Chapter III: Part 3

The innovations attempted by Frederic in the affairs of the Church met with little favor in his eyes, for he made no secret of his leanings towards orthodoxy, and although, as a vassal of the Empire, he fought against the Lombards, still in his heart he sympathized with their resistance to the encroachments of the Emperor. He refused to recognize Victor, the anti-Pope, whose slavish nature he despised, and whom he openly treated with contempt as occupying a position to which he was not legally entitled. It needed all Frederic's diplomacy to secure the co-operation of the Duke in the struggle which he was about to inaugurate, for Barbarossa had long felt the necessity of detaching him from the support of Alexander III., and it seemed as though the crafty Chancellor had discovered a sure means of success.

Whilst the minister was plotting his dishonorable combinations, the Duke, all unconscious of the visit awaiting him, was seated in the bosom of his family, Henry was a tall, powerfully built man, with dark hair and eyes, a heavy beard, and a frank open expression upon his sun-burned features. His remarkable strength had gained him the surname of the Lion. He was impatient of all repose, and chafed bitterly at the inaction to which the Emperor had condemned him.

Near him sat the Duchess, busied with her embroidery. Not without personal and intellectual attractions, she was sincerely attached to her husband, but the affection which he had once felt for the lovely Clemence had long since made way for other sentiments. Honoring her virtues, he could not but feel deeply mortified that he was without an heir, and to his intimate associates he had more than once hinted at the possibility of a divorce.

"Look, Clemence! what a fine boy our little Hildegarde would make," said the Duke, playing with the silken curls of the child who had glided between his knees. "He would be old enough now to play with arms, or sharpen arrows, and in a few years could fight by my side!"

"And perhaps die there, husband!"

"Our five daughters run no risk of dying a hero's death!" he replied bitterly. "Ah! I would give the half of my left hand if one of those girls were a boy!"

"Henry, do not cherish such gloomy thoughts. You make me tremble for our future!"

"Never mind! a hand for a son!" continued Henry, with growing rage. "If my death-bed could be surrounded by five sons, I should feel that my toils had not been altogether unavailing. Ah! those five young lions could complete the work which their father had begun, and their combined efforts might defy the Emperor. But it is a painful, a bitterly painful thought, that I shall die and leave to helpless girls the great work which I have so painfully achieved."

Clemence let fall her work and gazed upon her husband; despite her gentle nature and her sentiments of Christian resignation, she was much depressed by his violent outburst.

"Pardon, dear Henry!" she said; "your views are selfish ones. He who toils only for earthly fame, gives little thought to Eternity. In this world, we should be contented with the consciousness that we have always acted honestly and from noble motives!"

"A sad fate!"

"But the best, the most really meritorious! The true crown of glory is eternal and unfading! What we accomplish on earth is often valueless hereafter, for what then avails a lifetime spent in strife, and storms, and troubles! I implore you, dear husband, do not question the decrees of Providence; think less of earthly greatness, for pride leads to forgetfulness of God, and to eternal perdition!"

"You are right," said the Prince, who had listened calmly while Clemence was speaking, "if we are to measure honor's reward by what comes after death; but I maintain that I would gladly exchange some leaves of my heavenly crown, for the prospect of an earthly heir."

A slight noise was heard, the curtains were lifted, and Lanzo with a serious face entered the room.

"Whence come you, knave?"

"From the gallows, godfather!"

"What! am I the sponsor of a gallows-bird?"

"You have no reason to be ashamed of it, cousin, since it appears to be the fashion, nowadays, to hang honest people!"

"Who has been hanged?"

"Oh! just now, no one; but those who have the halter around their necks are not always the worst off. It may be that your Grace or the Emperor would send an honest citizen to execution; but, when the devil in person leads a man to the scaffold, it is another thing!"

"You are not bright to-day, Lanzo!"

"And why not, master?"

"This stupid speech about the devil leading a man to the scaffold."

"My luminous idea was a true one, though," said the jester. "Would you like me to show you one of Satan's tricks?"

"I am somewhat curious; let us see."

"Be good enough then to open wide the eyes of your understanding, for he who is blind in spirit, although carnally lucid, cannot discover the wiles of the demon. The works of his diabolical Majesty are, like Beelzebub himself, of a spiritual essence. The first and chief agent of the devil is--guess what, cousin!"

"What do you mean?"

"Pride! Whenever Satan can entangle a man in the meshes of pride, it is all over with him! Pride rises, and aspires to rise. Let us suppose that our individual is a duke, he covets the Empire; and to accomplish his purpose, would destroy every barrier to his ambition, even were it necessary to be guilty of a crime. Should he be an Emperor, he desires the power of God, and even the Pope must be his humble vassal. If you look around, cousin, you can see for yourself, that is, if your eyes are worth anything. Should the proud man have an excellent wife, whose only fault is that she has not borne him a son, the poor creature becomes a martyr, for pride has no respect for the feelings or rights of others, and only dreams of seeing his own power and glory reflected in the persons of his descendants, long after his own flesh has become the food of worms!"

The Duke started, and turned towards his wife; but Clemence seemed absorbed in her work and heedless of the fool's discourse.

"Shall I show you some more of the devil's tricks, cousin?"

"No! I have had enough for to-day!"

"His diabolical Majesty has not only snares and pitfalls to catch fools, but also executioners to hunt them up! If I mistake not, one of these gentry is about to pay you a visit, cousin! Come, I will show him to you, but take good care of yourself, noble Lion!"

The prince looked anxiously to where Lanzo pointed, for he knew that his jester often veiled really serious truths beneath the semblance of frivolity.

"Here is His Majesty's servant!" said the fool, as Rinaldo entered, with a smile.

"Forgive me, my lord, for thus disturbing your family party for a moment; I could not resist the temptation of being the messenger of good news!"

"You are welcome, my lord; and these news are?"

"That to-morrow we break camp, and march upon Milan."

"At last!" cried the soldier; "it is, indeed, good news that you bring me. Camp-life is demoralizing, and we should have finished long since with our enemies!"

"So I have urged," replied Rinaldo. "His Majesty wished at first to await the arrival of the Austrian duke, but your counsels have modified the plan. I must really admire your influence over one who is so little patient of advice or control. Your Highness is as great in the council as in the field."

[Transcriber's note: Initial text of paragraph missing--possibly "The Duke was ..."] secretly flattered by this homage to his pride. "My observations have only served to develop the great military talent of the Emperor."

"With an ironical smile, scarcely perceptible around the corners of his mouth, Rinaldo answered,--

"A monarch is none the less great, because he listens to reason and follows good advice! But I have come to summon your Highness to a council of war, in which the plan of campaign against Milan is to be discussed. It will be very select, and only a few princes and prelates, who are experienced in the art of war, will be present."

"At what hour?"

"So soon as you shall have arrived?"

"Halloa, without there! my cloak!" cried the Duke.

"Oh! there is no need of such haste!" said Dassel. "Before starting, I must solicit a favor of your Highness."

"On what subject, pray?"

"Oh, a mere peccadillo! But, by your leave, I would make my confession in secret."

As they entered an adjoining room, Lanzo hurriedly concealed himself behind the hangings, as though this presumption was one of his privileges.

"What is the matter?" asked the Duke of Rinaldo, who stood before him with down-cast eyes, and an appearance of irresolution and discouragement.

"I am really a guilty man," said the Chancellor, after a moment's silence. I meant to await a more favorable occasion; but--I was an unwilling listener to your conversation with the Duchess, and much as I dislike to interfere with your domestic happiness, I have been unable to restrain myself.--That you, the most powerful prince of the Empire, should be without an heir to your glory--so mighty a tree, full of sap and vigor to remain barren--truly, it is a sad reflection!"--The Lion raised his eyes upon the Chancellor, whose face wore an expression of deep chagrin.

"A sad reflection, say you!--A man must learn to carry the burden which he cannot shake off!"

"Which he cannot?--Very true, _if_ he cannot; but, for my part, I have imagined that this accident, so fatal to your race, might be remedied. Mayhap, it will need great strength of mind on your part, or even some violence?" said the tempter, in an insinuating tone.

"Nothing more?"

"I cannot now say! The Emperor's first wife was childless; he divorced her and married Beatrice. This union has been blessed with a numerous progeny."

An expression of mingled regret and anger passed over the features of the Duke, who sat twisting his beard, in silence.

"Frederic could do it;--Adelaide was his relative!"

"Oh, that was the pretext, I know," said the Chancellor; "but we can easily find another equally good; and it is certain that the Pope Victor will gladly yield to a demand made by the Emperor, or even, indeed, to your own request. If consanguinity were a substantial ground for a divorce, it seems to me that the extinction of a noble house would be quite as valid a plea. Do not let this matter drop. I feel sure that your Grace will pardon my indiscretion and importunity."

"There is no indiscretion, my lord! It is not the first time that I have pondered over this matter; but it is strange, how different an almost familiar thought appears when couched in words!"

"It is merely the realization of our long cherished desires," said the statesman but he thought within himself,--"It is a remorse for an evil deed!"

For a moment the Duke was silent, and then, with his eyes turned towards the ground, he resumed,--

"I agree with you, that my marriage has become insupportable to me; but to commence the affair, and to carry it to a satisfactory result,--hum!--I think that rather comes within the scope of your talents and intelligence, my dear Chancellor!"

"With pleasure!--You can count upon me in every way," replied Rinaldo, and, for once, he spoke the truth. "But, in the first place, it will be necessary to secure the Emperor's consent, and, through him, that of the Pope. Perhaps, to-day you may have the opportunity of discussing the matter before four competent persons,--will that suit your Grace?"

They left the room. Henry called for his cloak, and sword and helmet. Lanzo was seated on the ground, playing with his bells.

"Cousin!" said he, looking up, as they approached, "have you forgotten all about the snares of the devil?"

As if to increase the Duke's remorse, Clemence and her children entered the room. The Duchess had heard her husband and hastened, according to the old German custom, to bring him his sword and helmet. The Chancellor bowed low before the princess, and his calm and smiling face gave no presage to the noble lady of the misfortune which menaced her happiness; but Henry, less skilled in dissimulation, averted his gaze, as he said,--

"You should not take this trouble, Clemence!"

"It is ever my pleasure to serve my noble husband," she replied, presenting him his helmet.

The Chancellor's visit alarmed her, for she knew the violent and impetuous temper of her lord, and she feared lest some misunderstanding might arise between him and the Emperor.

"Where are you going, Henry?" she asked. "Are you summoned to His Majesty?"

"Summoned,--no; that is to say, yes. I am summoned to a Council of War about to take place;" and, in company with the Chancellor, he left the tent.

"Great God! what is the matter?" said Clemence. "I have never seen him thus!"

"Nor I neither," replied Lanzo, who was still seated upon the ground. "He looks marvellously like a man whom the devil is leading to the gallows!"

"What a fearful speech, Lanzo!"

"What a wicked man, Clemence!"

"Do you dare to speak thus of your master, Sirrah?"

"Oh! I have given him up, noble lady, and have entered your service; for, methinks you will soon have grievous need of a faithful servant!"

"Why so?"

"Why so?--hum!--the why would only worry you. Never question a fool too closely, noble dame, for fools tell the truth!"

"But I would know the truth, Lanzo!"

"Good! Then pray for your husband."

"I have already done so, to-day."

"Then do it again."

"But why?"

"Because he is in bad company, and needs your prayers!"

_CHAPTER X_.

_THE TEMPTER_.

Frederic awaited Dassel's return, in a state of feverish anxiety for the success of his mission. He had carefully pondered over his Chancellor's proposition, and he now dreaded lest the refusal of Henry to the contemplated divorce might interfere with the realization of his cherished projects. The very possibility of failure was painful to him, but when the Chamberlain announced the Duke's arrival, he dissembled his agitation and advanced cordially to meet him.

"Are you at last satisfied, my dear Duke," said he, motioning to a seat.

"Certainly, I must be satisfied," replied the Duke, who seemed uneasy and dispirited.

"The princes will be here shortly, and we will open the Council without delay, for the measures against Milan must be decided upon at once. This proud and rebellious city shall feel all the weight of our displeasure,--our own opinion is in favor of utterly destroying this hot-bed of treason, and we trust that your Grace thinks with us."

The Duke remained silent, his eyes still fixed upon the ground.

"My plan is the result of mature deliberation," pursued Barbarossa; "but we would listen to your counsel."

"As your Majesty pleases," replied Henry.

The Emperor glanced towards Rinaldo, who answered by a look of astonishment.

"Your Grace seems out of spirits;--you will, I know, pardon my remark," said Frederic, cordially. "I trust that you have received no bad news from the Duchy, or that you have no domestic annoyances!"

"Domestic annoyances, only, Sire!" said Rinaldo.

"How so?"

Dassel read in Henry's silence, an invitation to take upon himself the explanation of the affair, and he began to paint in gloomy colors and with crafty skill the misfortune of the Duke, who, with all his power and renown, was doomed to leave no posterity to reflect his greatness and his fame.

"These sad facts have been the subject of our interview," he said. "Your Majesty will readily appreciate the natural despondency of a prince who looks beyond the present and who labors for ages yet unborn!"

"Really, I am deeply grieved," said Barbarossa, "but I can perceive no remedy. It does not seem as though Clemence were destined to realize your Grace's desires."

"Pardon my boldness," said Rinaldo, "if I venture to allude to your Majesty's course of conduct in a similar conjuncture."

"Very true! but every husband cannot, in the same case, do as I have done," said Frederic.

This remark was calculated to excite the pride of the Duke, who had always regarded Barbarossa as the main obstacle to his own desires of personal aggrandizement.

"The Emperor must fully understand and examine my position," said Henry, raising his head proudly. "I must observe that, were our cases reversed, your Majesty would meet that courtesy from the Duke."

"Particularly from the Duke of Saxony and Bavaria, who does not idly bear the title of 'the Lion,'" added Frederic. "But, in truth, the business is serious and difficult; and although the reason assigned for the divorce appears a valid one, it is not in our power to pass judgment. Pope Victor alone enjoys this prerogative."

The last observation was judiciously calculated. It was necessary that Henry should understand, positively and clearly, that it was only Frederic's Pope, who, upon the Emperor's order, would pronounce the dissolution of the marriage. He wished to be assured of Henry's defection from the party of Alexander III., from whom the Saxon prince had nothing to hope in the matter of the divorce. Frederic gazed at him attentively, for the Lion's silence appeared an encouraging omen, as he hitherto had been a zealous supporter of the claims of Alexander III. to the throne of St. Peter.

"We doubt not," resumed Barbarossa, after a moment's silence, "that his Holiness, upon our representations, will be persuaded."

"I would solicit your Majesty's intervention in this business, that it may be brought to a satisfactory conclusion as speedily as possible," said the Duke.

"As we have been ourselves in a similar position, we shall be able to advance most excellent reasons for its immediate solution. But I would advise that the Duchess be not informed of our project; it would cause her unnecessary pain, and a woman's tears must not influence in anyway the course of events."

The Chancellor seeing that his plot was progressing favorably, withdrew to seek for Conrad and his fair charge. He was anxious for Hermengarde's success, but less through pity for her misfortune than in the hope that it might further his own vile schemes. He found them in his own tent, which stood close by the Imperial pavilion. Hermengarde was seated in a corner of the apartment, gazing first at the sky and then towards the entrance, where she eagerly watched for the Chancellor's return. She trusted that her tears and entreaties would soften the heart of the Emperor. The monk had opened his breviary, and was praying, as Rinaldo entered smiling at the success of his plot against the Saxon Duke. He approached the young girl, and said kindly,--

"Pardon me, noble lady, if I have made you wait. In cases like yours, all depends upon choosing a seasonable moment. I think that moment has arrived."

These words awakened her hopes; but the thought that in a few moments her father's fate for weal or woe would be decided, took away her courage.

"Do not be alarmed; all will be well. Have no fear, and when you are before the Emperor, speak as your heart dictates. In such a case, that language is always more eloquent than studied words."

"Have you any hope?" asked Conrad, who sought to read the statesman's thoughts.

"Most excellent, my dear Abbot. The Emperor, I am positive, will grant Bonello's pardon. But hasten! and when you are summoned, lose no time."

He said a few more kind words to the young girl, and then left the tent. Meanwhile Frederic passed into the council-chamber, where the nobles sat discussing the siege of Milan and the future fate of the city. Obizzo, chief of the Italian auxiliaries, inveighed bitterly against the tyranny of the Milanese, and insisted upon making them submit to the same severe measures which they had inflicted upon Lodi. Obizzo's neighbor, dressed in full episcopal robes, and with a sword by his side, scarcely listened to the Italian's arguments, but watched eagerly the door of the Imperial chamber as though awaiting the presence of the monarch. It was Bishop Gero, of Halberstadt, elevated to that dignity by the powerful will of Barbarossa, in spite of all laws and justice, after the banishment of Bishop Ulrich.

That worthy prelate had sought refuge with the primate of Salzburg, and as Gero had heard of the arrival of the Archbishop's envoy, he began to fear the loss of his benefice. The bishops of Osnabruck and Minden, creatures of the Emperor, also spoke in favor of extreme measures. The Count Palatine, Otho of Wittelsbach, always impatient of long speeches, found Obizzo's harangue tedious, and began to grow angry. At this moment was heard the deep voice of Henry the Lion, the curtain was drawn aside, and Barbarossa, accompanied by the Dukes of Saxony, Bohemia, and Rottemburg, entered the room. Behind them came the Chancellor Rinaldo. The nobles bowed respectfully to the Emperor, who seated himself upon the throne prepared for him, whilst they placed themselves in a half circle before him. On his entrance, the Chancellor had arranged the curtains so as to leave a small opening, behind which stood an attendant awaiting his orders.

"Reasons of grave moment have decided us," said Barbarossa, "not to await the arrival of the Duke of Austria, but to march, to-morrow, upon Milan. With God's help, it will be for your gallantry to punish the crimes which this city has committed against justice, against the supremacy of the German nation, and against the Majesty of our own person. Conscious of their guilt, as they must be, these rebels cannot expect a war according to the dictates of generosity, but one of extermination. We desire to know whether our trusty allies agree with the expectations of our adversaries. The question then is this: shall the campaign be carried on with inexorable severity, or does the enemy deserve that we should exhibit a certain leniency, and a respect for persons and property?"

Henry the Lion, to whom belonged the right of speaking first, reflected for an instant. His chivalrous disposition did not sympathize with this war of extermination proposed by the Emperor, and a similar thought could be read in the countenance of the Duke of Rottemburg and the Count Palatine Otho.

The schismatical bishops, who understood at once that Barbarossa had determined upon the total destruction of the city, bent their heads in token of adhesion. They could scarcely wait for the moment of the ballot, so eager were they to give signs of their obedience. Obizzo moved impatiently upon his chair, unable to understand the hesitation of the Duke of Saxony.

"I came here with my Saxons and Bavarians to fight against the enemy," said the Lion; "to punish the rebels, and to make them acknowledge your sovereignty. But all this can be accomplished without laying waste this beautiful country. Why destroy their vines, uproot their trees, ruin their crops, burn their villages and hamlets? I am no partisan of useless cruelty."

"In other circumstances we would agree with you, noble Duke," replied Frederic; "but we think that Milan should receive the same treatment which she has inflicted upon other cities."

The Margrave Obizzo could no longer keep silence.

"Why show mercy to the scourge of all Lombardy? Milan has shed torrents of innocent blood, and has left to her victims only the choice between death or slavery! Yes," he cried, "Milan has a thousand times merited her destruction. And what I advance here, my lords, is not merely my individual opinion, but the sentiment of all Lombardy."

Obizzo's arguments coincided with the desires of the Emperor, but as he was about to continue, the latter stopped him by a look.

"You have not exaggerated, Margrave," said he, "but your emotions have carried you, perhaps, too far. What is your opinion, my Lord of Rottemburg?"

Although at heart opposed to the destruction of Milan, a punishment, in his opinion, much too severe, this prince was too anxious to conciliate the Emperor's favor to venture upon a remonstrance, and he yielded an immediate assent to the monarch's views.

The Duke of Bohemia likewise voted in favor of sack and pillage.

"And you, Count Palatine?" again inquired Barbarossa.

"I share the opinions of Duke Henry!" replied Wittelsbach; "the enemy should not have cause to think us savages!"

"If you wish to gain the enemy's good graces, my dear Count, you must treat him more gently in battle!" said the Emperor, recording the votes, which, as might have been expected, were in accordance with the Imperial wishes.

The Duke of Saxony dropped his heavy sword, with a loud crash upon the floor, and twisting his long beard, glared angrily upon the vile courtiers.

"You are not obliged to conform to the decisions of the Council," said Frederic, endeavoring to calm the Duke's anger; "we will trust to your own discretion in your relations with the enemy.--But," continued he, "some one must inform the Abbot of St. Augustine, whose monastery is near Milan, that he must solicit us to spare his convent and its dependencies. Those monks are determined opponents of His Holiness Pope Victor, and warm partisans of the Cardinal Roland."

Henry was about to say a word in defence of the Abbot, and urge that religious discussions were scarcely a valid reason for burning a monastery; but he reflected at the impossibility of obtaining from Alexander III. the dissolution of his marriage, and he was silent.

"Those monks are your Majesty's most dangerous enemies," said Obizzo; "they continually excite the people and kindle the spirit of rebellion, on the pretext that your Majesty robs the Church of her liberty, and seeks to submit everything to your power."

Rinaldo here made a sign to the attendant, who immediately disappeared.

"As far as I know," said Werner, Bishop of Minden, who never let pass an opportunity for the display of his learning, "those monks follow the rule of St. Augustine, which Rule, Book II., chap. 12, forbids them expressly, taking part in worldly affairs, and recommends study and a life of contemplation."

"Pardon," interrupted Barbarossa, who feared a learned dissertation, "St. Augustine's rule has no connection with the question now before us."

"Certainly," said the prelate, humbly; "the rule has no connection with the rebellion. I merely cited it to show that I heartily approved of the punishment of the Augustinians."

"It seems to me," said Gero, Bishop of Halberstadt, "that these monks richly deserve punishment, since they have refused to acknowledge the Pope appointed by the Emperor, to whom belongs, by immemorial custom, the right of nominating the Roman Pontiff. For this reason alone, if none other existed, the followers of St. Augustine deserve to be treated as rebels."

Not a voice was raised in defence of the poor monks, and it was decided that their monastery should be destroyed.

The Emperor was returning his thanks to the princes for their able counsels, when the silken curtain which closed the entrance to the tent was thrown wide open. On the threshold stood the stately form of the Abbot Conrad holding by the hand the trembling Hermengarde--a shrinking girl by the side of a gray-haired man. Near them stood Erwin, the Emperor's godson; for the youth, touched by the girl's misfortunes, had hastened to offer his services in her cause. His relationship to Barbarossa permitted him to follow the Abbot to the council-chamber, where he intended to use every effort to advance the cause of the unhappy Hermengarde.

The Emperor appeared surprised and annoyed, the presence of the Abbot and his charge explained the purport of their visit, and a sombre frown augured ill for their success; but the nobles who were present could not but sympathize with her grief.

"Pardon, Sire," said the Abbot, bowing respectfully to the Emperor and the nobles; "my faith in your generosity emboldens me to plead, once more, in favor of the unfortunate. Before you stands a wretched daughter, whom the father's death will leave a helpless orphan, at a time when a fierce war is raging throughout the land. Will not your Majesty deign to lend an ear to pity?--it is a virtue which becomes a monarch, as much as justice."

While Conrad spoke, Hermengarde had fallen upon her knees; but spite all her efforts, she could only falter out--

"Pity--mercy!--for the love of God! Be merciful!"

Barbarossa remained seated; his scowling gaze turned upon the Abbot.

"You might have spared yourself this effort, my lord Abbot," said he violently; "do you imagine that a woman's tears could succeed, where your arguments have failed?"

"I had hoped it, Sire. It is natural to the human heart to be touched by the tears and prayers of the innocent. I hoped for nothing less from your Majesty's!"

They were alarmed at the bold demeanor of the Abbot, but the Lion bowed his head approvingly, and Barbarossa's scowl deepened. During the scene, Rinaldo had narrowly scanned the Duke's countenance, as if to mark the effect produced upon him by the remarkable beauty of the fair suppliant. But the crafty statesman was wrong if he imagined that a man of the Lion's character could be ensnared so easily. Had the Duke given any indication that the plot so skilfully imagined would be successful, the Chancellor would have urged Bonello's cause, but Henry's countenance remained impassive. Hermengarde was still upon her knees weeping bitterly, and her face hidden in her hands. At times she looked upon the Emperor, striving to collect her thoughts, but the stern face of the monarch appalled her.

"Pity!" she cried. "Spare my father's life; he regrets his crime! Oh! pardon him!"

"Enough of these lamentations!" said Barbarossa; "let some one lead this woman hence!"

The Bishop Gero hastened to comply with the Emperor's wishes, whilst the latter explained to those present the crime of which Bonello had been guilty.

"If you consider our sentence unjust, speak, and the criminal shall be released," said he.

"Bonello is a valiant soldier, although he has drawn his sword in a bad cause," replied Otho. "Still, I implore you to pardon him for his daughter's sake."

"Pardon him, Sire. I fear your sentence may cause the death of two persons," said Henry, pointing to the pale and trembling Hermengarde.

"This time justice must take its course," answered Barbarossa.

"The sentence is perfectly just," added Werner, of Minden. "Who would deserve death, if traitors were allowed to go unpunished?"

The two other bishops nodded in token of approval; they never dissented from any apparent desire of Barbarossa.

"You perceive, my lord Abbot, that it is impossible for us to pardon----"

He interrupted himself abruptly at the sight of Hermengarde, who fell fainting upon a chair.

"Enough of this, my lord Conrad, you may withdraw," and he motioned that they should take away the girl.

At this moment Erwin advanced, already deeply interested in Hermengarde's suffering; his godfather's stern refusal to her appeals affected him painfully. Bowing to the Emperor, with a bright flush upon his face, he said,--

"Pardon, Sire, if I venture to recall to Your Majesty's memory the recent battle, and the promise then made to grant me a favor."

"Ah! I trust that you will not make an improper use of my promise, Erwin?"

"An improper use--no, upon my honor. The favor which I now solicit, Sire, is the life and liberty of Bonello, this young girl's father."

"Is this petition serious, Count?" said Barbarossa, turning to him, angrily.

"It cannot be more so, Sire," answered the young man, promptly.

"Reflect well, boy, on what you ask," said the Emperor, fiercely. "Do not play with our promise--it is sacred; but----"

And he raised his right hand menacingly.

"If my petition were dictated by egotism, it might be considered an abuse of your Imperial promise; but I merely solicit the life and liberty of a man whose protection is necessary to his daughter's happiness. In this I merely perform an act of humanity, and perhaps of chivalry."

"Well," said Barbarossa, after a moment of angry silence, "since you persist in a demand which we cannot refuse, be it so! Bonello is free! But you, Count Erwin of Rechberg, for the improper use to which you put our word, we withdraw from you our favor. You are banished from the Court----"

He did not conclude, for Erwin, almost stupefied with astonishment, threw himself at his feet, and taking the monarch's hand,--

"Sire," said he, "in pity, withhold this sentence--do not banish me from your presence--at least not now! Let me remain near you--you who are so menaced with perils on every side. Ah! let me still continue to watch over your precious life, and prove to you my gratitude for the almost paternal love and care which, until to-day, you have ever shown me! As a boy, I played upon your knees; it was from you I learned to use the sword and the lance; you have been to me a second father! Ah! my beloved godfather, do not send me into exile! Without you I care not to live!"

The touching prayer of this devoted heart produced its effect upon the monarch, from whose face all sternness gradually passed, to give place to an expression of a more kindly nature.

"Rise," said he; "you are a great flatterer, Erwin! It may be, too, a crafty knave! What think you, gentlemen?"

The nobles were somewhat surprised at this exhibition of feeling on the part of their sovereign, but their satisfaction was evident. The Emperor continued,--

"We must not give any evidence of weakness, and as a punishment for the great interest which you have shown in favor of this culprit, you shall be banished, for a week's time, from our camp. This punishment will enable you to conduct to her home, the damsel whose cause you have so chivalrously advocated."

Emotion and fear at first did not allow Hermengarde to take in all the details of the scene. But when the youth came to tell her of her father's pardon, her joy and gratitude knew no bounds. Rising hurriedly, she would have thrown herself at the Emperor's feet, but he waved her away impatiently.

"You have no cause to thank me," he said. "Farewell, madam; this business has wearied us!" He signed to her to withdraw, and Conrad, Rechberg, and Hermengarde left the tent.

_CHAPTER XI_.

_THE JOURNEY_.

Erwin thought it advisable to accompany Bonello and his daughter until they had reached a place of safety. Well aware of the dangers of the road, and the bitter party feeling throughout Lombardy, he feared lest the old man might lose his life, were he to meet any of the soldiers from Lodi, Pavia, Cremona, or the other cities which were leagued against Milan. He therefore procured a strong armed escort to protect his friends in case of attack. Whilst the Count of Rechberg was making his preparations, Hermengarde and the Abbot hastened to the castle to communicate the glad tidings of their success to the prisoner, who, in a transport of joyful emotion, threw himself upon his daughter's breast, with tears of pious gratitude. The Abbot looked on calmly. Pietro Nigri, as though he regretted that the tyrant had granted his old friend's pardon, gazed on in gloomy indifference. After the first moments of their joyful greeting, Guido requested to be informed of the details, and the Abbot Conrad related the scene which had taken place between the Emperor and the young Count.

"Where is the noble youth?" asked Bonello; "why did you not bring him here?"

At that moment was heard the clatter of horses' hoofs, and the clank of armor, in the castle-yard, and Erwin, hastily dismounting, made his way towards the tower. Bonello watched him anxiously; and when the Count, in brilliant armor, entered the room, he rushed towards him, seized his hand, and fell upon his knees.

"Most excellent young man!" he cried; "you are my preserver! may God reward you for your kindness to my child! Heaven grant me the power to prove to you my gratitude! Anything which you may ask of me shall be yours. May God bless and keep you."

The old man spoke in a voice choked with emotion. Erwin interrupted him, for he was pained to see Bonello at his feet.

"Rise, my lord, I beg of you. Your thanks overwhelm me. I have only acted as any other gentleman would have done, in my place. I merely crave the favor of accompanying you to your home."

At this new mark of kind consideration, Bonello was about to utter further words of gratitude; but the Count interrupted him by the announcement that all was ready for their departure. They left the tower, and entered the court-yard of the castle, where stood Hermengarde's palfry, and a splendid courser for her father. The parting between Bonello and the Abbot was touching; they embraced one another, and the prelate returned to the camp. Pietro Nigri mounted sullenly, glancing haughtily upon the young girl, and contemptuously at her father.

"Farewell, lady," he said; "I wish you every happiness. As to you, Sir," he added, "I sincerely trust that you may never have cause to regret the life which you owe to a tyrant's mercy,--a life destined to be passed unprofitably, for all that concerns the honor and well-being of your country."

He dashed off before Guido could reply, and the others hastened to leave the castle, where some of them, at least, had suffered so acutely.

At the foot of the hill, they struck towards the south, and then diverged from the main road. Erwin was anxious to please his guests, and readily yielded to Bonello's guidance. The latter was perfectly familiar with the country, and desired to avoid any meeting with the Italian soldiery. For, though firmly resolved never to draw his sword again, he was pained at the sight of so many Lombards hurrying to join Barbarossa's legions and attack Milan, the most important bulwark of Italian independence, so they took a cross road which speedily led them to the summit of the plain. Every precaution had been taken against the marauders who then infested the country. In front, rode two men-at-arms; then came Rechberg, followed by Hermengarde and her father, and four other troopers closed the rear of the escort.

"We must hasten," said Guido, "in order to arrive before nightfall at the monastery of San Pietro; it will be sufficient for the first day's journey, and by starting at dawn to-morrow, we shall reach my castle before the evening."

Erwin had wished to learn some of the particulars about Bonello's family, and he at once profited by the present opening.

"Only by to-morrow evening?" said he; "then your castle must be near the Lower Alps?"

"In their very midst, Count; in the very heart of the Alps," replied Guido. "If, as I suppose, you like mountain-castles, mine will please you. Years ago, when I visited Germany, I used to admire your fortresses perched upon the craggy peaks, like immense eagles' nests. The evident disposition of the Teutonic nobility to shun the cities and low grounds, and occupy the heights, is a mark of sound judgment. Our ancestors, also, knew how and where to build their strongholds. Did you ever see Castellamare?"

"Is that your dwelling?"

"Yes," answered Bonello. "The Romans from whom I am descended, erected the fortress, and it has been in my family from time immemorial."

"Doubtless, during your absence, your son commands in the castle?"

"I have no son," answered the old man, somewhat sadly.

"That pale-faced young man, who was with you at Cinola, is perhaps one of your relations?"

"Pietro Nigri? Oh, not precisely, but almost!" Here the young girl's horse plunged violently.

"Take care, my child; your horse seems inclined to be troublesome," said Guido. "Pietro," he resumed, "is the son of the Milanese Consul Nigri. He is a most worthy young man; he was my daughter's escort to Cinola."

They approached the monastery, around whose walls the twilight mist was slowly rising. Still, from afar, could be seen the dark red windows of stained glass; and the gilded cross upon the tower, illuminated with the rays of the setting sun, shone bright through the evening haze. Bonello gazed eagerly upon this glad haven of rest, as they hastened forward.

At the sound of the bell, a grating was drawn aside.

"Open, open, brother Ignatius!" cried the lord of Castellamare to the monk, who examined the appearance of the visitors. "We wish a lodging for the night, and a flask of your best wine."

Soon a key grated in the lock, the gates opened, and the little cavalcade rode into the court-yard.

"You are most welcome, my lord," said Ignatius, cordially; "pardon me if I have made you wait. We are obliged to be most prudent, for the country is filled with marauders, who have little respect for the sanctity of our poor cloisters. Your arrival here is truly gratifying to us all; but we regret our superior's absence."

"Where is he?"

"In Genoa."

"I am extremely sorry," said Guido; "for we might have talked together until matins."

The horses were led to the stables, and a lay brother conducted the travellers to the refectory. Several long benches and tables, two comfortable arm-chairs, a handsome crucifix upon the wall, and a bronze _aspersorium_, composed all the furniture of the room. Seating himself in one of the arm-chairs, Guido at once entered into conversation with the lay brother, whose mission it was not only to receive, but also to entertain all visitors to the convent.

"The holy Abbot is at Genoa, you say?" inquired Bonello. "He absents himself so rarely that there must have been grave reasons for his journey."

The monk glanced distrustfully at Erwin, and was silent. Rechberg concluded that the Order belonged to Alexander's party and had incurred the displeasure of the Emperor. The repast was soon brought in, and the tired travellers partook eagerly of the three copious dishes. The servants were entertained in another room. The rest of the evening was passed in conversation; but Bonello made no allusion to political affairs, and the monk imitated his example, although it was evident that he would gladly have spoken of the German army and the perils now menacing the Church. But the presence of the young nobleman imposed silence upon his curiosity.

Erwin felt this reserve the more so that he feared lest Guido might suspect him of repeating to the Emperor what he had already overheard. He would gladly have talked with Hermengarde, but it seemed as if she meant to model her conduct by her father's, and all his attempts to engage her in conversation were ineffectual.

"She considers me the enemy of her country," he thought; "perhaps avoids me as a heretic. At least she might remember what I have done for her sake."

The idea was painful to him, and he was heartily glad when they separated for the night. Next morning they resumed their journey. The summits of the Alps grew more distinct, and Hermengarde's spirits appeared to brighten as they approached her home. She conversed gayly with Rechberg and asked many artless questions about Germany and its inhabitants, and he was charmed with the interest she evinced in his native land.

"Have you any mountains like those in Germany?" said she, pointing to the Alps.

"Yes, lady; and our mountains are covered with forests in which roam the stag, the roebuck, and the wild boar; but the bear, much to the delight of the traveller and the chagrin of true hunters, becomes every day more rare.

"Bears! but is it possible that any one can regret the disappearance of those fierce animals!"

"Oh! a bear-hunt has its charms!"

"Very dangerous ones, I should think."

"But it is precisely on account of their danger that this sport is attractive, fair lady. To slay a timid stag requires little courage, but a struggle with the bear needs both bravery and skill. The bear-hunt is the school in which we take our first lessons in the art of war."

The Count's earnestness proved that he spoke of one of his favorite pastimes.

"In what part of Germany is your domain, Count?" said Hermengarde, after a short pause.

"In Suabia."

"If I mistake not, Suabia is the birthplace of the Hohenstauffen?"

"Precisely, noble lady! The castles of Hohenstauffen and Rechberg are neighboring ones. Our families have always been intimate and are even connected by ties of blood."

Erwin almost regretted his last remark when he reflected that his relationship with Barbarossa would be a poor recommendation in the eyes of the young Lombard.

"I fear that our journey will be unpleasantly interrupted," said Bonello, who, for some time, had been watching a gray speck on the summit of the mountain.

"In what way, sir knight?"

"Do you see that castle? It is the dwelling of the Emperor's prefect, Herman, who is in charge of yonder bridge. He is a cruel, bad man, and levies tolls to suit his own pleasure, particularly when the travellers are wealthy or of high rank. He has on several occasions seized upon persons and held them prisoners until a high ransom has been paid for their release."

"But this is a crying injustice," said the Count, "and should be reported to His Majesty, who would punish Herman severely for his abuse of power." Bonello shook his head, with a smile.

"Herman merely executes the Emperor's orders," said he. Rechberg looked at the speaker with astonishment. He was loth to believe that such an insult to his sovereign were possible. Bonello resumed,--

"Barbarossa knows perfectly well all about his deputy here, but there are other exactions of which I believe him still ignorant. He has reduced several families to utter beggary, and when he can squeeze nothing more out of them himself, he sells them to the Jews. This is what he calls 'balancing his accounts.' I have known instances where he has stretched the poor wretches on the rack to extort from them their last pennies. In short, this Herman, the terror of the country, is a disgrace to humanity. But there are other deputies of the Emperor in some of the cities, who are equally merciless in their exactions."

"I can scarcely credit your statements," replied the young Count; "but I feel sure that upon the first complaint of such enormities Frederic would interfere."

"You make a grave mistake," said Bonello. "I have personally represented the facts to the Emperor, but in vain; his invariable answer has been, that it was the duty of his agents to collect the taxes and imposts, and if they were obliged to resort to extreme measures, that it was doubtless the fault of the inhabitants who refused to pay their dues."

They rode on in silence. The young Count was dejected, for he began to perceive that it was natural for men like Bonello to resist such an arbitrary exercise of tyranny.

_CHAPTER XII_.

_THE TOLL_.

They reached the bridge. On either side were two massive towers, over which floated the Imperial standard. Heavy barriers closed the pathway, and a strong body of men-at-arms defended the approach. Halfway from the bridge, on the summit of a lofty hill, stood the castle of Herman, built to command the road, which, as the main avenue to Genoa, was extensively travelled, and yielded an important revenue to the Imperial treasury. The castle had been destroyed by the Italians, during the reign of Henry V., but had been rebuilt by Frederic, at the time of his second invasion of Upper Italy, at which time Herman had been installed as Governor.

The soldiers were clustered beneath the porch; but a sentinel was watching from one of the loop-holes of the tower, and as he caught sight of the travellers, called out gayly to the others, "Halloa! comrades, here comes a rich prize: a Lombard knight, some Genoese merchants, and a lady! Levy a heavy toll, _Dietho_, they can afford to pay it; and if you will follow my advice, you will get something for us; the Emperor cannot find fault if honest folks think now and then of their own pockets!"

The challenge of the sentinel interrupted him, and the soldiers left the porch and drew up in front of the tower.

"What is that you say about merchants?" said Dietho, glancing sharply at the strangers. "These are no merchants, but a troop of armed men."

"Pshaw!" continued the first speaker, as he looked again. "There are only six,--two before and four behind; for I don't count those in the middle. It is only some of those lazy Genoese. And we are twelve here, and pretty determined fellows too! Now, Dietho, don't forget to lay it on heavily!"

"We will lay it on heavily," said another; "for since yesterday we have had no luck at all."

Dietho, who wore the purse at his girdle as a sign that it was he who received the tolls, carefully examined the travellers, but he seemed discontented, and shook his head.

"There is nothing to be made here; these people advance too boldly. I believe they are Germans."

"Well, and what of that," said the warder, who had descended from the tower. "No one passes here gratis."

"What do you say, Dietho? Do you think a piece of gold each for the gentlefolks, and two silver pennies for the servants, would be enough?"

Dietho shrugged his shoulders.

"It would be enough," he said; "but I fear they will refuse to pay it."

"Then we will force them!" cried several of the soldiers, brandishing their pikes. "A piece of gold for each gentleman, and two pence a piece for the servants, is little enough!"

Rechberg had left Hermengarde's side, and at the head of his little troop rode forward to ascertain if Bonello's complaints were really well founded. As he approached, his noble bearing and costly armor, with the splendid horse which he rode, gave a high idea of his importance to the men-at-arms.

"Look how his gilded helmet shines," said they, "and mark the gold on his spurs and his baldric; he is certainly a count, at least; or, mayhap, the son of some duke!--Oh! that fellow can pay, Dietho; ask at least three gold pieces!"

Rechberg continued to advance towards the closed town, whose guardians made no movement towards opening the passage.

"Take down the barrier, and allow me to pass," he said, politely.

"One moment, noble sir!--Don't you perceive that the Imperial banner floats above the tower? There is a toll to pay. Frederic would find it a hard matter to keep up his army if his taxes were not paid up! Besides, his Hungarian Archers need their wages. In short, the times are hard and the toll dear!"

The Count was provoked at the observations thus made, for they were of a nature to incense the Italians, and render the Emperor still more unpopular among them. However, he mastered his anger, and asked what there was to pay.

"Four gold pieces!" cried a voice, for Dietho hesitated.

"All right, you hear, four gold pieces, on account of the hard times," added Dietho. "The lady and her companion will also pay eight more, and each servant two pence, in all twelve gold pieces and twelve pennies! Little enough, too, if you but think what an army Frederic is organizing at present."

"As well as I remember," said Erwin, "the legal toll is a penny for each person. By what right do you raise it a hundredfold?"

"I told you once already," replied Dietho;--"it is because the times are hard."

"Besides, we are not here to give explanations to milk-sops," said a voice from within. "Pay, or leave the bridge!"

"Miserable hound! do you dare to speak thus to a knight?" cried Erwin, passionately. "Here are your twelve pennies; now clear the way!"

"The varlets may pass," said Dietho, coolly pocketing the money; "but for the others to cross this beautiful bridge, which has cost so much money to build, there are just twelve pieces too few!"

"If you do not do your duty at once," said the knight, laying his hand on his sword, "I will compel you."

At this, the guard burst into a loud laugh of derision.

"Come on then," they cried; "if that is your game, we will give you a lesson in arithmetic."

Rechberg was disposed to force the passage, but Bonello hastened to interfere.

"Have no difficulty with those people," he cried; "I will pay what they ask!"

"No! you shall not," said the Count. "This robbery of travellers, in the name of the Emperor, is a crime which must not go unpunished. Leave me; it is a meritorious action to chastise such scoundrels!"

All at once Herman appeared; he had overheard the quarrel, and now came to give assistance to his men.

Erwin lowered his visor, for the prefect knew him, and the young man wished to be positive of his complicity.

"What is the matter?" asked Herman.

"It is fortunate that you are here, my lord," replied Dietho. "This young man has been threatening to use his sword against us because we would not allow his whole party to cross for twelve paltry pennies."

"For twelve pennies!--You and your retinue!--You could not have seriously thought it," said Herman to the Count.