Part 8

"True," replied Sala; "but the Church has saved the world from destruction. The military operations of Henry IV. against her were terrible; his hatred for the Papacy, beyond all bounds; but Barbarossa is still more to be feared. In him you see none of that cruelty which marked Henry's conduct; on the contrary, he appears frank, and generous, and brave, and he well knows how to surround himself with all that can flatter the eyes. So far, he has not attacked the Pope, sword in hand; but he holds his nets ready to throw over Spain and England, Germany and France, in order to ensnare all Christendom in his baneful schism. It is to this end that he never ceases to proclaim his regret for the sorrows of the Holy Church, and his great desire for the acknowledgment of the legitimate Pope, and the downfall of heresy. All hypocrisy, diabolical equivocation!" cried Sala, angrily; "it is he himself who has caused the schism; it is he who has wounded the unity of the Church, in order the more easily to destroy her. He seeks to control everything,--to become the master of the Universe,--and will brook neither a superior nor an equal!"

"Your words, my lord Archdeacon, are harrowing, but they are not exaggerated," said Nigri. "And it is the more to be regretted that many refuse to see their peril. Genoa, through jealousy of Milan, is wilfully blind and will not reflect that the time may come, when she too will feel the yoke. Barbarossa is skilful in taking advantage of these dissensions between us Lombards. His policy is to destroy, one by one, our cities; so that Italy may count none but insignificant villages, submissive to his Imperial supremacy."

"According to my belief," said Guido, "I repeat what I have already declared:--God alone holds the destinies of the world in his power. What Barbarossa tries now, many others have attempted, but the efforts of all have proved abortive; Frederic will not be more successful. Then, dear friends, trust in God, and do your duty; the rest will come in good time."

At these words he raised his goblet, the others imitated his example; but in spite of his efforts, the meeting was disheartened and depressed, and shortly after the consul observed that it was time to think of their journey.

"We have no time to lose," said he, "for there is much to be done in Milan; it will be hard enough to resist the attack."

They mounted to return to the city, and Bonello watched from the window, the little troop as it wound through the valley.

"Farewell, dear Gherardo," said he sadly; "perhaps this has been our last meeting! How gladly they hasten to shed their hearts' blood for their liberty, their Church, and their country! while I, unhappy wretch! am doomed by my promise, to sloth and inaction!"

The cavalcade disappeared from his gaze, and he reentered the family room, when Count Rechberg communicated his intention of leaving the castle on the following day.

"Why this haste, Count?" said Guido. "I trust that you have had no cause to regret your visit?"

"Oh! by no means, but I must go. The Emperor granted me only eight days' leave of absence, and I must not exceed them."

"You have no cause for such haste," resumed the Lombard, sadly. "Milan is well supplied with everything, and her fortifications are strong. Months may elapse before Barbarossa can take the city."

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

"Oh! I well know that iron will!" said Guido. "Frederic will destroy the works, and reduce the citadel by famine; but still before this happens, many weary days will pass. Some months hence, you will still be in time for the fighting. Stay with us. We will go to Genoa together, and look upon the wonders of that proud city; we will visit her churches, her magnificent palaces, her dock-yards, and her fleet; there is much there to repay you for the journey, and, if you wish it, we can cross over to Corsica."

But nothing could influence the youth's resolve, although it was with deep regret that he left Bonello and his daughter; both of whom reiterated their warmest thanks.

"Permit me, dear Count, to offer you a trifling souvenir," said the lord of the castle, drawing a heavy gold chain from a casket. "Wear this in remembrance of me, and may our friendship ever remain as pure and true as this noble metal! Have you nothing, Hermengarde, to give to our worthy friend?"

At these words, the young girl took from one of her waiting-women a richly chiselled cup of gold, on whose cover was sculptured St. George trampling upon the Dragon.

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

"I trust, my dear Count, that we shall meet again ere long," added Guido. "Milan is not far distant, and an excursion to our mountains will break the monotony of your camp-life."

"I will gladly avail myself on every possible occasion of your invitation," answered Rechberg. "Farewell, dear Bonello; God keep you, noble lady!"

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

Guido accompanied his guest to the court-yard, and in a few moments, the hoofs of the knight's charger were ringing upon the drawbridge of the castle.

_CHAPTER XIV_.

_THE SIEGE_.

Erwin was soon able to realize the devastations committed by the Emperor's army. In the place of smiling hamlets and rich villas, nothing could be seen but smoking ruins; the fruit-trees had been uprooted, the vines pulled up, the crops laid waste. Here and there were the bodies of peasants swinging from the trees, the ground was strewed with booty abandoned carelessly by the marauders. The plain once so green and smiling, appeared as sad and barren as a Russian steppe.

This desolation afflicted. Erwin painfully, and he rode rapidly forward to escape the mournful spectacle. Soon could be seen the tents of the Imperial camp, with the varied standards floating proudly above the sharp roofs of the canvas city. The vague hum of the multitude was mingled with the clang of arms and the strains of martial music, and the noise of the workmen in the trenches. From the elevated point on which he stood, Erwin could distinguish the beleaguered city with its mighty walls above which towered the brilliant edifices and lofty turrets. As he gazed with admiration upon the town, Rechberg could not but experience a feeling of sorrow at the thought that all this greatness and power was doomed to destruction. After a short ride he found himself in the interior of the camp, where it was easy to perceive that he was almost entirely surrounded by the Italian contingents.

The complete investment of the city was impossible, and Frederic, in consequence, had established four distinct attacks, surrounded by strong palisades and deep ditches as a protection to the sorties of the besieged. Although, at intervals of distance, the camps commanded all the avenues of approach, and it was impossible for the garrison to receive any supplies or reinforcements, or hold any communication with the exterior. As it had been decided to reduce the place by famine, a rigid blockade was enforced, and the different leaders were relieved from the necessity of constructing any of those clumsy machines, under cover of which in those days the assaults upon the works were conducted. However, Henry the Lion had ordered the building of an immense tower whose proportions excited general astonishment. It was upon wheels, six stories in height, and could accommodate beneath it a thousand soldiers. The upper part was narrower and provided with doors, through which the garrison could pass, by means of temporary bridges, on to the walls of the city. Sorties from the town were of almost daily occurrence, and the personal hatred of the combatants gave to these engagements a most sanguinary character. Whilst the Italians were engaged in this work of mutual self-destruction, Frederic was preparing to submit them all to his Imperial sway.

While the besieged were ready to suffer every extremity in defence of their sacred rights, the greatest agitation reigned in the camp of the Italian auxiliaries. Sworn enemies, for years detesting each other, they were now compelled to live in the forced proximity of a narrow camp. Leagued together by their common hatred for Milan, the old leaven still, at times, broke out into open violence, and it required the most stern and almost cruel severity of the Emperor to preserve anything like order among them. Frederic had learned, by experience, that fear was the only master whom they would obey.

Rechberg perceived an immense crowd of strangers pressing towards the vast open space in the middle of the encampment. Jousts and military games were, in that age, so much the fashion, that, even under the walls of a beleaguered town, a place was set apart for the purpose. But on this occasion it seemed as though the crowd's attraction had another motive than mere amusement. Frederic's banner floated in the air, and the Imperial eagle fluttered bold and haughty above the multitude. On horseback, in the midst, stood a herald in a scarlet tabard and with a silver-mounted truncheon in his hand, and immediately behind him, a man, who, in a few weeks' time, had become the terror of the Italians. It was Hesso, the chief of the Imperial police, surrounded by his men fully armed. He glared fiercely upon the crowd.

"What does that blood-thirsty dog want here?" was muttered on all sides. "See how he is looking for some new victims! the poor devils whom he hung this morning are hardly cold, before he wants to begin again!"

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

"You hate and fear me, do you!--Ah well! there's no love lost between us," he growled, with a still fiercer expression in his eyes.

The loud blast of the trumpets resounded, and the herald commanded silence. Thousands awaited with trembling anxiety. The man of the scarlet tabard made another sign; but still the dull murmur went on unceasingly; he raised his truncheon, and when, after many efforts, silence had been enforced, he proclaimed, in a clear and distinct voice, the wishes of the Emperor.

"In the name of our sovereign liege, listen to the punishments to be enforced against all evil-doers. All fighting in the camp is strictly forbidden. Should the offender be a knight, his arms will be taken from him, and he will be expelled from the army. If he is a varlet, he will be flogged, his head shaved, and his shoulder marked with a red-hot iron, unless his master redeems him by the payment of fifty pennies."

The herald paused to give his hearers time for reflection. The first article had produced a bad effect upon the Italians, who were accustomed to great license in respect to their personal quarrels, and on all sides black and angry glances were exchanged.

"Flogged, shaved, and marked with a hot iron, for that trifle!" said the crowd. "It is too severe!"

"Do you hear that, Migleo?" said a voice. "He values us at fifty pennies a piece--it's absurd!"

The herald again commanded silence.

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

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

"Don't you think, Robbio, that in the course of a fortnight, the most of us will have neither heads nor hands? For my part, it is as impossible for me to keep my hands off a Pavian, as it is to meet a chicken without wringing its neck?"

"And I can't look at a Novara man, without wanting to spit in his face," said a Pavian, who stood by; and it was with difficulty the two were kept from fighting, even under the eyes of Hesso himself.

"Silence, fools!" said Robbio; "do you want to get into the executioner's clutches, already?"

"For the first theft, a varlet shall be flogged, shaved, and marked with the iron; for the second, he shall be hanged!" added the herald.

"There is one omission in the law about theft," said a voice. "It is forbidden to the varlets to rob, but there is nothing said about the masters. What would happen if the offender were a count, a duke, or a king?"

"Silence," cried another voice, whose piercing tone bore a great resemblance to that of the jester Lanzo. "Don't you know that the nobles never steal? they merely indulge their illustrious desires!"

"Whoever shall hold any communication with the Cardinal Roland, falsely styling himself Pope Alexander III., shall be put under the ban of the Emperor; it is permitted to kill him wherever found!"

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

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

"Certainly. Long live Alexander!"

"Whoever shall obtain supplies for the Milanese, shall lose his hand; the informer shall be rewarded."

This last article, although the most barbarous, met with general approval among the Italians, who only found fault with the punishment as being too mild. They forgot the iron yoke under which Frederic kept them, to remember only their hatred for their detested rival Milan.

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

The trumpets again sounded, and while the soldiers gave free vent to the expression of their hatred, the herald and his escort left the ground.

Rechberg had listened to the proclamation, and would have pursued his journey, but the dense crowd forced him to remain and hear the imprecations lavished upon the Emperor, as soon as Hesso was out of sight.

"Laugh on!" thought the young man. "You may laugh as much as you please, but you will not be able to violate those orders with impunity."

At this moment, two asses' ears ornamented with bells, approached the Count. Lanzo, with a good deal of difficulty, had elbowed his way through the crowd, and had gained a neighboring spur-post, where he climbed up, and then sprang, with the agility of a monkey, upon the Count's stirrup; a moment after, he was behind his saddle. The crowd laughed and applauded the jester's activity, and Rechberg allowed him to retain his seat, for he saw nothing impertinent in the proceeding of the fool, whose loyalty he esteemed, and whose jests would serve to amuse him.

"Whence come you, Lanzo?"

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

"Yes; but how?"

"How? I have only just discovered it; I had no positive end in view, until now. But I perceive, my lord, that your mission is of vast importance. The Emperor, the Pope, and the kings, are very insignificant personages compared with you."

"And why so, Lanzo?"

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

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

"Oh, I will explain, if you will only try to understand me!" said the jester. "I will begin with the Pope, that is, providing Victor be really the Pope,--a matter, about which some quite sensible people begin to doubt. For the last two years, Barbarossa has been holding council upon council, and yet all of them together have not succeeded in proving that Victor is the Pope. This establishes clearly, either that Victor is a fool, or else that he is a puppet of the Emperor, since he is so ready to accept what Alexander refuses. If he had any brains, he would know that an honest monk is better that what he is."

"You have a bad tongue, Lanzo."

"Possibly! But you will see that it tells the truth. Then we have the king of England and the king of France. They are fools too. I made the reflection when I saw their ambassadors kneel before the Emperor. If they had brains, they would guess that Frederic means to catch them all, one after the other, in his nets."

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

"Of course I am; my ears show that;--and then, the Emperor is as mad as the others.--But, I forgot.--Ah! after all I cannot see that there is much harm in having a madman for one's godfather! If Frederic were wise, he would not try to conquer the world. He is getting ready to swallow Milan, the head of Italy. After the head, the rest will come easily enough; but it is a food not easily digested. The earth belongs to God, and not to the Emperor, and one of these days Frederic's madness will draw upon himself the wrath of an avenging God."

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

"God preserve me from it! my honesty would be exposed to too sore temptations.--But I see in the steel of your helmet a little sprite which mocks at me. My argument has a weak point, then?--Tell me, where did you get that splendid gold chain?"

"Why do you ask me?"

"Answer me first."

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

"Tell me, my lord, how did it happen that you became so deeply interested in this traitor's misfortunes? All the camp was astonished at the boldness with which you braved the Emperor's displeasure. No one but you would have risked his sovereign's anger to save a traitor's life. Was it craft on your part, or wisdom?"

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

"Well answered! But the sprite in your helmet is mocking at me again, I fear you have not told me all the truth. When you pleaded Bonello's cause, had you no other motive than pity?"

"You are right."

"Ah! I have a little intelligence sometimes!--Bonello has a daughter!--Some men of sense saw her without being dazzled--that is, another species of madness! I would ask some more questions, if I were not afraid that your steel scabbard might make an intimate acquaintance with my back."

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

"Certainly not, if I may go on!"

"Go on, then!"

"Well," said the little man, "your heightened color confirms what I had already more than half guessed! But have you reflected on what you are, and what this girl is? I am afraid, in this, you have acted inconsiderately. Go to your godfather, and ask him permission to marry the daughter of ----, a traitor!"

Erwin's countenance changed.

"Ah, how pale you become!" said Lanzo. "You see, dear Count, wise men should always look to the issue of their projects. But don't be down-hearted; this Lombard angel is still only a child, and, in a few years' time, things may change a good deal." And he sprang to the ground.

"You are not leaving me thus, Lanzo? Methinks, a light collation, with me, in the Imperial tent, should not be refused."

"Many thanks, Count! Believe me, there are other things to be done in Barbarossa's tent, besides giving lodgings to a poor devil."

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

_CHAPTER XV_.

_THE ANTI-POPE_.

Although Lanzo was merely the Duke of Saxony's buffoon, the Count could not but feel very uneasy, as he thought of their late conversation. The allusions to his intimacy with Bonello annoyed him, and he felt surprised to think that hitherto he had been blind to all the difficulties in which his position as godson to the Emperor had involved him. For it was highly probable that Barbarossa would refuse his consent to any alliance between him and the family of Bonello.

Under the influence of these reflections, Rechberg proceeded through the camp, without at first remarking the extraordinary calm which pervaded everything. The deserted streets and empty tents seemed to indicate that the troops were on some expedition, but when he approached the tent, or rather the palace of the Emperor, he saw on each side of the road both knights and men-at-arms drawn up in order of battle. Frederic's tent and all those in its vicinity were decked with flowers and ornamented with rich carpets, and Erwin soon learned that it was for the solemn reception of the pretended Pope Victor, whose entrance into the camp was already heralded by a full flourish of trumpets.

In the eyes of the young Count, Victor was merely an illustrious and important personage, for he could not admit his claims to the Papal throne, which, of right, belonged to Alexander III. He knew Victor's irresolute character, and as his very appearance was disagreeable to him, he decided not to present himself to the Emperor until after the ceremonies of the reception were concluded.

The Emperor had taken infinite pains to receive his Pope with becoming pomp; not because he wished to honor the head of the Church, but because he thought it expedient to give as much importance to the man whom he considered necessary to the accomplishment of his own projects, and with this view all the actions of the Emperor manifested a profound respect for the Head of the Church. He rode on his left hand, a little to the rear, as though he did not presume to put himself on an equality with the chief of Christendom. Barbarossa wore a scarlet doublet, over which was thrown the Imperial mantle, clasped with gold links and silver crescents. On his head was the crown, and in his hand the sceptre. His face was dignified and composed, and as they neared the camp and the crowd could judge better of his movements, he was more demonstrative in his attentions to the Anti-Pope; whose hand never ceased from blessing the bystanders.

Victor's tall stature, his bearing, and even his costume, were rather those of a temporal prince than those of a spiritual shepherd. Over his shoulders hung a scarlet robe, richly embroidered in gold, and on his long curling looks was placed the triple crown of Rome; his features reflected the pride and arrogance of his disposition.

Immediately after the Emperor rode Henry the Lion, the Dukes of Austria, of Bohemia, and of Rottemburg, and the Landgrave of Thuringen, followed by a brilliant array of princes and nobles. The escort was preceded by the military band, which marched, with a flourish of trumpets, about a hundred yards in advance of the Pope. But, although on all sides there were soldiers and martial standards, there was no religious display, no religious banners or chants; not even a cross was to be seen; for Victor's entry to the camp showed plainly that he was but a creature of the Emperor, from whom he derived all his pomp and greatness.

Frederic dismounted before his tent, and following an ancient custom, came forward respectfully, to hold the Pope's stirrup. But here the Cardinal Octavian, for such was his real title, showed an utter want of tact. Affecting to be deeply engaged in conversation with his immediate attendants, he permitted the Emperor to remain too long in his humiliating posture.

Frederic colored up with anger and mortification, while his Chancellor smiled with inward satisfaction. Rinaldo had long advised the discontinuance of this idle and useless ceremony, but the Emperor, with more foresight than his minister, judged that the moment was not yet ripe for the abolition of a custom which seemed to establish the supremacy of the chief of Christendom.

At last Octavian dismounted; he took the monarch in his arms and gave him the kiss of peace, and then, turning towards the assembled multitude, he gave them his benediction, and entered the Imperial tent.

_CHAPTER XVI_.

_THE EMPEROR'S SLAVE_.

The first service which Barbarossa exacted of Victor, was the solemn excommunication of Alexander III., and his partisans, in presence of the army, and in front of the walls of Milan. A few days after his arrival at the Camp, an immense tribune, draped with black cloth, and provided with numerous seats, was erected at a safe distance from the city. In the centre was an elevated platform, and behind this a throne for the Emperor, whence he could communicate his desires to the various speakers. Thousands of soldiers from all parts of the Camp surrounded the tribune, and a crowd of curious spectators lined the towers and walls of the city.