, and glancing haughtily
upon the crowd. Behind them came the serried ranks of the knights, who
had laid aside their coats-of-mail, their lances, and their shields.
They wore only their swords, and were all in plated armor, which shone
in the rays of the August sun like a moving sea of silver.
"How formidable those men of iron appear on their chargers!" said
Ambrose; "how powerfully built they seem! those Germans are sturdy
soldiers!"
"At last they have all gone by; how many were there? Just look, how
they drive the crowd back on St. Peter's Square, to form a brazen wall
up to the Basilica."
"Here come the bishops! Holy Virgin, how magnificently they are
dressed! Anselm, count the prelates.--I want to know how many of them
there are."
"Do you see that one with long, black hair? That is the bishop who
fought so bravely in the last attack, And that one behind him, with the
red head, is the Bishop of Osnabruck,--a miserable villain!"
"Yes; they all look ill-natured and wicked; they ought to be called the
Emperor's spiritual knights; how they glare at everybody!--By St.
Peter! I would not like to be confirmed by one of those gentlemen; they
strike too hard!"
During this conversation, the bishops had approached the Church; they
wore brilliant mitres on their heads, and their steeds were covered
with gorgeous housings.
Next after the bishops came the Antipope Pascal in full Pontifical
robes, surrounded by the prelates of his court. But the costume of this
Head of the Church became him as little as it had done his predecessor,
Octavian, and his embarrassed manner and undignified carriage formed a
painful contrast with the exalted and difficult functions of the
ministry which he was called upon to discharge.
"Fancy Alexander by the side of Pascal," said Ambrose. "What a
difference! In Alexander everything showed the real pope: his looks,
his words, his bearing, even the glance of his eye. But with Pascal
there is nothing! Bah! the Emperor has made a singular choice to fill
St. Peter's chair."
"Silence!" cried Anselm, "here comes the divinity of the festival, the
_Divus Augustus_ himself."