THE TRUCE OF GOD

_A Tale of the Eleventh Century_

ByGeorge Henry Miles

With an Introduction ByJohn C. Reville, S. J. , Ph. D. 

New YorkJoseph F. Wagner, Inc. London: B. Herder

CONTENTS

 CHAP. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. 

INTRODUCTION

"The Truce of God" by our American novelist and dramatist, George HenryMiles, is not only a romantic and interesting story, it recalls one ofthe most striking achievements of the Middle Ages. 

After the tide of barbarian invasion, Goths and Vandals, Heruli, Burgundians and Franks had swept away the edifice of Roman civilization, had it not been for the regenerating influence of Christianity, anotherempire as cruel would have risen on the ruins of Rome. No other powerwould then have ruled but the sword. The sword was king, and receivedthe worship of thousands. Now and then a ruler appeared like Theodoric, Charlemagne, the Lombard Luitprand, who used the sword on the whole forjust and beneficent ends. And because these warrior kings, even in themidst of their conquests, brought some of the blessings of peace totheir subject peoples, these peoples welcomed their sway. Peace was, then as now, one of the world's needs. 

Although the eighth, ninth and succeeding century were not without theirbrighter sides and were not those totally Dark Ages they have beenrepresented by the enemies of the Church, nevertheless, seeds of evilpassions, which in spite of her endeavors the Church had been unablecompletely to stifle, lingered in the hearts of those strong-limbed, strong-passioned Teutonic races which had succeeded to the tasks andresponsibilities of pagan Rome. Those races did not have Rome'sorganizing power. By force, it is true, in a great measure, but forceintelligently applied, but also by patience, by an instinct for justiceand for order, Rome had welded her vast empire into a coherent whole. Rome really, and effectively ruled. She had authority, she had prestige, she was respected and feared, until the fatal day when, for her vicesand tyranny, she began to be hated. That day her fate was sealed. 

The Teutonic races lacked the power of organization. They were strongand comparatively free from the vices of Rome; they had a rude sense ofjustice. But that very sense and instinct for that one essential ofordered life drove the individual to take the execution of the law andof justice into his own hands and to claim his rights at the point ofthe sword. The result can be easily imagined. The sword was never for along time thrust back into the scabbard. Incessant wars, not at thebidding of the ruler, nor sanctioned by the voice of public authority orfor the public welfare, but for private ends, for revenge, for greed andbooty, were waged throughout the length and breadth of Europe. 

The civil government, or the empty simulacrum that went under the name, seemed powerless, for the simple reason that the strong arm of either aCharlemagne or a Charles Martel too seldom appeared to check theculprits, or because the civil government itself only added fuel to theflame, by the encouragement it gave to license and violence by its ownevil example. 

But society had to protect itself. Conscious of its danger, and that itwas doomed to destruction, if some remedy were not found, it evolved inthe tenth and the following century, not an absolutely efficaciousremedy, but one which enabled it to pass in comparative safety thatdangerous period and carried European civilization to the full gloriesof the age of Dante, St. Louis and the Angel of the Schools. The remedywas feudalism. 

That institution has been misunderstood. It was called forth by specialneeds, and when the conditions which it met in an almost providentialmanner changed, it quietly passed away. But it rendered an importantand never-to-be forgotten service to war-torn Europe. Feudalism canscarcely be called a complete and rounded system. For it was constantlyundergoing modification. It was not the same north as south of theLoire. It was one thing on the west, and quite another on the east ofthe Rhine. In general it was, as Stubbs described it ("ConstitutionalHistory. " Vol. 1, pp. 255, 256), "a regulated and fairly well graduatedmethod of jurisdiction, based on land tenure, in which every lord, king, duke, earl or baron protected, judged, ruled, taxed the class next belowhim; ... In which private war, private coinage and private prisons tookthe place of the imperial institutions of power. " Land, "the sacramentaltie" then, "of all relations, " and not money, was the chief wealth ofthose ages. For services rendered, therefore, fiefs or landed estateswere the reward. Feudalism thus rested on a contract entered into by thenation represented by the king, which let out its lands to individualswho paid the rent not only by doing military service, but by renderingsuch services to the king as the king's courts might require. The bondwas frequently extremely loose, and it was hard then to say which of thetwo was in reality the stronger, the feudal lord or the technicallylower, but sometimes in reality stronger, vassal. 

The feudal lord was bound to support his vassal, and in return, had aright to expect his help in the hour of danger. The feudal lord owed hisvassals justice, protection, shelter and refuge. If certain privileges, claimed by the feudal lord, were onerous, the vassal was not withoutsome guarantee that he would be shown fair play; for it was evident thatunless in some way rights and obligations were fairly well balanced, andthere was a fair return for service rendered, the whole system wouldsoon crumble to pieces. 

The "system, " if it can be called one, was, as we have said, by no meansperfect, but it bridged the historic gap which stretches between thefall of the Carolingian power and the full dawn of the Middle Ages. Itsaved Europe from anarchy. Its blessings cannot be denied. It helped tofoster the love of independence, of self-government, of localinstitutions, of communal and municipal freedom. The vassal that livedunder the shadows of the strong towers of a feudal lord did not lookmuch further beyond, to the king in his palace or in his courts ofjustice, for protection. He found it closer at home. The vassal, moreover, began to think of his own rights and privileges, to value themand to ask that they be enforced. The idea of right and law, one of themost deeply engraved in the Christian conscience in the Middle Ages, grew and developed. The barons were the first to claim these rights;gradually the whole nation imitated them. Even when they claimed them, primarily for themselves, the whole nation participated sooner or laterin their blessings. The Barons of Runnymede were fighting the battles ofevery ploughboy in England when they wrenched _Magna Charta_ from KingJohn. 

Although many a feudal lord was a proud and hard-driving master, yet thevassal and the serf knew that there were limits which his lord dared nottransgress; that the very spirit of his "caste", for such to a certainextent was the social rank to which the feudal lord belonged, would nottolerate any too flagrant a violation of his privileges. A bond ofunited interests was found between feudal noble and his vassal. Theywere found side by side in war; their larger interests were the same inpeace. Loyalty, honor, fidelity took deep root in the society which theyrepresented. 

As the aristocracy of feudalism was founded, not on wealth or money, buton land tenure, one of the most stable titles to prestige and authorityfound in history, there was in the underlying concept of society inthose days a feeling of stability and permanency, which for a time madefeudalism, in spite of its flaws, a bulwark of order. It fostered evena strong family spirit. Baron, count or earl, behind the thick rampartsof his castle, lived a patriarchal life. He was, with his retainers andmen-at-arms, his chaplains, to watch over his spiritual needs, his wifeand children and vassals, dependent upon him for protection and safety, impelled by every sense of honor, duty and chivalry to make them feelthat he was their sword and buckler. They were closely knit to him. There was a patriarchal bond between them. Family spirit grew strongand, under the teaching of the Church, it became pure. 

Feudalism had its flaws. It was strictly an aristocratic institution. Itfostered the spirit of pride and bore harshly at times upon the serf andthe man of low degree. But its harsher features were softened by theteachings of the Church. When it was at its height, voices of Popes likeAlexander III and of Doctors like St. Thomas Aquinas, were lifted toproclaim the equality of all men in the sight of God. At the altar, serfand master, count or cottier, knelt side by side. In the monasteries andconvents, the poor man's son might wear the Abbot's ring and in theassemblies and councils of the realm, the poor clerk of former days, might speak with all the authority of a Bishop to sway the destinies ofboth Church and State. 

One of the greatest evils of feudalism was that it fostered to excessthe warlike spirit. Of its very nature, the system was a complex one. Itgave rise to countless misunderstandings between the various grades ofits involved hierarchy. The opportunities and plausible pretexts formisunderstandings, quarrels and war were many. A petty quarrel inBurgundy, in Champagne, in the Berry in France, involved not only theduke and count of these territories but almost every vassal or feudallord in the province. The same might be said of the German nobles inSuabia, Thuringia and Franconia. Private wars were frequent, and thoughthe barbarism of the past ages had almost completely disappeared underthe teaching of the Gospel, these contests, as might be expected, wereboth sanguinary and wasteful. 

The Church fought manfully against these private wars. It took everypossible means to prevent them entirely. When in the nature of things, it found it impossible to do away with them altogether, it tried tomitigate their horrors, to limit their field of operation, to diminishtheir savagery. If the kingly authority was flouted, save perhaps when asturdy ruler like William the Conqueror in England, or Hugh Capet inFrance, showed that there was a man at the helm, who meant to rule andwas not afraid to quell rebellious earls and make them obey, there wasone power these mail-clad warriors respected. They respected theApostles Peter and Paul, they respected My Lord the Pope, and theBishops of France and Normandy and England who shared in theirauthority. They flouted a king's edict, but none but hardened criminalsamong them laughed at an episcopal or a Papal excommunication. 

These rude men, and it places their rude age high in the scale ofcivilization, respected religion. They lowered the sword before theCross. The Church had for the disobedient and the refractory oneterrible weapon, which she was loath to use, but which she occasionallyused with swift and tragic effect, the weapon of excommunication. Many amodern historian or philosopher has smiled good-naturedly and in mildcontempt at this weapon used by the Church to frighten her children, much as children are frightened by flaunting some horrid tale of ogre orhobgoblin before them. Yet the student of history might profitably studythe use which the Church has made of such an instrument, and find in itone of the most effective causes of social regeneration in the MiddleAges. 

The Church, in order to fight the military and armed excesses offeudalism, employed many means. It is to her that we owe what is knownas the "Truce of God, " or the enforced temporary suspension ofhostilities usually, from the sunset of each Wednesday to Mondaymorning. Under pain of excommunication, during that interval, which atseveral times was further extended so as to comprise the seasons ofAdvent and Lent, and some of the major feasts, the sword might not bedrawn in private quarrel. From a decree of the Council of Elne, in theSouth of France, we find that the "Truce of God, " the "_Treuga Dei_" asit was technically called, was in full honor and had reached the heightof its beneficent power in 1207. But long before, in the days whenGregory VII was Pope, and William of Normandy had just won his Englishcrown, and Henry III ruled in Germany and Henry I in France, in the dayswhen feudalism was making its first attempts to bring order out ofchaos, several councils of the Church in France and in Normandy hadtraced out the plan and the outlines of the "Truce of God. " Earliereven, at the Councils of Charroux (989), Narbonne (990), Le Puy and Anse(990), severe penalties were pronounced against those who wantonly intime of war destroyed the poor man's cattle or harried his fields, orcarried off his beasts of burden. "Leagues of Peace" were formed todiminish the horrors of war, to protect the helpless, to enforce order. The Council of Poitiers, where there is one of the earliest mentions ofthese "Leagues of Peace, " was held 1223 years ago. The Council ofBourges in 1031 created a species of national militia to police therural districts and prevent war. Our ancestors believed in leagues with"teeth in them. " From France where the movement had its origin andculminated at Elne (1207) in the full organization of the "Truce ofGod, " it spread eastward into Germany and Thuringia. The German duchiesand the Austrian marches submitted soon after to its humanitarian andChristian code. In 1030, the Pope, the French and German princes unitedtheir efforts for the development of the forerunners of the "Truce ofGod, " the conventions known as the "Peace of God. " The Peace, theearlier institution of the two, exempted from the evils of war, churches, monasteries, clerics, children, pilgrims, husbandmen; thecattle, the fields, the vineyards of the toiler; his instruments oflabor, his barns, his bakehouse, his milch cows, his goats and his fowl. The Truce forbade war at certain "closed seasons. " It gave angrypassions time to subside, and endeavored to discredit war by makingpeace more desirable and its blessings more prolonged. It is probablethat the Council of Charroux already mentioned laid the germs of theTruce. At the Council of Elne we see it fully organized. In 1139 theTenth General Council, the Second Lateran, gave in its eleventh Canonits official approbation to what must be considered one of the mostbeautiful institutions of the Middle Ages. 

Under the guidance of our American author, George Henry Miles, we areled back to the days of the eleventh century. He is an accurate andpicturesque chronicler of that iron, yet chivalrous age. If on the onehand, we see the sinister figure of Henry IV of Germany, on the other wefind the austere but noble monk Hildebrand, who became Pope St. GregoryVII. We hear the clash of swords drawn in private brawl and vendetta, but see them put back into the scabbard at the sound of the church bellsthat announce the beginning of the "Truce of God. " The tale opensbeneath the arches of a Suabian forest, with Gilbert de Hers and Henryde Stramen facing each other's swords as mortal foes; it closes withGilbert and Henry, now reconciled, kneeling at the tomb of the fair andlovely Lady Margaret, their hates forgotten before the grave ofinnocence and maidenly devotion, and learning from the hallowed memoryof the dead, the lesson of that forgiveness that makes us divine. 

The American novelist, like the Italian Manzoni, teaches the lessoninculcated in "The Betrothed" ("_I Promessi Sposi_"). It is a lessonof forgiveness. It is noblest to forgive. Forgiveness is divine. Forgiveseventy times seventy times, again and again. In Manzoni's story, thesaintly Frederick Borromeo preaches and acts that sublime lesson in hisscene with the _Innominato_ with compelling eloquence. In "The Truce ofGod, " the Lady Margaret, the monk Omehr, the very woes of the Houses ofHers and Stramen, the tragic madness of the unfortunate Bertha, theblood shed in a senseless and passionate quarrel, the bells of thesanctuary bidding the warring factions sheathe the sword, incessantlyproclaim the same duty. In writing his story, George Henry Miles was notonly painting for us a picture aglow with the life of olden times, butpointing out in a masterly way, the historic rôle of the Church inmolding the manners of an entire generation. 

The reader of "The Truce of God, " in spite of the fact that the romanceseems to be sketched only in its broadest outlines, gets a distinctknowledge of its chief actors. They live before his eyes. De Hers andStramen are not mere abstractions. They have the rugged, clear-cutcharacter, the sudden passions, the quick and at times dangerous andsavage impulses of the men of the eleventh century. In them thebarbarian has not yet been completely tamed. But neither has he beengiven full rein. Somewhere in these hearts, there lurks a sentiment ofhonor, of knighthood, which the Church of Christ has ennobled, and towhich the helpless and the innocent do not appeal in vain. 

The American has caught this sentiment and plays upon it skillfully. Hissetting is in keeping with his story. The wandering minstrel, theturreted castle, the festive board, the high-vaulted hall with its oakenrafters, the chase, the wide reaches of the forests of Franconia, thebeetling ramparts of old feudal castles by the Rhine or the lovelyshores of the Lake of Constance, the vineyards on the slopes of sunnyhills, the bannered squadrons, the din of battle, the crash of helm andspear, are brought before us with dramatic power. Historic figuresappear on the scene. Close to the principal actors in the story, we seethe gallant Rodolph of Arles, Godefroi de Bouillon, Berchtold ofCarinthia, Hohenstaufen and Welf, acting their life drama at the councilboard or on the field of battle. We see a woman and an old man, Mathildaof Tuscany and Pope St. Gregory VII, slowly but surely building on thefoundations of a half-molded civilization the ramparts of the City ofGod. "The Truce of God" is true to the requirements of the historicalromance. It summons before us a forgotten past, and makes it live. Weforget in the vitality and artistic grouping of the picture, in thenobility of the author's purpose and the lasting moral effect of thestory, the occasional stiffness of the style. It is the style of therefined scholar, perhaps also of the bookman and the too consciouscritic. Occasionally it lacks spontaneity, directness and naturalness. It might unbend more and forget ceremony. But it is picturesque, forcible, clear, and bears us along with its swing and dramaticmovement. 

American Catholics must not forget the excellent work done by GeorgeHenry Miles for the cause of Catholic literature, the more so as hisname is not infrequently omitted from many popular histories of Americanliterature. Yet the author of "The Truce of God" had mastered the storyteller's and the dramatist's art. "If there was ever a born_littérateur_, " writes Eugene L. Didier, in _The Catholic World_ forMay, 1881, "that man was George Henry Miles. His taste was pure, exquisite and refined, his imagination was rich, vivid, and almostoriental in its warmth. " Moreover, he consecrated his life and histalents to the cause of Catholic education, identifying himself for manyyears with Mount St. Mary's College, Emmitsburg, Maryland, with whoseannals so much of the early history of the Catholic Church in theUnited States, is closely linked. 

The author of "The Truce of God" was born in Baltimore, July 31, 1824;he died at Emmitsburg, July 23, 1872. In his twelfth year the ladentered Mount St. Mary's College. Here he became a Catholic and hadafterwards the happiness of seeing his family follow him into theChurch. The studies at the "Mountain" in those days were still under themagic and salutary spell of the venerable founder, Bishop Dubois, andhis followers. They were old fashioned, but they were solid, with theclassics of Greece and Rome, mathematics, philosophy and religion astheir foundation. They were eminently calculated to mold thinkers, scholars and cultured Catholic gentlemen. They left a deep impression onthe young Marylander. After his graduation at the end of the scholasticyear, 1843, the law for a short while lured him away, to its digests, its quiddits and quillets, abstracts and briefs. But it was puttingPegasus in pound. Miles at a lawyer's task was as much out of place asEdgar Allan Poe was when mounting guard as a cadet at West Point, orCharles Lamb with a quill behind his ear balancing his ledger in IndiaHouse. The Mountain and the Muses lured him back to Emmitsburg, where ashort distance from the college gate, in the quiet retreat ofThornbrook, he settled to his books and a professor's tasks at theMount. Close by were the lovely haunts of La Salette, Hillside, Loretto, Tanglewood, Andorra, Mt. Carmel, every little cottage and garden, eloquent, it has been said, of the faith and piety of the builders ofthe Mount, who breathed the spirit that thus baptized them ("The Storyof the Mountain. Mount St. Mary's College and Seminary, Emmitsburg, Maryland. " By the Rev. E. McSweeny. Vol. II, p. 102). For its historicassociations, its panorama of hills, wooded slopes and fields, the spotcould scarcely be matched within the wide amphitheater of the hills ofMaryland. 

To Emmitsburg, to his "boys", the young professor of English literaturegave his enthusiasm, his idealism, his love of all that was fair in artand the world of books. His enthusiasm inspired them with a love ofartistic excellence, which, neither in his own work, nor in that of hispupils would tolerate anything commonplace. Before coming to Thornbrook, he had written "The Truce of God, " first published as a serial in the_United States Catholic Magazine_, established by John Murphy ofBaltimore, and which under the editorship of Bishop Martin John Spaldingand the Rev. Charles I. White achieved a national reputation. Two othertales, "Loretto, " and the "Governess, " had also been published and wereextremely popular. Like "The Truce of God, " they were of the purestmoral tone, elegant in diction, the work of a thorough literarycraftsman. In 1850, the American actor, Edwin Forrest, offered a prizeof $1, 000. 00 for the best drama written by an American. Miles easilycarried off the reward with his play "Mohammed. " Rich with all thecolors of the East, glowing with the warmth and poetry of Arabianromance and story, "Mohammed" was rather the work of a thinker and apoet than of a master dramatist. It was never acted, Forrest himselfjudging that it had not that ebb and flow of passion, nor that strongpresentation of character which of all things are so necessary for thestage. Yet in other plays, notably in "_Señor Valiente_" and especiallyin "_De Soto_, " and "Mary's Birthday, " Miles showed that in him thedramatic note was not lacking, and in both he scored remarkablesuccesses. 

From Baltimore, after he had left the pursuit of the law, and fromThornbrook, close to the academic halls in which from 1859 he passed hisentire life, Miles seldom emerged into public notice. Twice he visitedEurope, his impressions of the second journey (1864) being recorded in"Glimpses of Tuscany. " In 1851 President Fillmore sent him on aconfidential mission to Madrid. That same year, John Howard Payne, theloved singer of "Home, Sweet Home, " was reinstated in his consulship ofTunis. Like Miles, that wandering bard was a convert to the CatholicFaith. But unlike Miles, he did not enter the Church until the very endof his life, practically on his death bed. Catholics will be glad toknow that the song, "Home, Sweet Home, " whose underlying melody Paynecaught from the lips of an Italian peasant girl, was written by one who, after many strange wanderings, found "Home" at last in that Church whichis the mistress and inspirer of art. Like Payne, Miles captured thefancy of his countrymen with one song, "Said the Rose, " which at onetime was the most popular song in the United States. It has not thedepth and the melting tenderness of "Home, Sweet Home, " but its quaintfancy and melodious verse struck a responsive chord. In his "Inkerman, "a stirring ballad, which every American boy of a former age knew byheart, there was an echo of the "Lays of Ancient Rome, " of the "Lays" ofScott and Aytoun, while in the more ambitious "Christine" (1866), therewas the accent of the genuine poet, something that recalled the"Christabel" of Coleridge. Miles had projected a series of studies onthe characters and plays of Shakespeare. Judging from two remainingfragments, "Hamlet" and "Macbeth, " the latter a mere outline, we regretthat the writer was not able to finish the task. To beauty of languagehis study of "Hamlet" adds keen analytical powers and original views. ("An American Catholic Poet, " _The Catholic World_. Vol. XXXIII, p. 145ff. )

In the quiet churchyard on the slope of his beloved Mountain, in asimple grave, over which the green hills of Maryland keep guard, not farfrom the class-rooms and the chapel he loved, rest the mortal remains ofthe author of "The Truce of God. " It is not necessary to describe him. Those who read this simple but romantic and stirring tale of theeleventh century which he wrote three-quarters of a century ago, cannotfail to catch the main features of the man. They will conclude that inGeorge Henry Miles, religion and art, the purest ideals of the Catholicfaith and the highest standards of culture and letters, are blended inrare proportion. 

JOHN C. REVILLE, S. J. , _Editor-in-chief_. 

THE TRUCE OF GOD

CHAPTER I

 Of ancient deeds so long forgot; Of feuds whose memory was not; Of forests now laid waste and bare; Of towers which harbor now the hare; Of manners long since changed and gone; Of chiefs who under their gray stone So long had slept, that fickle fame Hath blotted from her rolls their name. 

 SCOTT. 

Reader! if your mind, harassed with the cares of a utilitarian age, require an hour of recreation; if a legend of a far different and fardistant day have aught that can claim your sympathy or awaken yourattention; if the "Dark Ages" be to you Ages of Faith, or even lit withthe gray morning-light of civilization, come wander back with me beyondthe experimental revolution of the sixteenth century, to the time whenthe Gothic temples of the living God were new. 

It was the eleventh century: the sun shone as brightly then as now; ay, and virtue too, though sympathy for a lustful tyrant has stamped the agewith infamy. Through an extensive forest in Suabia, as the old chroniclefrom which I copy relates, a gallant youth was urging on, with voice andrein, a steed that seemed as bold and fiery as his rider. The youth'sflashing eye, and the spear in his hand, told clearly enough that theboar was before him. On he went, as if the forest were his element, nowbending low beneath the knotted bough, now swerving aside from the sternold trunk which sturdily opposed his progress, and seemed to mock him ashe passed. On he went, as if danger were behind and safety before him;as if he galloped to save his own life, not to risk it in taking aboar's. An angry bark and a fearful howl rang in the distance, and thehunter's bugle sounded a merry blast. On he went, faster than before, and now as if he sought his mortal foe. The boar was at bay; monarch ofthe wood, he had turned to defend his realm, and his white tusks weresoon red with the blood of the noble hounds who fearlessly disputed hisright. The youth leaped from his horse with the speed of thought. Bredto the chase, the well-trained animal stood firm while his mastercautiously, but with the calmness of the victor of a hundred frays, advanced against the bristling monster. Quitting the dogs for this newassailant, the boar came madly on; the huntsman sank upon one knee, andso true was his eye, and so firm his hand, that the heart of the savagewas cloven by the spear. The youth rose to his feet, dizzy from theshock, and, springing nimbly upon the grim body of his prostrate victim, his fine form swelling with the rapture of his recent triumph, broughthis horn to his lips, and again its notes went ringing merrily throughthe woods. 

Echoes, like fading memories, growing fainter and fainter as theyreceded, gave the only response. 

"Where can they be?" said the youth, "their steeds were fleet. Out ofsight and out of hearing! How completely I have beaten them. "

He laughed triumphantly as he said this, and, sitting down upon the longgrass, began to caress an enormous hound that panted at his feet, asunconcernedly as though the forest now contained nothing more formidablethan doves or lambs. His horse, thoroughly domesticated, strayed alittle from the dead boar, feeding as it went. 

The youth took off his plumed bonnet, and, flinging back his long blackhair, fell into one of those light, smiling day-dreams which belong onlyto the young and innocent. He built fifteen air-castles in as manyminutes. But at last he grew impatient; he sounded blast after blast;still no answer came. The trees kept up their sleepy sigh, and thesapless branches creaked, but no human voice, no human foot save hisown, broke the silence. 

"Thou hast given me a goodly chase, " exclaimed the youth, springing upand addressing the boar, "and I shall wear this in remembrance of thee. "

He drew his hunting-knife, and soon uprooted one of the monster's tusks. Depositing the precious relic in a hunting pouch he wore at his side, hemounted his horse, rather puzzled where to go. 

"It is easier to get in this oaken field than to get out of it, " saidour hunter, "but if the forest have an end, I'll find it. Now, my dearloitering friends, we hunt each other. "

Giving his horse the spur, and allowing the creature to choose itscourse, he called on the lagging hounds, and dashed away as rapidly ashe had come. The wood was light as ever, and here and there sunbeamlay, like a golden spear, along the ground yet the rich lustre of thesky, wherever it was visible the hum of numberless insects, the freshflight of the awakened bird, and the freer and cooler breeze, warned theyouth that sunset was near. On went the noble steed, with steady stepand trembling nostril while his finely veined ears spoke so rapidly thatthe rider could scarcely understand their language. They passed throughlong lines of trees that opened into other lines, from one limitedhorizon to another, yet all was green before and behind, to the rightand to the left, one interminable emerald. The light turned from a richgold to a golden red, and yet it played only on whispering leaves and onthe long grass at their feet. Still the youth felt no fear, but hummedsome old ballad, or drew a lively peal from his horn. He dismounted torefresh himself at a spring that had nestled among some rocks, and wasmurmuring there like a spoiled child. Having cared for the gallantanimal which had borne him so well, he stretched himself a moment uponthe green bank. 

"Ha! what is that!" he exclaimed, bending forward to listen; "ahorseman? Let him come; friend or foe, I shall be glad to see him. "

He was on his horse in a moment. As he turned to look behind, he saw agentleman, richly dressed, and admirably mounted, coming at full speedfrom another quarter of the wood. The stranger was quite young, perhapsa year or two older than our hunter, but certainly not overtwenty-three. The youth knit his brows as the horseman approached, andeyed him keenly and sternly. When within a few yards of the spring, thestranger dismounted and drew his sword. The youth did the same. Hishandsome features were now distorted with anger and disdain, and it wasdifficult to recognize in the fierce figure, that seemed the guardiandragon of the fountain, the laughing boy who sat there so quietly amoment before. The stranger appeared to return the bitter hatred. 

"I have found you, Gilbert de Hers, " he muttered; "your bugle has rungyour knell. "

Gilbert replied but by a laugh of scorn, and the next instant theirswords gleamed in the air. But just as the two blades met with a sharpclang, there came stealing through the wood the mellow sound of adistant bell. It was like the voice of an angel forbidding strife. Thosesoft, lingering notes seemed to have won a sweetness from the skies topour out upon the world, and, filling the space between field and cloud, connected for a moment heaven and earth--for they wake in the heart ofman the same emotions more perfectly felt in paradise. 

For many centuries after the destruction of the Roman Empire, when allhuman institutions were swept away by the resistless torrent that pouredfrom the North, and the Church of God alone stood safe and firm, withthe rainbow of heaven around her, the stern warriors of Germany assertedtheir rights, or redressed their wrongs with the sword, and scorned tobow before the impotent decrees of a civil tribunal. A regular system ofprivate warfare gradually sprang up, which falsely led every man ofhonor to revenge any real or fancied offence offered to any of hiskindred. The most deadly enmity frequently existed between neighboringchiefs, and the bitter feeling was transmitted unimpaired from father toson. The most dreadful consequences inevitably resulted from this fatalinstallation of might in the outraged temple of justice. Until lately ablind prejudice and a perverted history have charged this unfortunatestate of things to the pernicious influence of the Church of Rome. Butthe wiser Protestants of the present day, considering it rather a poorcompliment to their faith to assign its birth to the sixteenth century, are beginning to be awake to the powerful instrumentality of theChristian Church in the regeneration of mankind, and the production ofmodern civilization. Few, indeed, even with the light of history, canform an adequate idea of the immensity of the task assigned toChristianity in shedding light over the chaos that followed theoverthrow of Rome, in reducing it to order, and preparing the nicelyfitted elements of modern Europe. 

The Catholic Church beheld, and bitterly deplored, the evils of privatewarfare. Council after council fulminated its decrees against thepernicious system; men were exhorted by the sacred relics of the Saintsto extinguish their animosities, and abstain from violence. But thecustom had taken deep root; for, in the language of a well-knownProtestant historian, "it flattered the pride of the nobles, andgratified their favorite passions. " But in the eleventh century theChurch had gained a partial victory over the dearest appetites of thefiery Frank and the warlike Saxon. It was enacted, under pain ofexcommunication, that private warfare should cease from the sunset ofWednesday to the morning of Monday, and few were hardy enough to exposethemselves to the penalty. The respite from hostilities which followedwas called the "Truce of God. "

It was not the musical voice of the bell that made Gilbert de Hers pauseon the very threshold of the struggle, and bite his lip until it grewwhite; but the sweet-toned bell announced the sunset of Wednesday. Theyoung men stood gazing at each other, as though some spell hadtransformed them into stone. But the messenger of peace had stayed theuplifted sword, and, sheathing their unstained weapons, they knelt uponthe green carpet beneath them, and put forth the same prayer to the sameGod. 

It is a sight that may well command the eyes of Angels, when, thoughdeaf to earthly laws and considerations, the angry heart, in the firstheat of its wild career, still stops obedient to the voice of religion. Amid the dross of human frailty, the pure metal shines with the lustrethat surrounds the sinner in the morning of his conversion. 

They rose almost together, and their faces, so lately flushed withanger, were now calm and subdued. 

"Farewell! Henry de Stramen, " said Gilbert, as he leaped into thesaddle. 

"Farewell!" replied his antagonist, and, almost side by side, theyproceeded in the direction of the bell. 

A deadly feud was raging between the families of Hers and Stramen. Ithad continued for more than twenty years, and now burned with unabatedfury. It originated in some dispute between Gilbert's father and theLord Robert de Stramen, Henry's uncle, which resulted in the death ofthe latter. The Baron of Hers was charged with the murder, and, thoughhe persisted in declaring his innocence, Henry's impetuous father, theLord Sandrit de Stramen, swore over the dead body of his brother to takea bitter revenge on the Baron of Hers and all his line. Henry de Stramenhad been nursed in the bitterest hostility to all who bore the name ofHers, and the unrelenting persecution of the Lord Sandrit had madeGilbert detest most cordially the house of Stramen. It was with mutualhatred, then, that the two young men had met at the spring. They kneweach other well, for they had often fought hand to hand, with theirkinsmen and serfs around them. Now they were alone, and what a triumphwould be the victor's! but the bell, the Tell of peace, thesilver-tongued herald of the truce of God, had sheathed their weapons. 

It could not have been without a severe struggle that the two mortalfoes rode quietly in the same direction, with but a few yards betweenthem. They were not half an hour in the saddle when they discovered thespire of the church they were both in search of, rising gracefully abovethe trees. As they emerged from the forest, they could see stretchingbefore them a broad expanse of hill and dale, wood and field. Scatteredhere and there were the humble dwellings of the forester and husbandman, and, from their midst, towering above them, like Jupiter among thedemigods, stately and stern rose the old castle of the house of Stramen. The western sky was still bathed in light, and shared its glories withthe earth; airy clouds, ever changing their hues, sported, likechameleons, on the horizon; the stream that wound around the castleseemed sheeted with polished silver: the herds and flocks were allstill, and the voice of the birds was the only sound; and, amid thisbeauty and repose, how lovely and majestic was that finely mouldedGothic church!

Henry de Stramen tied his horse to a tree, and was soon lost in theelegantly carved doorway. Gilbert paused a moment, and gazed upon theopen country before him with very mingled emotions. He had been therebefore at the head of his clan to disturb the serenity which, in spiteof himself, was now softening his heart. He did not linger long, but ledhis horse a little within the woods, and entered the church. Thegray-headed priest at the altar was solemnly chanting, from thebeautiful liturgy of the Church, as he knelt down on the hard aisle, andthe branching ceiling seemed to catch and repeat the notes. Through thestained window, where was pictured in unfading colors many a scenesuggesting the goodness and mercy of God, and the blessed tidings ofsalvation, came the fading light of day, softened and beautiful. It wasnot merely the superior genius of the age that made the chapels andcathedrals of the Ages of Faith so immensely superior to the creationsof the present day, but its piety too; that generous and pure devotionwhich induced our ancestors to employ their best faculties and richesttreasures in preparing an abode as worthy as earth could make it of thepresence of the Son of God. Then the house of the minister was not moresplendid than his church, his sideboard not more valuable than thealtar. 

Gilbert saw around him the hard, sunburnt features, the stalwart formshe had marked in the desperate fray; he could touch the hands, nowclasped in prayer, that had been so often raised against him in anger. Beside him knelt the maiden, with her brow all smooth and unfurrowed bycare, and the matron who, numbering more than double her years, had feltmore than treble her sorrows. The youth was deeply moved, as he gazed, and thought he might have robbed that mother of her son, that wife ofher husband, that sister of a brother. Those gentle, melancholy beingshad never harmed him, and, perhaps, in a moment of passion, he haddeprived their existence of half its sweetness, and turned their smilesto tears. It was with an aching, an humbled heart that he bowed his headuntil it touched the cold floor, when the Lamb without spot was elevatedfor the adoration of the faithful. 

A hymn, befitting the occasion, had been intoned, and the priest hadleft the altar, but those fervent men and women did not hurry from thechurch as if grateful for permission to retire, but lingered to meditateand pray. 

Gilbert remained until all had gone save Henry de Stramen and a lady whoknelt beside him. They rose at length, and, passing so close to Gilbertthat he could distinctly see their faces, left him alone. He was in theact of rising when the priest appeared, and beckoned him into thesacristy. 

"Remain here, " the old man said, taking the youth by the hand. 

"I must hurry home, Father, " replied Gilbert; "my father will have nopeace, thinking the boar has killed me. "

"Let him fret awhile; it is better he should lament you alive, than deadby the serfs of Stramen. "

"They dare not attack me!" exclaimed the youth; "they fear the Churchand my own arm too much for that!"

"Nay, peace!" rejoined the priest; "it is better not to expose them tothe temptation, or you to the danger. "

The practicability of spending the night in security in the very teethof Stramen Castle had not occurred to Gilbert; he hesitated a second ortwo, and then, as if all his plans and ideas had undergone a thoroughrevolution, gracefully promised obedience. 

"You are right, Father, " he said; "and to speak truth, I am wearyenough. If you promise me protection to-night, I will gladly rest myhead wherever you place the pillow. "

"Those who sleep with me, " whispered his venerable adviser, "mustcontent themselves without a pillow. But I will promise you a safecouch, though it is a hard one; the softest beds are not always thefreest from danger. In the mean time, tarry here until I have said someprayers. "

"But my horse, " interposed Gilbert. 

His companion rang a small bell. A benevolent-looking man, somewhat pastthe prime of life, plainly dressed in a black cassock, answered thecall. The priest conversed awhile with him, in an undertone, and then, ascertaining from Gilbert where his horse was, dismissed the attendant, remarking that the animal should not suffer. 

Motioning Gilbert to a chair, the priest entered the sanctuary. Insteadof sitting down, the young noble leaned against a lancet window whichcommanded a view of the neighboring castle. He stood there looking idlyupon the darkening prospect, until the appearance of two persons ridingrapidly along the main road to the castle, aroused his attention. Hefollowed them eagerly with his eyes until they were completely lost inthe twilight. One of the riders was evidently a woman; but it would beinquiring too minutely into Gilbert's thoughts to determine whether thatcircumstance, or the proneness of youth to become interested in trifles, excited his curiosity. 

Night was fast approaching, and a light from the altar made itself feltthroughout the church. Still the priest knelt before the sacredtabernacle, and Gilbert longed for his appearance. He grew impatient ofbeing alone, when a companion was so near at hand; the place wasstrange, and there were no well-known objects to stand in the place offriends, supplying by the thousand associations they conjure up, andtheir mute appeals to memory, the absence of language. 

The minutes wore heavily on; but at length the priest entered thesacristy. Gilbert followed him out of the church to a very small house afew paces off, within the shadow of the wood. The house, which was butone story high, was divided into two rooms by a stone partition. In theback room slept the pastor of the church, Father Omehr. The front roomcontained a table and a bench. Father Omehr, for this was the name ofGilbert's companion, struck a light and made the young man sit down uponthe bench, while he spread out upon the table some fruit and bread andwine. 

"Eat, my son, " said the old man; "the wine is good and the bread isquite fresh. These grapes are better than any in Hers. "

Gilbert seemed inclined to dispute the last assertion; but the lengthand vigor of his repast strongly confirmed the opinion expressed by hishost. The latter remained standing with his arms folded on his breast, and regarded the youth with a smile, as he indulged the keen appetitesharpened by the severe exercise of the day. The meal was eaten insilence, save an occasional entreaty from Gilbert to his entertainer topartake of his own cheer, and the refusal. The little lamp between themshone upon two noble faces: in spite of the great disparity betweentheir ages, they were alike; not so much in feature as in the characterof the head. 

The priest must have been near seventy. The top of his head was entirelybald; yet the little hair left him, which grew behind in a semicircle, from ear to ear, was only sprinkled with gray. He was tall and admirablyformed for strength and agility; and though his cheek was pale andsunken, and his high broad forehead ploughed by many a heavy line, stillin his eye and lips and nose were visible the relics of a splendidcreation. There was an expression of great energy about his mouth; hiswhole face indicated intelligence and benevolence; and it was the actualpossession of this energy, intellect, and virtue that made Father Omehra worthy descendant of the noble emissaries of Adrian, who, ever in therear of Charlemagne's armies, healed by the Cross the wounds inflictedby the sword, and drove forever from the forests of Germany the gloomyand accursed rites of Hesus and Taranis. 

Gilbert de Hers was more than a fearless hunter and skilful soldier. Hehad been carefully instructed by his confessor in the writings of theFathers--in logic, philosophy, and the classics; he had read the deathof Patroclus, and the episode of Nisus and Euryalus; he knew by heartmany of those beautiful hymns whose authors, in the spirit of Catholichumility, had concealed their names. He was much beloved by all who knewhim and were permitted to love him. His charities were numerous andunostentatious. Though scarcely twenty-one, his bearing, was bold andmanly; there was no disguise about his large black eyes; they spoke outall his thoughts before his tongue could tell them. Apart from the greatbeauty of his features, high thoughts had printed a language on his facemuch more fascinating than mere regularity of feature. His very elegantform did not promise extraordinary strength, yet he was as formidable tohis foes as welcome to his friends. 

Gilbert rose at the conclusion of his rather protracted meal, anddeclared he would remain seated no longer while his companion stood. Thepriest carefully removed the remnants, after which he sat down upon thebench, and obliged the youth to sit beside him. 

"Now, my son, " he said, "tell me what in the world has brought you herealone?"

"No inclination of mine, my dear Father, " replied Gilbert. 

"Who has sent you then?"

"I am sent by chance, " answered Gilbert, laughing. "Early this morning Iset out, with some twenty companions, in pursuit of a boar. I was bettermounted than they, and so was the boar, for he distanced them. When thechase was at an end I found myself entirely alone, and could hearnothing of my men. I did not know where I was; so I permitted my horseto choose his own course, and by some accident he has brought me here. "

Father Omehr listened attentively, and added, after a pause:

"It is well you came not yesterday. Did you meet any one in the wood?"

Gilbert felt the searching eye of his companion upon him, and relatedwith much embarrassment all that had happened at the spring. 

"I knew he was in search of something to prey upon when he left me sosuddenly. That Henry de Stramen should thus pursue a boy!--fie! It is astain upon his manhood!"

Gilbert looked up in the speaker's face to ascertain if he were inearnest. 

"And but for that little bell, where should you be at this moment?"

"Here, Father, most likely!"

This was said so calmly and maliciously, that Father Omehr could notrepress a smile. But it quickly vanished, and left behind an expressionof deep sorrow. 

"And must this fatal feud last forever?" was his passionate exclamation;"are ye ever to revel in carnage, like the lion of the desert--and shallthe example of the Son of God inspire nothing but contempt for those whoimitate Him?"

The missionary buried his face in his hands, and Gilbert, abashed by thesolemn rebuke, kept a respectful silence. 

"O Gilbert! Gilbert!" resumed the priest, lifting his tearful eyes fromthe ground, "if your God submitted to insult and stripes and death tosave you, can you not patiently endure for His sake a few slightinjuries?"

"Our injuries are not slight, " replied the youth, "nor is the vengeanceof the house of Stramen an idle threat. They have burned the houses ofour serfs, desolated our fields, butchered our kinsmen and dependants;shall we not protect ourselves, even though our resistance makes theirblood run freely? They have accused my father of a crime of which he isinnocent, and have sought to visit upon him real chastisement for theimaginary murder. Shall I stand still and tamely see them wreak theirmost unrighteous wrath upon my guiltless parent's head?"

"I should be glad, my son, if you confined yourselves to mereresistance; but how often have you inflicted, within sight of this verydoor, the injuries of which you complain? Could you see what I see--theorphan's piteous face, the widowed mother's tear of agony--blightedhopes and unavailing regrets--you might pause in your fearfulretaliation!"

"They have brought it on themselves, " said Gilbert, musing, "_they_ arethe aggressors. "

"Alas! be not the means by which their sins are aggravated. "

"You must address yourself to them!" returned the other. 

"And have I not? Day and night I have reasoned, implored, prayed; I haverepresented the folly, injustice, and impiety of their violence; I haveheld out to them the anger of God and the maledictions of man; I haveemployed art, eloquence, and reproof: but all in vain. Oh, what years ofmisery has your quarrel cost me! Could I only live to see it healed; tosee you once more living like Christian men, employed in atoning foryour own sins, not in arrogantly chastising each other's faults; to seethe sword of discord broken, and peace and love and safety proclaimingthe Divine efficacy of our holy religion! We all have enough to do tovanquish ourselves, and have little time to spare in subduing others, unless we aid them in conquering their passions, and then we promote oursalvation: but your conquests only peril your eternal welfare. "

Gilbert understood from this last remark that his companion had readwhat was passing in his mind, and he contented himself by saying:

"Believe me, Father, I regret their obstinacy. "

"You are young now, " pursued his monitor; "but, trust me, when your oldlimbs fail you, and your sight waxes dim, your angry deeds will riselike spectres around you and haunt you to the tomb. "

Gilbert attempted no reply, but listened with the air of one whoapproved the advice, but despaired of ever profiting by it. After aninterval of meditation, Father Omehr arose and spread some soft fleecesin the corner of the room. 

"May you sleep soundly, my son, " he said, "and beg of God grace tomoderate your angry passions. Your bed is not very soft, but it is inyour power to sanctify it, and then it will be better than the downwhich muffles those who disdain or neglect to invoke the Divineprotection. "

Gilbert knelt down and received the old man's blessing, who, wishing hima good night, withdrew into his own apartment and closed the door. 

CHAPTER II

 The golden sceptre which thou didst reject, Is now an angry rod to bruise and break Thy disobedience. 

Gilbert de Hers, as the good priest withdrew into his own apartment, resumed his seat upon the bench, and soon became absorbed in meditation. His varying face betrayed the character of each thought as it filedbefore his mind in rapid review. For more than an hour he remained inthat statue-like state, when we, in a measure, assume a triple being, asthe past and the present unite to form a future. 

But as all reveries, like life itself, must end, Gilbert at lengthseemed to be aware of the reality of the unpretending bed in the corner. Having repeated the prayers which his piety suggested, he extinguishedthe almost exhausted taper, and threw himself upon the bed. He could notsleep, however; for, great as the fatigue of the day had been, theexcitement was greater. His mind was perpetually recurring to the eventsat the spring, from which they wandered to his father's lonely andanxious chamber: now he remembered the earnest appeal of Father Omehr, and now pondered the injuries he had received from the house of Stramen. Through a narrow opening in the wall he could see the noble churchsleeping in the moonlight. Its walls of variegated marble had beenbuilt principally at the expense of the Barons of Stramen, for in thosedays it was not unfrequent for private families to erect magnificentchurches from their own resources; and as his eye rested upon the mistywindow, perhaps he felt that though utterly opposed in all else, therewas one thing in common between his own haughty race and the founders ofthat church--religion. 

The night wore on, and was far advanced; but Gilbert still kept pilingthought upon thought, unable and even scarcely desiring to exchange themfor the deep repose or more confused images of slumber. It must havebeen after midnight when, as he lay awake, he could distinctly hear thesound of blows. Gilbert was not a moment in conjecturing the cause; heknew at once that the venerable priest was subjecting himself tocorporal chastisement. He did not live in an age when voluntarymortification was ridiculed, when a sacred ambition to imitate acrucified God insured contempt from man. Then, those self-denyingreligious were not taunted with "the hope of gaining heaven by makingearth a hell. " And perhaps Gilbert knew that the spiritual peace anddelight derived from such chastisements, were infinitely sweeter, evenhere below, than the impure pleasures of worldlings. Feeling thus, hecould not but contrast the mortified life of that holy man with his ownindulged and pampered existence. He had never known the sting ofadversity, and rarely been thwarted in a single desire; yet how muchgreater his sins than those of Father Omehr! Amid such reflections hefelt--and it is a salutary feeling--the truth of a hereafter. 

But we will no longer pursue the reflections of the youth. Some timeafter the sounds had ceased he fell asleep, and was only roused by thesun streaming into his apartment, and the solemn tones of the churchbell. 

The morning was beautiful. The sun was everywhere; kindling the hoarytops of the Suabian Alps, sparkling on the broad Danube as it rolledmajestically on from the southwest to the northeast, lighting up hamlet, hill, vale, rivulet, forest, and making the church glitter like astupendous diamond. But Gilbert was ill-prepared to enjoy this blaze ofbeauty. In a melancholy mood he leaned against the window, watching thesturdy serf in the centre of his family, as he came to share theblessings of the Mass. He was rather startled when the outer door openedand admitted the lady he had seen in the church the night before withHenry de Stramen. She came unattended, save by an old female servant, who carried with some difficulty a basket filled with fruits, delicacies, and medicines of various kinds, designed for Father Omehr toapply to any purpose his piety might point out. 

Though in the year 1076 chivalry was not the regular and well-definedinstitution it became during and after the Crusades, yet the same amountof valor and devotion to woman was expected from the knight. The spiritof Christianity, operating upon Teutonic virtue, which has raised thewoman from the drudge of man to be the ornament of society, created achivalric courtesy long before the cry of "_Deus vult!_" rang from Italyto England. Gilbert de Hers, born and bred in the courtly circle ofSuabia, though his spurs were not yet won, was still familiar with theduties of knighthood. As the lady paused, surprised at his presence, hemade a profound and respectful reverence, and he would have done thesame had she been less noble, or had he known, as he then surmised, thatthe fair visitor was the daughter of his father's deadliest foe. 

Their embarrassment was relieved by the appearance of Father Omehr, whoextended to both his blessing, gratefully received the basket from theattendant, and, after Margaret de Stramen had retired, accompaniedGilbert to the church. As they emerged into the morning air, Gilbertcaught a glimpse of the graceful figure of the young lady entering thechurch. But his attention was soon arrested by a strange, wild-lookingbeing upon the church steps. She was apparently not over forty, tall, slightly built, and evidently the victim of insanity. Her long blackhair hung in thick masses over her pale face and deathly-white neck; herarms swung to and fro with a restless motion, and she sang at intervalssnatches from the ballads for which Suabia is so renowned. As Gilbertpassed her, she bent her large wild eyes upon him with an expression ofsuch fearful meaning, that brave as was the youth in battle, he recoiledfrom their ferocious glare. The next instant she was abstracted asbefore, and crossed her hands upon her breast in an attitude ofdevotion. Gilbert looked to his companion with an inquiring eye, but thepriest was silent. 

The next instant they were treading the marble aisle. Gilbert knelt downupon a tombstone, and endeavored to compose himself for the Mass. Heperceived from the glances thrown upon him from time to time by some ofthe peasantry, that he was recognized as an enemy, yet respected as oneunder the aegis of religion. These glances became more frequent whenFather Omehr, in his brief discourse, eloquently adverted to the exampleof Jesus in the forgiveness of injuries, and enforced the sacred duty ofa Christian to imitate that Divine model. In powerful terms thegray-haired priest portrayed the miseries of discord, and the blessingsof mutual forbearance; and Gilbert felt that a change was creeping overhim. 

He left the church when the Holy Sacrifice had been completed, meditating upon the pastor's powerful exhortation. But the train of histhoughts was broken upon the steps by that wild face almost touchinghis. As the maniac stared fixedly at him, she muttered in a hoarsewhisper:

 They laid him 'neath a noisy tree, And his glossy head was bare; They piled the cold earth on his breast, Then left him helpless there. 

While the youth listened in amazement, and almost in terror, the franticwoman drew from her bosom a long knife, and inflicted a deep wound uponhim before he could wrench it from her determined grasp. The knife hadpenetrated to the rib, but not farther, having glanced off to the side. As the blood spread rapidly over his hunting-shirt, the maniac gave awild laugh, and repeated in the same low, dismal tone:

 'T is red, 't is red, as red as his; Man's blood is ever red; 'T was thus his side was crimsoned o'er When they told me he was dead. 

With the last words, she laughed again, more wildly than before, and, darting into the wood, was soon lost among the gigantic trees. 

Some serfs were standing around, but offered no assistance. They seemedrooted to the ground in terror at the rash act, and crossed themselvesin mute astonishment. At this juncture, while Gilbert was examining theextent of the wound, and vainly endeavoring to stanch the blood, theLady Margaret and the priest appeared at the doorway, having beenattracted by the loud laugh of Gilbert's assailant. 

Comprehending in an instant that Gilbert had been wounded, Father Omehrhastened to support him. 

"It is but a trifle, Father, " said the youth, anxious to relieve theevident uneasiness of the old man. 

"May God will that it be so!" replied the priest, eagerly removing thehunting-shirt, and examining the path of the knife. After which, havingcarefully replaced the garment, he turned to the serfs who yet lingeredthere, inquiring, in a voice of deep indignation:

"Who has dared to do this? Who has been impious enough to draw bloodduring the truce of God, upon the threshold of God's sacred temple?"

One of them hastened to reply:

"It was Alber of the Thorn's widow, crazy Bertha. God preserve us fromsuch a deed, at such a time, and in such a place!"

"But could you not have prevented it?" continued the priest, eyeing theman until he quailed. 

Gilbert interposed. 

"They are not to blame, Father, " he said; "I did not expect the attackmyself, and none else could have prevented the blow. "

"It bleeds much, " pursued the priest, again examining the wound. 

Gilbert made a step forward, but Father Omehr detained him, andreluctantly the youth allowed himself to be supported by two of theserfs of Stramen to the bed he had occupied during the night. 

Margaret de Stramen, in the spirit of the age, had gone to the cell, after discovering the nature of the young man's injury, and taken fromthe basket she had brought some salves and stringents with which shestood ready at the door. She washed the wound and dressed it with thetenderness peculiar to woman, and received Gilbert's thanks with aslight inclination of the head. Having completed her task, she drew thepriest aside, and, looking up into his face with evident emotion, said:

"Could there have been poison on the knife?"

Though spoken in a whisper, the youth must have heard it, for he smiledat first, and the next moment became pale as death. Father Omehr noticedthe change upon his features, and replied loud enough to be overheard:

"No, no! it cannot be. Some momentary paroxysm prompted the deed; therecould have been no preparation, no predetermination. "

"It is not for his sake, " continued Margaret, in a still lower tone, andwithdrawing farther from the bed; "not for his sake I fear anunfortunate result; but for our own. I know that it is Gilbert de Herswho lies there, and I have drunk too deeply in the prejudices of ourfamily to repine at any calamity that may befall him. But this impiousoutrage can insure nothing but the Divine vengeance upon our heads. Ifhe were borne down in battle, I perhaps should rejoice at heart at thetriumph of my father; but I would rather die than see him perish from anoble confidence in the house of Stramen. "

"You are not responsible, my child, " rejoined her companion, "for theblind violence of a crazy woman. I am confident that the wound is notdangerous. Perhaps the accident, apparently so untoward, may in the endbe productive of good. We are too apt to receive as good what should beavoided as evil, and to deem that a curse which should be considered ablessing. "

The young lady made no reply, but advanced to Gilbert's bedside. 

"Believe me, sir, " she began with dignity but in some confusion, "that Isincerely regret the accident which has confined you here, and that Idesire and will pray for your speedy recovery. You cannot suspect thehouse of Stramen of conniving at such a cowardly assault; they are toopowerful in the field to resort to such a pitiful stratagem. Our effortshall now be to secure you from further violence. "

The blood returned to Gilbert's cheek as she spoke. Feeble with pain andthe loss of blood, he with difficulty replied:

"I little expected ever to receive such kindness as you have shown mefrom the daughter of my father's foes; but come what may, kind lady, Ishall never forget your services. I feel assured that the kinsmen ofher whom I address, could never be guilty of so ignoble an action. "

It was not without pleasure that the noble maiden heard an answer soflattering to her pride, and so earnestly pronounced. Her cheek becamebrighter than Gilbert's as she bowed and left the apartment, attended bythe old woman servant. 

We will leave Gilbert, for the present, in the care of Father Omehr, tofollow the footsteps of the fair lady of Stramen. 

Margaret led the way rapidly to the border of the forest, where she hadleft a groom with horses. She sprang lightly upon her spirited palfrey, and exchanging a few words with the old woman, dismissed both domesticsto the castle, and galloped off alone in an opposite direction. As sherode along, she was greeted with smiles and blessings by all who mether; yet she seemed to heed but little the frequent reverence andheartfelt salutation. 

After proceeding about three miles, she struck into a deep, dark ravine, through which there rushed a slender stream, whose waters, seldomgladdened by a sunbeam, seemed to groan and murmur like an angrycaptive. The way, thickly strewn with moss-bound stones and themouldering skeletons of trees, required all the maiden's horsemanship. But she struggled on, until she reached something midway between agrotto and a hut, projecting from the side of the gully, and looking asthough by some fantastic freak of nature it had grown there, soadmirably was it in keeping with the character of the place. 

From the time she had mounted her horse, the maiden's face expressedgreat anxiety, which increased as she alighted and entered the singularexcrescence we have mentioned. A blazing pine-knot driven in the ground, shed a fierce, and flickering light over the interior of this gloomyabode, for it was an abode--and more, a home--the home of Bertha! Themaniac was sitting upon a rude bench, close to the firebrand which gavea fearful lustre to her haggard features, while with a species ofexultation she gazed upon the knife stained with Gilbert's blood, stillclenched in her hand. 

The husband of this unfortunate woman had, about a year before, beenmortally wounded in a chance affray between the partisans of the lordsof Hers and Stramen. He was brought home only to die in the arms of hiswife. The shock had reduced her to this miserable extremity. She couldnot be prevailed upon to remain in the cottage she had occupied in thehour of her joy; and though repeatedly offered a home by Father Omehrand the Baron of Stramen, she had built for herself this wild nest, andobstinately refused to leave it except to wander to the church or to thegrave-yard. She was maintained by the Lady Margaret principally, and bythe charities of the peasantry. Up to the present time, she had beenperfectly harmless, and was rather loved than feared by the children ofthe country. She had always manifested an extreme affection for the LadyMargaret, to whom she would sing her sweetest songs, and whose hand shewould almost devour with kisses. 

Margaret, though somewhat appalled at Bertha's frightful appearance, yetconfiding in the power she had over her, advanced and silently sat downupon the bench. For some minutes Bertha seemed unconscious of thepresence of her visitor, but suddenly removing her eyes from the knife, she bent them upon Margaret. In an instant a smile of strange sweetnessstole over the poor creature's wasted face: every trace of angerdisappeared as she fell upon her knees and raised the hem of themaiden's garment to her lips. Without rising she sang one of thosesimple ballads which even insanity could not make her forget. The ladyof Stramen patiently permitted her to proceed without interruption. Butthe moment her strange companion was silent, she minted to the knife, exclaiming:

"Is this blood, Bertha?"

Still kneeling, the woman began:

 The chieftain swore on bended knee, That blood for blood should flow-- Then leaped upon his coal-black steed, And spurred against the foe. 

"Has anyone hurt you?" continued Margaret. 

But Bertha only replied:

 Sir Arthur swung his falchion keen-- The serf implored in vain;-- The knight is galloping away-- The serf lies on the plain!

"Bertha! Bertha! this is wrong: I hope you have committed no violence?"

But the answer, as before, was given in rude, indefinite verse. 

It may be unnecessary to say that the object of the lady's visit was todiscover if the knife had been poisoned. Finding that all questionwould be useless, she had recourse to an artifice to effect her purpose, suggested by the discovery of a splinter buried in Bertha's thumb. 

"Let me remove this--it must give you pain, " she said, examining thehand she had taken in hers, and reaching after the knife. Berthapassively resigned the weapon, but rapidly withdrew her hand, just asher mistress feigned to prepare for the incision. Margaret shuddered, for she naturally saw in that quick gesture a confirmation of her worstfears. For some moments they gazed at each other in mute anxiety. Berthawas the first to break the silence, and her words revived a gleam ofhope in the bosom of her companion. 

"No! no!" she exclaimed, slowly and sternly, "his blood must not mixwith mine!"

"Is there poison here?" pursued the lady, in a low searching tone. 

She received in reply:

 There was no poison on the steel That robbed Sir James of breath; There was no poison on the blade That well avenged his death. 

Greatly relieved, but still unsatisfied, the high-born damsel sprang toher feet. 

"It is the blood of Hers!" she cried, exultingly. 

The maniac's face assumed a look of savage triumph. 

"Then will I keep this blood-stained instrument as a precious jewel. Farewell, Bertha; you shall hear from me soon. "

She passed rapidly through the narrow aperture by which she hadentered, leaving Bertha in blank amazement, utterly unable to comprehendwhat had passed. 

Emerging from the dark ravine, the Lady Margaret rode straight towardthe old castle of Stramen, whose gray towers retained their sombremajesty, which the merry sun could not entirely dispel. It was not longbefore she passed the drawbridge, sped through the massive gate, andreined in her palfrey upon the ample terrace; when, having thrown herbridle to an attendant, she proceeded at once to her chamber, andsummoned Linda, the old domestic, to her side. 

"You are skilled in such matters, Linda, " she said, producing the knife, before the faithful neif had finished her salutation; "is there poisonon this blade?"

Linda took the knife, and having examined it attentively, returned it toher mistress; after which she left the room, making a signal that shewould soon return. After the lapse of a few minutes, she reappeared witha vessel of boiling water, which she placed upon a marble slab. Thentaking from her pocket a piece of polished silver, and at the same timereceiving the knife, she plunged them both into the hissing liquid. Asthe lady of Stramen, eagerly watching the experiment, stood bending overthe water with her back to the door, she was not aware of her father'spresence. He had entered unperceived, and was contemplating in somesurprise the mysterious operation going on before him. He could scarcerepress a laugh, for there was something ludicrous in Linda's very wiseand consequential manner, as she knelt over the kettle, while hisdaughter, equally absorbed, her hat yet untied, continued in an attitudeof profound attention beside her. 

When the water had cooled, the old woman with a trembling hand drew outthe silver--it was bright as ever!

"It is venomless as the bill of the turtle-dove, " she exclaimed, withthe importance of an oracle, looking up at her mistress. 

"May I ask the meaning of all this, without being referred to the princeof magic for an answer?" said the Baron of Stramen, stepping forward;and he added, addressing Linda, who in her surprise had nearlyoverturned the vessel: "Do you wish to be hung for a witch?"

The old woman slunk terrified into a corner, but Margaret hastilyreplied:

"You are already informed, sir, of the violation of the truce of God, which occurred this morning. Our magic consisted only in the discoverythat there was no poison upon the knife which inflicted the wound. "

"I cannot but think, " rejoined her father, "that you have displayed anunnecessary interest about the result. That young stripling has cost memore lives than he numbers years; and though I could not connive atBertha's attempt to assassinate, I certainly do not see much reason torejoice at his escape. "

It may have been that Margaret quailed a little beneath her father'srigid scrutiny, but without embarrassment she returned:

"If I had been born and bred to arms, if my breast were accustomed tothe coat of mail, if my hand could wield the battle-axe, I mightanxiously crave, or coldly behold the murder of a foe confiding in ourgenerosity and in our plighted faith to the Church; but I have neverworn the gauntlet, or drawn the sword; my heart has never exulted at thegladsome sight of an enemy's blood, and I scorn to ascribe the interestI may have shown, to a wish of having the sweet assurance that a scionof Hers would perish like a dog, when in reality I hoped to find theweapon venomless. "

"Spoken like a woman, as you are, " muttered the knight. "I would haveyou feel otherwise, but God has given you your sex; I cannot change itsnature. "

The Baron of Stramen was a tall, powerful man, whose vigor fifty yearshad not impaired. His face was stern, though not repulsive, and freefrom any approach to vulgarity. A man of strong passions, yet thestrongest of all was an unvarying love for his daughter, on whom seemedto have centered all the tenderness of which he was capable. On thepresent occasion, he put an end to further controversy by drawingMargaret to his side, and giving her an exquisitely wrought head ofGregory VII. 

"Treasure it, my child, " he said, "it is the faithful likeness of awonderful man--a man who may one day, with a few stout hearts to secondhis energy, chastise the impious tyranny of the house of Franconia!" Hespoke with deep feeling, and, after pacing the room, with his armsfolded upon his broad breast, abruptly stalked through the door, apparently absorbed in some momentous question. 

No sooner had he gone, than Margaret turned to Linda, who still occupiedthe corner, and dismissed her with a message to Father Omehr. Whenalone, she knelt down before an ivory image of the Blessed Virgin andprayed--not to the polished ivory--but to the Mother of purity whoseintercession it suggested, with a fervency and constancy which only theyventure to ridicule who cannot record the virtues of Mary without asneer. 

Though not apprehensive, Father Omehr was pleased to learn from Lindathat the knife had not been poisoned. Gilbert's eye brightened at theintelligence, though he had not given utterance to his fears--_fears_they were--for even the young and brave recoil in terror from death, when it assumes a form and hovers near in a detested shape. Havinginformed the youth that a messenger had been despatched to his father, the priest left Gilbert in charge of the sacristan, and proceeded on hisdaily errand of mercy through the neighborhood. By men like him, fervent, fearless, faithful, the rude Northern hordes were induced toabandon their idolatry, and embrace the faith of the Church of Rome. These noble missionaries slowly but surely prepared the canvas on whichwere afterward laid, in colors of enduring brightness, the features ofChristian civilization. 

When Father Omehr returned, Gilbert was asleep. The sacristan put in hishands a letter from a distinguished prelate, informing him of thenomination of Henry, canon of Verdun, by Henry IV. 

"O God, protect Thy holy Church!" exclaimed the missionary, crushing thepaper in his excitement. "If the ministers of God become the creaturesof the king, despotism and irreligion must inevitably ensue. How longwill virtue be accounted a crime? Shall every faithful shepherd besupplanted, to make room for the wolf of lay investiture, the instrumentof a lustful tyrant, raised by simony, and upheld by royal favor?"

Gilbert's light slumber had been broken by the voice of his benefactor. As soon as Father Omehr saw the youth awake, he approached him, andinquired, with great kindness of manner, whether he felt better. 

The youth replied in the affirmative. 

"I have discovered, " continued the other, "that you have richly deservedthis wound. You killed with your own hand the husband of the woman whostabbed you, and though the chance thrust of an affray, it was noted, and communicated to Bertha by an eye-witness, one of the combatants. This is her revenge--but how inadequate to her suffering!"

"It is, indeed, " said Gilbert, replying to the last remark, which hadbeen particularly emphasized. His companion could not conceal thesatisfaction with which he hailed this reply, as an omen of regret, andof a right apprehension of his former violence. But the youth wasdrowsy, and prudence forbade a longer conversation. At the close of theevening service, the lady of Stramen was seen to exchange a few wordswith her venerable pastor, but she did not enter the cell. 

The gorgeous sun of ancient Suabia was beneath the horizon--but Gilbertslept upon his couch; the moon had lit her feebler torch, and walkedsilently beneath the stars--yet not until midnight did Gilbert awake. All was profoundly still. The dim light of the taper at his bedsiderevealed only the motionless figure of the sacristan, and the outline ofa crucifix hanging against the wall. His eyes involuntarily closed, andin a moment he stood before his father, in the oaken halls of Hers--hisretainers were around him--the horses pranced merrily--the buglesounded--"On to the chase!" was the cry. He opened his eyes--thecrucifix became more distinct. 

He knelt before a prince, and arose a knight--a broidered kerchiefstreamed from his polished casque--the herald, in trumpet tones, proclaimed his prowess--the troubador embalmed his deeds in immortalverse--the smiles of high-born damsels were lavished upon him--the pageclasped his sword at the mention of his name. He opened his eyes--thecrucifix, and the sacristan!

A form of beauty was before him--at first, haughty and disdainful, butgradually assuming a look of interest and pity--it bent over him, andpoured a balm into his wound, with a prayer for its efficacy--but thefigure lifted its finger with a menacing air, and pointed to a snake, hissing from its hair--a mist settled around him, and the apparition wasgone. He opened his eyes--the taper burned brighter--the crucifix becamemore distinct. 

Gilbert was now fully awake. His wound was more painful than it had yetbeen, and in vain he endeavored to win back the repose so latelyenjoyed. Nor was corporal uneasiness his only annoyance. Father Omehr'srevelation of the motives by which Bertha was actuated, had left a morepainful impression upon his mind than his monitor perhaps desired. Though the priest had not directly attributed the woman's insanity toher husband's death, Gilbert too clearly understood that such was thefact. His was too generous a heart, not to deplore bitterly so terriblea calamity, of which he was--however unintentionally--the cause. He feltno resentment for his misguided assailant--he would willingly haveexposed himself to a second attack, could he have thus restored herreason. The memento of the crucifixion--that Catholic alphabet, thecrucifix--held up unto his soul the wondrous truth that God hadvoluntarily suffered, for the sake of man, all that humanity can endure;and the youth interiorly acknowledged that the errors of his life werebut imperfectly balanced by the inconvenience he then experienced. 

It is not in the pride of health and youth, surrounded by pleasure, andstrangers to care, that a heart, wedded to the world, is apt toprostrate itself in humility before the Author of life; but in dangerand affliction, we learn to mistrust our self-sufficiency, and feel ourcomplete dependence upon an invisible and almighty power. We are muchmore disposed to appeal to heaven for protection, than to return thanksfor repeated favors. It is not to be wondered at, then, that Gilbertsought relief in prayer; there is nothing more natural to one whoprefers the consolations of religion to the staff of philosophy. He wasfar indeed from that exalted perfection of loving God for Himself alone;but who can predict what may spring from the mustard-seed?

By the first gray light of the morning Father Omehr was bending over hisyouthful charge: Gilbert was fast asleep. 

CHAPTER III

 Fit to govern! No, not to live. O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant, bloody-sceptred, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?

 MACBETH. 

The third Friday after Gilbert had been wounded, he mounted his horse, and, accompanied by Father Omehr, set out for the Castle of Hers, whichlay some four leagues distant to the south. 

"You are sad, Father, " said the youth, who felt all the exhilaration ofreturning strength, heightened by the freshness of the morning. 

"It is true, my son; for though in all the trials of this pilgrimage Iendeavor to turn to God the cheerful face He loves to see in affliction, I am sometimes weak enough to tremble at the gloomy period before us. Weare upon the eve of a tremendous struggle. You may not be aware of it, for you are unaccustomed to watch events which govern the future forgood or evil; but the firmness of our Holy Father, and the increasingrecklessness and impiety of the emperor, must create an earthquakesooner or later. "

"My father, " replied Gilbert, "has imputed to His Holiness a want offirmness. "

"Alas, with how little reason! He who, when seized by Cencius and hisarmed assassins at the altar of St. Mary Major--bruised, and dragged bythe hair to the castle of his assailant--yet remained calm and unmoved, with the face of an Angel, neither imploring mercy nor attempting anineffectual resistance--cannot be accused of a want of firmness. Thematchless benevolence--the heart which melts at the first symptom ofrepentance--the clemency which led him, while his wounds were yet fresh, to pardon Cencius, prostrate at his feet--have also induced him tohearken to the promises of King Henry and accept his contrition. "

"But is it not almost folly to trust the royal hypocrite to whom Suabiapays so heavy a tribute? I wish that when his infant majesty fell in theRhine, there had been no Count Ecbert nigh to rescue him!"

"Is it not rather an exalted charity, of which you have no conception, and a Christian forgiveness which puts to shame your last ungenerouswish?"

"I can have no sympathy or pity for him who has loaded with insult aprincess alike distinguished for beauty and virtue. "

"You mean the queen, his wife. But tell me, when he endeavored toprocure a divorce from Bertha, who prevented the criminal separation?Was it the boasted chivalry of Suabia? No! Peter Damian, the Pope'slegate, alone opposed the angry monarch, and told him, in the presenceof all his courtiers, that 'his designs were disgraceful to aking--still more disgraceful to a Christian; that he should blush tocommit a crime he would punish in another; and that, unless he renouncedhis iniquitous project, he would incur the denunciation of the Churchand the severity of the holy canons. ' The result was the reconcilementof Henry with Bertha, in Saxony. And though Alexander was Pope, Peterreceived his instructions from Hildebrand. But there is a widedifference between your hostility to Henry of Austria and the resistanceof Gregory VII to his encroachments: your motives all flow from humanconsiderations, and seek a human revenge; his, on the contrary, proceedfrom the knowledge of his duty, to God, and breathe forgiveness: youseek the king's destruction and your own aggrandizement--Gregory, theking's welfare, and the independence and prosperity of the ChristianChurch. "

We will no longer continue a conversation which, to be intelligible toall, would require a more intimate acquaintance with the history of thetimes than can be obtained from the books in free circulation among us. Though Gregory VII has been reproached by all Protestants, and by someCatholics, with an undue assumption of temporal power, and anunnecessary severity against Henry IV of Austria, it is certain that, inhis own day, he was charged by many of his own friends, particularly, inSaxony and Suabia, with too tender a regard for a monarch who violatedhis most solemn engagements the moment he fancied he could do so withimpunity, and whose court, already openly profligate, threatened topresent the appearance of an Eastern seraglio. A hasty glance at theprominent facts of the dispute will leave us in doubt whether to admiremost the dignified and Christian forbearance of the Pope while a hope ofsaving his adversary remained, or the unwavering resolution hedisplayed, even to death in exile, when convinced that mercy to the kingwould be injustice to God. 

No sooner had Gregory assumed the tiara, than he addressed letters todifferent persons, in which he assured them of his earnest desire tounite with Henry in upholding the honor of the Church and the imperialdignity; to accomplish which he would embrace the first opportunity ofsending legates to Henry, to acquaint the king with his views. But, while proferring his love, he declared that, if Henry should venture tooffer God insult instead of honor, he would not fail in his duty to theDivine Head of the Church through fear of offending man. So, in a letterto Rodolph, Duke of Suabia, who at that time was known to be secretlyhostile to the king, Gregory declared that he entertained no ill feelingwhatever for Henry, but simply desired to do his duty. 

There were two evils which Gregory was resolved to extirpate: layinvestitures, and the incontinence of the clergy. When the power ofappointing to benefices was usurped by the civil power, the emperor wassure to fill the highest places in his gift with creatures of his own. The inevitable result of this was to create two classes of prelates--oneof lay, the other of ecclesial investiture. Its ultimate effect was torender the Church completely depend upon the State, and to change andcorrupt its very source with the varying vices of libertine despots. Itwas found (and how could it be otherwise?) that the protégés of theemperor studied only how to please him; and that, in serving the Stateand the prince, they became indifferent to the Church. Selected to servea particular purpose, or chosen in consideration of a valuable donation, the lay nominee had been sure to fulfil the object for which he waselevated, or to indulge the avarice or ambition which had craved theappointment. It was in attempting to remedy this fatal innovation thatGregory found himself repeatedly thwarted by Henry; and yet he had beencensured by those who lament the worldliness of a portion of themedieval clergy, for striking at the root of the evil. 

After repeated provocation, the arm of the Pope is uplifted to strike;but Henry, awed by his menaces, and by an insurrection in Saxony, hastens to avert the blow by an unreserved submission and the fairestpromises. He confesses, not only to have meddled in ecclesiasticalmatters, but to have unjustly stripped churches of their pastors--tohave sold them to unworthy subjects guilty of simony, whose veryordination was questionable--and implores the Pope to begin the reformwith the Cathedral of Milan, which is in schism by his fault. 

Gregory pardons him; and, in 1074, holds his first council at Romeagainst simony and the incontinence of the clergy. It was in this yearthat Henry, already pressed by the Saxons and Thuringians, found himselfthreatened by Salomon, King of Hungary. In this emergency, he hasrecourse to Gregory, who, by an eloquent letter, calms the indignantHungarian. 

With the year following, the campaign against Saxony begins. This bravebut turbulent people had risen against the towns in possession of Henry, and burned the magnificent Cathedral at Hartzburg. Here again the Popesecured to the king the powerful assistance of Rodolph, Duke of Suabia, in conjunction with whom the royal army obtains a decisive victory atHohenburg. But once in security and crowned with success, the gracelessmonarch forgets his submission, and exclaims, "It does not befit a hero, who has vanquished a warlike people, struggling in defence of what theyhold most sacred, to bow humbly down before a priest, whose only weaponis his tongue!" Faithless to his recorded vow in the hour of danger, henominates Henry, canon of Verdun, to fill the see vacated by the Bishopof Liège; and, soon after, calls to the see of Milan, Theobald, his ownchaplain, in place of the murdered Herlembaud. Thus repeatedly deceived, Gregory must strike at last, or sacrifice the independence of the Churchof God to human weakness. 

It was in the pause between these new indignities and the consecrationof Hidolphe in the archbishopric of Cologne, that Father Omehr andGilbert rode slowly on toward the Castle of Hers. 

The conversation naturally turned from the consideration of impendingevils, to the miserable feud actually existing between the two houses ofHers and Stramen. 

"I sincerely wish it were ended, " said Gilbert, in reply to a vehementdenunciation just pronounced by his companion. "I could willinglyforgive all the injuries I have received at their hands, when I rememberthe kindness of the Lady Margaret. "

The priest looked quickly up in the young man's face, but Gilbert wasgazing with an abstracted air upon the blue outline of the beautifulLake of Constance, which just began to appear to the south. 

"It were far better, " he said, commanding the youth's attention bytaking his hand--"it were far better to forgive them when you rememberthe prayer of your dying Jesus for His persecutors, than out ofgratitude to the ordinary courtesy of a pitying damsel. "

Gilbert made no direct reply, nor did he return the glance of hisfriend, which he well knew was upon him. 

"I could wish, " he began, after a considerable pause, "before leavingyour hospitable roof, to have expressed to the Lady Margaret my deepsense of the interest she deigned to display in my regard, and which Ifear has done more to soften my feelings toward her father, than thenobler and holier motive you have mentioned. "

There was a humility in this that pleased the good missionary; but hesaw with pain and uneasiness the direction which the ardent mind of theyouth was evidently taking, and instantly rejoined:

"Did you know the Lady Margaret better, you would spare yourself thatregret. In her charitable attention to your wants, she overcame anatural repugnance to yourself. She would rather miss than receive anyreturn you can make, and is always more inclined to set a proper valueupon the solid and eternal recompense of God, than attach any importanceto the empty and interested gratitude of man. "

Gilbert's eyes were bent again upon the Lake of Constance. They were nowat the foot of a long, high hill, which they began to ascend insilence. Gilbert pressed his horse rather swiftly up the gradual ascent, and they soon gained the summit. 

"What is the Danube to that splendid lake!" cried the mercurialstripling; "and what is there in all the lordship of Stramen to vie withthis!"

The view now opened might excuse his excitement, even in a lessinterested person. The Castle of Hers, though built for strength, presented a very different appearance from that of Stramen: its outlinewas light and graceful, and it seemed rather to lift up than cumber thetall hill that it so elegantly crowned. It was situated upon the borderof the lake, which, by trouvère and troubadour, in song and in verse, inevery age and in every clime, has been so justly celebrated. A few milesto the southwest the mighty Rhine came tumbling in; who, as the Germanpoets say, scorns to mingle his mountain stream with the quiet waters ofthe lake. We will attempt no further description, for fear of spoiling afiner picture, which must already exist in the eye of the reader, created by more skilful hands. 

As the horsemen neared the castle, they saw a knight, followed by a fewmen, dashing down the hill. Gilbert knew his father, and hastened tomeet him. Their meeting was manly and cordial. The baron stopped but toembrace his son, and hastened to welcome Father Omehr. He dismounted, and imprinted a kiss upon the old man's still vigorous hand. 

"I should be childless now, " he said, "but for your kindness; and youknow that words would but mock my feelings. "

The tears in the baron's eyes expressed more than a long oration. 

Father Omehr only replied, with a laugh, "You must blame your son'sindiscretion, and not applaud me!" Thus saved from a formal andunsatisfactory conversation, the knight remounted his horse and led theway to the castle. 

Upon the slope of the hill, half-way between the castle and the lake, was a chapel built of white stone, which had stood there, according totradition, from the ninth century. It was said to have been erected byCharlemagne, on his second expedition against the Saxons. The Baron ofHers had ornamented and repaired it with much taste and at greatexpense, until it was celebrated throughout the circle of Suabia for itsrichness and elegance. It had been dedicated to Mary the Morning Star, as appeared from a statue of the Blessed Virgin surmounted with a star, and was called the Pilgrim's Chapel. It was in charge of Herman, apriest, who had studied at Monte Cassino under the Benedictines, withFather Omehr, whom he loved as a brother. They had spent their period oftraining and had been ordained together; and, for forty years they hadlabored in the same vineyard, side by side, yet seldom meeting. Whenthey did meet, however, it was with the joy and chastened affectionwhich only the pure-minded and truly religious can know; and they wouldrecall with tears of happiness the scenes of other days--the splendidconvent, whose church shone like a grotto of jewels and preciousstones--the learned and devout monk, and the theological difficultiesover which they had triumphed hand in hand. 

After taking some slight refreshment (for the baron could ill brook arefusal of his cheer), Father Omehr left the father and son to eachother, and began to descend the path to the chapel. Herman had gone toadminister the last Sacraments to a distant parishioner. Father Omehrknelt down in the chapel and awaited his return. It did not seem longbefore his brother missionary entered through the sacristy and kneltbeside him. The little chapel was very beautiful, with its branchingpillars, supporting clusters of Angels carved in stone. The images ofthe Saints served to awaken many fine emotions--and the principal statueof Our Lady, which the artist had designed to represent the immaculatepurity of the Mother of God--gave an indescribable sweetness to thatconsecrated spot: but more beautiful still, and more acceptable to God, were the two holy men who, bent with age and grown gray in the serviceof a heavenly Master, bowed down together before the altar of the MostHigh, and for a time forgot each other in the contemplation of themajesty and infinite goodness of Him they served. 

At length they rose; and when in the open air gave way to the impulse ofhuman love, which until then had yielded to a loftier feeling. 

There was a room in the Castle of Hers in which Herman spent the hoursnot required for the active duties of his ministry, and to this the twofriends retired. There for more than an hour, they discussed topics ofmutual interest--compared the condition of their flocks--and wanderedback to Naples and Monte Cassino. The introduction of this last subjectseemed to remind Herman of something he had forgotten; for he started upand went to a shelf, which was filled with extracts he had beenpermitted to make from the celebrated library of the convent, and takingdown a small piece of parchment, gave it to his companion. It was anilluminated manuscript of the _Salve Regina_. 

"It was sent me yesterday across the lake by a Benedictine monk, " hesaid, when Father Omehr had finished reading and raised his eyes inwonder and delight. 

"And who has written it?"

"A namesake of mine--a Benedictine. It was not seen until after hisdeath, when the manuscript was discovered in his cell. What is moreremarkable is that the monk was distinguished for nothing but his piety, and had never made any pretension to learning or accomplishment. "

Much to the surprise of Herman, his friend, though deeply moved by thatbeautiful effusion of Catholic piety, seemed not to give the entireattention which it so eminently deserved. 

"Listen!" he said, repeating the lines. "What melody! what tenderness!what love! You certainly must feel its exalted piety?" he added, appealing to Father Omehr. 

"I do, indeed; but you perceive that I am disturbed. In brief, then--forI could not bring myself to say until now--Anno of Cologne is dead. "

Anno, Archbishop of Cologne, was revered throughout Europe in theeleventh century for his virtue and wisdom. It is said of him that, when others slept, he rose, filled with a holy zeal, and visited manychurches, carrying with him his pious offerings. In the halls of kings, says the poet who celebrates his virtues, he sat with the haughtiness ofthe lion; in the hut of the peasant, he stood with the humility of alamb. So obnoxious was he to the king, that Henry at one time assaultedhim sword in hand; and he was only saved from death by the interpositionof a monk. Alone, he founded five monasteries, including that ofSiegberg, his favorite residence, where he died, and where his tomb waslong pointed out to the traveller. He was said to have emitted a light, the splendor and beauty of which spread around like the lustre of aprecious stone in a ring of gold. 

"O God, the giver of all!" exclaimed Herman, after a pause, "in takinghim to Thyself, do not leave us desolate!"

Father Omehr then described the fearful ulcers which had tormentedAnno's body, and the celestial visions and brilliant apparitions thatdelighted his soul and foreshadowed the bliss awaiting him in the lifeto come. 

"But let us not weep for him whose epitaph is in the mouths of the widowand the orphan, and whose soul is in the hand of God!" said the piouschaplain of Hers, grasping the hand of his friend. 

"Not for him I weep, " was the reply; "nor yet for the bereaved people ofCologne. " The missionary paused, unable to proceed, and then hurriedlyexclaimed, "Who is to be his successor? Who is to appoint him?--GregoryVII or Henry of Austria!"

"He will not dare!" ejaculated the other, who not until this momentclearly understood his more keen-sighted friend. 

"He who has dared to fill the sees of Liège and Milan may not scruple todishonor the see of Cologne! But let us pray and hope; for suffer whatwe may, we cannot be conquered. "

This long interview was here terminated by the bell of the Benedictine, summoning to dinner. The Baron of Hers was noted for his fine person andhis polished address, and saluted them with even more than his usualpoliteness as they entered the dining-room. He was the only one of thegroup who seemed at ease; for the two missionaries could not forget thedeath of Anno--and Gilbert, from some cause or other, had lost hissprightliness. 

"I fear, " said the knight to Father Omehr, "that you have half made atraitor of Gilbert, for he will no longer let me abuse my friends atStramen, but sides with them against me. It is hard to fight our battlesall alone, and against our friends, after forty. "

"The Lady Margaret, who dressed his wound, must be blamed--not I, "replied the priest. 

The handsome face of the Baron of Hers, in an instant, became black asnight, and as quickly recovered its former mildness; but the change, apparently, was not noticed by him who had caused it. 

"I have heard, " resumed the knight, in a careless tone, "that the younglady possesses much virtue, intelligence, and beauty, and is wise enoughto prefer the cloister to the court. "

"You have not been misinformed; yet her health is so feeble, that thegrave will probably anticipate her choice of either. "

It was not until the close of the meal that the Lord of Hers wasinformed of the death of the Archbishop of Cologne, and from that timeuntil they rose the conversation turned wholly upon the venerated andsaintly prelate. 

Toward sunset they descended the hill and walked along the picturesquebanks of the lake. The noble sheet of water stretched away to the southfar as the eye could reach, burnished by the sun, and forming part ofthe horizon. 

"This lake of ours, " said the baron, "has obtained a reputation whichthe best man cannot expect--and, indeed, would not desire: no one hasever breathed a word against it. "

"There is a boat!" interposed Gilbert, pointing to a speck in thedistance, which his father discovered after a long search, and wasinvisible to their two older companions. They stood in the shadow ofsome trees, and watched the object as it increased in size and graduallyassumed the undeniable outline of a boat. It came from the direction ofZurich, and pointed directly to the castle. As it neared, they coulddistinguish four stout rowers and a person seated in the stern. Withincreased speed it seemed--for it was now within hailing distance--theboat darted straight to where they were standing; and, before it wasmade fast, the gentleman in the stern sprang ashore, and, removing thecloak in which he had been enveloped, discovered the princely featuresof Rodolph, Duke of Suabia. Rodolph was descended from the counts ofHapsburg, on the father's side--and, on the mother's, from theillustrious family of Otto the Great. He was styled King of Arles, andresided for the most part at Zurich. He was connected with Henry ofAustria by a double tie, Matilda, his first wife, having been the sisterof the king, and Adelaide, to whom he was then married, being the sisterof the queen. But, though thus allied to Henry, he neither loved norrespected him. Once, indeed, the emperor had summoned him to court, onthe charge of entertaining projects hostile to the house of Franconia, but Rodolph, well knowing the treacherous character of the monarch, andalways a hero, boldly refused, preferring the fortune of arms to thefate of an investigation. Subsequently, filled with horror at theimpiety of the Saxons in burning the Cathedral at Hartzburg, hallowed bynumerous relics, and filled with the rich offerings of the faithful, hehad united with Henry to chastise their sacrilege. At the battle ofHohenburg, in the van--the privilege of Suabia--he distinguished himselfabove all others by his impetuous valor, and only left the field whencovered with wounds. Rodolph was equally remarkable for the size andbeauty of his person, and the elevation of his soul. The Teutonicantiquities contain many songs of the Minnesingers, in which he isinvested with all the qualities of mind and heart and body that canadorn the knight; but one fault is imputed to him--ambition. Hissubjects almost worshipped him, and his power is said to have been builtupon their hearts. So conspicuous was he among his brother dukes, that, at the Diet of Gerstungen, in 1073, he had been offered the imperialcrown, but he declined it unless awarded by the unanimous suffrages ofthe confederation. 

Between him and the Baron of Hers a close friendship of long standinghad existed, which had been interrupted by the baron's refusal toaccompany him the preceding year in the expedition against Saxony. Thisrefusal had been dictated by the knight's invincible repugnance toHenry, and by the politic move of conciliating all who opposed theemperor. Since the battle of Hohenburg they had not met. 

After receiving the formal salutation due to his rank, Rodolph cordiallyembraced the Lord of Hers, and extended his regards to Gilbert, whocould not sufficiently admire the hero of Hohenburg. 

"But for your father's obstinacy, " he said to the youth, "you would nowbe a knight. But I will see you win your spurs yet. "

The greetings over, they all began to ascend the hill. The duke wouldnot pass the chapel without entering. The pavement upon which they knelthad been worked with many a rich and curious device; but time and theknees of the faithful had worn away most of the finest tracery. At thefoot of one of the columns still remained this fragment of aninscription:

 _Hoc pavimentum ... Feci ... Ductus amore Dei. _

This was the spot upon which the duke loved to kneel. Before rising, hedrew from under his robe a golden chalice, and gave it to Herman, whowas beside him. The priest took it and carried it to the sanctuary. 

"I would almost give the decade of Jura, " exclaimed Rodolph, as heapproached the castle gate, "to know who made that superb pavement. "

"It resembles more the pavement of a cathedral than the simple floor ofa chapel, " said Father Omehr. "I wish we had such an one to our littlechurch at Stramen. "

"Trust that to your successor, " replied the duke; "you have given himthe walls, the pillars, the windows, and the roof, and are well entitledto a pavement and alabaster altar at his hands. "

They were now at the gate, into which were cut two niches containingstatutes of SS. Victor and Apollinaris. The bars, which yielded to everystranger and to every peasant, flew open before the high-born group, andthe almoner, as he recognized the duke, bent his knee in reverence. Theymounted a heavy flight of stairs, and, traversing an arched gallery, were ushered into the principal hall. This large room was hung withsolemn tapestry, reaching from the ceiling to the floor. Thecharacteristic piety of these ages displayed itself in the beautifulrecesses in the walls, adapted to the reception of holy water, and inthe devices upon the floor and ceiling, which always conveyed some piousmeaning. The walls were covered with paintings chiefly relating to theexploits of the lords of Hers, or filled up with heraldic blazonry. 

In the cathedral or in the castle, in the monastery or in the chapel, durability was the principal object of the architect. It is true thatthe genius of the age contrived to combine the greatest strength withthe greatest elegance; but durability was the great end. The pious menof the Middle Ages did not erect mere shells, which, though sufficientfor their own brief lives, would crumble over their posterity; butlooked to the wants of future generations. And, then, there was areliance upon posterity which is neither felt nor warranted now. Thus, in the minor Church of the Nativity in the lordship of Stramen, whichhad been designed by Father Omehr, and which had exhausted the revenuesof the barony, the missionary had conceived it upon a scale to which hispresent means were insufficient, but to which the charity of anothergeneration would be adequate. This was always the case with thecathedrals. Even the castles themselves had so many rooms set apart forrecluses and wanderers, that it was easy to convert them intomonasteries; and the Castle of Hers, with very little alteration, wouldhave made an excellent convent. 

Rodolph was about to throw himself into one of the large high-backchairs of state; but yielding a graceful respect to the aged priests, hemotioned them to be seated, and placed himself between them. 

"You are rather pale, my lord duke, from your wounds, " said the baron, as an attendant entered with some wine-cups--"and I beg you to acceptfrom my son a draught of the vintage you used to relish. "

Rodolph received the goblet from the youth, and replied, as he raised itto his lips, "How I missed you at Hohenburg!"

"I would have given my lordship, " returned the baron, "to have seen yououtstripping all the chivalry of Austria, and charging where none daredto follow!"

"My fair cousin, the Margrave Udo, would have atoned for the thrust atmy face, which made me see more stars than were ever created, had youbeen at my side. "

"But to aid you was to assist Henry; and I was loth to break our leaguewith Saxony. "

"That league was merely defensive, and _they_ broke it by aggression andsacrilege. "

"But we could not punish their crime without strengthening the power ofthat greater criminal, the emperor. "

"You acted uncharitably, " said the duke; "but you judged aright, and Ihave forgiven you. "

"For which; my liege, " replied the baron, "I cannot be too grateful. "

"Listen, " continued the King of Arles, "ye true pastors of the Church ofGod, and you, Albert of Hers, that Henry of Austria has nominated asuccessor to Anno of Cologne!"

At this announcement Herman and the knight sprang to their feet, whiletheir looks expressed their horror and surprise. But Father Omehr kepthis seat, and said calmly:

"Will your highness inform us more fully?"

The duke resumed: "A messenger, post haste from Goslar, brought me thenews this morning at Zurich. Henry refused to meet the Pope in councilto take measures for the purification of Milan, Firmano, and Spoleto, and has thus replied to the threat of excommunication. The nominee isHidolph, who is attached to his own chapel, a man of no merit whatever, but devoted to the emperor; and whose principal endeavor it has been toremedy by art the unprepossessing exterior which nature has given him. "

"I know him, " said Father Omehr. "Is he yet consecrated?"

"No! All Germany is indignant at the choice, and the people of Cologneare imploring the monarch to make another appointment. "

"It will serve but to confirm the nomination, " said the priest ofStramen. 

"What remains to His Holiness?" inquired Rodolph. 

Slowly and solemnly the missionary pronounced the single word:

"Excommunication!"

"Henry is preparing for it!" exclaimed the duke, rising and addressingthe Lord of Hers; "he convened at Goslar all who respected hissummons--among whom was the Duke of Bohemia: and he has liberated Ottoof Nordheim, my adversary at Hohenburg, and received him into his mostsecret councils. It must _come_, my friend, " he added, grasping thebaron's hand; "we shall not be separated here; and, if I mistake not, wehave in Gilbert one who is not to be awed by the lion of Franconia!"

Father Omehr beheld with sorrow the meaning glances of the proud nobles, as they eagerly joined hands; and he read in the animated features ofthe hero of Hohenburg that the impending excommunication would be thesignal for a revolt. He rose, and, exchanging a few words in anundertone with Herman, explained the necessity he was under ofreturning at once to the Castle of Stramen. 

"I will accompany you, " said the duke, "if you will delay your departurea few minutes. "

Father Omehr expressed his assent, and retired to the chapel withHerman, leaving the two knights in close converse. Gilbert ran to orderthe best horse for the duke, and to see that his venerable benefactorshould want nothing to carry him safely over the intervening hills. After exchanging many kind adieus, Rodolph and the missionary, near theclose of twilight, started for the Castle of Stramen. 

CHAPTER IV

 _... Simonis leprosam Execrate hæresim, Sacerdotum simul atque Scelus adulterii, Laicorum dominatus Cedat ab ecclesiis. _

 ST. PETER DAMIAN. 

The King of Arles and the missionary rode along without an escort, andfelt none of the fears that the traveller of the times is often made toentertain for his personal safety. They did not apprehend any violence, and their only preparation for the expedition had been a recommendationto God through Our Lady and the Saints. It is as purely imaginative inhistorians and novelists--and it is difficult indeed to distinguish theone from the other--to surround every castle with a wall of banditti, asto station in Catholic countries of the present day, a robber or anassassin behind every tree. In the Middle Ages, the stranger couldwander from castle to castle with as little danger as the nature of thecountry permitted; even in times of war, the blind, the young, the sick, and the clergy were privileged from outrage, though found on hostileterritory. And in war, peace, or truce, the pilgrim's shallop was apassport through Christendom; he was under the special protection of thePope, and to thwart his pious designs was to incur excommunication. Even amid the terrors of invasion, the laborer was free to pursue hisoccupation, and his flocks and his herds were secure from molestation;for it was beneath the dignity of the man-at-arms to trample upon theperson or property of the poor unarmed peasant. Such were the principlesrecognized even in the eleventh century; and though we witness frequentdepartures from these admirable provisions, we must be careful not tomistake the exception for the rule, or to impute to the spirit of theage a violence and contempt of authority common to all times, and foundalike in Norman and Frank, American and Mexican. To balance theseinfringements of regular warfare or "blessed peace, " we often meet withinstances as beautiful as the march of Duke Louis, the husband of St. Elizabeth, into Franconia, in 1225, to obtain reparation for injuriesinflicted on a _peddler_. 

"I hope the Baron of Stramen has lost none of his vigor, " said the duke;"we were together at Hohenburg, and I may need him at my side again. Hisson Henry, too, whom I knighted before the battle, and who won his spursso nobly, how is he?"

"They were both well, " replied Father Omehr, "when I saw them last, andwere anxiously expecting a visit from their liege. "

"And the Lady Margaret, from whom not a knight can boast a token, thoughall are striving to obtain one?"

"She has not altered since you saw her, " answered the priest; "she wasalways rather frail, but I do not see that she grows weaker. "

"You cannot imagine, " interposed Rodolph, "how much it grieves me to beunable to reconcile these two families whom I so dearly love, and who, in the camp or in the chamber, have proved themselves so devotedlyattached to me. I cannot even ask of one in the hearing of the other, without giving offence or receiving a bitter answer. In all things else, they are obedient as this horse to his rein; but the moment I speak ofreconciliation, the stubborn neck is arched, and will not relax eitherfor threats or entreaties. "

"Your grief cannot equal mine, " returned the missionary, "and I confess, that without the hope of obtaining assistance from heaven, I shoulddespair of ever softening the determined animosity of the Baron ofStramen. The Lord of Hers, perhaps, might be induced to throw enmityaside, if his adversary relented; but he cannot be persuaded to sue forpeace, especially when his supplication might be unavailing. "

"I cannot believe, " continued the duke, "that my friend of Hers couldhave killed Robert of Stramen, since he most positively denies it. It istrue that their relations were anything but amicable, yet Albert of Herswould scorn to take a knight at a disadvantage, and would not attempt toconceal the result of a mortal struggle. If Robert of Stramen fell byhis hand, it must have been in fair combat; and if in a fair tilt, thereis no motive for concealment. "

"But the circumstances are strong enough to amount to conviction in anangry brother's eyes. A woman, who has since lost her mind, namedBertha, her father, and her husband, all swore to have seen Sir Albertride away from the spot a short time before the body was found; and thescarf of the Lord of Hers was clutched convulsively in the dead man'shand. The wound upon the head resembled that produced by hurling a mace, and was of such a character that the head could not have been protectedby any steel piece. I do not consider this conclusive against the Lordof Hers, or even incapable of explanation; but real and unequivocalguilt itself could not justify the untiring malignity of the Baron ofStramen. His brother's soul would be much better honored by his prayers, than by imprecations and the clash of steel; we cannot avenge the dead, for their bodies are dust, and their souls absorbed in things eternal;and Sandrit de Stramen is but making his brother's misfortune theoccasion of his own temporal, and perhaps eternal injury. I wish, indeed, this criminal work of vengeance could be stopped. "

"Yes, " replied the duke, "they had better husband their energies, for ifI read the future aright, Suabia will have need of every nerve. "

Rodolph paused here; and as his companion did not reply, they rode on insilence. 

"I have a plan, " exclaimed the duke, with singular vivacity. "But tellme first, has that young Gilbert seen the Lady Margaret?"

In reply the missionary briefly narrated the events of which the readeris already in possession. "Then, " pursued the King of Arles, eagerly, "Ihave strong hopes of success. Listen to me, holy Father: the maiden isbeautiful and virtuous, the youth fair and knightly, and I can sorepresent one to the other, as to create an attachment strong enough toinsure to filial love a victory over parental hate. It is fair, I think, to employ the bodily graces of these young persons against the mentaldeformity of their parents--to array the child against the father, whenwe seek the triumph of innocence over sin. "

"Your highness is inclined to be romantic, " rejoined the priest. 

"Only the circumstances are romantic, and they seem to have shapedthemselves; my plan is practical enough. Tell me--what think you of it?"

"Briefly, then, I think your project impracticable. "

"Impracticable! You cannot know, Father, all that love and youth willdare; but I, whose earthly life has given me experience in such matters, have seen the impossibilities of sober minds yield to the irresistibleenergy of two plighted hearts. Oh, no; it is not impracticable. "

"I will grant you, " replied the missionary, "that these two youngpersons might be brought to love each other, that they might marry inspite of family opposition, but the result would make your romance atragedy. "

"How so?" inquired the duke. "May we not deem without impiety that God, in His mercy, has designed them for the extirpation of this miserablefeud, and has drawn out of the stern parents themselves the instrumentsby which their hearts may be softened?"

"It is impossible, " said Father Omehr, "for us to discover by any humanmeans what the mercy of God may appoint; all we can do is to ask forlight to guide our steps, and to exercise the reason with which He hasendowed us. I have good ground to believe that any approach totenderness, on the part of the children, would widen the breach betweenthe fathers. And were such the case, the consummation of your plan wouldgive only a new and horrible feature to the present discord, by severingthe bond between child and parent. For, unless I am much deceived, thelords of Hers and Stramen would turn away in disgust from children whomthey would consider, not only to have disobeyed them, but to have provedfaithless to their race. In this view, I can not suppose that heavenindicates the path to final reconciliation through fresh dissension. Thehearts of the parents can not be softened in the way your highnessproposed, and that must be the first step in your plan. Besides, I havelittle confidence in the agency of a human and selfish love to reach anend that ought to be gained by purer motives. I have discovered, fromobservation, what the power you spoke of will dare; I know its greatnessand its littleness. "

"I must tax my ingenuity for a more auspicious scheme, " resumed Rodolphof Suabia, "for I begin to be distrustful of my first. I was a littleromantic, I confess; but it is thus we give the rein to some solitaryimpulse of youth, lingering, like a firebrand, among our more maturedresolves. "

They had ridden slowly, and were now on the brink of the ravine, threemiles from the Castle of Stramen. The waning moon and the brightstarlight showed them a white figure standing in the road, a few pacesfrom the mouth of the gorge. 

"Who is that before us?" asked the noble. 

"Bertha, the poor crazy woman, who swore to the presence of the Lord ofHers at the spot where Robert de Stramen was found, " whispered thepriest, and he advanced to where she stood. 

"I heard your horse's hoofs, Father, " she said, "and I came to get yourblessing. "

"And you shall have it, Bertha, " he answered, extending his hands overher head. "Good night, " he added, seeing that she did not move. 

"Who is this you have brought us?" continued the woman, pointing to theduke. 

"That, " replied Father Omehr, "is Rodolph, Duke of Suabia, and King ofArles. "

Bertha approached the duke, knelt down, and kissed his hand. She thenwalked slowly up the ravine. 

"A singular being, " exclaimed the duke, as they gave their horses thespur, for it was growing late. "I have not seen any one thus afflictedfor many years, and it is always a painful sight. "

The two horsemen were now at the church, but they passed it and kept onto the castle; and hearty was the welcome of the noble duke to the hallsof Stramen castle. Sir Sandrit's eyes gleamed with delight as he salutedhis liege; Henry's cheek flushed with pleasure when Rodolph, the flowerof German chivalry, spoke of his youthful prowess at Hohenburg; the LadyMargaret loved the duke for the praises he heaped upon her brother. Norwere the domestics gazing idly on; but kept gliding to and fro, andhurrying here and there until the genial board was spread, and the fish, fresh from the Danube, smoked, and the goblet gleamed. 

As it was near midnight when they sat down, Father Omehr felt at libertyto leave the room without ceremony. The Lady Margaret stayed no longerthan courtesy demanded, when she rose and retired to her chamber. Thisyoung lady had always been noted for her piety and her charities to thepoor, whose wants she was sure to discover and supply. Under the skilfuland fervent training of Father Omehr, she had learned to repress aspirit, perhaps naturally quick and imperious, and to practise on everyoccasion a humility very difficult to haughty natures. There was evensome austerity in her devotion; for she would subject herself torigorous fasts and to weary vigils, and deny herself the luxuries thather father delighted in procuring for her, little dreaming that theywere secretly dispensed to the sick of the neighborhood. She neverfailed to hear Mass, unless prevented by sickness or some othercontrolling cause, but every morning laid a bunch of fresh and fragrantflowers upon the altar of our Blessed Mother. And who shall say that thesweet lilies of the field, the roses and the violets, colored with thehues of the dawn, and freshened in the dew of the twilight, when offeredand consecrated by the homage of an innocent heart, are not grateful toher whose purity they typify! Yet there was a lurking family pride inMargaret's heart that she could not entirely eradicate, and a sleepingantipathy to the house of Hers that at times betrayed itself to herwatchful self-examination. The reader must not imagine that, when shetold the missionary at Gilbert's bedside that had the youth fallen inbattle she perhaps would rejoice, she actually desired such an event. She spoke to one who knew her better. She felt this antipathy, but didnot know its extent; and, with the humility of virtue, she feared that, although engaged in an act of charity, there might be the fiend ofrevenge at the bottom of her soul. Margaret de Stramen was not blind toher imperfections, and she did not hesitate to impute to herself aninclination to the un-Christian hate so cherished by her family. But sheendeavored to overcome it by prayer, by the Sacraments, by penance, andby pondering the splendid example of Jesus of Nazareth. 

The Lady Margaret was not one of those fair and fanciful creations, endowed with such exquisite sensibilities as to perceive and return theadmiration of a young knight-errant with whom she had been associated byany romantic circumstance. Nor was her disposition of that impulsivekind which will permit the impression of a moment to overthrow theprejudices of years. But to her joy and surprise, she found that, farfrom rejoicing at Gilbert's misfortune, she had regretted it; andregretted it, not merely because it might stigmatize the fair name ofStramen, but also in obedience to an elevated generosity that sickened, ungratified, at the sight of obtained revenge. She had been almostconstrained to render assistance to the youth; and there are some whothink the sting of a favor worse than the fang of an injury, and aremore disposed to forgive after having benefited. With the facilitypeculiar to a gifted woman, she had read in Gilbert's face theingenuousness and goodness of his heart, and though she did not ascribeto him any exalted qualities, she admitted that it was not easy tobelieve him guilty of cruelty or meanness. In a word, the sympathies ofthe woman were now arrayed against family pride and family prejudice, and a trial still more dangerous and severe awaited her piety andresolution. 

In the morning, after hearing Mass, she found the duke and her father inclose conversation, while her brother was busily preparing for someimportant event. It was soon evident that Rodolph was about to depart, and that Henry was to accompany him; for the grooms led to the door twohandsome and stalwart steeds, richly caparisoned, and four mountedmen-at-arms rode up and halted upon the terrace, where they waitedmotionless as statues of steel. 

When their private conference was over, the duke advanced, and took theLady Margaret by the hand. "I am selfish enough, " he said, "to depriveyou of your brother for a few weeks, to assist me by his counsel, andprotect me by his arm, should it be necessary, in a little adventure wehave resolved to undertake. "

"I am too true to you, my lord, " replied Margaret, "to desire mybrother's society when you request his assistance. Were I a youngknight, I should esteem it no light favor to march--no matter where--asan escort to Rodolph, Duke of Suabia. "

"And I, fair maiden, " returned the duke, "could wander to the end ofthe world with such a companion. "

"I hope you may not find Henry so agreeable as to carry you so far, forI expect to welcome you back in a week. "

"If I consulted my pleasure, " said Rodolph, "I should not be absent aday, but my duty may detain me a month. I will not offer an apology forso long a stay, because I fear that before sunset you will have ceasedto think of me, or remember me only in connection with your brother. "

"A noble duke, " replied the lady, "whose name is heard wherever theminstrel tunes his harp, whose word was never plighted in vain, whosesword was never stained in an unrighteous cause, whose arm and purse areever at the command of the poor and persecuted, whose courage andclemency, wisdom and piety, so well entitle him to the love of all hispeople, is not so easily forgotten. "

"I assure you, on my honor, " exclaimed Rodolph, "that I value your wordsmore than all the songs of all the minstrels I ever heard. I would Iwere worthy your praise; but you have inspired me to deserve it. Farewell! I see that Henry is impatient, and we must not lose the earlymorning. "

He bade adieu to the baron and his daughter, and turned to mount hishorse, when Bertha touched his arm, and placed in his hand somethingenveloped in silk. Bertha said not one word, but she looked earnestly upin Rodolph's face, and then walked away as swiftly and silently as shecame. The duke could not help remarking the wild beauty of her pale andwasted face, and remained some moments gazing after her with a painfulinterest. He removed the silk and found that it contained a ringgarnished with a stone of rare value. He started as his eye fell uponthe trinket, for he remembered that years ago he had given it to theLord of Hers. How could it have come into Bertha's possession, was thequestion that naturally occurred to him; but the answer came not soreadily as the question. While the duke was thus pondering, Henry hadembraced his father and sister, and leaped upon his horse. Rodolphmounted slowly, after examining the girths with his own hand; and thelittle troop, waving a parting salute, swept over the drawbridge, andwere soon lost among the trees. 

About the same hour, or a little earlier, the Lord of Hers, with a smallretinue, had set out in an opposite direction, but on the same mission. Rodolph had long seen that King Henry's unprincipled ambition threatenedthe liberties of religion and of Austria, and he only paused for thePapal excommunication to throw off all allegiance to a monarch who couldnot be safely trusted. That excommunication was impending, and, as maybe easily conjectured, the duke was making a rapid circuit of hisdominions, to unite his barons more closely to his interests; to warnthem to prepare for the approaching struggle; to confirm the weak andwavering in their fidelity; inspire the resolves of those who were trueand firm, and make all the pulses of the circle of Suabia throb inconcert to the action of one grand moving power. To gain time, the Lordof Hers had been despatched to the provinces bordering upon the Rhinewith letters from Rodolph to the principal barons there, while the dukehimself, with Henry of Stramen, followed the Danube. 

For many months there had been no active warfare between the hostilehouses, though the feud had lost none of its venom. But age wasstiffening the impetuosity of the old barons; and their sons, no longerurged on by the battle-cry of their sires, listened with more attentionto the advice and representations of their spiritual instructors. Gilbert of Hers was not inclined to take an injury to his breast, andhug it there; but the bold and frequent incursions of Henry of Stramenhad induced him to retaliate rather in a spirit of rivalry than ofrevenge. Henry of Stramen inherited all his father's implacability, buthe had often yielded to his sister's solicitation to dedicate to thechase the day he had devoted to a descent upon the lordship of Hers. Thetroubled condition of Germany had also diverted the chiefs from thedisputes of their firesides to the civil wars of the empire; and neitherthe Lord of Hers nor the Baron of Stramen gave much attention to aughtelse than the league that Rodolph was forming against Henry IV of thehouse of Franconia. 

Gilbert, left almost without a companion--for the good priest Herman, whose time was divided between his pastoral duties, his prayers, and hisstudies, saw him but at intervals--found time to hang very heavily uponhis hands. He thought the old reaper weary and sluggish, for the scytheflies fast only when we employ or enjoy the moments. The autumn blastwas beginning to lend a thousand bright colors to the trees, and thegiddy leaves, like giddy mortals, threw off their simple green for thegaudy livery that was but a prelude to their fall--for the beauty that, like the dying note of the swan, was but the beauty of death. It was theseason of all others for the chase, that health-giving but dangerouspastime, which our ancestors pursued with almost incredible eagerness, hunting the stag or the boar, over hill and dale, bog and jungle, through every twist and turn, as their Anglo-Saxon descendants nowpursue the flying dollar. 

But Gilbert often declined the invitation of the forester to fly thefalcon, rarely indulging in his favorite amusement. He preferred towander along the borders of the magnificent Lake of Constance, or toloiter among the neighboring hills, and watch, from some bare peak, thebroad-winged vulture sailing slowly and steadily through the skies. Hewould watch it until it became a mere speck in the blue distance: we mayoften catch ourselves gazing after receding objects as though they werebearing away a thought we had fixed upon them. His wound was nearlywell, and the freshness of health was again in his cheeks; but hisspirit had lost a part of its sprightliness, and he seemed to have grownolder. He did not evince his former relish for the manuscripts ofHerman, but his visits to the chapel were more frequent and lastedlonger. Thus, day after day, he would study the lake, the clouds, andthe cliffs, neither fearing an attack from the men of Stramen, normeditating one against them. 

We shall leave him in his inactivity, to trace the progress of eventswhich form one of the most important and exciting periods in history. 

Rodolph was not a moment too soon in concentrating his power; for HenryIV, flushed with his recent victory over the Saxons, had called atGoslar a diet of the princes of the empire, under the pretext ofdeciding, in their presence, the fate of their Saxon prisoners. Only asmall minority of the princes obeyed the summons; but the real object ofthe king became evident when he made them swear to exalt, upon his owndeath, Conrad his son, a minor, to the throne. In the meantime, the newsof the nomination of Hidolph, as successor to the sainted Anno, hadspread to Rome. The Pope beheld with profound sorrow the obstinacy andambition of the king. Henry was not to be driven from his purpose by theuniversal contempt this nomination excited, and he replied to therepeated remonstrances of the citizens of Cologne, that they mustcontent themselves with Hidolph or with a vacant see. And his firmnesstriumphed over the popular indignation; for Hidolph was invested by theking with the crozier and the ring, and finally consecrated Archbishopof Cologne. 

But his victory was not complete. He had yet to cope with an adversarymore formidable than popular opposition; one who would not yield totemporal tyranny the watch-towers and guardian rights of spiritualliberty. That adversary was Gregory VII. Already the tremendous threathad issued: "Appear at Rome on a given day to answer the charges againstyou, or you shall be excommunicated and cast from the body of theChurch. " But the infatuated monarch, too proud to recede, hurried on byhis impetuous arrogance, and by the unprincipled favorites and corruptprelates who shared his bounty, loaded the Papal legates with scorn andcontumely, and drove them from his presence. 

He did not even wait for the sentence of excommunication to fall, thatnow hung by a hair above his head, but began the attack, as if resolvedto have the advantage of the first blow. Couriers were despatched toevery part of the empire, with commands to all the prelates and noblesupon whom he could rely, to assemble at Worms, where he promised to meetthem without fail. Twenty-four bishops and a great number of laymenhastened to obey the summons. The conventicle sat three days, and thefollowing charges were formally preferred against the Pope: "That he hadby force extracted a solemn oath from the clergy not to adhere to theking, nor to favor or obey any other Pope than himself; that he hadfalsely interpreted the Scriptures; that he had excommunicated the kingwithout legal or canonical examination, and without the consent of thecardinals; that he had conspired against the life of the king; that, inspite of the remonstrances of his cardinals, he had cast the Body andBlood of our Lord into the flames; that he had arrogated to himself thegift of prophecy; that he had connived at an attempted assassination ofthe king; that he had condemned and executed three men without ajudgment or an admission of their guilt; that he kept constantly abouthis person a book of magic. "

So palpably absurd and false were these charges that three of theassembled prelates refused to sign an instrument for the deposition of apontiff, so little conforming to the ancient discipline, and unsupportedby witnesses worthy of belief. Nor were Henry's machinations confinedto Germany, but he ransacked Lombardy and the marches of Ancona forbishops to sign these articles of condemnation, and even aspired toinfect Rome itself by presents and specious promises. But the golden asscould not then leap the walls of Christian Rome. 

Gregory's principal accuser was the Cardinal Hugues le Blanc, whom hehad previously excommunicated. This ambitious man rose in the counciland taunted the Pope with his low extraction, at the same time charginghim with crimes that were proved to be the offspring of calumny anderror. He produced a forged letter, purporting to come in the name ofthe archbishops, bishops, and cardinals, from the senate and people ofRome, inveighing against the Pope, and clamoring for the election ofanother head of the Church. Encouraged by imperial patronage, andstimulated by a desire to rid himself of disgrace by sullying the handsthat had branded him, the excommunicated cardinal did not hesitate tocall the Pope a heretic, an adulterer, a sanguinary beast of prey. Theemperor himself knew Gregory too well to believe such a tissue ofabsurdity; but he hoped to find others more credulous than himself. 

Upon the accusations already specified, and the invectives of Hugues leBlanc, the assemblage of prelates at Worms resolve upon the depositionof Gregory VII. It is then that Henry steps forth, as the life and soulof the conventicle, armed with its decree, and addresses an insultingletter to the Pope, inscribed "Henry, king by the grace of God, toHildebrand. " In this letter, the decree of the conventicle is lost inthe insolence of the king. "I, " is the language of the missive, "I havefollowed their advice, because it seemed to me just. I refuse toacknowledge you Pope, and in the capacity of patron of Rome command youto vacate the Holy See. " Can the most jaundiced eye, can the man wholearned, even in his boyhood, to loathe the name of Hildebrand, readthese expressions without confessing that the king was the aggressor, and that if the Christian Church had a right to expect protection fromits appointed head, Gregory VII was called upon to vindicate the majestyand liberty of religion so grossly outraged in his person? Surely itwill not be asserted at this day that the head of the State, by virtueof his temporal power, should be the head of the Church; or does thatbeautiful logic still exist, which denied an absolute spiritualsupremacy in the successor of St. Peter, yet admitted it as anincidental prerogative to the crown of England? But we have yet to seethe last act of this attempted deposition. 

A clerk of Parma, named Roland, was charged with the delivery of thisletter, and the decrees of the conventicle of Worms. A synod had beenconvoked in the Church of Lateran, and the Pope, surrounded by hisbishops, occupied a chair elevated above the rest. Roland's mission hadbeen kept a profound secret, and, when he appeared before the conclave, not a prelate there could guess his purpose. They had not heard thevoice that had gone forth from Worms. But they did not long remain insuspense. Turning to the Pope, the envoy thus began "The king, mymaster, and all the ultramontane and Italian bishops, command you toresign, at once, the throne of St. Peter and the government of the RomanChurch, which you have usurped; for you cannot justly claim so exalted adignity without the approbation of the bishops and the confirmation ofthe emperor!" Then addressing the clergy, he thus continued: "Mybrothers, it is my duty to inform you, that you must appear before theking at the approaching festival of Pentecost, to receive a Pope fromhis hand; for the tiara is now worn, not by a Pope, but by a devouringwolf!"

Receive a Pope from the king! receive from Cæsar what he must usurp tobestow! Had Gregory flinched, the independence of the Church would havebeen sacrificed, and her acknowledged inability to cope with royal viceswould have permitted every European monarch to change his queen with hiscourtiers. Henry IV would have had his successor to Bertha; PhilipAugustus his Agnes de Méranie; and Henry VIII his Cranmer and hisscaffold without one moment's opposition. 

But no sooner had Roland pronounced those last words, than the Bishop ofPorto leaped from his chair, and cried out: "Seize him!" The prefect andnobles of Rome and the soldiers drew their swords, and, in their suddenfury, would have killed the audacious envoy, had not Gregory, repeatinghis magnanimity to Cencius, covered the clerk with his own body, and byhis calmness and eloquence controlled the indignation and disgust of histoo zealous friends. 

"My friends!" he said, with all the dignity of human greatness, elevatedand purified by the most exalted piety, "disturb not the peace of theChurch. Behold the dangerous times, of which the Scripture speaks, arecome, when men shall be lovers of themselves, covetous, haughty, anddisobedient to parents. We cannot escape these scandals; and God hassaid that He has sent us like sheep in the midst of wolves. It isnecessary for us then to combine the innocence of the dove with theprudence of the serpent. Now, when the precursor of Antichrist erectshimself against the Church, he must find us innocent and prudent; thesedispositions constitute wisdom. We must hate no one, but bear with themadmen who would violate the law of God. Remember that God, descending asecond time among men, proclaims aloud: 'He who would follow me mustforsake himself!' We have lived in peace long enough, and God wishesthat the harvest should again be moistened with the blood of His Saints. Let us prepare for martyrdom, if it shall be needed, for the law of God, and resolve that nothing shall sever us from the charity of JesusChrist. "

The synod, in breathless interest, listened to the holy Pontiff, whothen proceeded with wonderful composure to read the charges that hadbeen preferred against him. Among Roland's letters was another signed, "Henry, king not by usurpation, but by the grace of God, to Hildebrand, false monk and anti-pope. " This was couched, if possible, in languagemore insulting than the former. One sentence will show the temper of thedocument, and prove that the king was struggling to build up a monarchyof divine rights and appointment. "A true Pope, Saint Leo, says, _FearGod! honor the king_! But as you do not fear God, neither do you honorme whom He has appointed king. " Can any expression more clearly indicatethat Henry of Austria had resolved to crush a Pontiff who stood betweenhim and unquestioned despotism, and that he aimed at a heaven-commissioned temporal power, often conceded, it is true, but never byCatholicity. The letter concludes with these words: "I, Henry, king bythe grace of God, warn you, with all our bishops: descend! descend!"

When the Pope had finished reading the invectives of Henry and those whowere weak enough to second his ambition, so great was the exasperationof the synod, that he adjourned it to meet the next day. When the morrowcame, in the presence of one hundred and ten bishops, he recited hisformer indulgence to Henry, his paternal remonstrances, and his repeatedproofs of love and goodness. The whole assembly rose in a body, andimplored him to anathematize a perjured prince, an oppressor, and atyrant, declaring that they would never abandon the Pope, and that theywere ready to die in his defence. It was then that Gregory VII rose andpronounced, amid the unanimous acclamations of the synod, the sentenceof excommunication against the emperor. 

Thus went forth this awful thunderbolt for the first time against acrowned head. A dissolute and ambitious monarch had called upon thesuccessor of St. Peter to yield up the keys, and lay the tiara at thefeet of the lion of Austria, because that successor had declared aninvincible determination to preserve the purity of the Church and itsliberties, at the sacrifice of life itself. The tyrant struck in anger, and the Pontiff, incapable of yielding, gave the blow at last; for the_temple_ of religion was insulted and invaded. 

It is easy, when calmly seated at a winter's fireside, to charge GregoryVII with an undue assumption of temporal power. But he who will studythe critical position of Europe during the eleventh century, must bowdown in reverence before the mighty mind of him who seized the moment toproclaim amid the storm the independence of the Christian Church. Wasnot this resistance to Henry expedient? Yes! And to one who knows thatthe Church was the lever by which the world was raised from barbarism tocivilization, and will confess, with Guizot, that without a visiblehead, Christianity would have perished in the shock that convulsedEurope to its centre, the truth is revealed, as it was to the mastermind of Gregory, that had he pursued any other course, peace and unity, as far as human eye extends, would have perished with the compromisedliberty of the Church of Rome. Let us rejoice, then, that this saintedPontiff hurled against the Austrian tyrant the anathema on which waswritten--"The independence of the Church of God shall be sustained, though the thrones of princes crumble around her, or though herministers are driven to seal their fidelity with death. "

CHAPTER V

 Fierce he broke forth: "And darest thou then To beard the lion in his den? The Douglas in his hall? And hopest thou hence unscathed to got No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no! Up drawbridge, grooms!--ho! warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall!"

 MARMION

For three weeks the Lady Margaret had expected the duke and her brother;for three weeks Gilbert had impatiently awaited his father's return. 

Toward the close of September, a group of young children might be seenclustering around an old man, at the edge of the forest, within astone's throw of the Church of the Nativity. They were listening eagerlyand delightedly to the patriarch they had surrounded, in whom werecognize Father Omehr. The faces of the infant band were bright withinnocence and that happy alchemy which turns the merest toy to a costlytreasure. There was a tender piety on the features of those childrenthat moved the heart. Devotion lies upon the face of youth with apeculiar fitness. As we see it dwelling in that unsullied abode, weremember how the cheek of the Madonna is pressed against the infant inher arms. Their instructor seemed to have caught a portion of theirlight-heartedness. Sad recollections and gloomy anticipations wereforgotten. The throes of the empire and dangers of the Church intrudednot; for a moment, the aged missionary felt the elasticity of childhood, and, as his heart was as pure, his face became as bright as theirs. 

"Perhaps you have thought, my children, " the priest was saying, whilehis hand rested lightly upon the head of the nearest boy, "perhaps youhave thought at times, that had you been little children at Jerusalemwhen our Saviour entered the city in triumph, and the people went forthto meet Him with palm-branches, you too would have run to welcome Him, and laid fruits and pretty flowers at His feet. Perhaps you have thoughtthat you would have offered Him some refreshing drink as He totteredunder His cross up the hill of Calvary; that you would have embraced Himand wept most piteously when He fainted away in agony. How delightfulwould it have been to receive a smile from your suffering Lord! You havestill the very same opportunity, my children, you would have had atJerusalem. You can still run to meet your Redeemer! He loves the flowersof a pure heart better than those which make the green fields asbeautiful as the blue sky with its stars; and He values the tears weshed for our sins more than the pain we should have felt to see Himsuffer. Still continue to bring the fruits and flowers of piety andobedience to your parents to Jesus, and you will be permitted to waitupon Him in heaven for all eternity. 

"Go, now, and play! And when the bell rings, come quietly to thechurch. "

Not until his little flock had dispersed did Father Omehr perceive thatthe Lady Margaret was standing almost at his side. 

The Lady Margaret has changed since we saw her return the parting saluteof Rodolph and Henry. Her cheek has grown brighter, but her brow issmoother and paler. Her face is sweeter than ever, though still moremelancholy. It may have been the balminess of the afternoon, solicitudefor her brother's return, or a transient feeling, that controlled theexpression of the maiden's face, but it seemed to have still less ofearth in its exquisite proportions, and her eye was softer and deeper. 

It was Monday afternoon; and on this day every week, the missionaryinstructed the children of the neighborhood and prepared them forCommunion. There still remained an hour before the time for eveningservice, and Father Omehr proposed to the Lady Margaret a walk along theshady avenue at the border of the forest. Disengaging herself from thechildren, who loved her and were clustering about her, she readilyassented. 

"Father, " began the maiden, as they walked together, "when may we expectthe duke?"

"Before long, I hope, " replied the missionary; "the conventicle at Wormswill decide at once which of his barons are for and which against him. Ishould not be surprised to see them returning at any moment. "

"Are they in no danger from ill-disposed chieftains?" asked the lady. 

"The duke will pass through a friendly country, and is too much lovedand feared to be assailed in his own dominions. Your father, I presume, is not anxious about their safety?"

"Oh, no! He talks as if they were invulnerable. "

"At least, " returned the priest, "you should rest content with prayingfor them, and not distress yourself with idle fears. "

A pause of some minutes ensued here, during which Margaret's mind seemedactively and painfully employed. She broke the silence by exclaiming, ina low but earnest tone:

"I have always been too much influenced by idle fears--my whole life hasbeen a tissue of timidity. "

"Do not accuse yourself unjustly, my child, " said her companion; "wemust beware, even in reproaching ourselves, that we do not despise thefavors of God, and lose the grace of perseverance in virtue. "

The fair girl was again silent, but she suddenly exclaimed, with muchemotion:

"Year after year I felt a strong impulse to join the convent at Cologne, founded by the sainted Anno, but was withheld by a fear of my ownweakness; I resolved to seek the cloister and forget the garb andcustoms of the world, but I feared that I might thus confirm my fatherin his indifference to religion and my brother in his antipathy to thehouse of Hers. The months kept gliding by, and still I was irresolute. Ihave prayed, with all the ardor I could command, for light to see myvocation; and if God have mercifully granted it, I wilfully remainblind. This self-made uncertainty and irresolution cost me many a pang;nor have I even the merit of patiently and cheerfully enduring what theyinflict. "

Margaret was violently agitated as she spoke, but was not entirelysubdued by her excited heart, though more than one big tear went downher cheeks. 

"Margaret!" said her venerable companion, stopping short and speaking soimpressively that the maiden looked up through her tears. 

"Margaret!" he repeated, as their eyes met, "you have done much tosoften your father's anger and your brother's impetuosity, and yourmediation has perhaps endeared you to heaven--but you can do _more_!Devote your life to the extinction of the feud between the houses ofStramen and Hers--look to the duty that stares you in the face, andfulfil that vocation before you seek another! Make peace between thesehouses the first object of your prayers, and the aim of all yourefforts, and God will soon determine whether the cloister or the castlerequires your presence in the accomplishment of your noble end!"

As Father Omehr concluded, the Lady Margaret, yielding to the impulseshe had till then controlled, wept like a child. Yet it was not deeperdejection that made her sob as though her heart would break, but rathera sense of relief, and a sweet consolation that banished all spiritualdryness. Her instructor had often before suggested her obligation toconsecrate herself to the task of healing the feud; but never had he sosolemnly warned her, and never had she seen her duty so clearly. 

"Be calm, my child, " continued the missionary; "you can compose yourselfin the church, while I prepare for the service. Prostrate yourselfbefore the infinite majesty and goodness of God, and invoke Hisassistance, with a determination to accept with resignation whatevertrial He may send. And forget not to supplicate the intercession of theBlessed Mary. Open your heart to her; beg her to discover and obtain itspious wants. _She_ whom Jesus obeyed on earth, will not ask in vain inHis eternal kingdom: God, who made her the medium of salvation to manwhile she remained a poor Jewish virgin, cannot deem her unworthy ofbeing the channel of His choicest graces to us, now that she standsbeatified in heaven!"

The Lady Margaret passed into the church and knelt before the altar. There she remained until the psalms were sung and the evening hymn wasover. When she rose, her face was calm, and even joyous. There was noexultation in her look, but it was full of meek serenity. As she leftthe church, she met Father Omehr. She greeted him with a smile that toldwhat a load was taken off her heart. There was gratitude, esteem, and aholy joy in that smile--it was full of tender and indescribablesweetness--it was an expression of the happiness and purity of her soul. 

It was not the bright smile of youth, or the warm smile of affection; ithad none of the witchery of woman, but much of the devotion of theSaint: beautiful as she was, and still more beautiful as it made her, itsuggested the Creator, not the creature. 

"We shall expect you to-night, Father, " she said, pausing but a moment. 

Father Omehr nodded, and dismissed the children, who had come for aparting blessing, while the maiden turned her palfrey toward the castle. She rode swiftly, for dark clouds were climbing up the knew the extentof his infatuation, he was revolving the feasibility of revealing hisattachment. At last he had determined to embrace the first chance ofdeclaring a love now past concealment. 

At the same time that the Lady Margaret was speeding to Stramen Castle, Gilbert was standing on the top of a steep hill that rose abruptly somedistance to the north of that on which the towers of his fathers werebuilt. He found a pleasure in surveying the majestic masses of thickdark clouds, that slowly overspread the West and swallowed up the sun. There seemed to be a mysterious sympathy between him and the angryelements, or perhaps he felt flattered to find the deep thunder andarrowy lightning less potent than the feelings within his bosom. Helaughed at the coming storm, while the eagle flew by with a shriek, andthe cattle sought any casual shelter. But, as he was not ambitious ofbecoming thoroughly wet, he sprang down the hill when the big dropsbegan to fall, and entered a neat cottage situated in the opening of arich valley, that swept from the hills toward the lake. 

"What! alone, Humbert?" said the youth. "Your wife and children are notout in this storm, I hope?"

"They are praying in the next room, " replied the man, sinking his voice. 

Gilbert turned to the window; but the rain was now pouring down intorrents, and he could discern nothing but the lightning. Humbert was afavorite with the Lord of Hers. He played upon the harp with more thancommon skill, and could personate the regular minnesinger to perfection. His stock of ballads was inexhaustible, and some of his original songsmight well compare with his borrowed lore. Besides this, he was a daringhuntsman, an expert falconer, and a trusty follower. 

"Humbert!" exclaimed the youth, in a searching whisper, "would you liketo play the minnesinger in this storm?"

The retainer smiled and replied, "Yes, if I were a bull, and couldbellow the lay. "

But Gilbert answered, without relaxing a muscle, "You will not be calledupon to play until you can be heard. "

"Then we might as well wait until to-morrow, " said the other, with great_sangfroid_, looking over Gilbert's shoulder at the rain. 

"But understand me!" muttered the youth, rather sternly; "I am inearnest! Will your harp weather this storm?"

"Yes, " returned Humbert, still playfully, "if we loosen its strings: Ihave a water-proof case for it. But I have no water-proof case formyself; and being compelled to brace _my_ nerves for the encounter, theywill be apt to snap. "

"You incorrigible trifler, can you disguise yourself as well now, aswhen you palmed yourself upon us all for the minstrel Guigo?"

"Certainly. "

"And can you array me as your harpbearer, and alter this face and formof mine?"

"With much more ease than I can play the minstrel in this storm. "

"Then do it at once, " said Gilbert. 

"My lord!"

"Yes!"

"Where?"

"Here!"

"When?"

"Now!"

Humbert eyed the young noble with a comic surprise. 

"Had we not better wait until the rain abates?"

"It is abating now, " replied Gilbert. 

It was true: the first frenzy of the storm was over, and there wascoming a pause in its wild career. 

"There!" resumed the youth; "you can ride to the castle and bring twogood horses before it begins again. Quick! I shall wait here. "

"You had better wait upstairs, out of sight, " suggested Humbert. 

"You are right. "

"This way, my lord;" and, followed by his retainer, the young nobleascended to a room that might have been called Humbert's studio. Thelatter, descending at once, called his wife, exchanged a few words withher, the import of which was to keep herself invisible, and, accustomedto a ready obedience, he leaped upon his horse and spurred for thecastle. The distance was not greater than half a league, yet to Gilberthe was absent an age. 

It was quite dark before Humbert had completed the disguises to hissatisfaction. His own was a masterpiece in its way. He assumed a graceand a lightness that might well become a minstrel of no ordinary degree. The character of his face was completely changed, and was reduced, bymeans of long flaxen curls and other artificial additions, from frankmanliness to almost feminine delicacy. The Lord of Hers himself couldnot have recognized his son in the drooping, swarthy, gypsy-lookingfigure that stood beside Humbert. Gilbert's head was enveloped insomething like a cowl, and his whole figure was muffled up in a coarsebrown cloak. Thus attired, he was to play the part of a Bohemianharp-bearer. 

The moment the finishing touches were put, the impatient youth hurriedthe more cautious yeoman to the saddle. The rain had ceased to fall, butthe sky was still overcast and threatening. Though the moon was morethan half full, they had barely light enough to justify the rapid paceat which the noble led the way. It was a little out of character for theminnesinger to carry his own instrument when a harp-bearer was so nearat hand. But Humbert knew how to sling the harp across his back, andGilbert, a mere novice in the art, would have found the burdenexcessively embarrassing. Gilbert pressed forward without opening hislips or looking behind, until they had entered the lordship of Stramen. Humbert, respecting the humors of his superior, followed just assilently. But he began to grow anxious as they kept advancing, and hecould not repress an exclamation of surprise as Gilbert halted on thebrink of the ravine we have described before, within a league of thecastle. They led their horses down into the gully and tied them to twostout trees. 

"Give me the harp!" exclaimed the youth, commanding rather thanentreating. Humbert surrendered the instrument without a word, and theyemerged from the ravine. They walked on, side by side, still in silence;for Gilbert's mind was wrought up to the highest pitch, and held toothrilling communion with itself to notice his companion, except at briefintervals. But when they came within full view of the dim turrets ofStramen Castle, and the youth kept steadily advancing toward them, Humbert stopped short, and perceiving that Gilbert still advanced, hemade bold to stay the rash stripling by touching his arm. 

Gilbert started and stood still; then said, with cold contempt: "Do youflinch?"

"From what?" inquired the other, calmly. 

"From that mass of stone. "

"What have we to do with that?"

"Enter it before an hour. "

"And die before an hour, " replied Humbert. 

"Or live, " said Gilbert, rather to himself than to his attendant, andresuming his rapid advance. 

Humbert stood awhile, rooted to the ground, in mute amazement at hislord's inexplicable behavior. But every moment was precious. He sprangforward, and again seizing Gilbert's arm, he threw himself on his knees. 

"My dear lord!" he exclaimed, "I conjure you in the name of your fatherto desist from this madness, and to return! You are rushing upon certaindestruction! You are flinging away your life! Remember it is Monday! Thearm of our blessed mother, the Church, cannot protect you to-day! Mywife and my children will be left without a father, and the lordship ofHers without an heir!" Here the honest yeoman burst into tears, but theyouth's determination was taken. He disengaged himself from hisfollower's grasp, and said, resolutely, but kindly:

"Return!"

"And leave you to perish alone?" cried Humbert, springing to his feet. "No, no! I am no craven! And why should I return? To be reproached withhaving seduced my lord into danger, and then basely deserted him? If youadvance, I go with you, though I cannot guess your object, or justifyyour seeming madness. But I implore you to remember your duty as a sonand as a Christian, and not to take a step that will make your enemiesexult and your friends tear their hair in sorrow!"

For a moment the noble stood irresolute; but the next instant he seizedHumbert's hand with a vice-like grip, and whispered in his ear, "I mustsee the Lady Margaret!"

Without waiting for a reply, Gilbert strode forward. Before thedrawbridge was gained, Humbert had recovered himself, and was preparedto put forth all his daring and skill to extricate themselves from theconsequences of this perilous adventure. 

"Ho! warder!" he cried, in a confident tone, "a minnesinger--Ailred ofZurich--and his harp-bearer, wet and fasting. Shelter in the name ofGod!"

Down came the drawbridge, and the portcullis rose and fell, leaving themon the other side of the moat, surrounded by the men of Stramen. Theywere conducted with much respect to a comfortable room in the castle, and the arrival announced to the Lord Sandrit de Stramen. The baron, who had heard of Ailred's rising fame, was delighted with theintelligence, and invited the minstrel to his principal hall. Humbertencased his harp, and having tuned it, delivered it to Gilbert. Then, with scrupulous care, having re-examined his costume, he ascended aflight of stairs, escorted by a serf, and ordered Gilbert to follow. They were ushered into a spacious room, hung with armor and broideredtapestry. 

By a blazing fire were seated the baron and Father Omehr, and some pacesbehind them stood several attendants. Sir Sandrit rose and saluted theminstrel with much courtesy, and bade him warm himself at the genialhearth. Humbert received the baron's congratulations withoutembarrassment, and pledged his health in a brimming bowl. While theminnesinger and the noble were exchanging compliments, Gilbert kept arespectful distance, supporting the harp. He feared to look at themissionary, who sat, evidently little concerned about Ailred of Zurrich, wrapped in meditation. His heart had grown cold when, on entering theroom, as he glanced around, he missed the Lady Margaret. Was she sick?Was the prophecy to be so swiftly consummated? He maintained hisposition unnoticed, save by the domestic who offered him wine, until thediligent seneschal had spread a long table, which soon presented a mosttempting appearance. Venison, boar's flesh, fish, fowl, pastries ofvarious kinds, and generous bowls of wine, proclaimed the hospitality ofthe proud baron. Father Omehr blessed the board, but declinedparticipating in the repast. 

Sir Sandrit forced the troubadour to sit at his side, while Gilbertoccupied a seat at the lower end of the table, among the dependents ofthe house; for the arrival of a minstrel was one of those momentousoccasions when the lord of the fee welcomed his retainers to his ownboard, and extended equal favor and protection to the highest and thelowest. Humbert's animation increased as the sumptuous meal progressed, while his naturally brilliant qualities, and a remarkable fund of witand anecdote, so fascinated the baron that he was wholly absorbed in thecharming Ailred. Gilbert sat silent and watchful, eating just enough toavoid observation. When the banquet was drawing to a close, the LadyMargaret entered the room, and glided to a seat beside the priest. Theblood rushed to Gilbert's face with such a burning thrill, that he benthis head to hide his confusion. He trembled in the violence of hissmothered emotion. It was some minutes before he dared to look up. Herface was exposed to his gaze, and he could see every feature distinctly. She was still the same--ay, more than the same--she was lovelier thanever. Regardless of discovery, he fixed his eyes upon the apparitionthat had haunted him so long, and was only recalled to a sense of hisposition by a loud call from the baron for the harp. 

As he carried the instrument to the spot indicated by Ailred, the baronpresented the minstrel to his daughter. Humbert behaved with becomingreverence. He took his station a few feet from the table, between SirSandrit and his daughter, and began to prelude with decision and greatsweetness. Gilbert stood behind him, with his back to the baron and hisface to the Lady Margaret. Humbert, emboldened by his reception, andperhaps inspirited by the wine, sounded the chords with admirableeffect; and when the expectation of the audience was at the highest, heintroduced a beautiful ballad, and raising his voice, sang the praisesof Rodolph of Suabia. The baron and all his followers were listeningintently to the minstrel, as, with a heaving breast and flashing eye, herecited the glory of Suabia and of her majestic duke. Even Father Omehrwas carried away by the excited Humbert. But Gilbert's eyes and soulwere riveted upon the Lady Margaret. What was the strain to him? heheard it not. The violent hopes and fears that had alternately shakenhim, had given way to a silent rapture; the unnatural tension of hisnerves was relaxed, and in spite of all his efforts, the tears gleamedin his eyes. When the lay was over, the room resounded with loudpraises, and the baron threw a chain of gold around the minstrel's neck. 

At this moment Margaret encountered Gilbert's eyes; she reddened withanger at first, but almost instantaneously became pale as death. Gilbertsaw that he was recognized--he bent his head upon his breast, andprepared for the worst. But so completely had Humbert engrossed alleyes, that the maiden's agitation was not observed. She had penetratedthe youth's disguise, and the discovery stunned her. She was bewildered, and could not determine what course to pursue. Humbert sounded his harpagain, and began a wild romance. Concealing her agitation, sheendeavored during the song to collect her thoughts. What embarrassed hermost, was to divine whether Gilbert's purpose in his mad visit werehostile or merely a piece of bravado. But she resolved to take no stepwithout mature reflection. She was deliberating whether she couldcommunicate her secret to Father Omehr, without so surprising him as toexcite remark, when he rose and left the room. 

The Lady Margaret was detained to hear some verses improvised toherself, which she rewarded with a slight token; she then withdrew, without raising her eyes to Gilbert. After she had disappeared, thebaron dismissed the guests and retained the minstrel. Seizing thisopportunity, Humbert told Gilbert he might retire until he was called, and the youth passed out, leaving behind only a few favorite retainerswith Sir Sandrit and the minnesinger. As the door closed behind him, Gilbert found himself in a long and dimly lighted corridor. He saw ablack figure enter at the other end--it was Father Omehr. 

"It rains too hard at present to venture out, " said the priest, inpassing, and he re-entered the hall to wait till the gust had exhausteditself. 

Gilbert wandered along the arched gallery without any definite aim, yetexpecting to see the Lady Margaret start from some secret niche. Suddenly his cloak was pulled so sharply, that he grasped his sword, which he had been prudent enough to conceal beneath the ample folds ofhis gown. As he turned, he saw a woman with her finger on her lips, butit was not the Lady Margaret: that shrivelled face and curved backbelonged to Linda. The old neif, after thus enjoining silence, made agesture for the youth to follow, and shuffled noiselessly before him. Gilbert's heart was well-nigh bursting with anxiety as they strodealong. When they reached the point where the corridor branched off intomany smaller passages, Linda entered one that opened through asharp-arched door upon the top of a battlemented tower. The youth feltrelieved by the cold, damp wind that drove through the aperture againsthis burning cheeks. As they reached a recess near the tower, Lindastopped and leaned against a buttress with her arms crossed on herbreast. At this moment, Gilbert became aware of the presence of a thirdfigure, muffled from head to foot in a mantle of fur; he felt that theLady Margaret stood before him, but all his gallant resolutions meltedaway, and he remained mute and motionless, powerless to speak or act. Apparently unconscious of Gilbert's presence, the lady stepped withinthe recess and knelt before a statue of the _Mater Dolorosa_; the youthwas awed and abashed: he began to consider his daring adventure anunwarrantable intrusion; he meditating kissing the hem of her garmentand retiring with all his love unspoken. In the midst of his suspenseMargaret arose and confronted him; her manner was formal and dignifiedwithout being cold or stern. 

"Are you Gilbert de Hers?" she said, in an undertone, but her voice wasfirm and clear. 

Gilbert bowed, but made no other reply. 

"What is your motive in coming here?" pursued the maiden, still calmly. 

The youth was silent, his eyes fixed on the pavement. 

"Why have you come so mysteriously--in such a strange disguise?"

But still no answer came. 

"Are you here, " continued his fair questioner, with more emphasis, "on ahostile mission? Are you seeking vengeance on our house by stealth? Areyou engaged in the prosecution of some criminal vow to injure us? Speak!Have you come to draw blood?"

"No, no!" muttered Gilbert, finding voice at last; "I bear your house noenmity. "

"Beware!" said the lady. "Remember that for years you have been ourprofessed and bitter enemy. "

"I was your enemy. I solemnly declare myself one no longer. "

"Then what has impelled you to this step? Is it an idle curiosity--amere piece of bravado?" Gilbert made no reply. 

"Is the object of your visit fulfilled? If so, fly at once! Your life isin danger--you cannot long escape detection--it is dangerous to tempt myfather. Go! you will find none else here to listen to your denial of aninimical intent in this reckless deception. "

"My object is but half fulfilled!" exclaimed the youth, throwing himselfat the Lady Margaret's feet. 

It would argue a poor knowledge of the quick apprehension of woman, tosay that the maiden was entirely unprepared for such a movement; but thesuddenness of the demonstration made her start. Gilbert's embarrassmenthad disappeared in his fervor. He no longer stammered and stuttered, but with unhesitating eloquence went through that ancient but ever freshstory, found in the mouths of all suitors in all ages. Linda stood withher eyes and mouth distended, looking as though she had been petrifiedjust as she was about to scream. It was rather a poor omen for Gilbertthat Margaret should have turned to the old servant, who had advanced apace, and calmly motioned her back to her corner. The daughter ofStramen listened to Gilbert's passionate professions with the air of onewho was hearing the same vows, from the same person, under similarcircumstances for the second time. She could scarcely have foreseenthis, but there is no estimating the power of anticipation it is themother of much presence of mind and unpremeditated wit. 

After reciting the history of his love from its dawn to its zenith, Gilbert began to conjure her not to slight his affection, and not topermit family prejudices to stand in the way of their union. 

"It can never be sufficiently lamented, " he said, "that the demon ofrevenge has so long separated our houses, which ought to be united inthe closest ties of friendship. It is time for us to learn to forgive. We have been too long aliens from God, and wedded to our evil passions. We must fling aside the scowl of defiance, the angry malediction, thesword and the firebrand, and, like Christians and neighbors, contract analliance that may edify as much as our discord has scandalized. Iconjure you, in the name of the victims already made by our feud--of thenumbers who must perish by its continuance--in the name of the holyChurch whose precepts we have disregarded, of the God whose Commandmentswe have violated, not to dismiss me in scorn and anger. I have perilledmy life, that I might end our enmity in love. "

"I am most happy, " interposed the Lady Margaret, availing herself of thefirst pause in his rapid utterance, "I am most happy, " she repeated, ina voice of singular sweetness, "that our enmity may end in love--"

A smile of exultation shot over Gilbert's face, and a sound of joytrembled on his lips. This did not escape the maiden, for she instantlyadded:

"But not in the love you propose!"

The light was gone from Gilbert's countenance, and he stared wildly intothe lovely and mournful face before him. 

"Not in the love you propose, " she resumed. Hitherto she had spokenseriously and without agitation, but now her whole manner was changed. Her cheek glowed and her eyes gleamed: a sudden animation appeared inevery limb. She took a step forward, and bent over the still kneelingyouth, fixing upon his a steady, penetrating gaze, as though she soughtto read his inmost soul. 

"Tell me, Gilbert de Hers, " she said, "do you truly desire peace betweenus?"

"As I live, " replied Gilbert, "yes!"

"Do you desire it for the love of God, and because our enmity displeasesHim?"

"Yes. "

"Then consecrate yourself to the attainment of that peace! Let noselfish motive spur you on! Look to heaven for your recompense, not tome I Aspire to eternal favor, not to mortal love! As for me--my days arenumbered here!--but what remains of life, I devote to the same holy end. We will labor together, though apart, in a noble cause--our prayersshall be the same--our hopes the same--our actions guided by the sameresolves! If I should die before our task is done--if my death fail tosoften my father's heart--falter not in your enterprise! With the graceof God, I shall be with you still! Fix your heart _there!_"

Her trembling finger was raised to heaven as she spoke, and in thesplendor of her pious enthusiasm, she seemed rather the guardian Angelof the youth than a daughter of earth. 

Gilbert remained as one entranced--he did not even hear the sharp screamthat burst from Linda, as Bertha, with her hair streaming wildly overher face and neck, darted toward them through the corridor, followed bya dozen men-at-arms. 

"Fly! fly! my lady!" cried the terrified neif, setting the example. 

But Margaret remained firm. 

"Rise!" she said to Gilbert, who still knelt as if turned to stone. Alive to her voice, he sprang to his feet. 

"Back!" cried the Lady Margaret to the leader of the party, who was nowwithin a few feet of her. 

"Pardon me, my lady, " said the man, bowing deeply; "your sire hascommanded us to arrest the harp-bearer. "

The maiden reflected an instant, and then said: "Offer him noviolence--take him before my father--I will accompany you. "

Gilbert had drawn his sword, but at a sign from the Lady Margaret, replaced it in his belt, and suffered himself to be seized by two of themen of Stramen. Margaret led the way along the corridor, followed byBertha, whose voice could be heard at times mingling with the clang ofthe heavy feet that waked a hundred echoes along the vaulted passage. Had Gilbert looked behind him as he left the ravine, he would have seena female figure there--that figure had dogged him ever since. Bertha wasagain his evil spirit: with a peculiar cunning, she had followed himunobserved to the interview with the Lady Margaret, and thencommunicated her suspicions by gestures and broken sentences to thebaron. Scarce knowing whether to credit the confused story of theunfortunate woman, Sir Sandrit had ordered Gilbert's arrest, rather toget rid of Bertha's importunity than as a prudent or necessary measure. When the youth entered the room with Margaret, Bertha, and his armedescort, the baron said, without any irritation:

"Is this a Bohemian, my daughter? Has he been telling your fortune?"

But the Lady Margaret was silent. 

"Unmuffle that churl, " pursued the knight, manifesting some impatience;"let us see what lurks beneath that sordid cowl. "

"Hold!" cried the youth, arresting the lifted arm of his guard anduncovering his head with his own hand. "There is no motive forconcealment now, sir, " he continued, meeting without flinching thekindling eye of the baron. "I am Gilbert de Hers!"

At this bold declaration, Sir Sandrit started up, almost livid withanger, while the corded veins swelled in his menacing brow; Father Omehrclasped his hands, despondingly at first, and then, raising them as ifin prayer, kept his eye fixed on the baron; the Lady Margaret bent herhead in deep affliction, and Humbert involuntarily struck his harp. Thesingle note sounded like a knell: a death-like silence ensued. Alreadyfour stalwart soldiers had secured Gilbert's arms, and with determinedlooks they waited but a signal from their chief: still the infuriatedknight scowled at Gilbert, and still the latter firmly bore the storm. 

"To prison with him!" at length exclaimed the baron. "Instant death weretoo good for the designing villain who has stolen like a snake into ourmidst. Away with the deceiver, who would stoop, to seek by a mostunmanly stratagem the revenge he dared not openly attempt. "

"The bravest of your name, " retorted Gilbert, "has not yet dared to setfoot within my father's halls. "

"Because we murder not by stealth!" shouted Sir Sandrit, stung by thesarcasm. 

"I meant no murder in coming here!"

"Aha! you find it easy to disguise your designs as well as your person!"

"I came to renounce the foe at your daughter's feet, and tell her that Iloved her. I have done so--do your worst!"

While the youth was speaking, the maddened baron snatched a heavy macefrom a man who stood by. Already the ponderous mass quivered in hispowerful grasp, when his daughter, with a piercing shriek, threw herselfupon his arm. After a vain effort to free himself, the ready knightseized the weapon with his left hand, and with wonderful adroitness andstrength prepared for the blow. But the baron's arm was again arrested. Between the chieftain and the motionless object of his wrath stoodFather Omehr. The mace must crush that majestic forehead, thatbenevolent eye, must steep those venerable hairs in blood, before it canreach the unfortunate Gilbert. Calm, but stern, the missionary, stood, superior to the frenzy of the noble. 

"Forbear! In the name of God I command you--forbear!" Such was hisexclamation, as, with one arm outstretched, he opposed his hand to themace. 

"Tempt me not!" cried the baron, growing pale, and stamping in his rage. 

"Tempt not your God!" returned the fearless priest. 

"Stand aside! Beware! You shelter a miscreant!"

"Beware yourself of the fiend at your heart!" replied the old man, maintaining his perilous position. 

"Think not to thwart me always, " resumed Sir Sandrit. "I have too longpermitted your interference. Again and again have you thrust yourselfbetween me and the objects of my wrath! You have ever sided with myinferiors--protected my serfs, and insulted their master. "

"I have sided with mercy and with your better nature. You are a demonnow--and seek what, if obtained, would make you even loathe yourself, and would, in the pure eye of God--"

A shrill blast of a bugle sounded at the castle gate. 

"The duke! the duke!" exclaimed the Lady Margaret, throwing her armsaround her father's neck. 

The mace was still uplifted, the priest was still before it, Gilbert wasstill pinioned by the men of Stramen, and all was silent as the tomb, when Rodolph and Henry entered the room. 

"Did you listen to that minion, Margaret?" said the baron to hisdaughter, without seeming to notice the presence of the duke. 

"It is because she gave me no hope, " interposed Gilbert, "that I amindifferent to your anger. "

Rodolph, perceiving the difficulty at a glance, put his arm in his angrybaron's and led him aside, while Henry advanced to his sister. After along and vehement discussion, the King of Arles left the knight standingwith his arms folded on his breast and his back to the group, andreleased Gilbert from the close grasp of his captors. 

"Come with me, " he said, in a whisper. 

"Where?" inquired Gilbert. 

"To the other side of the drawbridge?"

"But--I cannot leave Humbert, " said the youth, pointing to thefrightened minnesinger. 

"He shall go with you--they care not for him. "

At a beck from the duke, Humbert was at his side. "Follow me, " saidRodolph. 

But Gilbert lingered a moment to press Father Omehr's hand to his lips, and then the three passed silently, out of the apartment. They soongained the terrace, where, to his surprise, Gilbert found his ownhorses that had been tied in the ravine. Bertha had brought them there. The two adventurers were conducted by the duke beyond the castle bounds. The clouds had passed away, and the moon and stars shone brightly. 

"Away now!" cried the hero of Hohenburg. 

Bidding the noble duke an affectionate farewell, Gilbert and hisfollower sprang to the saddle and galloped off. But the adventures ofthe night were not yet over. Hardly had they passed the ravine, beforeHumbert's quick ear detected the tramp of a horse behind them. 

"Faster!" said Gilbert, putting spurs to the somewhat jaded animal herode. 

Faster they went, but the sound came nearer and nearer. Again Gilberturged on his horse, and again the galled creature bounded forward, butthe pursuing sound came faster than they. Humbert looked behind, and bythe bright moonlight saw a solitary horseman advancing at a furiouspace. 

"It is but one man, " said he. 

"So much the worse!" replied the youth, without checking his speed. 

"He must overtake us!" continued Humbert; "he gains at every leap!"

It was true. The horseman was almost on them. 

"Fly not so fast, gentlemen!" he cried as he came up. 

"I knew it was he, " muttered Gilbert, halting. 

"You have given me some trouble to overtake you!" said Henry of Stramen, with a bitter sneer, as he wheeled his swift horse, which had dartedahead, and confronted them. 

"Had I been well mounted, " answered Gilbert, "you should have had yourtrouble in vain!"

"I conjectured as much, from your determined flight, " returned Henry. 

Gilbert was stung to the quick, but he constrained himself to reply:

"With your permission, sir, we will ride on. "

"My permission can only be obtained in one way, and that way shouldalready have been embraced by a Suabian noble. "

Saying this, the young knight leaped to the ground, and drew his sword. 

"You will dismount, I trust!" he continued, as Gilbert sat steadily inhis saddle. 

"No! Let me pass, I entreat you!" said Gilbert, putting his horse inmotion. But Henry of Stramen, with a sudden spring, caught the reins, and forced the animal well-nigh upon his haunches. 

"I knew it!" cried Henry, with a bitter laugh. "You took advantage of myabsence to insult my sister, but I returned too soon for your chivalry. Dismount! The truce of God covers not to-day. Dismount! Add notcowardice to deceit!"

This was more than Gilbert could bear. Quick as lightning he stoodbeside the challenger. It was but the work of a moment to throw off hiscoarse cloak and draw his sword. Having chosen his position, he awaitedthe assault of his adversary. Humbert looked on in breathless interest, while the two young nobles fought in the moonlight. For some minutesGilbert maintained his ground, despite the furious efforts of hisassailant. There was a strong contrast between the desperate energy ofHenry and the calm courage of Gilbert. But at length the latter began torecede rapidly down a gentle slope. His antagonist recklessly pursued. The motive of Gilbert's retreat soon became evident. Henry's footslipped on the long grass, slimy from the recent rain, and he fell atfull length upon the ground. Before he could rise, Gilbert had mountedthe far fleeter steed of his opponent. 

"Return, coward! and see if chance will save you again!" shouted Henry, as he gained his feet. 

"Your sister has saved you once, and she shall save you again!" answeredGilbert; and, without regarding the denunciations of the knight ofStramen, he called to Humbert, and resuming the road to Hers, was soonout of hearing of Henry's threats. 

CHAPTER VI

 No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. 

 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 

The sentence pronounced at Rome against Henry IV of Austria spreadconsternation wherever it went; the resolute prepared for instantaction, and the timid looked in vain for a peaceful asylum. There couldbe no neutrality, since not to serve the king was to serve hisantagonist. Throughout the empire the stern challenge was ringing: "Areyou for the Pope or for the king?" The gay and reckless champions of thecourt, the knights of the house of Franconia, and many a boldadventurer, crowded around the royal banner. Many a haughty prelate, too, seduced by avarice or ambition, urged on the monarch in his madcareer. 

But the enterprise of Rodolph and the Lord of Hers had been most happilytimed, and the chivalry of Suabia were prepared to follow their martialduke at a moment's warning. That warning followed shortly after the dateof the last chapter. Gilbert had gained his chamber as the morn wasbreaking, and had hardly time to review the exciting events of thenight, before an attendant announced his father's arrival. The Lord ofHers had reached Zurich on his return, just as the tidings from Rome hadbeen received; and without pausing an instant, he hurried across thelake to convey the intelligence to the King of Arles. The baron washimself too much excited with the momentous results at last developed, and the still more momentous sequel already shadowed forth in theuncertain future, to remark the nervous and somewhat jaded appearance ofhis son. His first words, after hastily embracing Gilbert, were:

"Where is the duke?"

"At Stramen Castle, " replied the youth. 

"When did he arrive?"

"Last night, " answered Gilbert, without reflecting that he was, aseffectually as possible, giving his father a clue to his hare-brainedexpedition with Humbert. It was well for him that the baron was too wellsatisfied with the information to inquire how it had been obtained; for, incapable of deceiving his parent, he would have been compelled, veryreluctantly, to submit a brief account of his connection with Ailred ofZurich, the minnesinger. A chilly anticipation of the question struckhim, just as the words escaped his lips, and his cheek tingled as theblood came creeping against it. But, to his great relief, his father, without noticing his confusion, turned to a soldier who stood behindhim, and thus addressed him:

"Mount your best horse and ride for life and limb to Stramen Castle!Here!" continued the baron, taking a fold of parchment from his breast, as the man, prompt to obey without question or hesitation, bowed andwas going; "this for his highness, the King of Arles. Guard it with yourlife from the enemies of the duke, and if you meet the serfs of Stramen, proclaim your errand. Away! spare neither spur nor rein!" cried theknight, as the man dashed fearlessly down the hill. 

Rodolph of Suabia was scarcely less anxious to see the Lord of Hers, than the latter had been to acquaint the duke with Gregory's rigorousmeasures. He felt assured that the infamous conventicle at Worms musthave been already met by the Pope, and he thirsted for news from Rome. He knew that the Lord of Hers would be first in possession of the facts, from his position along the Rhine; and anxious not to lose a moment inexecuting his plans, which were to be regulated by the action of theHoly See, he could scarcely be prevailed upon to defer till daylight hisreturn to Zurich by the Castle of Hers. 

The baron's envoy had not accomplished half the distance between therival castles, before he met the duke, unattended, as was his wont, bearing rapidly down upon him. He was no stranger to the lordly bearingof the duke, for he had watched him in battle, when the strife waswarmest and the fight most dubious. The moment he recognized him, hesprang from his horse, and uncovering his head and kneeling down, presented the parchment as Rodolph advanced. Without dismounting, theduke received the missive, and eagerly unrolling it, began to read. Theinstrument contained a narrative of the proceedings of the council and atranscript of the sentence of excommunication. The noble's eagle eyeflashed at it scanned the page, and his broad bosom heaved. He struckhis breast in his excitement, and brandishing the parchment in the air, exclaimed aloud, in a deep, tremulous voice: "Well done, thou noblePontiff! Now, my brother Henry, the time has come, and heaven be thejudge between us!"

With these meaning words Rodolph galloped on, unmindful of the soldierbehind him. Yet it would seem he had not entirely forgotten themessenger, for when alighting at the Castle of Hers, he threw the man alargess such as had never fallen to his lot before. 

The duke could not but smile when he saw Gilbert, and taking him aside, he whispered in his ear: "You will soon have an opportunity to displayupon the battle-field the gallantry of the Bohemian harp-bearer, and tocouch a lance for Suabia and the Lady Margaret!"

"But how can I thank you for--"

"Thank that generous priest and that noble girl!" said Rodolph, interrupting the youth; "I ran no risk in interposing: the Baron ofStramen was but cancelling an old debt; I intercepted a battle-axe thatwas descending upon him at Hohenburg, and I asked mercy for you, inrequital. "

After a long interview, the duke and Albert of Hers resolved to assemblethe chiefs of the ducal party at Ulm, and to fix the fifteenth ofOctober for a general meeting, at Tribur, of all who would take up armsagainst the king. 

While the Lord of Hers was engaged in persuading the Duke of Bohemia andthe bishops of Würtzburg and Worms to repair to Ulm without delay, Gilbert was polishing his armor and exercising his barb. The stirringspirit of the times, the approaching honors of knighthood, with a goldenchance of winning his spurs, assisted in diverting his mind from amelancholy contemplation of the hopelessness of his love. But even whenbrandishing his stout lance, or wheeling his good war-horse, he wouldhear those withering words: "_The grave will anticipate her choice!_"followed by the fatal echo which came from her own lips, in solemnconfirmation of the prophecy: "_My days are numbered here!_" Nor couldthe dazzling dreams of young ambition shut out the still more delicioussight of the Lady Margaret, now kneeling before the _Mater Dolorosa_, now appealing to him with the pure emotion and wondrous beauty of anAngel, and now clinging to her father between him and the battle-axe. 

While the stern Sandrit de Stramen was preparing his vassals for theimpending strife, and literally converting the scythe into thesword--while he spared no expense or trouble in supplying his men witharms and horses, all gayly decorated to make a gallant show atTribur--while the sturdy yeomen were leaving their ploughs in the fieldto pay their rent by the service of shield and sword--the Lady Margaret, uninfluenced by the war-like bustle, calmly pursued her meditations, herdaily visits to the church, and her numberless acts of charity. She hada delicate and difficult duty to perform in soothing the proud mind ofher brother, stung to the quick by his unlucky encounter with Gilbert. The young knight of Stramen was panting for an opportunity to retrievehis misfortune and wipe out his fancied disgrace. When in conversationwith his sister, to whom he would outpour his passionate impulses, hepledged himself over and over again to bring the daring stripling to hisknee, who had dared to insult her in his absence. To his fiery threats, Margaret would offer no direct opposition, for she feared to awaken aneasily excited suspicion that she sympathized far too warmly with theculprit. This suspicion would have paralyzed her influence. Shecontented herself with pointing out the impossibility of settling adomestic quarrel at the present moment, and the imperative duty ofconsidering rather the public weal than the gratification of a privateinclination. And at times, when Henry appeared more tractable, and when, moved by her tender affection and earnest discourse, he exhibited adisposition more closely resembling her own, she would suggest what anobler and better revenge it would be to seek an opportunity of savingGilbert's life in the coming struggle. Henry's chivalrous nature waseasily attracted by this suggestion, and he determined to prove hissuperiority over his rival, before attempting his ultimate revenge. 

Father Omehr's duties increased as the fifteenth of October approached. The yeomen and vassals of Stramen recked little of their bodies, butthey cared not to peril their souls. They feared not to expose theirbreasts to the arrow and lance, and to meet the powerful war-horse withunflinching spear; but they were solicitous, at the same time, to purifytheir hearts for the mortal struggle. This wise precaution indicates nocraven spirit, for he who fears eternity the most, fears death theleast. The good missionary beheld with a mournful eye the preparationseverywhere making for a struggle apparently inevitable. He shared not inthe ambition of Rodolph or the ardor of his barons; and he bitterlylamented the dire necessity which compelled blessed peace to disappearbeneath the withering breath of war. Yet war seemed to be theunavoidable result of the excommunication, and the action of the Popewas necessary to preserve the purity and liberty of the Church. Deeplyas he deplored the present crisis, he exclaimed, "Thy will, O God, bedone! We have done what seemed to be our duty, be the consequences whatthey may!"

The empire was thus divided into two great parties. At first thepartisans of the king were much more numerous and powerful, but theirstrength was daily diminishing, as conscience began to operate uponsome, and fear upon others. The most marked and appalling chastisementwas overtaking the fiercest calumniators of the Pope. It happened that, on a certain festival, the Bishop William, in the presence of the king, interrupted the Mass by a violent denunciation of the Pope, in which hecalled him an adulterer and false apostle, and assailed him with bitterraillery. Hardly had the ceremonies been concluded before the episcopalslanderer was struck down with a fatal malady. In the midst of the mostexcruciating torments of mind and body, he turned to the minions ofHenry who surrounded him, and cried: "Go, tell the king, that he, and I, and all who have connived at his guilt, are lost for eternity!" Theclerks at his bedside conjured him not to rave in that manner; but hereplied, "And why shall I not reveal what is clear to my soul? Beholdthe demons clinging to my couch, to possess themselves of my soul themoment it leaves my body. I entreat you--you, and all the faithful, notto pray for me after my death!" With this he died in despair. The sameday, the cathedral of Utrecht, in which he had preached, and the royalpavilion, were suddenly consumed by fire from heaven. Burchard, Bishopof Misne, Eppo of Ceitz, Henry of Spire, and the Duke Gazelon, weresuccessively the victims of sudden and fatal misfortunes. Whatever maybe the impression produced at the present day, it is certain that theseexamples and a great number of others, struck terror into the partisansof the king, and many prelates and priests threw themselves at the feetof the Pope and renounced their errors. Thus, Udo, Archbishop of Trèves, repaired all penitent to Rome, and Herman of Metz began to waver in hishitherto steady fidelity to Henry. 

While these causes were sapping the imperial power, Henry wasunexpectedly menaced from another quarter. The two sons of Count Geron, William and Thiery, who had for some time secretly cherished the hope ofregaining the lost freedom of their country, saw in the presentconfusion the moment for which they had sighed. They raised the standardof revolt, and were soon at the head of a band of young and noblechieftains, whose intrepid bearing and dauntless confidence inspired thenation with the desire and the hope of liberty. The escape of the twoSaxon princes from Henry's hands and their arrival in Saxony gave anirresistible impulse to the movement, and the whole circle, animated bythe same spirit, rose haughtily to throw off the heavy yoke, neverpatiently endured. 

Rodolph lost not a moment in concentrating his forces and in profitingby this new defection. He had already secured the powerful assistance ofBerthold of Carinthia and Welf of Bavaria, and could now oppose to theemperor the formidable league of Suabia, Carinthia, Bavaria, and aportion of Lombardy. His policy evidently was to conciliate the Saxons, and he deemed their impiety sufficiently chastised at Hohenburg. He tookcare to assure them that so far from having anything to apprehend fromhis opposition to their enterprise, they might rely upon his assistanceand countenance. 

Henry had long affected a contempt for the anathemas of Gregory and anunconcern he was far from feeling; but this formidable coalition burstthe shell of his apathy and laid bare his uneasiness. He supplicates hisnobles in the disaffected provinces to meet him at Mayence; but hisearnest prayers are disregarded. Finding his advances indignantlyrejected by the princes of Upper Germany, and seeing that his prelateswere rapidly deserting him, he addresses himself to the task ofconciliating the Saxons. He employs every artifice to excite Otto ofNordheim against the two sons of Geron--menacing Otto's own sons, whomhe held as hostages, in case the father refused. But the noble Saxonreplied, that he would stand or fall by his country. Though signallyfoiled in all his schemes, Henry was still at the head of a numerous andveteran army, and he boldly advanced upon the marches of the Misne, togive battle to the sons of Geron. The Saxons did not wait an attack, butsallied forth to meet the monarch. The Mulda, swollen with the recentrains, alone separated the hostile armies, when the king, seized with asudden panic, ordered a hasty retreat, and fell back upon Worms, wherehe gave himself up to a lively regret and the gloomiest forebodings. 

The Saxons exulting in their first success, wished to revive the leaguewith Suabia; but first besought the Holy See to indicate which side theyshould espouse. Gregory's saintly and heroic reply displays the puremotives by which he was animated in excommunicating the king, and whichcontinued to govern his conduct throughout the contest. He cannotrecommend the anathematized monarch to the embraces of the Saxons--nor, on the other hand, does he entirely commend the self-interested zeal ofRodolph. He wishes to humble the king without exalting his adversaries--to reform the empire without a civil war. Had he possessed a particleof the lofty ambition which has sometimes been ascribed to him, this wasthe moment to attach the Saxons to the Suabian confederacy, and give adeath-blow to the Franconian line. But instead of an animatedexhortation to arms, in the name of outraged religion, the magnanimousPontiff writes: "Forget not, I pray you, the frailty of human nature;and remember the piety of his father and his mother, unequalled in ourtime. " Gregory's respect for Henry's parents seems to have inspired himwith the charitable hope, which never deserted him, that the king wouldrenounce his vices and return to virtue. It is well to keep this inview, since it is easier, after an inquiry into the struggle betweenthem, to justify the severity than the lenity of the Holy See. 

The fifteenth of October had at length arrived, and the eyes of Germanywere eagerly directed to Tribur. The left bank of the Rhine wasglittering with the chivalry of Upper Germany, and the legions of Suabiawere encamped along the bristling river. Here might be seen the swarthyBohemian, the stern Thuringian rider, the gay Loinhard, and the giganticSwiss, all mingling together, and apparently indifferent as to wherethey might be led. Gilbert de Hers felt a new and ardent delight ingazing upon the long and dazzling array of helmets and spears. He longedfor the hour when the whole mass would be in motion against a body asbeautiful and powerful as itself. With far different feelings did FatherOmehr behold the formidable battalia. He knew that the pomp of war, ifoften sung by poets, is oftener chronicled in hell. In the beautifullanguage of the age, he had been taught that "Peace is the language ofheaven, for Christ, who came from heaven, spoke that language, saying, '_Pax vobis!_' It is the language of Angels, who cried, exulting, '_Interra pax!_' It is the language of the Apostles, who thus greeted everyhouse they entered: '_Pax huic domui_'" Were the hasty and unscrupulouspenmen of our generation to draw their information from the writings ofthe Saints, instead of from martial legends or miserable perversionseven of these, they would find the spirit of the Ages of Faitheminently pacific, and could be induced so to represent it. At least, the Church, the teacher and the regenerator of Europe, breathed nothingbut "Peace!" Many holy doctors went so far as to condemn hunting, asbeing calculated to make men love war. And even the war-cry of thered-crossed knights was: "_Mansuetudinem quærimus et non bella!_"

The nobles of the empire, the principal prelates who remained faithfulto Rome, and the Papal legates, Siccard, Patriarch of Aquileia, andAltmann, Bishop of Passau, were assembled within the town in solemncouncil. Scarcely, however, had their deliberations begun, before Ottoof Nordheim, at the head of the flower of Saxony, appeared among themand declared himself in their favor. Then former jealousies and wrongswere forgotten, and Otto and Welf and Rodolph, cordially embracing eachother, devoted themselves to the execution of whatever enterprise thecommon cause might require. Seven days were consumed by the council inthe discussion of the diseases, the wants, and the dangers of the State. In the meantime, Henry, apprised of the meeting, had hastened with hisarmy to Oppenheim, and occupied the opposite side of the river. 

When informed that his cruelty, his blasphemy, his perfidy were stronglyexposed and unanimously condemned, and that he was denounced as aviolator of law and propriety, false to the dignity of the Church, andfaithless to the State, he implored the princes to accept hiscontrition, and offered to resign all but the insignia of royalty, withwhich he could not honorably part, and to give hostages for his futuregood behavior. But the council replied that they knew his sincerity toowell to desire another proof of it; and that a perfidy so deeply rootedas his must be incurable. The messages of the monarch served only toinflame his opponents still more violently against him; and the princes, disgusted with his pretended submission, resolved to elect a new king, pass the Rhine, and attack the imperial troops. Henry, driven todespair, concentrated his forces upon a single point, and prepared togive battle, determined to conquer or die. 

But here, again, the peaceful spirit of the Church interfered to preventa scene of carnage, by withholding the Apostolical suffrage from thenominee to the imperial dignity. As in almost every battle chronicled byFroissart, the bishops at first passed from army to army, exhorting topeace, and studying to bring the point in dispute to an amicableadjustment, so at this moment the Papal legates and the bishopscompelled the confederates to give the king to the end of the year torepent, if he complied with certain conditions, the observance of whichwas required for the peace and safety of Germany. The two most importantof these conditions were, to retire from public life, and to seek, inperson, at Rome, the raising of the interdict. It is impossible not tosee in this arrangement the finger of Gregory, solicitous to avertbloodshed, and directed by his magnanimous and charitable repugnance tocredit Henry's utter depravity. 

There were some who regretted this peaceful result, among whom the sternBaron of Stramen was conspicuous for his open denunciation of the treatynor could the polished Lord of Hers conceal his contempt for acompromise, which threw away a present advantage, in consideration ofthe fear-extorted oath of a perjured debauchee. Rodolph himself deeplyregretted that the Pope would not consent to crown him king, aconsummation he required before acting against his brother, lest heshould be branded as a rebel. Even Gilbert and Henry of Stramen werecrestfallen in the blight of all their budding hopes. Of all our Suabianfriends, Father Omehr was the only one who rejoiced in this amicabletermination of the council, and who devoutly returned thanks to God foraverting a direful war, and proclaiming, in the favorite language ofheaven, "_Pax fiat!_"

During two months and a half, Henry buried himself in solitude at Spire. Rodolph remained watchful and expectant, now at Zurich, and now inSaxony. All was calm in the lordships of Hers and Stramen. The LadyMargaret was lamenting the absence of Father Omehr, who had beensummoned to Rome, and whose missionary duties were performed by thepious Herman. 

The year of grace was drawing to a close, and the proud baron began tohope that the emperor would permit it to pass without observing thestipulation in the treaty to repair to Rome and ask pardon of the Pope. The new year had begun, and January was half over when the King of Arleswas startled with the intelligence that Henry had purchased fromAdelaide, the widow of the Margrave Otho, a free passage into Italy, and, in spite of snow and ice, had crossed the Alps, and was approachingthe fortress of Canossa, whither Gregory had retired. At first it wasrumored that the monarch had gone to depose the Pope, and the Duke ofSuabia secretly exulted in the prospect of instant action. But it wassoon ascertained that Henry presented himself in the character of asuppliant, and the result of his application was awaited with breathlessinterest. 

Early in the spring of 1077, toward the close of a cold, bright day, Rodolph was seated in his palace at Zurich, surrounded by Albert of Hersand Gilbert, on one side, and on the other, by Sandrit and Henry ofStramen. This strange meeting, though unexpected and unwelcome to thehostile knights, was designed by Rodolph, who thought that by thusaccustoming them to restrain their passions in his presence, and bydistinguishing them with equal confidence, aid praising both sides inequal measure, he might control, in some degree, the antipathies hecould not entirely subdue. But the barons maintained a stern, unyieldingreserve, and Gilbert studiously avoided the disdainful gaze of Henry ofStramen. The lamps were scarcely lighted when a messenger from Rome wasannounced, and the next moment Father Omehr entered the room. 

The nobles rose, and, greeting the venerable missionary respectfully andaffectionately, conducted him to a seat, and gathered about him. Whenthe attendants had been dismissed, and the duke invited him to proceed, Father Omehr thus began to describe the interview between the Pope andthe king, to which he had been an eye-witness:

"I had the happiness to be with His Holiness when Henry was conducted bythe noisy populace to the walls of Canossa; and though we knew not withany certainty whether the king's intentions were inimical or friendly, Icould discover in the Pontiff's placid face neither hope nor fear. Thefirst prayer presented by the royal suppliant, ascribed ambition andenvy to the leaders of the coalition against him. "

"Tyrant!" interposed the Lord of Hers, "he begins his penitence by acalumny. "

"Our Holy Father only replied, " continued the priest, "that theecclesiastical law did not permit him to judge the accused in theabsence of his accusers; and invited him, since he confided in hisinnocence, to meet his accusers at Augsburg, and abide by the Papaldecision. "

"Yes!" exclaimed Rodolph, eagerly. "And what said the king?"

"That the anniversary of his excommunication was approaching, and thatunless the interdict were raised, his rights to the crown would beforfeited. Should the Pope receive him to favor at once, he promised tosubmit to whatever His Holiness might subsequently decree, and answerhis accusers at Augsburg. "

"Artful villain!" ejaculated Albert of Hers. 

"But His Holiness remained inflexible, " resumed the missionary. "Atlast, moved by the prayers and tears of those around him, he permittedHenry to approach him, to prove his penitence and atone for his contemptof the Holy See. The prince delayed not to avail himself of this grace;and the next morning presented himself at the inner gate of the castle, barefoot and in sackcloth, where he remained, fasting, from daybreak tosunset. This he repeated the second and the third day. "

"Oh that I had seen him in that saintly guise!" cried the duke, with ashort, disdainful laugh, while he rubbed his hands, and pressed thefloor with his iron heel. 

"Consummate hypocrite!" said the Lord Albert. 

"Coward!" muttered the Baron of Stramen. 

"I think I can hear his piteous cries now, " continued Father Omehr, endeavoring to excite their compassion, "put forth at intervals:'_Parce, beate Pater, pie, parce mihi, peto, plane!_'"

But the nobles only expressed extreme disgust. 

"Finally, " proceeded the priest, "the supplications of the saintlycountess, Matilda, and of many holy men, induced our good Father toraise the anathema on these conditions, proposed to the king, stillbarefoot and numbed with cold. "

A deathlike silence prevailed as the missionary began the enumeration:

"That Henry should appear at Augsburg--that the Pope should be thejudge--that he should submit without resistance to the decision--that heshould banish the excommunicated bishops and favorites--and if one ofthese conditions were violated, that his guilt would be deemedestablished, and the princes of the empire at liberty to elect anotherking. "

The knights still sat in silence, as if spell-bound, while Father Omehrcalmly went on with his narrative:

"The monarch swore to observe the compact inviolably. But to giveadditional solemnity to the oath, the Pontiff, while celebrating theMass that followed the reconciliation, turned from the altar, and thusaddressed the king: 'Do, if it please you, my son, as you have seen medo. The German princes are continually charging you with crimes forwhich they demand an interdict over you for life, not only from theseals of royalty, but from all communion with the Church or society. They demand your immediate condemnation; but you know the uncertainty ofhuman judgments. Do, then, as I advise you, and if you are conscious ofinnocence, rid the Church of this scandal and yourself of theseimputations! Receive this other half of the Host, that this proof ofyour innocence may silence your enemies, and I pledge myself to be yourbest champion in appeasing your barons and in arresting this civilwar!'"

"And Henry?--" whispered Rodolph, trembling with excitement. 

"Recoiled from a proof so terrible, " answered the missionary. 

The duke still occupied his chair, with his forehead knit, and his armsfolded on his breast, but the Lord of Hers sprang to his feet and beganto pace the room, and the Baron of Stramen brought his battle-axeheavily against the floor. 

"Tell me, " said Albert of Hers, addressing Father Omehr, "did not thePope revoke his pardon at this evident insincerity?"

"No, " was the reply. 

"Then, may God forgive me, " returned the excited knight, "but the mercyof His Holiness sounds like human folly!"

"It is weakness--cowardice!" muttered the Baron of Stramen. 

The missionary smiled at cowardice in connection with the name ofGregory VII. 

A bright smile now began to break over Rodolph's face, and he said, turning to his friends:

"My gallant knights, this is but an expedient of the king's to gaintime, he will never confront us at Augsburg. We must prepare for astruggle more desperate than ever, and, before another day, I must setout for Saxony. "

The prophecy of the King of Arles was soon verified. For five days afterleaving Canossa, Henry kept his oath; on the sixth he broke it, and, with an armed band, prevented the Pope from appearing among the princesat the Diet of Augsburg. 

Before another week had passed, the lordships of Hers and Stramen seemedalmost deserted. Rodolph had passed into Saxony, to assemble an armythere, leaving Welf, the Duke of Bavaria, and the Lord Albert, tocollect the forces of Suabia. Rodolph had taken with him the Baron ofStramen, with his son, and Gilbert de Hers. Father Omehr, who had beensecretly charged by the Pope to moderate the zeal of the King of Arles, had also followed the duke, commuting his flock and the Lady Margaret tothe care of Herman. It was with a heavy heart that Gilbert saw thetowers of Stramen fading in the distance, and felt that he was leaving, perhaps forever, a being to whom he was so deeply attached, without aword, a glance, or even a look. He had, however, evinced his solicitudefor the Lady Margaret's welfare by solemnly charging Humbert to watchover her in his absence and protect her with his life. 

The knights and burghers of Suabia were now assembling at Ulm. Scarce aman could be seen between the Danube and the Lake of Constance: motherswere working in the fields, with their children about them, and here andthere some old or infirm vassal was seated at his cabin door. Little didthe Lady Margaret dream, as she gazed from her lattice over thebeautiful country, dipping down into the river, dotted all over withthriving cottages, from which the quiet smoke of peace wascurling--little did she think, as she watched the green fieldsstruggling through the melting snow, and fixed her eyes upon the Churchof the Nativity, how soon those Cottages would flame, those fields bered with human gore, and that church be polluted by a hireling soldiery. Little did she think, when praying for the safety of her father andbrother, that her own paternal castle would be the first victim of thewar. 

CHAPTER VII

 The wild dog Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent. O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows!

 HENRY IV. 

Shut out from Augsburg by the treachery of the emperor, Gregory VIIretired to Canossa, where he resolved to let the affairs of Germanyshape themselves for a time, while he awaited a more favorable momentfor action. Nor was his gigantic mind occupied with Germany alone, andthe movements there which menaced his life and the liberty and purity ofthe Church. Dalmatia, Poland, and England claimed his constantattention. With the most powerful monarch in Europe plotting hisdownfall, he contrived to win the love and obedience of Zwonomir, toforce the rebellious Boleslaus from his throne, and to purify Englandstill more from simony and incontinency. 

As Henry's submission to the Pope had disgusted the bold who were readyto assist him, and repelled the timid who waited but a second call, sohis shameless perjury and fearless defiance of Gregory at Augsburgreassembled his professional adherents, and inspired with new couragethose who secretly clung to his cause. The mitres of Luinar, Benno, Burchardt of Lausanne, and Eppo of Ceitz again sparkled around him, andEberhard, Berthold, and Ulric of Cosheim displayed their lances toconfirm his resolution. In every country and in every age there mustexist a large and powerful party prone to pleasure and license, which iseasily arrayed against virtue, when the indulgence of their criminalpassions is threatened. This party is ever formidable, especially whensupported by a powerful king, nobly descended, and legally invested withthe crown. A natural sympathy, too, had been awakened for the emperor, as numbed with cold he besought the pity of the Pontiff; and, withproverbial fickleness, men, in ascribing humility to the king, imputedarrogance to the Pope. Owing to these causes, it was not long beforeHenry found himself stronger than ever. Inflamed with new ardor, heloudly lamented his submission at Canossa, and cursing the hours ofmisery passed there, swore speedy vengeance against the presumptuous sonof Bonizo the carpenter. 

Rodolph had no sooner reached Forchheim, than it was announced that ageneral diet would be held there for the discussion of matters of vitalimportance to the Church and State, with the suggestion that the absenceof the king would facilitate their deliberations. The Count Mangold deVeringen was despatched to the Pope, inviting him to sanction the dietby his presence, to aid them by his wisdom and intrepidity, and to takethe helm of the tempest-tossed vessel of state. He was also commissionedto inform His Holiness of their determination to elect a new king. ThePope, in reply, conjured them not to be precipitate, and to wait hisarrival before they acted. 

There was one feature in the proposed diet to which Gregoryobjected--the attempted exclusion of Henry from any participation in it. This he endeavored to remedy by obtaining a promise from the emperor toattend the meeting in person. It was partly to avoid the appearance ofpartiality, but principally in the hope of reconciling the angryfactions, that the Pope requested the presence of his unscrupulousantagonist. Henry not only recoiled from his engagement, but, byblocking up all the avenues to Forchheim, compelled the Pope to remainat Carpineta, unable either to enter Germany or return to Rome. 

Bernard, cardinal deacon, Bernard, Abbé of St. Victor, and thecelebrated Guimond, the Papal legates, announced to the confederates thedesire of His Holiness that they should wait his arrival. But theassembled nobles dreaded the least delay. Already their cause wasweakened by indecision, and a hostile army was in the field, receivingdaily accessions. Though May had been fixed for the opening of the diet, so great was the impatience of Rodolph and his barons, that it wasconcluded in the middle of March. No sooner had the legates deliveredtheir instructions, than deliberations were virtually begun. The chiefsdirected all their efforts to induce the legates to sanction theelection of a king, and confirm their choice. Guimond and hiscompanions, faithful to their instructions, replied: "It were far betterto await the arrival of His Holiness"; but they added, imprudently, "that they did not wish to oppose their advice to the wisdom of theprinces, who knew much better than they what was most conducive to theinterests of the State. " Assuming an implied permission to act fromthese words of courtesy, the nobles proceeded at once to cast theirvotes. A scene of confusion ensued, created by the jarring of privateinterests. These were finally quelled by the interposition of the Papallegates, and the balloting proceeded without interruption. The vote ofthe bishops alone remained to be taken. The Archbishop of Mayence rose, and exercising his prescriptive title, gave the first voice for Rodolphof Suabia. Adalbert and the other bishops followed his example. Otto, Welf, Berthold, ranged themselves on the same side, and amid universalacclamations Rodolph was proclaimed king. 

Something still remained--the Papal confirmation. There were some whowere sad and mute amid the general rejoicings, and among them was FatherOmehr. In vain had he implored Rodolph to postpone the session, at leastuntil the appointed time would arrive: the King of Arles regarded thedelay as suicidal. In vain, too, he conjured the legates to refuse theirapproval, at least until May, and begged them, with tears in his eyes, not to give the signal for civil war. All the princes and a majority ofthe bishops conceived that the denial of the Apostolic benediction woulddestroy the hopes of the Church party. They beheld in themselves thechampions of the Church, and identified their own welfare with that ofthe Holy See; they believed that Gregory was only restrained bycircumstances from granting the prayers of those who had sworn never todesert him; they maintained that although the Pope might not havepermitted the election, he could not refuse to sanction their choiceafter it had been made. Moved by these passionate representations, and, perhaps, expecting to please the Sovereign Pontiff, the legates yielded, and confirmed the election of Rodolph. 

When Rodolph heard that he had been called to the throne he shut himselfup in his room and sent for Father Omehr. Scarce a minute elapsed beforethe missionary stood at his side. They gazed at each other in silencefor some moments. The duke's lips were compressed, and his brow gatheredinto a deep frown. Mingled sorrow and hope were portrayed in themissionary's face, and his breast heaved with excitement. 

"I am king!" said Rodolph, in a whisper, still scanning the priest, asthough he would read his soul. 

"Not yet!" was the reply. 

"Who can prevent it?"

"God!"

"Most humbly would I submit to His gracious interposition, " said theduke, bending his head devoutly; "but can any human power prevent it?"

"Yourself!"

Rodolph buried his face in his hands and with rapid, nervous gesturespaced up and down the small apartment. 

"Hear me!" he exclaimed, suddenly leading Father Omehr to a chair, andtaking a seat beside him. "Hear me!" he repeated, bending forward untilhis lips almost touched his companion's ear, and the veins swelled inhis throat and temples:

"I have toiled and sighed and prayed for this! Day after day, nightafter night, for years, this has been the aim of all my actions, ay, even the limit of my aspirations. Once to be king--oh! ever since Ifirst clutched a lance I panted for it! In love, in sickness, in peace, in war, I never forgot that one surpassing object--the crown! Hear meon! It is now within my reach--I can touch it--and you ask me to resignit?--"

The duke paused a minute, his eagle eye flashing fire; then, with avehemence almost appalling, he resumed: "You ask me to resign it--and I_would_, without a pang--gladly, cheerfully--this very instant! Yes--Iswear to you--here in presence of my Creator, that I no longer covet thecrown I have well-nigh worshipped; that, but for Germany and the Church, I would rather place it on Henry's perjured head than wear it on myown!"

"Then you will resign it?" said the missionary, eagerly. 

Rodolph slowly shook his head and fixed his eyes upon the floor. 

"Let no fears for the Church and your country restrain you, " pursued thepriest; "they both demand your refusal, not your acceptance. "

Still Rodolph sternly shook his head. 

"Then as you value honor, defer your decision until the appointedtime--our Holy Father may still be with us--it is treacherous to deprivehim of the opportunity of interfering, by thus anticipating by a monththe day on which we invited him to meet us. "

"It is too late for interference now, " replied the duke, "and of whatavail is it to pause on the brink when all the avenues from Carpinetaare closed by Henry's minions?"

"Have confidence, I conjure you, " exclaimed the other, passionately, "inthe virtue and wisdom of His Holiness. Rest assured that he will findsome means to avert bloodshed and yet preserve his See and the empire. "

"War is inevitable!"

"Obey the Pope and trust in God. Beware how you take upon yourself toplunge the nation in war--to tear down the sacred barriers of peace--andopen the floodgates for a thousand evil passions to deluge Germany withcrime and blood! Can you foresee what may occur--what a month maydevelop--what new political combination the master mind of Gregory maydevise for our preservation?"

"I must rather beware, " returned the noble, "how I sacrifice the lasthope of my country and the main support of religion by procrastinationand criminal hesitation. If I refuse the crown, I disband my party. Menwill leave us, and say we tremble, and before long we are at the tendermercies of the tyrant, for my resignation, while striking terror intoour ranks, will infuse new courage into his. Then would I see myallies--the friends whom I seduced into rebellion and thenabandoned--destroyed in detail--pursued, hunted down, exiled, andmartyred before my eyes. No! come what may, I must accept. "

"What is your situation now, " rejoined the missionary, "that you haveanything else to expect than defeat and disgrace? You know theemperor--you have seen his dauntless courage, his consummate skill, hisdesperate resolution. You know that he is at the head of an army morenumerous and better disciplined than your own. And you must also clearlyforesee that if the Pope--as he certainly will--shall condemn the policyof his legates, your efforts will want the principle of life which alonecan bless them with success. "

"If the prospect now is bad, " said Rodolph, solemnly, "delay can onlymake it worse. And I believe that, could His Holiness see what isevident to us, he would command me to accept the crown, and place itwith his own hands upon my head. "

"You are mistaken--wofully mistaken, my lord. While a hope of avertinganarchy and civil war remains, Gregory will not adopt the surest meansof inflicting both. Trust in God for the future! Do not pursue what tothe mole-blind vision of humanity seems expedient, when certainbloodshed is the result! Humble yourself before Him who alone can exaltand lay low! Confide in the efficacy of prayer! Think not that God willdesert His Church or her champions!"

"I do trust in the future, " answered the duke, "but not until I haveembraced what reason dictates for the present. "

"Do you hold your reason more enlightened than that of His Holiness?"

"He cannot see what I see. Urge me no more! It is too late to recede. Iknow well what dangers I incur by accepting the crown--and what disgraceI should earn in refusing it. Did I consult my inclinations, I shouldrenounce the glittering ornament: but I will not have men to point at mecovertly, and say, 'He faltered!' I will not endanger the noble baronswho have devoted themselves to my advancement. If I have sinned inalluring them thus far, I will not deepen my guilt by betraying them. Though I knew that the crown which I am about to assume were like thegift of Medea, I would still set it on my temples: better pay thepenalty of ambition by advancing than by timidly retreating, whenboldness may remedy, and retreat is certain death!"

The tread of armed men was heard along the passage, and immediatelyafterward the Count Mangold entered the room. 

"The diet awaits your highness' answer, " he said, bowing deeply to theduke. 

"I will follow you, " said Rodolph, "and deliver it in person. " Sayingthis, he strode proudly from the room, preceded by the count and hisattendants. 

As the door closed behind them, Father Omehr fell upon his knees. Heknelt there with the tears streaming down his pale cheeks and his handsclasped in prayer, until a long loud shout announced Rodolph'sacceptance. Then the trumpets' merry notes, mingled with the joyfulclang of arms, went up to heaven together with the missionary's sighs. Father Omehr appeared scarcely to hear the martial revelry, but as thetumult increased, he rose and glided from the room. 

Amid the congratulations of the bishops, nobles, and people, Rodolphproceeded in great pomp to Mayence, where he was to be crowned andconsecrated the following day. It was after nightfall when Rodolphreached the palace prepared for his reception; and seizing the firstmoment to escape from the embraces of his friends, he retired early tohis chambers, accompanied only by Gilbert de Hers. Rodolph had alwaysevinced a strong partiality for Gilbert, which the youth repaid by theliveliest love and admiration. No sooner were they alone, than the dukethrew himself dejectedly into a chair, and was soon plunged into a fitof gloomy abstraction. Gilbert stood motionless beside him, inwardlywondering at the silence and despondency of the man, who, a momentbefore, had been gayly exchanging felicitations with all who approachedhim. 

"Sit down, my son, " said the duke. 

Gilbert mechanically obeyed. 

"Do I seem happy?" asked Rodolph. 

"No, my lord; are you unwell?"

"Do I seem overwhelmed with joy at my good fortune?"

"Has anything befallen you, sire?" inquired the youth. 

"Yes!" cried the monarch-elect, seizing his wrist, "the gratification ofmy ambition!"

Gilbert started at the trembling tones and excited gesture of hiscompanion. 

"Gilbert, " continued the duke, regaining his composure, "you see me inpossession of all that I ever craved on earth. I am now legally investedwith the imperial crown. It was not the peaceable enjoyment of thethrone I asked, but permission to occupy it. I am gratified. With all myhopes realized--I never was more miserable than at this moment. I am notsad because I feel that my career is drawing to a close--that I shallbe unsuccessful in the struggle for undisputed power: it is sufficientfor me that I die a king. I tremble because I have discovered theimpotence of earthly things to gratify the cravings of an immortalsoul--because, in finding that I have a capacity of enjoyment not to beappeased by the highest dignities on earth, I begin to comprehend myimmortality. I see what a shadow I have pursued--how madly I haveneglected eternal happiness for temporal preferment. You, my son, arefull of earthly hope, dreaming of the Lady Margaret, of minstrels'praises, and knightly fame. Do not think me harsh, if I pray God thatyou may speedily know their emptiness. You can never rise as high inthis mundane atmosphere as I am now; but your soul is as immortal asmine, and would sicken over less renown, as I do over this. "

Rodolph paused, and Gilbert, struck dumb with surprise, gazed up intohis face. 

"It is late, my son, " he resumed, "and we must part. Is there anythingyou would ask before leaving me?"

"There is to be a tournament to-morrow, " the youth faltered out. 

"And you would take part, in spite of my discourse, " said the duke, witha smile. 

Gilbert's reddening cheeks answered for him. 

"I must forbid you to couch lance to-morrow, " said Rodolph, tenderly;"you shall receive your spurs at my hands when I am king, but let me bethe judge of the time. And remember, my son, " he added, detainingGilbert as the latter was about to retire, "remember what you have seenthis night. When men shall question my motives, and extol or condemnme, you may say that Rodolph of Suabia was inspired by ambition to seekthe crown, but that when it was within his grasp, he would have turnedfrom it in disgust, had not conscience and patriotism compelled him towear it. "

As Gilbert, deeply moved, kissed his hand and withdrew, Rodolph retiredto an oratory into which his apartments opened. He had been thereengaged in prayer for more than an hour, when the Archbishop of Mayenceappeared, and, after a brief adoration, entered the confessional. There, in the silent hour of midnight, the king knelt before the priest, inobedience to the voice of that God who bequeathed us a Church toadminister the Sacraments which He appointed for our salvation, andthrough which we can only attain it. When Rodolph sat again in hischamber, his brow was calmer and his eye softer and brighter. 

The morning of the twenty-sixth of March dawned calm and bright. A warmsun suddenly interrupted a long-protracted spell of cold weather, thesnow rapidly disappeared from the fields and streets, and the creduloussaw a happy omen in the genial spring day that broke through the icyfetters of winter to greet the coronation. A splendid procession movedto the cathedral, and during the celebration of Solemn High Mass, Sigefroy, Archbishop of Mayence, crowned and consecrated Rodolphrightful king and defender of the kingdom of the Franks. 

After the ceremony, the nobles assembled to witness the tournament, where the newly crowned monarch presided with a crowd of barons at hisside. Gilbert stood at some distance from the royal person, and watchedthe tilting with all-absorbing interest. Henry of Stramen displayed somuch address and managed his horse with so much skill that Gilbert couldscarce forbear to join in the applause rendered by those around him. Sointent was he upon the lists that a citizen by his side had, unobservedby him, severed the links of a massive gold chain which he wore aroundhis neck, and had concealed it in his gown. But a page who had perceivedthe theft, throttled the culprit and drew the chain from itshiding-place. The man was ordered to prison, and Gilbert had forgottenthe occurrence, when the assembly was disturbed by loud cries andimprecations from without. Gilbert quick as thought passed through thedoorway and stood in the street. The bourgeois of Mayence were zealouspartisans of Henry, and had already scowled upon the honors paid to hisrival. The maltreatment of their townsman had kindled the spark ofdiscontent to flame. They had attacked the soldiers of Rodolph, who, aswas customary, attended the joust unarmed, and had rescued the thief. AsGilbert stood watching the tumult, he was singled out as the object ofattack, probably at the direction of the citizen who had suffered in theattempt to steal his chain. The situation of the young noble, clad onlyin a velvet doublet and armed only with a light sword, was extremelyprecarious. Yet he did not dream of flight, but for a time kept hisassailants at bay, slowly falling back upon the arena. A number ofsoldiers issuing from the pavilion gathered around him, but, shorn oftheir weapons, they could only parry without returning the blows oftheir adversaries, who were well supplied with stones and clubs. 

Gilbert had not left the lists unobserved by Rodolph, who immediatelydespatched a page to watch his movements. When informed of his youngfriend's danger, he arose and cried in a loud voice:

"Gentlemen, we would not have you meddle in this affray: a party of mymen have gone for their arms, and it will speedily be terminated. Butthe son of Albert de Hers is now overpowered by these boors. Let someone hasten to his rescue!"

Three young knights at once dismounted and passed out: the foremost borein his crest a long dark plume. 

The generous soldiers, who had hitherto received upon their defencelessbodies the blows aimed at Gilbert, were almost all beaten down, and in afew minutes more he would have been exposed comparatively unaided to thefury of the populace. His sword was shivered to the hilt, and though hedrove back a giant who attempted to close with him, by dashing the guardin his face, he must have fallen beneath a club that swung over hishead, had not a tall knight, completely clad in armor, striding beforehim, intercepted the blow, and dashed the assailant to the earth. Ashower of blows saluted the youth's deliverer, but he bore themunflinching, and, vigorously plying his two-handed sword, cleared aspace around the exhausted Gilbert. The two other knights arriving atthis moment, the contest became more equal. But the mob were nowdisplaying deadlier weapons, and Rodolph reluctantly resolved tocommand his chivalry to disperse the rabble, when his soldiers arrivedwith their arms. Inflamed by the loss of their comrades, the nowformidable troops threw themselves upon the citizens, and pursued themwith great slaughter to their homes. When the knights were left withoutan enemy, Gilbert advanced to embrace his deliverer. But the knight ofthe black plume stepped back a pace, and raising his visor, disclosedthe features of Henry of Stramen, cold, haughty, and showing just thetraces of a smile of disdain. 

Gladly at that moment would Gilbert have fallen into his arms andentreated him to forget the past; but there were too many eyes towitness a repulse. He contented himself by saying:

"Sir, you have preserved my life, and with the grace of God you shallnot repent it. "

Henry made no reply, and they parted. 

Gilbert was far too generous to regret an incident which laid him undersuch deep obligations to Henry of Stramen. He rejoiced that it hadoccurred, for it might remove the mortification produced by their lateencounter, and diminish the mortal hatred with which he was regarded. Hewas also well disposed to welcome any accident that might give him apretext for conciliating the house of Stramen. Henry perhaps secretlyexulted that he had conferred a favor upon Gilbert that would gall hisheart, while it poured a balm upon his own. Still he did not hold theyouth in the same utter detestation as before. 

On the next day, Rodolph, following an ancient custom, began a tourthrough his dominions. 

Germany now presented the spectacle of a country claimed by two kings. To Gregory the party of the old king was heretical and odious--that ofthe new king pure and orthodox. Though all his sympathies were with thelatter, he still openly blamed and deplored the conduct of his legates, and refused to acknowledge Rodolph as king. The Pope well knew what adelicate undertaking it was to depose a sovereign whom he hadconsecrated, and how fraught with danger such a precedent must be. Hisinterest evidently called him to receive Rodolph at once into his arms, and had he done this, the result of the contest would have been verydifferent. In the behavior of Gregory we discover, in addition to aninsuperable aversion to countenance civil war, a disposition to endurethe last extremity rather than dethrone a legitimate monarch, andperhaps a preference of Henry, for his parents' sake, to his rival. 

Both kings prepared vigorously for the struggle which could not be longpostponed. Henry's measures were admirably calculated to increase hispower. He scattered rich benefices lavishly among the clergy, lured onthe soldiers of fortune with tempting bribes, and granted enviableprivileges to the seaboard towns. The citizens of Augsburg, aftertasting his bounty, braved the menaces of his antagonist. Hordes ofbrigands from Bohemia were attracted to his camp by brilliant largessesand the prospect of an easy booty. The German cities, and particularlythose along the Rhine, had always, pursuant to the policy of hisancestors, been the object of his peculiar favor, and the merchants ofWorms were relieved from all imposts. The population of these citieswas soon ranged under the banner of Henry, whose ranks increased so longas gold could buy, and the promise of license and plunder attracted. 

Rodolph's policy served to diminish instead of swelling his numbers. Hedevoted himself, at the sacrifice of everything else, to gain the Popeto acknowledge him as king. He appeared the inflexible chastiser ofsimony and ecclesiastical corruption. The very day of his coronation hehad obtained the dismissal of a simoniacal deacon. Everywhere hecompelled the nominees of Henry to fly, and filled their places withzealous champions of the canonical discipline. At Constance and Zurichhe drove the irregularly appointed bishops from their sees: he placedLutold, a zealous champion of the Pope, over the monastery of St. Gall, which had been devoted to his rival. Many, frightened by theseseverities, deserted his standards, and others recoiled from thepresence of so rigorous an enforcer of spiritual purity. 

Thus, while the cause of Henry was flourishing under his criminalartifices, Rodolph was weakened by his honest severity. Yet there wasthis difference between the parties. The minions of Henry were goaded onby individual interests--the partisans of Rodolph by a common resolutionto die in defence of a sublime principle; the first were incited by thehope of plunder, the lust of empire, ambition, avarice, or a lawlessappetite for war--the last were animated by a love of liberty, andfought for future security from oppression; the one prepared to preserveunrighteous license and ill-gotten gains--the other were inspired bythe hope of regaining the freedom of which they had been unjustlydeprived, and by the resolve to regain their ancestral rights and toprotect the outraged Church of God. 

Albert of Hers with all his energy and address had not succeeded inextracting from Suabia more than two thousand men. With this small forcehe joined Rodolph, who was then encamped at the little village ofSommeringen, with scarce three thousand Suabians. Here they learned thatHenry, at the head of twelve thousand effective troops, was advancingupon Suabia through Ratisbon. Rodolph soon heard of the atrocities ofhis rival, who abandoned the country to fire, sword, and rapine. Old menand women, pale with fear, came crowding into camp with thrilling talesof the brutality of the Bohemians and their associates. The war hadbegun; and Henry was devastating the region bordering on the Danube andthe Rhine, from Esslingen to Ulm. 

Though his force did not amount to half that of his opponent, Rodolph, enraged by the crimes he could not prevent, would have gone to meet hiscompetitor, but for the unanimous opposition of his nobles. While theSuabian party were deliberating upon the best course to pursue, Henry, by a forced march, fell unexpectedly upon their rear. Taken by surpriseand overpowered by numbers, they fled in all directions, and Rodolph, accompanied only by a remnant of his army, escaped with difficulty intoSaxony. Suabia was now at the mercy of the victor. 

Tidings of this disastrous defeat had not yet reached the Lady Margaret. The scanty intelligence she could occasionally glean was not such as tobrighten the melancholy caused by the absence of her father andbrother. Her fears thickened daily, as rumor, for once unable toexaggerate, divulged the massacres and impieties of the oldimperialists. Her only relief was in the Sacraments, administered by thesaintly Herman, and in prayer. The wives of the yeomen, not knowing whento expect the enemy, sought shelter in the castle with their parents andchildren. There were gathered the innocent, the aged, the young, thebeautiful, and the Lady Margaret experienced some relief inadministering to their wants and calming their anxiety. She did not relymuch upon the few faithful soldiers who were left to guard the castle;but though womanly apprehension would often blanch her cheek, and herframe quiver as some recent deed of shame was unfolded, her confidencein God continued unabated. 

One afternoon, as the Lady Margaret, surrounded by the inmates of thecastle, was seated in the hall, Bertha, clad in a black mantle, stolesilently into the room, and glancing wildly around, began to traversethe apartment with rapid strides. Her excited manner attracted muchattention, and many anxious conjectures were made as to the cause of hermeaning gestures. At length, stopping before the Lady Margaret, whowatched her movements with a troubled eye, she sang, almost in awhisper:

 The sunbeam was bright on their shields as they came, But dim on their blood-rusted spears; They gave up the hamlet to pillage and flame, And scoffed at the kneeling one's tears!

"Perhaps the enemy are upon us, " said a graycoated palmer, who for somedays had shared the bounty of the Lady Margaret. 

At these words, a general murmur ran round the group, and then all wasstill as death. 

Bertha resumed, in a louder tone:

 They come--they come--the groan, the shout Of death and life ring wildly out! The sky is clouding at their cry, As they toss their reeking blades on high; Arm, gallants all! and watch ye well, Or to-morrow's chime will be your knell. 

As she concluded the rough fragment, she extended her arm to the south, and shaking her finger menacingly, muttered, "They come!"

This thrilling announcement called forth more than one cry from the lipsof the trembling listeners. To increase the panic, a groom burst intothe room, and whispered something into the Lady Margaret's ear that madeher start and turn pale as marble. Awhile she sat motionless andapparently sinking. But it was not long before her weakness disappeared, and her face assumed a serene, undaunted expression that imparted newhope to those who were sobbing about her. The wailing was hushed as sherose and said, calmly and without faltering:

"We shall probably be attacked in a few hours by an inferior force. Letus pray to God that we may be able to defeat their malice. "

In uttering this she had fallen upon her knees, and the rest of thegroup, imitating her example, knelt beside her. When that solemn andfervent prayer was over, the voice of the gray palmer was again heard, as he cried:

"If any man here can still hurl stone, or thrust spear, let him followme to the walls!"

About six, in whom age had not quenched the fire or strength of youth, and as many beardless youths, sprang up at the call, and accompanied thespeaker out of the room. 

Exclusive of this new force, the defenders of the castle were not morethan twenty, yet so admirable were its defences that they might hold incheck an attacking party of more than a hundred. The warder and his menwere grouped together at the main gate, straining their eyes against thehorizon, where the smoke of some cottages indicated the presence of thefoe, when the palmer advanced and asked permission to assist them. Thiswas readily granted, and the recruits were soon supplied with defensivearmor and the usual weapons. The palmer wore his headpiece over hishood, and, with his breast-plate over his gown, which, tucked up withmore than John Chandos' prudence, but half revealed the thigh-piecesbeneath it, he was equally conspicuous and grotesque. 

A body of mounted men could now be plainly seen rapidly advancing. Theyno longer stayed to desolate the humble dwellings in their path, butswept on against the stately castle which seemed to bid them defiance. The Lady Margaret was now among the soldiers, animating them toresistance. Guided by the palmer, to whom the command had been tacitlyyielded, the men were busily engaged in carrying large stones up to thebattlements over the archway. 

"Who are our assailants?" asked the maiden, as with a firm step shemounted the wall. 

The advancing troops rode up to the raised drawbridge, displaying asthey came the picturesque costume and swarthy face of the Bohemianmarauder. The Lady Margaret's cheek was now deeply flushed, and thehaughty spirit of her race flashed within her eyes and curled her lip inscorn. 

"They are not a hundred, " she said to the palmer, who stood at her side. 

In reply, the palmer pointed to a body of men-at-arms, then emergingfrom a clump of trees in which they had been hitherto concealed. Hercolor fell at the sight of this new force--yet only for a moment: thenext instant her cheek resumed its glow. This column, about a hundredstrong, approached slowly and cautiously, as if expecting a sally, untilthey too had reached the moat. 

"We call upon you to open your gates!" exclaimed a knight, who rode alittle in advance. 

"To whom?" replied the Lady Margaret, in a loud voice. 

"To your rightful king and master, Henry of Austria!"

"We do not own a monarch, " she returned, "who has forfeited the crown, and our gates shall be closed against all who come in his name. "

"You refuse to surrender?"

"Yes!"

"Prepare then, for we will force a passage!"

"We are ready, and invite you to begin!"

The animation which had hitherto supported the maiden gave way, and, all trembling, she descended the rough steps and returned to the castle. 

The attack was at once begun. The assailants were not supplied withcross-bows or instruments for casting stones, and the palmer with thesoldiers, who readily submitted to his command, could safely watch theiroperations from the battlements. Some with their battle-axes dashed intothe moat and swam across to cut the chain which raised the bridge; buthardly had they reached the shore before they were struck down withstones hurled from the walls. The palmer's object was to hold out untilnightfall, and create as much delay as was attainable. The sun wasalready half hidden behind the hills. 

But the fall of the bridge now became inevitable. Their ammunition wasexhausted, and three of the assailants, armed with axes, occupied thebridge, while others were arriving at intervals. 

"Let us at least gain five minutes, " exclaimed the palmer. "One sortiefor the Pope and Rodolph of Suabia!"

The bars were withdrawn and the gallant band poured out. 

"Suabia!" shouted the palmer, as he launched a heavy mace at one who washewing at the chain, and felled him to the earth. With a well-aimedthrust he laid another at his feet, and so well was he seconded that thebridge was soon cleared. This gallant feat was greeted with cries ofrage from their opponents on the other bank, many of whom, forgettingtheir heavy armor in their indignation, leaped into the water and sank, muttering idle imprecations. For some minutes the defenders held thebridge, but fearful of being intercepted, they made good their retreatand stood safe within the gate, without the loss of a man. 

As further resistance was impossible, the bridge was abandoned to itsfate, and was speedily lowered, amid the rejoicings and threats of thebesiegers. It was now toward twilight, and the strong gate would baffletheir efforts till dark. When that was won, the ballium and the innerwall could still be disputed. 

"There is nothing to be done now, " said the palmer to his companions;"and you had better go to the castle and take some refreshment, for wewill soon have need of all our strength. "

As they retired at his suggestion, he climbed to the crenelles andlooked anxiously out upon the plain until the men returned; when, resigning the barbican to the warder, he went to receive the thanks ofthe Lady Margaret, who expressed her gratitude for his services bywaiting upon him in person. 

The assailants had cut down a tree which they used as a battering-ramagainst the gate; but the stern bars were yet unbroken. It was nowpitch-dark. A thunderstorm had suddenly gathered, and the report of thedistant bolt came upon the ear, mingling with the still more appallingclash of the beam against the gate. 

Brief indeed was the repose of the palmer before he was again at theembrasures. Bold as he was, he trembled as a blinding flash poured aflood of livid light over the plain and castle. It was not the suddenbolt that awed him; but the lightning streamed upon a host of armed men, stretching away as far as the eye could reach. They were not half amile off. Another flash leaped out, and revealed a forest of spears. "Itis the king himself!" muttered the palmer; "we will be surrounded by ahost! God assist us, or we are lost!"

Such were the sounds that trembled on his lips as he abandoned his post. Selecting the groom who had announced the enemy, he whispered to him:

"Do you wish to save your mistress?"

"With my life!" said the man. 

"Then lead me to the postern gate. "

In their impetuosity, the attacking party had neglected to blockade thisavenue, before darkness prevented them from discovering it. The banks ofthe moat opposite the gate had been made shelving, so as to afford ameans of retreat to the besieged, without giving any advantage to thebesieger. When they had gained the postern and drawn back the bolts, thepalmer said to his companion:

"Now, as you value life and honor, saddle the best three horses--one foryourself, one for your lady, the third for me--swim the moat, and waittill I come. "

The groom promised obedience, and they separated--the groom to thestable, and the palmer in quest of the Lady Margaret. He found her inthe midst of her dependents, praying in the oratory. It was a sight tomake the heart bleed--that defenceless group, with tearful eyes andhands raised trembling to heaven, now starting as the iron gate groanedbeneath the heavy blows, now glancing timidly around as the lightningstreamed in upon them. The palmer stepped up to the maiden and drew heraside. 

"You must fly with me!" he said. 

"Why? Are we not safe?"

"Before one may count a hundred, we are surrounded by the whole army ofthe tyrant!"

This sudden and awful disclosure was too much for the frail maiden, already exhausted by watching and excitement. She grasped his wrist, andshuddering as she fixed her eyes on him, staggered forward, and wouldhave fallen, had not the palmer caught her now unconscious form, and, raising it in his arms, passed from the room. Through the gallery, downthe staircase, along the portico he passed, as swiftly as though hecarried but a child. The wind came damp and cold against his cheek, therain poured pitilessly upon his head, the arrowy lightning seemed toplay around his feet, but manfully he hurried on with his preciouscharge. The gate was reached; he paused but an instant to hail the groomand take breath, then slid into the moat, and in a short space stoodsafe upon the other side. Here he staid but to envelop the maiden in hisown heavy cloak, which he had snatched up when the rain began. As herconsciousness was but imperfectly restored, the palmer mounted one ofthe horses and placed her before him. The groom, at his direction, sprang to the saddle and led the third animal. 

When they were a little within the wood, the palmer exclaimed

"Can you find the road to Count Montfort's?"

The groom replied in the affirmative. 

"Then take the lead, and strike it at the nearest point. "

After groping for some minutes, they succeeded in hitting it, and, aidedby the lightning, pursued their course as swiftly as the stormy nightpermitted. 

The Lady Margaret was awakened to her situation only to pour forthtorrents of tears. In vain the palmer tried to moderate her grief--shecould scarcely be persuaded from returning. 

The rain had now ceased, and as the clouds rolled away, they obtainedlight enough to continue their flight more rapidly and securely. 

"Look!" cried the groom, as they stood on the top of a lofty hill. Thepalmer could scarcely repress an inclination to throttle his imprudentfriend; for as the Lady Margaret turned her head, she saw a column ofsmoke and flame curling up, as if it warred against the skies. 

"It is my father's castle!" she said. "Oh, what has become of those weleft?" she added shuddering. "Let us trust in God!" murmured the palmer. Brighter and brighter grew the flame--higher and higher rose the luridcolumn. Still the Lady Margaret continued to gaze on the fiery pillar. At last the light suddenly expanded and burned awhile with intensebrilliancy. It was but for a moment. Dimmer and dimmer grew the flame, and darkness soon settled over the ashes of Stramen Castle. 

The palmer now placed the maiden upon the third horse, and led the waywith his hand upon her bridle. Two hours more brought them to thefortress of Tübingen, where the brave Count Montfort, though refusing tojoin Rodolph, had designed to hold out to the last against his perjuredand sacrilegious rival. The palmer demanded admittance in the name ofAlbert of Hers, and instantly obtained it. 

The generous countess received the daughter of Stramen with open arms, and the count swore first to protect and then to avenge her. Nor was thepalmer forgotten. Despite his ridiculous costume, now soiled and tornand stained with blood, he exhibited no embarrassment when ushered intothe presence of the noble group. 

"The Lady Margaret would know her deliverer, " said the countess. 

The palmer removed his head-piece and threw back his hood. 

"Do you remember me, my lady?" he asked, with a smile. 

The maiden looked as one striving to recall a dream. 

"Do you remember Ailred of Zurich, the minnesinger?"

Her cheek turned scarlet as she exclaimed, "Oh I how much I owe to you!"

"You owe me nothing, lady, " returned Humbert. 

"Is my life nothing?"

"If you prize that, " was the reply, "reserve your thanks for him whomade your safety my duty. "

CHAPTER VIII

 Hark to the trump and the drum, And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn, And the flap of the banners that flit as they're borne, And the neigh of the steeds, and the multitude's hum, And the clash, and the shout, "They come, they come!"

 SIEGE OF CORINTH. 

Rodolph was received with open arms by the Saxons. Dukes, counts, baronsand gentlemen hastened to Merseburg, where, at a grand festival in hishonor, he was solemnly acknowledged king of the Saxons. On every sidethe Saxons were flying to arms against their old enemy, and the princesunanimously advised the new monarch to march against his competitor, whohad been recently again anathematized by the Papal legates. Rodolph, burning to retrieve his defeat and to save Suabia from furtherdesolation, hearkened eagerly to suggestions that chimed so well withhis own inclinations. He tarried only to wait the reinforcements of Welfand Berthold, and, hoping to expedite their union with him, marched uponMelrichstadt in Franconia. 

Henry was no sooner apprised of this intended junction, than he resolvedto defeat it. Instantly evacuating Suabia, he led his powerful armytoward Saxony. He had deployed twelve thousand peasants to cut off thetwo dukes, and advanced with the rest of his force to the banks of theStrewe. Before reaching the river, he ascertained that Rodolph wasencamped on the opposite side. It now occurred to his unprincipled mind, that he might deprive his rival even of the warning which his openapproach would give, by deputing a flag of truce to solicit a parley. The artifice succeeded. Scarcely had the deputation left the Saxon camp, before Henry began the attack. Unprepared for this treacherous movement, Rodolph had barely time to form his ranks and address a few words ofencouragement to his troops. He was answered with a shout that attestedthe eagerness of his soldiers for the fray. Already the clang of arms, the cries of the living, and the groans of the dying were heard alongthe line. The army of Rodolph was drawn up in two divisions--onecommanded by the king, the other by the valiant Otto of Nordheim. As thedivision of Otto was a little in the rear, that of the monarch was for atime exposed alone to the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. But noblyindeed was the brunt of the battle borne. Rodolph waited not the onset, but led on his columns to the charge. Then Suabian and Saxon dartedforward shoulder to shoulder, and the lords of Hers and Stramen, side byside, shouted their battle-cries and hurled their followers upon theopposing ranks. Such was the ardor inspired by Rodolph that, at thefirst shock, two of Henry's columns were broken. But this advantage didnot long avail against equal courage and superior numbers. Henry was atthe head of the finest troops in the empire. But the consciousness ofthe sacredness of their cause made the soldiers of Rodolph invincible. Already Eberard le Barbu, the faithful counsellor of Henry, the Countof Hennenburg, Thibalt, and Henry of Lechsgemund had fallen around theirlord. At this moment some bishops, retiring from the ranks of Rodolph, communicated a panic to those around them. It was in vain that Rodolphdisplayed the brilliant valor that had won him the name of the firstknight of the times--that the Lord of Hers put forth his utmost skill, and the Baron of Stramen displayed his unrivalled strength. Menace andentreaty failed alike, nor could example or reproach recall thefugitives. 

"Why does not Otto advance!" exclaimed Rodolph, who, by dint of almostsuperhuman exertion, had preserved his front still unbroken. "Unless Iam supported within a minute, the battle is lost. "

Hardly had the words escaped his lips, before the war-cry ofSaxony--"St. Peter! St. Peter!" burst from three thousand throats, andthe noble Otto and the Count Palatine Frederick could be seen leading ontheir troops, all fresh and panting for the fight. Borne down by thisvigorous assault, the pursuing column fell back in confusion, and wererouted with great slaughter. Rodolph, having rallied his men, rushed onto where the imperial standard was waving, and with his own hand cutdown the banner of his rival. A cry now arose: "Henry is dead!"Dispirited and borne down, the troops of Henry turned and fled inconfusion. They were pursued up to the gates of Würtzburg, where thevanquished monarch found an asylum. The Saxons passed the night on thebattle-field, amid hymns of praise and cries of joy. 

In the morning, Rodolph, from his inferiority being unable to pursuehis victory, reentered Merseburg in triumph; and Henry, unwilling tohazard another engagement, fell back upon Ratisbon to levy new troops. 

Thus ended the battle of Melrichstadt: all night the waters of theStrewe, as they glided carelessly along, were red with the noblest bloodin Germany. 

Some hours after nightfall, when all the requisite precautions had beentaken, Gilbert de Hers, unharmed, but worn out by the fatigues of theday, retired to his father's tent. He was alone, for the Lord of Herswas in council with the king. It was a sultry night in August, and, stripping off his armor, he threw himself upon a couch, and gazedlanguidly but steadily at the flickering watch fires. He had beenknighted on the field by the king, and had nobly worn his spurs, but histhoughts were evidently not running on his own prowess or the praises ofhis monarch. A listless calm had succeeded his late excitement. Hismeditations were rather rudely interrupted by the entrance of a man whodashed aside the curtains of his tent and pressed the young noble's handto his lips. 

"Humbert!" exclaimed the astonished youth, springing to his feet; andembracing his trusty follower, he poured forth question upon questionwith such rapidity that Humbert did not even attempt a reply. WhenGilbert had composed himself sufficiently to listen, the gallantretainer began to relate all that had occurred at the lordship ofStramen. Gilbert listened mute and breathless until informed of the LadyMargaret's safe arrival and princely reception at the fortress ofTübingen. Then, forgetting his rank in his joy and gratitude, he threwhis arms around his companion's neck, and forced into his hands thechain of gold which had nearly proved fatal to him at the tournament. 

"The morning after our arrival at Tübingen--" resumed Humbert. 

"Yes--go on!" said the youth, who not until then had reflected upon thedanger of her position, even at Tübingen, and was eagerly drinking inthe words of his companion. 

"The morning after our arrival we saw Henry's whole army drawn out inthe plain. We were summoned to surrender. The whole court replied: 'AMontfort holds no parley with a perjured king and false knight. 'Instantly we were furiously assaulted on all sides. But the defenceswere complete and completely manned, and they fell back foiled at everypoint. For three long days we held the barbican against their unitedefforts. On the morning of the fourth they began to retire, and beforesunset we were left without an enemy. When I found that my services wereno longer required, I determined to return to Hers, and then seek youhere. "

"Had the Lady Margaret recovered from her fright and fatigue?" asked theyouth. 

"With the exception of a slight cough, brought on, I suppose, by therain. "

Gilbert's next question related to his paternal estate. 

"The chapel stands uninjured, " said Humbert. 

"And the castle?"

"The blackened walls alone remain!"

"We shall be avenged!" cried the young knight, drawing a deep breath. "How was the chapel preserved?"

"Numbers of women and children had fled there for protection, and ourgood Father Herman, standing in the doorway, told the miscreants theymust pass over his body. He would have fallen a victim to his zeal, hadnot the Duke Godfrey de Bouillon interposed and driven back his soldierswith loud reproaches. "

"Where is Herman now?"

"Among his poor flock, who have lost almost all--endeavoring to procurethem food and shelter, and exhorting them to patience and submission tothe will of God. "

"How fared Stramen Castle?"

"Even worse than your own. "

"And the church?" continued Gilbert. 

"Was despoiled and fired. "

At this instant the curtain of the tent was parted again, and FatherOmehr stood before them. 

When informed of the fate of his church, the missionary calmly raisedhis eyes to heaven and repeated, in a clear, steady voice, those sublimewords: "The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away; blessed be thename of the Lord!"

But when apprised of the position of his parishioners, who mustinevitably have perished from the oldest to the youngest, the old manbent his head upon his breast, and, pressing his hands to his face, weptbitterly. He soon recovered his habitual resignation, and then, turningto Gilbert, said mournfully:

"Do you see, my son, that God is _beginning_ to punish our feud?"

Immediately after his victory, Rodolph despatched messengers to the Popeto give him the intelligence, and implore him to recognize the king inthe victor. 

We always approach with veneration and extreme diffidence the characterof this mighty man. It is difficult, indeed, to form an adequate idea ofhis moral grandeur. The better you study his views, the more you areastonished at his wisdom and fore-sight; the deeper your scrutiny of hismotives, the higher your respect for his sanctity. His was an age oftransition. The great question was still undecided: Shall liberty ortyranny prevail--barbarism or civilization? This question depended uponthe answer to another: Shall the Church of God be free or become thecreature of temporal power? Already William the Conqueror and Henry ofAustria were trying to fetter the spouse of Christ--already the gulf wasopening that threatened spiritual Rome with destruction. Then it wasthat Gregory VII saved the Church as Curtius saved the city; but whilethe pagan has been raised to the skies, the Christian has been insultedand belied. 

Never can we sufficiently contemplate the spectacle of one mancontending against the world! Not a chieftain, at the head of an army, subduing kingdom after kingdom, but a priest, without a carnal weapon, resisting a continent combined at once to crush him, and finallyvanquishing by his death. Uninspired by ambition, assailed by everyearthly motive, God alone could have directed, and God only could haveupheld him. The Emperor of Austria had sworn to depose him, theItalians promised to assist his antagonist. With scarce a footing inGermany or Italy, cooped up on a barren peak, he wrestled with thehaughty conqueror of England, humbled the pride of Nicephorus Botoniateswho had usurped from Michael Paripinasses the empire of the East, anddeposed Guibert the guilty Bishop of Ravenna. Yet amid these cares, suchas human shoulders seldom knew before or since, he forgot not theobjects to which he had dedicated his life--the punishment of simony andthe preservation of ecclesiastical purity. It was in the attainment ofthese, that he arrayed kingdoms against him and died in exile atSalerno. Harassed and chained down as he was, the councils of Anse, Clermont, Dijon, Autun, Poietiers, and Lyons were thundering againstsimony and incontinency. 

It would be presumptuous to offer a word in defence of the conduct ofsuch a man, had not his actions been so grievously misstated, and hisaims so ungenerously misinterpreted. It were as well to point out thesun when the eye is dazzled by its brightness. 

Gregory received Rodolph's envoys with every mark of affection, butdismissed them, saying he could not comply with their request. ThePontiff's object was to keep royalty within its legitimate sphere, notto depose a particular king, and he wished to accomplish this with aslittle bloodshed as possible. He saw clearly enough that to declare forRodolph would be to proclaim war to the knife. He also hoped that Henrywould have recourse to his mediation after his defeat. He was againdisappointed. His very friends now began to desert him, upbraiding himwith ingratitude and coldness. The Saxons addressed him several epistlesin which they threatened to abandon him. But less moved by their threatsthan their entreaties, the Pontiff accused them of weakness andinsolence. There was another reason sufficient to deter him fromconfirming the nomination of Rodolph, had none other opposed it. AllItaly, with few exceptions, espoused the cause of Henry, and waited onlythe pontifical coronation of his rival, to rise in open rebellion. Whenthe history of the times is carefully studied, it will be confessed thatthe Pope's refusal to accede to Rodolph's request was dictated by thegreatest wisdom, enlightened and purified by the greatest virtue andforbearance. 

Still hoping to arrest the purple tide of civil war, Gregory despatchedlegate after legate to Henry, charging them to omit no lawful means toincline the monarch to peace, and induce him to abide by the decision ofa diet which should be convened to judge between him and his rival. Thiswas the pacific adjustment to which the Pontiff looked. But Henryremained deaf to all these remonstrances, constantly declaring that thesword alone must decide. He was again at the head of a powerful army, and burned to retrieve the lustre of his arms. Rodolph, perceiving thatanother battle was inevitable, prepared for it without delay. Each kingwas now in quest of the other. 

They met near Fladenheim in Thuringia. As at Melrichstadt, the alliedforces of Suabia and Saxony were drawn up in two divisions under Rodolphand Otto. The former occupied a steep hill on the bank of a deepstream, which separated the combatants. Otto with his Saxons wasstationed in the van, and was to sustain the attack, while the divisionof Rodolph was to act as a reserve. It was a bitter cold day in January, and a thick mist had canopied the river. Under cover of this, Henry, bya retrograde movement, gained the rear of his adversary. Rodolph, unconscious of this, was anxiously listening for the din of battle asthe fog partially obscured his view. Gilbert had never seen the newking's noble brow so calm and unclouded--he had never seen his eye flashso proudly and joyously, or the same sweet, buoyant smile upon his lips. But as the hostile army filed out into the plain, and Rodolph found thatthe enemy he had expected in front was in his rear, a deep frown for amoment dispelled his smiles. It was only for a moment. He saw that Henrywas now between him and Otto. 

"Ride to my noble Otto, " he said to Gilbert, who was at his side, "andbid him charge at once. " Before Rodolph had altered his array, Gilbertbrought back the Saxon's answer:

"Otto of Nordheim declines to abandon the advantages of his position, and says he will not fail you, should you require his assistance. "

"It is well, " said the king, frowning slightly; "he will not fail us. "Then turning to Albert of Hers, he said, in a whisper: "Otto wishes theglory, of deciding the day, as at Melrichstadt. Let us try that he mayobtain the laurel of victory instead of the odium of defeat. Gentlemen!"he said, in a loud voice, exchanging cheerful smiles with the Suabiannobles around him, "you have now an opportunity of meeting face to facethe desolators of your country. Soldiers!" he said, mingling among histroops, "there are the Bohemians who butchered your wives and families!"As the whole body clamored for the signal to begin, Rodolph gave theword, and the chivalry and yeomanry of Suabia swept rapidly down thehill. They were met at the base by the whole army of Henry. Still, nothing daunted, Rodolph displayed his impetuous valor, the lords ofHers and Stramen rushed on the destroyers of their castles, and Gilbertand Henry fought side by side, each trying to outstrip the other. Atthis moment, as Rodolph was tugging at his lance to draw it from a bodyof a knight he had pierced, it was seized by Vratislaus, Duke ofBohemia. As Vratislaus put forth all his strength to disarm hisantagonist, Rodolph suddenly yielded up the weapon, and as the dukestaggered back, sprang upon him with his sword. Timely succor alonesaved the Bohemian. 

"He will be rewarded for capturing my lance, " said Rodolph, calmly. "Hadnot his friends been so fleet, he might have had his recompense inanother world. "

But the Suabians, opposed to three times their number, were beginning toretreat, when Otto of Nordheim, true to his word, emerged from the mistand fell upon the enemy's flank. 

"Well done, thou Saxon eagle!" exclaimed Rodolph, eagerly, seeing thediscomfited foe staggering before this unexpected and vigorous attack. "Henry of Stramen, ride to the duke, and tell him he has won the day. "

Rodolph, surrounded by some of his barons, among whom were the lords ofHers and Stramen and Gilbert, was posted upon a little knoll, watchingthe progress of the fight, when Henry returned with Otto'sacknowledgments to the king. 

"Sire!" said Albert of Hers, riding up to the monarch, "your cunningrival there has profited by this mist, and I think we may now turn it toour account. "

"How?" asked the king. 

"The enemy has left his camp in our rear--we may cross the riverunperceived and surprise it. Give me five hundred men, and I will notleave him as much as would satisfy a peasant. "

Rodolph instantly acceded to the request, and commanded the Baron ofStramen to assist in the enterprise. Though somewhat loath to unite inany undertaking with his sworn enemy, Sir Sandrit had learned to subduehis personal prejudices for the welfare of Germany. And perhaps hisdesire to avenge his recent wrongs overpowered his aversion to theauthor of older injuries. He readily assented, and now, united for once, the rival clans of Hers and Stramen moved rapidly across the ice ontheir chivalrous mission. By a well-executed movement they cameunperceived upon the guard. No quarter was given there; scarce a hostilesoldier escaped. Sir Albert bade his men spare not the cowards whoseswords were red with the blood of babes and mothers. Sir Sandrit, at thetop of his voice, shouted, "Remember the castle!" Henry and Gilbertunrelentingly pursued the terror-stricken fugitives. When they returnedto the captured camp, every article of luxury was gone. The vessels ofgold and silver, which the Patriarch of Aquileia and many of the othernobles had brought to grace the revels of their king, were now in thehands of their rough victors, who brandished the precious goblets in theair, crying, "Death to the spoilers of Suabia!" The purple curtains, torn into shreds, were trailed in the clotted gore and dust. Before manyminutes the pillage was as complete as the surprise. When nothingremained to slay or plunder, the barons gave the signal to retreat, andthey recrossed the ice. Had they remained an instant longer, Henry IVwould have fallen into their hands; for hardly had they left, before themonarch, flying from the battle-field, conducted by a guide named Louis, entered his ruined camp. 

The battle was over when the detachment reached the scene of action. Folkmar, governor of Prague, had fallen, Henry had fled, and theBohemians were routed with prodigious slaughter. The fugitives ralliedunder the walls of Wartburg. But they were speedily dispersed andpursued, until nightfall saved them from further molestation. 

"The mist of Fladenheim is clearing away, " said Rodolph, pointing to thesetting sun, which now broke out in unclouded splendor, as the fogvanished before a strong north wind. That day was like his life, mostbrilliant at its close. Otto now advanced, and the two monarchs embracedwith mutual affection and esteem. Whatever rivalry there might bebetween them was forgotten in success. 

Henry retired into Franconia and dismissed his army, and Rodolph againsolicited the Pope to confirm his election. 

The news of these victories imparted some consolation to the LadyMargaret's breast, now torn with anxiety and solicitude. Her grief wasnot lightened because her own misfortunes were avenged in Henry'sadversity, but because the chances of peace were increased by Rodolph'ssuccess. She was now incapable of relishing revenge. The feudalantipathies so long nourished and so early instilled as to be almost apart of her existence, were entirely, eradicated. From the evening ofher interview with Father Omehr, before the now ruined Church of theNativity, she had dedicated her life to the extinguishment of the feudbetween the houses of Hers and Stramen. For this she had prayed, forthis she had toiled. But her labors were interrupted by the harsh musicof war, by gong and tymbalon. 

What could she do now? Nothing. Nothing? When she knelt before the altarat Tübingen before the sun had risen, and the Countess of Montfort feltas if she had given shelter to an Angel, was she doing nothing? When shelingered in the oratory of our Blessed Mother long after the sun hadset, and the menials passed by on tiptoe lest they should mar thecelestial expression of her face, was she doing nothing? There had comea deeper lustre still into the Lady Margaret's eye, and the blush on hercheek mingled not so freely with the pure white in which it was cradled. Perhaps her head was not so erect--perhaps the line of the back had lostin firmness what it gained in grace. Already the men and women ofMontfort had learned to love and bless her, and as she passed among themserenely and silently, like a spirit of light, and as they marked thestrange transparency of her features, they would salute her with afeeling in which awe prevailed, and, after thoughtfully gazing at herawhile, transfer their glance to the skies. The Lady of Montfort lovedto hear the maiden sweetly singing the _Salve Regina_, for which Humberthad invented or selected a melody of singular beauty, but often, whenthe hymn was concluded, the countess's cheeks would be bathed in tears, and she would fold the Lady Margaret in her arms, and gaze up earnestlyinto her face. 

Gilbert! Gilbert! come read this face of more than earthly beauty! Seeif the words that haunt you are chiselled there!

CHAPTER IX

 Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself Till, by wide spreading, it disperse to nought. 

 SHAKESPEARE. 

The battle of Fladenheim was fought just as Gregory VII was opening hisseventh synod at Rome. Hardly had the ancient canons been renewed andGuibert of Ravenna excommunicated, before the envoys of Rodolphappeared, and, after reciting Henry's fresh iniquities, supplicatedtheir master's coronation and his rival's deposition. 

The Pope had not failed to invite his impious antagonist to abide by hisdecision, but his recent defeat seemed only to have confirmed hisobstinacy. It was evident that Henry would keep the field while a hopeof success remained, and that peace could not be recovered but by thecomplete triumph of one of the hostile parties. The Pontiff no longerhesitated. Since all hope of an amicable adjustment had fled, theinterests of the Church and of mankind required the ascendency ofRodolph; and Gregory saw that to withhold his sanction now, was to perilhis cause, or at least to prolong the contest. The victory of Fladenheimhad calmed the impetuosity of the Italian nobles who burned to declarefor Henry; and they were disposed to preserve a safe neutrality. Thecruelties and vices of the Franconian were past endurance; the momentfor which the Suabian so patiently and yet so ardently looked, had atlength arrived. Rising before the crowded council, the noble Pontiff, giving voice to a holy enthusiasm he could not restrain, invoked the aidof St. Peter, the Prince of Apostles, and of St. Paul, the Teacher ofthe Nations. He called upon them to witness, that in spite of his grief, his groans, and his tears, he had been chosen their most unworthysuccessor; and that princes, ecclesiastics, and courtesans were leaguedto accomplish his death or exile. "By _your_ authority, " he exclaims, "relying upon the mercy of God and the pity of His Virgin Mother, Iexcommunicate Henry and all his partisans, and absolve his subjects fromtheir allegiance. And even as Henry is justly deprived of his royalty byhis pride, his disobedience, and perfidy, so are the same power androyal authority granted to Rodolph for his humility, his submission, andhis merits. "

The envoys of Rodolph hastened back to Saxony, bearing him the Papalconfirmation of his election and the benediction so ferventlypronounced. The king and his army were inspired with the most lively joyand confidence. Those who before had dreaded the result, no longerdoubted, but deemed the agony of the empire already ended. Mass wascelebrated amid universal rejoicings, and Saxon and Suabian forgot thedesolation of their homes in this presage of victory and peace. The campof Henry presented another scene. The excommunicated king abandonedhimself to the most violent transports of fury. He swore the destructionof the daring Pontiff and the usurper who now went forth as the chosenchampion of the Holy See. He assembled at Mayence thirty bishops and aproud array of princes and barons. 

Here again was acted the solemn farce of the conventicle of Brixen. Adecree was prepared and published, asserting that it was necessary tocut off from the communion of the faithful, a priest who had been rashenough to deprive the august person of majesty of all participation inthe government of the Church, and to strike him with anathema. "He isnot the elect of God, " runs the instrument, "but owes his elevation tohis own unblushing fraud and corruption. He has ruined the Church--hehas distracted the State; he has embittered the life of a _pious andpeaceful_ monarch, upheld a perjured rebel, and scattered everywherediscord, jealousy, and adultery. For this, here in final council atMayence, we have resolved to depose, expel, and, if he disobey ourcommand, to doom to eternal condemnation a monster who preaches thepillaging of churches and assassination, who abets perjury and homicide, who denies the Catholic and Apostolic faith concerning the Body andBlood of our Lord Jesus Christ--this accursed Hildebrand, this ancientally of the heretic Berengarius, this conjurer and magician, thisnecromancer, this monk possessed by a devil, this vile apostate from thefaith of our fathers. "

After this violent invective had been launched, Guibert of Ravenna wasunanimously elected anti-pope, under the name of Clement III. Henry nextaddressed himself to win the support of England; but Cardinal Lanfranccondemned his precipitation, and refused to unite in these insults andoutrages. 

The brief respite from arms that followed the battle of Fladenheim wasover. Hostilities had commenced. Cries of war were heard from everyquarter, and while the two kings were mustering their strength foranother great struggle, the partisans of Rodolph and Henry were dailymingling in deadly strife. Nor were princes and counts, knights, pages, and vassals alone in the field, but the spear and sword flashed in thehands of bishops, abbots, and monks. Ulrich, Abbot of Saint Gall, wasravaging Linzgau and Thurgovia, demolishing the castles of Otto, ofMarchdorf, Marquard of Bregence, and Hartman of Kyburg, and forcing thefriends of Rodolph to fly before him. 

These trivial advantages were amply compensated by the victory of Welfover Frederick of Hohenstaufen, at Hochstadt, and the occupation ofAugsburg. 

It was in the month of October, 1080, that Henry, confiding in thesuperior of numbers and discipline of his army, advanced upon Saxony, where Rodolph calmly awaited his approach. Each monarch well knew thatthe approaching contest would be decisive of his fate, and had omittednothing to insure the victory. Anxious to shorten an interval of suchpainful suspense, they longed to meet, Henry stimulated by hatred andthe memory of his recent defeats, Rodolph animated by a just indignationand conscious rectitude. 

Once upon the soil of Saxony, Henry swept the country with fire andsword to the banks of the Elster. He took a strong position at Mulsen, and awaited reinforcements from Bohemia. When the desired succor hadarrived, he put his army in motion, intending to desolate the countryand then retire. But he had not advanced far, before he discovered theallied forces of Saxony and Suabia drawn up to oppose him. Daunted for amoment, by this gallant host, he fell back upon the Elster. The deepriver prevented a farther retreat. His position was protected by narrowand difficult approaches, and by a deep morass. Here he passed thenight. 

Early in the morning of the fifteenth of October, the army of Henry wasdrawn up in battle array along the Elster, while the vanguard of hisrival became visible in the distance. The soldiers of the former wereunwearied and invigorated by a night of repose; the troops of Rodolphwere jaded with forced marches over roads almost impassable. Rodolph, apprehensive lest fatigue should prove fatal, would have declined animmediate action, but he found it impossible to restrain the ardor ofhis men. The knights leaped from their sinking steeds and formedthemselves on foot, and the infantry, forgetting their toil at the sightof the foe, continued to advance. They halted at length on the edge ofthe deep morass of Grona, in full view of the opposing army on the otherside. 

With Henry were the bishops of Bâsle and Lausanne with theirmen-at-arms, the Count Palatine Herman with all Franconia, Marquard ofCarinthia, and Lutold, his son. Many recreant Bavarians were around him, and even Suabia raised her arm against her noble duke, in the person ofWerner, Archbishop of Strasburg. There, too, were found Ulrich ofEppenstein, Arnaud of Lentzburg, Ulrich of Bregenz, Lutold ofDillingen, the counts and prelates of the house of Welschneuenburg, Egina of Achalm, and Werner of Gruningen. But conspicuous, even amidthat high-born and martial group, stood the Duke Godfrey of Bouillon andFrederick of Hohenstaufen. 

Rodolph was surrounded by Altman of Constance, and the mitres of Coire, Rheinau, Stein, Würtzburg, and Worms; he could touch the hands ofEckhard of Richenau, of the Abbot of the Convent of All Saints atSchafhouse, and of William de Hirschau, the most exemplary man of hisday. Welf, Otto of Nordheim, Berthold of Carinthia, and Hugo, CountPalatine of Tübingen, were ready to support him with their lives, asthey marched on proudly at the head of their vassals and soldiers. Glittering at his side were raised the lances of Marquard of Bregenz, Hartman of Dillingen, Burchard of Nellemburg, Cuno and Lutold of Achalm, Werner of Hapsburg, Adalbert of Calm, Albert of Hers, and Sandrit ofStramen. 

At the moment the advancing columns halted, the legates of Gregoryappeared in front of the army and imparted the Papal benediction to allwho had taken up arms against the enemy of the Church and of theliberties of Germany. As if a thunderbolt had stricken them down, thesoldiers sank simultaneously upon their knees, and, with their headsbent upon their hearts, received the boon so dearly prized. While theywere yet kneeling, the clerks began to intone the eighty-second Psalm, and the solemn strains could be heard all along the ranks. How sad wasthe thought, that this calm music was but the prelude to the groans ofthe dying and the hoarse shouts of blood-stained victory! As the armyrose at the last note of the Psalm, the clash of steel, instead of themournful chant, was heard along the line. 

Rodolph, pale and thoughtful, but calm and dignified, rode through hiscolumns, uttering brief expressions of encouragement and confidence, which were answered by cheers that made the welkin ring. When he hadgained an eminence which commanded a view of both armies, a messenger, darting from his side, flew like an arrow toward the column of Welf ofBavaria. After the lapse of a few minutes, the Bavarians had turned themorass, and were almost within striking distance of the enemy. Withoutmoving from his position, Frederick of Hohenstaufen waited the assault. The next instant the Bavarians had encountered the Bohemians hand tohand. For a time the combat seemed equal, but at length the division ofWelf could be seen slowly falling back. The Suabian nobles, who hadhitherto watched the contest in silence and the deepest interest, besought the king to permit them to aid the retreating column. ButRodolph firmly refused. He watched the combatants sternly, but withoutmoving a muscle, until the main body of Henry's army was in motion, andthen Gilbert could see the smile he had marked at Fladenheim, curlingthe hero's lip and lighting up his eye. Yet it was not the same smile:there was something sadder, yet fiercer in it. Never had his eye flashedforth such wild lustre, or his bosom heaved with such pent-up emotion. 

Then, as the main body of the Saxons pressed rapidly forward under Ottoof Nordheim, against the foe disordered by pursuit, and Rodolph saw hisplans accomplished, he turned to the Archbishop of Mayence, andexclaimed, in a voice broken by deep feeling:

"The day is ours!"

The prelate uttered a prayer of thanksgiving, and, turning to the king, said:

"I give your highness joy!"

"I may need your prayers rather than your congratulations, " repliedRodolph, in a whisper, and he closed his visor. 

The king still occupied the height from which he had directed thebattle, that had now become general. Around him were the chivalry ofSuabia and his former faithful subjects, acting in concert with a largebody of Saxons. Henry's army was divided into two bodies, one of which, commanded by the monarch in person, was engaged with Otto, while theother, led by Godfrey de Bouillon and Frederick of Hohenstaufen, assailed the Bavarians. Welf, borne down by numbers, still retreated inobedience to his instructions. 

"Our turn has come at last, gentlemen, " cried the king. "Forward!"

The barons, who had waited as impatiently as hounds in the leash, required no second bidding, but dashed after their chivalrous monarch, who was in full course with his lance in rest. Already, in Henry's camp, the _Te Deum_ was sounding in anticipation of the victory promised bythe supposed rout of the Bavarians. But the arrival of Rodolph changedthe face of affairs. The strife then began in earnest. The enemyrecoiled at first before the king's impetuous charge, but they werecommanded by the ablest knights in the empire, and soon recovered fromtheir momentary panic. Foremost of all his gallant chiefs, Rodolphcarried death and terror into the Bohemian ranks. He seemed endowed withsupernatural strength, and neither lance nor mace could arrest hisbrilliant career. Wherever the foe was thickest, or the fight mostdubious, his white crest gleamed like some fearful meteor. It wasdifficult for the Suabian nobles to keep up with their invinciblemonarch, and only by dint of the most extraordinary efforts about twentyof the best lances of his army could prevent his falling alone upon thehostile masses. Among those who fought at his side were the lords ofStramen and Hers, Gilbert and Henry. At this moment a band of perhapsthirty horsemen, with their spears in rest, headed by a knight ofgigantic size and another whose deeds had proclaimed him equallyformidable, came like a thunderbolt through the opening files of theBohemians, and fell upon the Suabian group. 

The shock was fearful. Many of the combatants were hurled to the earth;but the white plume still waved, and Rodolph of Suabia was in mortalcombat with Godfrey de Bouillon. The giant had singled out Sandrit ofStramen, who spurred to meet him with equal avidity. In an instant bothriders rolled in the dust. The antagonist of Sir Sandrit was the firstto rise, and as the knight of Stramen staggered to his feet, thebattle-axe of his opponent was poised above his head. A moment more andthe Lady Margaret would have been an orphan--for Frederick ofHohenstaufen's strength was not to be babied by steel casque or bars ofproof. But the axe was destined to take another direction. A mountedknight, spurring to the rescue of Sir Sandrit, was within a few boundsof the Lord of Hohenstaufen. Sir Frederick saw his danger, and withwonderful quickness changed his aim, and discharged the ponderous weaponagainst this new assailant. But the Suabian, displaying equal quickness, fell suddenly upon the neck of his steed, and the flying mass passedharmlessly over his head, grazing his crest. But as the rider rose tohis seat, a Bohemian knight, darting before Sir Frederick, checked hiscareer. Such was the fury of the onset that both were unhorsed. Thesaddle-girths of the Suabian had given way, but the Bohemian fell, pierced by the spear of his antagonist. The former sprang uninjured tohis feet, and drawing his sword, rushed against the first object of hisattack. Sir Sandrit, dizzy from his first shock, was staggering beneaththe heavy blows of his powerful opponent, as the knight whose advance wehave marked, crying "God and Suabia!" turned aside a stroke aimed at theexhausted baron, and stepped between them. 

"Who are you?" said the Lord of Hohenstaufen, parrying a blow andreturning it. "Your shield bears no device; beware lest you fall beforeit obtains one!"

"I shall take a device when I have earned one, " was the reply. "My namewould convey nothing to your ears. "

"Then perish in your insignificance!" exclaimed the giant, bringing downhis sword with both hands. But the blow was avoided with admirableagility, and the combat went on in silence. It seemed as if the strugglecould not last an instant, for Frederick towered full a foot above hisadversary. But the Lord of Hohenstaufen was fatigued by his passage withthe Baron of Stramen, and his wonderful strength was partially balancedby the superior activity of the Suabian. In the mean time, numbers ofRodolph's knights had now arrived, and the Duke Godfrey was compelled toretreat. Frederick of Hohenstaufen lingered until almost surrounded, andthen retired slowly before his antagonist, hoping to obtain someadvantage from the pursuer's impetuosity. 

But the Suabian was as cautious and dangerous as ever. 

"Hold, Sir Knight!" said Frederick, suddenly sinking his sword andlowering his visor. "I beg your name. "

"I am called Gilbert de Hers, " replied the youth, imitating his example. 

"There, " cried the Lord of Hohenstaufen, throwing down his glove, "wearthat for me, and say for Frederick of Hohenstaufen, that he rarely copedwith better knight. "

At these words, the giant mounted a horse which a groom had brought himthrough the fray, and, waving an adieu, wheeled off to another part ofthe field. Gilbert raised the gage and fastened it in his casque. Therewas a strong tumult in the young noble's heart. In spite of hisimpulsive disposition, he was never so calm as when in danger. Thoughsharing the intense excitement of the battle-field, he was not carriedaway by the frenzy of the strife. Though the praises of an illustriousenemy were sounding in his ears, he felt little of the exultation whichsuch a circumstance might naturally impart. He had rescued the Baron ofStramen from imminent peril; but though the Lady Margaret's image hadbeen before him through the horror and glory of the day, it was only fora moment that he thrilled at the prospect of a relenting father. Hisinterview with Rodolph had sunk deep into his soul, and not even thepomp and terror of war could blot from his mind the contemplation of theking and his solemn language. He knew not why, but he could scarcewithdraw his eyes from the snow-white crest, which, still unwearied, hung upon the now retiring columns of the foe. The Count Rapatho hadalready fallen before the fiery Rodolph, and the _Te Deum_ was hushed asthe mangled corpse was brought into Henry's camp. 

Nor was Otto of Nordheim less successful. At the head of the Saxoninfantry, he had routed the legions of Franconia, and had driven numbersinto the deep and rapid river. Fruitlessly did Henry endeavor topreserve his array and keep his ground: he was routed at every point. The Saxons, now certain of victory, would have fallen upon and pillagedthe camp. But Otto was too old a warrior to throw caution aside becauseof a partial success. "Wait a moment!" was all the veteran said, as hechecked their appetite for plunder; and the wisdom of his advice wassoon made evident. Henry de Laca, Count Palatine of the Rhine, began tomenace his rear. The troops of the count were fresh, and had beenproved in former trials. As they advanced with the rapidity andsteadiness of veterans, singing the _Kyrie eleison_, they seemed wellable to retrieve the fortunes of the day. 

"Another triumph awaits us!" cried Otto; "let us trust in God!"

Without hesitating a moment, the gallant Saxon, with his wontedimpetuosity, fell upon the advancing lines, and, though stubbornlyresisted for a time, gained at last a complete victory. When the forcesof the Palatine of the Rhine had been driven across the Elster, Ottoturned to his soldiers, exclaiming:

"Now to the camp, and take the reward of your valor!"

In the meanwhile, the retreat of the Bohemians had turned into aconfused flight. Rodolph, in the eagerness of pursuit, had rashlypenetrated too far into the flying masses of the foe, who now turnedupon the pursuer. Awhile the white crest danced amid hostile helmets andspears--then vanished. 

"He is down!" screamed Gilbert, in agony, hewing his way toward theking. Rodolph was alone against a host, while his horse sank up to hisknees in the marshy ground. Before succor could arrive, a sword hadcloven through the monarch's wrist, and his right hand fell to theground. 

"It is the hand that I raised when swearing allegiance to Henry, "muttered Rodolph, bitterly. With tears in his eyes, Gilbert struggled toreach the king, who, unarmed and disabled, drove his steed against thecircle that hemmed him in. His crest was gone, and his armor hacked andstained with blood: still fearlessly he bore up against his foes, andseemed to rejoice in the unequal strife. The chivalry of Suabia werespurring fast to the rescue, and Gilbert, now supported by a small bandof friends, was almost at his side, when Godfrey de Bouillon charged theking with levelled lance. The steel, impelled by a powerful hand, entered at the groin, and Rodolph, mortally wounded, fell to the ground. The Bohemians uttered a cry of joy at the king's overthrow, for theyknew him well by his armor and actions. Their triumph was short-lived, however, for the Suabians, eager to avenge their leader, gave noquarter, and the victorious Saxons had attacked their rear. 

"Stop not now!" said Rodolph to the nobles about him; and the lords ofHapsburg, Tübingen, Achalm, Hers, and Stramen swept on to avenge him. Gilbert remained rooted to the spot. His lance dropped from his hand ashe leaped from his horse and knelt beside his monarch. Already thehelmet had been removed by one who supported the dying hero in his arms. From Gregory VII to Pius IX, from the Dominican that accompanied Cortezto the Jesuit who followed a more recent conqueror, the Catholicmissionary had been found in the front of battle. It was Father Omehrwhose breast now pillowed the monarch's head. Gilbert's heart was almostbursting as he pressed the only remaining hand to his lips and saw thathe was recognized. Feeling he could not long survive, Rodolph raised hishead and asked, in a dying voice, "Whose is the day?" "Yours, my lord, yours!" replied those who were around him; for Gilbert, unable to speak, did not attempt to answer, but continued to gaze on the eagle eye overwhich the film of death was gathering fast. 

"Yours, my lord, yours, " repeated the mourners. At these words, Rodolphfell back in the missionary's arms, saying, "Then I accept with joy theend to which God has called me. Death no longer disturbs me, since itbrings victory with it. " From this moment he was speechless; and withhis gaze earnestly bent upon his shield, that had been raised by a page, and on which was blazoned a crowned lion sleeping upon the knees of theBlessed Virgin, Rodolph of Suabia breathed his last. The calm face ofthe dead was not paler than Gilbert, who, unmoved by the shout ofvictory, watched the clay that had so lately been--a king. 

While they bore the body to the royal pavilion, the pursuit wascontinued with terrible effect. The Saxons remembered the losses theyhad suffered five years before--the Suabians saw their desolated homesand their expiring duke. The small remnant of Henry's army that escapedthe relentless sword and the equally fatal depths of the Elster, wereonly reserved for a fate still more dreadful. After wandering about, aprey to want and misery, they were now butchered by the peasantry ofSaxony and Thuringia, who, armed with hatchets and scythes, flew toavenge upon the relic the wrongs they had suffered from the whole army. Many of the fugitives plunged into the forests, preferring the slowtooth of famine to the swifter stroke of steel. Others, concealingthemselves until the first gust of passion was over, besought the mercyof the peasantry, who, at last moved with compassion or glutted withslaughter, received them as fellow-beings, healed their wounds, and sentthem to their homes. Henry of Austria, with a suite little proportionedto his rank, fled to Bohemia. 

There was none of the exultation of victory in the allied camp thatnight: each soldier seemed to feel that the conquest had been too dearlywon. Rodolph was not only beloved by the Suabians, who from theircradles had experienced his bounty, his virtue, and justice, but he hadendeared himself to the Saxons by his affability, his wisdom, and hisvalor. He had healed their private quarrels and humbled their publicenemies; he found them divided and feeble, he left them united andvigorous. They regarded him as the savior of Saxony, and affectionatelystyled him "_Pater patriæ_. " Nor was the grief of the bishops andpriests less ardent and sincere, for they felt that a zealous anddauntless defender of the Church had fallen. 

The soldiers, scattered about in groups, slept little, but whispered toeach other, and fixed their eyes upon the torches that burned sosteadily in the royal pavilion. There was stretched, cold and stiff, thevictor of the day, his noble features rigid in death, while his baronsknelt weeping around the bier, and the Archbishop of Mayence recitedprayers for his soul. The night wore away, and when the morning brokeout cheerfully as though no care were in the world, Gilbert de Hersstill knelt beside the corpse of the king. No tears were in his eyesthen, and the expression of his face varied between deep thought anddeep grief. He might have remarked that the scorn had departed fromHenry of Stramen's lip; but he did not. His mind was occupied withother things; and silent and sad, he would not leave his vigil besidethe dead. 

Early in the morning of the sixteenth, the victorious army, sadder thandefeat could ever have made it, entered Merseburg. After the obsequieshad been performed with equal solemnity and magnificence, the body ofthe king was deposited in the choir of the cathedral. A statue of giltbronze for many a year marked the tomb of Rodolph of Suabia. 

On the same evening, when the soldiers were scattered through the town, and the nobles had retired to such quarters as they could procure, Gilbert de Hers sought out Father Omehr, and found him in an apartmentwhich the Archbishop of Mayence had obtained for the missionary. 

Up to the day of his interview with Rodolph at Mayence, Gilbert's mindhad been wholly engrossed with the bright pictures which a vivid andworldly fancy and a keen ambition to excel can always unfold to the eyeof youth. At times he remembered the night passed in the missionary'shumble dwelling, when Bertha's knife had confined him there, and he sawagain the crucifix and the sacristan. But this was only for a moment. The image of the Lady Margaret was sure to enter and banish every otherfeeling than that of deep love for her. But from the night of thecoronation, a change had fallen upon the youth, which Father Omehr'skeen eye had not failed to remark. He displayed no longer the samethoughtless gayety or the same dreamy abstraction. He had reveries, itis true, proceeding from the fear of losing the Lady Margaret, or thehope of gaining her. The missionary had refrained from questioning theyoung knight, nor did Gilbert reveal any secret to his venerable friend. Whether he might have recovered his former levity can scarcely beanswered, but the death of Rodolph seemed to have extinguished itforever. So great a change had this last incident wrought in him, thatit was not only evident to Father Omehr and Sir Albert, but all who knewhim were struck with his altered manner. They ascribed it to griefalone, for they knew him to have been the monarch's favorite. 

When the young noble and the old priest, whose love for each other hadsteadily increased, had sat awhile in silence, the latter took hiscompanion by the hand, and, as the visit seemed to solicit the question, said, in a tone evincing the interest of a parent: "My son, what ailsyou?"

Then, for the first time, the violent and various feelings which hadbeen aroused in Gilbert's breast found a vent in tears. An hour almostpassed away before he could compose himself, and then he only said: "Towitness him struck down by death just as he had gained all for which helived--to see the fruit of thirty years' labor snatched from his lipsbefore he could taste it! O God, for what trifles are we toiling!"

It was difficult to recognize Gilbert de Hers in the pale, excited faceand trembling figure which, with clasped hands and eyes upturned, uttered these meaning words. 

Another hour passed, and the youth was kneeling at the missionary'sfeet. 

Midnight was tolled by the great bell of the cathedral, and Gilbert hadrisen. 

"My son, " said Father Omehr, as they parted, "you have been taught todespise the world--the next step is to love God!"

Otto of Nordheim and Welf of Bavaria had determined to keep their forcestogether until apprised of Henry's further designs, and the alliedarmies rested upon their arms at Merseburg. In the meantime Henry usedevery artifice to raise another army; but such a panic had seized hisadherents, that they declared they would rather be swallowed up in theearth than again encounter the Saxons. When Otto and Welf were thusassured of Henry's immediate inability to injure them, they disbandedthe troops which had served them so gallantly. Much as the soldierslonged to return to their homes, they did not part without somereluctance. They had long toiled side by side in the same gloriouscause; they had shared the same dangers and the same pleasures. They hadslept and kept watch together. Reminiscences of hair-breadth escapes andof mutual services had created friendships of no ordinary strength. Formany days the different troops could be seen evacuating the city undertheir feudal chiefs, until at last scarce a soldier remained atMerseburg. 

It was about the first of November that the barons of Hers and Stramenset out with the relics of their clans for their lordships in Suabia. The face of Sandrit of Stramen was sterner than ever, and his son seemedto have caught a portion of his severity. They rode along swiftly, andwhenever they spoke it was about the Lady Margaret. Father Omehr alonepreserved his equanimity, and even he was now unusually absent andthoughtful. Nor was the retinue of Albert of Hers more cheerful. SirAlbert's eyes were fixed on the ground in deep dejection; tears wereever and anon springing into Humbert's eyes, and even the vassals behindthem were gloomy and dispirited. They were returning to a desolatedhome, it is true; but, what was worse, they were returning withoutGilbert. 

The Lady Margaret was still at Tübingen. With scarce more fervor didGregory VII uphold against the world the measures he deemed essential tothe liberty, unity, and purity of the Church, than did this young girlpursue the object to which she had consecrated herself--the extinctionof the feud. Humble as were her aim and efforts, when contrasted withthe objects and exertions of the sainted Pontiff, she could stillimitate his piety and perseverance. The reader may have remarked thechanges in the Lady Margaret's character. She was naturally haughty andimpetuous, though generous and sincere. In spite of her piety, thatpride, so difficult to curb, would still break out. But theseinfirmities had been zealously combated, until religion had triumphedover the weakness of humanity. Still, for some time, the Lady Margaretwas unhappy, and accused herself of human love in seeking thereconciliation, imputing the revolution in her feelings to a culpabletenderness. But she soon discovered that vanity--that an aspirationafter the _consciousness_ of perfection rather than truepiety--occasioned her uneasiness. She no longer tormented herself withdangerous mistrusts, but gave all she had to God, begging Him to purifythe gift and supply her mind with the dispositions to render theoffering acceptable. She had learned that most difficult lesson even tothe holy--to hope rather than despond in the conviction of unworthiness. There was one other victory which the Lady Margaret had gained overherself: she had suppressed an inclination to return the attachment ofGilbert de Hers, which she clearly saw could only lead to unfortunateresults. It was the remembrance of this inclination that occasioned themisgivings which she had at last obtained grace to disregard. 

Such was the Lady Margaret at the time of the battle of Elster. Shefrequently reverted to the challenge she had given the assailants ofStramen Castle, and detected in that defiance a relic of her formerpride. It was the last spark. 

She was now in daily expectation of her father and brother, and of onealmost equally dear--Father Omehr. Her walks were confined to a largeroom adjoining her chamber, and thence along the corridor to the chapel. Her evening exercise was to walk, supported by the Countess of Montfort, to the altar of the Blessed Virgin, and observe the custom of herearliest youth, by leaving there a bunch of flowers. She spent most ofthe day in a cushioned chair--she was too weak to kneel long. She lovedto sit in the sunlight, holding the countess's hand in her ownattenuated fingers. Then she would speak of her father and brother, andsay that on the morrow they would surely be reunited. She nevermentioned sickness or pain; she saw her companion's tears falling fastat times, but she would only wipe them away with a smile and anembrace. As the sunbeams played upon her wasted features, fringing herhair with gold, and encircling her with a brilliant halo, the countesswould turn away from the lovely vision to hide her emotion, and whisperto herself: "This is a glimpse of the world beyond the grave!"

CHAPTER X

 We need not mourn for thee, here laid to rest; Earth is thy bed, and not thy grave; the skies Are for thy soul the cradle and the nest. There live!

 TASSO. 

Toward the close of November, on one of those bright warm days, whenwinter, as if in memory of the departed summer, puts by his blasts andsnows, the Countess of Montfort was seated at the bedside of the LadyMargaret. The countess, though in the bloom of health and youth, was sadand tearful. The maiden, though her breath was short and difficult, worea smile upon her lips. The shadow of death was on her sunken temples, and had touched her quivering nostril and waxen ear, through which thelight came as through porcelain. Yet the eyes were closed, and the palelips moved, and the wasted hands, embracing a crucifix, were joined inprayer. She could still beg God to heal the feud. How edifying, howbeautiful, how sublime the spectacle!--sublimer than the deeds ofheroes, the conceptions of poets, the aspirations of genius. What isArchimedes moving the world to the humblest Christian moving heaven byprayer!

In a corner of the room a small statue of the Immaculate Mother of Godstood upon a pedestal. The marble figure breathed all that purity andsimplicity so striking in the images which adorned the old Gothiccathedrals. The eyes of the maiden frequently rested upon it, and asoften as sunset came, she would bid the countess place a bunch offlowers at its feet. Thus did she continue to the end of her life thepious custom of her infancy. 

All was still in the darkened chamber, and the rich tapestry hungmournfully from the walls. The things of earth make the earthly heartache in the presence of death. But how joyously the eye of faith kindledup, as it rested on the face of the meek sufferer!

The door opened softly, a light step entered, and a female servantwhispered something to the countess. She started and looked suddenly atMargaret. The invalid had caught the whisper, low as it was. A slighttinge was visible on her cheek, as she pressed her white fingers to herbreast and said, in a low tone:

"God be praised! It is my father! Bring him to me. "

Is this dying girl his daughter! Is this attenuated form all thatremains of his noble, his beautiful, his darling Margaret? Like ablasted pine, the stalwart warrior fell upon his knees, with a groan asif his heart had burst, and buried his face in the curtains. Henry, alltears and sobs, caught his sister's outstretched hand and held it to hisheart, gazing in anguish at the ruin of his idol. Behind these kneltFather Omehr. For a moment the man triumphed over the Christian, and hetoo felt the thorn of grief in his throat. But when Margaret's calm eyerested on him, and her meek smile beamed out, he felt the rapture whichis only known to the holy, when a soul is happily returning to the bosomwhence it came. 

"Let us thank God for having thus united us!" said the Lady Margaret, and they remained some minutes in silent prayer. 

"Father!" whispered the invalid. 

The broad chest was convulsed and the moan deepened, but that bent, crushed figure made no reply. 

"Father!" she repeated, as her hand fell, in a caress, upon her parent'shead. 

Sir Sandrit, starting at her touch, looked up and seized the hand. Aminute had changed his face, as if a year had been ravaging there: itwas so furrowed, so haggard. He gazed but an instant at his daughter;then hid his face again, muttering but one word: "Margaret!"

"Father, " said the maiden to Father Omehr, who now stood at her at herpillow, "is Albert of Hers at home?"

The missionary nodded. 

"Let him know that Margaret of Stramen, on her death-bed, entreated himto fly here without a moment's delay. "

Even the sound of that hated name produced no perceptible impressionupon the heart-broken baron. The Count Montfort, who had just enteredthe room, suddenly exclaimed:

"I, myself, will deliver your message, my child, as quickly as horse canspeed. "

Margaret endeavored to thank him, but, exhausted by excitement andexertion, she fell back upon her pillow. The countess prudently led theunresisting father from the room, and despatched Henry to administer tohis grief. 

"I am changed, " said Margaret to the missionary, as she recovered. 

"God has changed you for Himself, my child, " replied the old man, struggling with the weakness of human nature, for he had known and lovedher from her infancy. 

"I have hoped so, even in the recollection of my many sins, for Hismercy is infinite. May He uphold and strengthen my father, and teach himto rejoice in the change he now deplores!"

The countess left the room, and once more the Lady Margaret opened hersoul to her first confessor. 

The baron knelt all night beside his dying child. He watched her brokenslumbers, as if he feared each might be the last. A thousand sighs ofanguish and affection were given and returned before another day beganto dawn. How precious are the last hours of life! In our inability tolengthen them, we strive to gather into them more feeling and actionthan we could extract from as many years. 

As the sun flashed out the Lady Margaret seemed animated with newstrength. Her father trembled at the suggestion--what if she shouldrecover! Thus hope feeds upon the wishes of the heart. 

An hour before noon the Count Montfort, accompanied by Albert of Hers, entered the apartment. Sir Albert, obeying a look which the maiden gavehim, advanced, and with much emotion pronounced the words, "My lady, Iam here!"

Sir Sandrit had anticipated all; nor did his son manifest the leastsurprise. They both stood sorrowful and mute, nor did anger and disdainappear in the features with which they were so familiar. Albert of Herssaw, at a glance, the position in which he was placed. 

"Father!" began the sinking girl--"father! let me die in the assuranceof meeting you hereafter. In the name of Him before whom I am soon toappear, forgive this man!"

The struggle had already taken place in the baron's soul. When his heartwas trampled in the dust, his pride was broken. The stubborn rock wassmitten by the heaven-directed wand, and the waters of contrition gushedforth. 

"You have conquered, my child, " he murmured, kneeling and kissing herpale forehead. 

"Not I, my father. God is the conqueror!"

It seemed as if her upward glance had rested upon something more thanmortal, her face assumed an expression of such unearthly meaning. SirAlbert, too, knelt beside his ancient foe: he felt it impious to stand. 

The maiden motioned to the countess, who raised and supported her in herarms and drew back the long hair which had partially covered the hollowcheeks. Without a word, but with an eloquence that must have charmed theattendant Angels as much as it entranced the mortals who witnessed it, she placed her father's hand into Sir Albert's right hand, while Henrytook the left. 

"Albert de Hers, " said Sir Sandrit, as the tears coursed down his browncheeks, "I freely forgive you and yours; and nevermore shall my hand beraised against you. "

Henry repeated the words after his father. 

"And I, " said the Lord of Hers, "will forget the past: and I declare, here in the presence of dying innocence, that I am guiltless of yourbrother's blood!"

The Countess of Montfort sobbed aloud, and her husband made no effort toconceal his tears. Father Omehr, who had raised his hands to heaven inan ecstasy of gratitude, now exclaimed:

"Let me speak for one who is not here: Gilbert de Hers has long sinceforgiven those who were once his father's foes. "

The object of her life was attained--the goal was reached--the victorywas won. There lay the victor, supported in the arms of her friend. Thevictory was hers, for though heaven had won it, she had won heaven byprayer. What are earth's conquests to a victory like this! What thesplendid overthrow of nations--what Thermopylæ, or Marathon, orTrafalgar to this triumph over long-nourished hatred! When does manappear in so magnificent an attitude as when, by fervent prayer andcomplete humility, he converts heaven into an agent by which his desiresare accomplished!

Yet the dying victor felt no pride. Her heart was dissolved ingratitude: she knew her nothingness, and ascribed all to God. She spokenot, she wept not: even the wonted smile forsook her lips. She only feltthe immensity of the goodness of God--she only bowed before this newmanifestation of his power. The three knights, who looked up in herface, saw she was invoking a blessing upon them, and reverently benttheir heads, as if in the feeling that the blessing was then descending. 

Young girls clothed in white were noiselessly strewing with flowers theway by which the adorable Sacrament was to pass from the chapel to thechamber. The blessed candle, the emblem of the light of faith and of theheavenly mansions, was lit, and the maiden, unable to kneel, receivedthe Sacred Body as she lay. Her eyes were closed, and, as if detachedfrom all earthly things, she continued to murmur, almost inaudibly, passages from the Psalms and pious ejaculations. She raised her fingerto trace upon her lips the sign of Christ, and then fell into her agony. 

Three times the bell had tolled when the last absolution was given, andits solemn voice still sounded at regular intervals, mingling with thesublime words that bade the faint soul go forth from the world in thename of God the Father Almighty, who created it, in the name of JesusChrist, the Son of the living God, who suffered for it, in the name ofthe Holy Spirit, which had been imparted to it: in the name of Angelsand Archangels, in the name of Thrones and Dominations, in the name ofPrincipalities and Powers, in the name of Cherubim and Seraphim, in thename of Patriarchs and Prophets, in the name of holy Apostles andEvangelists, in the name of holy martyrs and confessors, in the name ofholy monks and hermits, in the name of holy virgins and all the Saintsof God, that its rest that day might be in peace, and its habitation inholy Sion!

There was no struggle, no contortion, to mark the moment ofdissolution. The face only grew more serene and less death-like, as thesoul passed from its frail tenement. 

The bells no longer swung slowly and solemnly, but poured forth afestive sound. And well might they peal more merrily then, than atbirth, or marriage, or earthly conquest. Tears were falling fast aroundthe bed; yet only the body wept--the soul was exulting. 

On the morning of the third day after the Lady Margaret's death, afuneral procession could be seen slowly approaching, within sight of theruins of Stramen Castle and the blackened Church of the Nativity. Thepeasantry, who were expecting it, had gone forth to meet the remains oftheir dearly loved lady, and rosy children were scattering flowersbefore the bier. They could not repress some tears and sighs for theirbenefactress, yet they knew it was for themselves they grieved, not forher they had lost. How they wondered at first--and how their wondermelted into joyous thanksgivings, to see the Lord of Hers supporting thenow humble and contrite Baron of Stramen!

The mourners--if such they may be called--entered the grave-yard, whichwas near the church, and had not been violated by the sacrilegiousmarauders, and halted before a new-made grave. In those days, it was thepeculiar privilege of bishops, abbots, and holy priests to be buriedwithin the church, or only extended to laics of distinguished sanctity. Yet Father Omehr had assured the maiden that she might be interred inthe choir at Tübingen. Margaret had declined a privilege of which shedeemed herself unworthy, saying that she did not wish to be associatedin sepulture with those from whom she was far separated in merit, andexpressing a wish to be placed beside her mother. And they laid her, with prayers and unbidden tears, in the place she had chosen. 

The gorgeous sun of ancient Suabia was beaming out in cloudlesssplendor, and the mountains and the Danube, the forest and the fieldslooked lovely in the glittering day; yet not one of those who stoodaround the grave would have said to the dead, "_Awake!_" if the wordcould have recalled her to share the beauty of the world before them. When the Count and Countess of Montfort saw that their longer presencewould only impose a restraint upon the family group, they bade themissionary a silent adieu, and began to retrace their steps to Tübingen. 

The cottage of the missionary was spared on account of itsinsignificance; and Father Omehr led the Lord of Hers and the father andson into his humble apartments, which had been zealously tended by hispious penitents. All was arranged just as he had left it, to his own bedand the corner where Gilbert had slept. There was nothing here to markthe scourge which had desolated the smiling country without. The Baronof Stramen sat down upon a bench, covering his face with his hands. Here, in the sight of his ruined castle, and with the funeral tears ofhis only daughter undried upon his cheeks, he was happier than he hadbeen for many a year: happier than when carousing in his father'shalls--happier than when proudly embracing his darling child--happierthan when engaged in avenging his brother--happier than when exulting inthe victories of Rodolph! And Henry, too, shared in this blessed changewrought by his sister's prayers. Each heart was too full for speech;words would have fallen meaningless and cold. 

At this eloquent moment, a man, exhausted with running, and greatlyagitated, abruptly entered the cottage. He checked himself, however, andstood as if petrified at the sight of the group before him. FatherOmehr, who rightly judged that his rude intrusion must have been causedby no ordinary occurrence, rose, and in a whisper commanded him toexplain himself. 

"Bertha seems adying!" said the man. 

"Where is she?" asked the priest. 

"About a mile from here--I will take you there. " The Baron of Stramenseemed not to listen, for he sat motionless; but his son manifested muchinterest. 

"Shall I go with you?" he said to the missionary. 

"No, my child, remain with your father. "

Albert de Hers had started up at the peasant's announcement, andfollowed Father Omehr out of the apartment. 

"Permit me, " he said, "to accompany you; I feel that the call isintended for me too. This ring, " he continued, holding up his finger, "was given me in my youth by Rodolph of Suabia; in a moment of folly andsin, I parted with it. After an interval of more than twenty years, itwas restored to Rodolph by this Bertha, without a word of explanation. He gave it to me the night before his death"--here the baron paused aninstant--"and informed me how and from whom he had received it. Iresolved to seek out the woman on my return; for if she be the Bertha towhom I gave this ring, even in her madness she may throw light upon anevent hitherto involved in mystery. "

"You mean the death of Sir Sandrit's brother?"

"Yes. "

"I see no reason to oppose your wish, " said the missionary; "perhaps themercy of God may choose to reveal what we vainly have endeavored todiscover. "

It was not known how Bertha had escaped from the castle on the fatalnight when it was fired and its inmates put to the sword. Her insanitymight have shielded her; or she might have availed herself of theconfusion and darkness to elude observation, or extricated herself bysome secret passage. A peasant thought he had seen her, by moonlight, walking along the moat of the castle, some days after the hostile armyhad disappeared; but his account was discredited until she appeared bydaylight to the surviving vassals of Stramen, when they emerged from theforest in which they had taken refuge. At the time of the return of thesoldiers of Stramen, she was much thinner and walked with difficulty, rarely issuing from her retreat in the ravine, to which she had againretired. On the morning of Margaret's funeral she could be seen, paleand haggard, tottering toward the grave-yard. The simple peasantsrecoiled before the ghastly figure, which, tall and trembling, with ablack gown and death-white face, passed among them like a spectre. Before she reached the church she fell senseless to the ground. Thehumanity of those who observed her triumphed over their fears, and theybore her to a newly finished house hard by. 

This was all the missionary could glean from his guide, as they walkedswiftly toward the shed pointed out by the peasant. 

They found her lying motionless upon a bed in a corner of the room. Asthey entered, she opened her eyes, and, after keenly scanning the Lordof Hers, raised herself with difficulty upon her arm. Father Omehrstarted. The wild light of insanity had left her eyes, and her glance, though firm and resolute, was gentle and natural. 

"Do you know me, Bertha?" said the missionary, springing trembling tothe bedside. 

"Oh, yes, " was the reply. "I have been in a long, wild dream!" and shepassed her hand over her high, clammy forehead. "And I know _you_, SirAlbert of Hers, and I know that God has brought you here at thismoment. "

The stout warrior, who never quailed before any odds, and whoseself-possession was as remarkable as his valor, quivered before themournful gaze of that weak woman. The room seemed to reel, and he leanedagainst the wall for support. 

"There is one other I must see--Sandrit of Stramen. Father, have himbrought here now; there is not one moment to be lost. "

The missionary whispered a few words to a youth who was present, and thestripling passed hurriedly out. 

"Have you sent for him?" she inquired. 

"Yes. "

"Will he soon be here?"

"He is scarce a mile off. "

"It is well, " she continued, lifting up her large black eyes; "God hasdesigned it all! And now, " she resumed, after a brief pause, "we must bealone until the baron comes. "

At a signal from the missionary, Albert of Hers and the wonderingpeasants silently withdrew. 

The half hour that elapsed before Sir Sandrit's appearance, seemed likean age to the Baron of Hers, who in an agony of suspense paced up anddown the clearing before the cottage. At last, however, the two noblemenand Henry of Stramen were admitted. 

Bertha was sitting upright in bed, supported by Father Omehr, whobeckoned to Henry to assist him. There were traces of recent tears uponher furrowed cheeks, and her form seemed to dilate as she gazed at thenobles before her. 

"Listen to me, Baron of Stramen!" she began, looking full at the noble, in whom surprise was gaining a temporary mastery over grief; "listen, for it is God's mercy that permits me to speak and you to hear! Twentyyears ago I was young and beautiful. I was loved by your brother and byhim who stands at your side. "

Albert de Hers turned pale as death, and drawing the ring from hisfinger, advanced a step, saying hoarsely, "Are you the Bertha to whom Igave this ring?"

She took the trinket in her hand, and after examining it over and over, replied:

"I _am_ that Bertha. But how did you get this?"

"From the Duke Rodolph, to whom you gave it. "

The woman knit her brows, as if struggling to recall some confusedimpression, and at length said: "Yes, I did give it to him; I remembernow. Where is he?"

"In heaven, I trust, " replied the Lord of Hers. 

At the word heaven, the tears started in the eyes of the poor creature, and she hung her head. The silence was profound and painful. She was thefirst to break it. 

"Interrupt me no more, " she said, suppressing her emotion. "Hear methrough. Robert of Stramen and Albert of Hers were rivals for my love, and they began to hate each other bitterly on my account. I lovedneither, for I had promised to marry Albert of the Thorn, and I lovedhim as much as my vain heart was able to love anything. But I was weakenough to receive the presents they gave me for the sake of wearing thefinery, and my lover was pleased, because we were poor. My Lord ofStramen, do you remember the day we brought you your brother's corpse?"

The baron shuddered. 

"On that very morning--oh! how distinctly do I see it--I was sitting inthe ravine, not far from my mother's house, when a wild boar pursued byhounds rushed madly by me. As I stood trembling, a horseman followed, dashing along at full speed. He reined up when he saw me. It was theLord of Hers. He began to smile, and asked me to forgive him the frighthe had given me, and, untying a scarf which he wore around his waist, threw it over my shoulders. Then he put this ring on my finger andgalloped off, crying he must not miss the stand. This much you know, Albert of Hers, but you do not know what followed. Was it not as I havesaid?"

The noble nodded. 

"O God, strengthen me to reveal all!" continued the now agitated woman. "I began to walk down the ravine, when I met Albert of the Thorn. Ishowed him my presents, and we sat down at the foot of a pile of steeprocks, beside a little spring. Albert was arranging the scarf about myneck, when Sir Robert of Stramen suddenly stood before us. His face waspale with rage, and his lips were all foaming. I screamed at his awfulappearance. I knew well that he hated my betrothed, and had threatenedhis life if he married me. He snatched the scarf from my neck, andshaking it at me, said: 'I know very well from whom this came!' Then, turning upon Albert, he cried: 'And for you, who pretend to love her, toconnive at his guilt! You shall pay for your baseness with your life!'He stopped here, as if rage had choked him, and drew his sword. Albertsprang quickly up the ledge of rocks, and Sir Robert followed. I sawAlbert stoop, pick up a large fragment of rock, and hurl it--I saw SirRobert fall, and then I grew sick and dizzy, and fainted. When Irecovered, Albert was watching me, trembling and livid. I looked around, and there was Sir Robert, stretched out stiff and still and bloody. Hehad worn nothing but a light cap on his head, and the stone had made afearful dent in his temple. I knelt beside him, and prayed, and chafedhis hands, and brought water from the spring and poured it upon hisface. I hoped he would come to life, even if he would only revive tokill me. It was all in vain. He grew cold: he was dead. Again I lookedat Albert--he was shaking like a leaf. 'Bertha, ' he said, 'I am a lostman! When Sir Sandrit knows this, I cease to live. ' I saw his danger, which did not until then occur to me, and I lost my concern for the deadin my fears for him. I loved him better than anything in the world, andthe devil, who knew my heart, suggested a scheme for his preservation. The scarf of the Lord of Hers, which bore some family device, wasgrasped in the dead man's hand, and I saw at once how strongly thatcircumstance implied the noble's guilt. I concealed the ring he hadgiven me in my pocket. 'Come!' I said to Albert, 'let us take the bodyto Sir Sandrit, and tell him that we found it in a spot from which wehad just seen the Lord of Hers depart. ' He refused at first, and wouldnot touch the body, but by argument and entreaty, I prevailed upon himto be guided by me. 

"Sandrit of Stramen, you know the rest. You know that we swore to haveseen the Lord of Hers ride away from the fatal spot just before we foundthe body. It was the fact; but my lover and I were perjured in the sightof God. I do not wish to lighten my crime before men, when it is writtenout so plainly against me before Angels. I was a perjuredwoman--perjured through love and fear. I heard you swear vengeance. Iwept, but I was silent. I saw your fury and your wars. My heart bled, but I was silent. There was no rest, no sleep, no peace for me. It wasnot my husband's death that drove me mad. Oh, no! It was remorse. Therewere spectres all around me--I trembled before the innocent, fledbefore the guilty. The caresses of my child that died at my breasttortured me. I felt as though my breath had withered and defiled it. Every hour was full of misery--day and night there was a gnawing at myheart. At last my mind gave way, and the justice of heaven struck himwith death and me with madness!"

Bertha paused an instant, quite exhausted, then again exerting herself, she said:

"I do not ask you to forgive me--but forgive each other. "

"They have forgiven each other already, " said Father Omehr. "They arefriends. "

"Friends?"

"The Lady Margaret reconciled them on her death-bed. "

"The Lady Margaret dead!"

"She was buried this morning. "

"Yes, " said Bertha, "it was to her funeral I was going. Yes, she isdead--the beautiful, the young, the innocent--she has been praying forme in heaven. "

At these words a smile beamed over her sharp features, and she sankgradually back in bed, lowered by Henry and the missionary. 

The proud Lord of Hers was, in spirit, in sackcloth and ashes. Heattributed the existence of the feud to his indiscretion and guilt, andreproached himself with all its pernicious consequences. He saw in thewreck before him the fruits of his sin; Bertha's misery and madnessseemed wholly his own unhallowed work. The strong man shuddered at theconsequences of his folly, and beat his breast, and wept like a child. 

Sandrit of Stramen also accused himself of having caused the feud by hisrash credulity, and driven Bertha to perjury and insanity by hisimpetuous and uncontrollable temper. For, he reasoned, had she reposedany confidence in his justice and charity, she would have told thetruth. 

Henry of Stramen saw that all his brilliant achievements against thefamily of Hers were only unjustifiable murders and robberies, and hishaughty spirit was humbled and contrite. 

Father Omehr saw their contrition, but he was entirely absorbed in thepenitent Bertha. 

Bertha lived three days after the revelation, constantly engaged inprayer and acts of contrition. Her profound sorrow affected and edifiedthe missionary and all the neighborhood. On the third day she receivedthe Viaticum, and expired in the arms of the Baron of Stramen, who, together with the Lord of Hers, had repeatedly assured her of theircomplete forgiveness. Her last words were: "I know she is praying for mein heaven. "

She was buried, as she desired, near the Lady Margaret, with nothing buta rude wooden cross to mark her grave. 

On the day after her burial, Father Omehr and the three nobles set outfor the Castle of Hers. Humbert had already fitted up for his lord somerooms which had been only partially consumed, and Albert of Hers hadprevailed upon the baron and his son to remain with him until they couldfind suitable lodgings at home. The reconciliation between the nobleswas complete; and at sunrise the next day they could be seen kneelingtogether before the altar of the Pilgrim's Chapel, eating the Bread ofLife. If the Angels rejoice at such a sight, how much greater must bethe joy of the Saints!

But where was Gilbert, that he could not share in the blessed feast?

The Middle Ages abound in characters better entitled to ourconsideration and esteem than the classic magnates of Greece and Rome. There is not in pagan antiquity such a combination of virtue, constancy, fortitude, and valor as was presented in Matilda of Tuscany, "theheroine of the Middle Ages. " She devoted herself to the cause of theHoly See as early as 1604, and her life was a series of sacrificescheerfully made for the security of the Church. While wondering at herheroism, you love her for her charity, and revere her for her piety. LetCatholics read her life, and they will embalm her in their hearts. Herunvarnished actions are a nobler eulogy than even the unfading wreathflung by a master's hand on the grave of the martyred Marie Antoinette. 

At the time of the battle of the Elster, this pious defender of theFaith was sorely pressed by the Lombards, who sided with the emperor. The imperial troops had gained a victory at Mantua, which revived thedrooping royal cause. 

When Gilbert de Hers parted from his father and friends, he turned hishorse's head to Matilda's camp. The partisans of the heroic princesstook little notice of the nameless knight who came among them withoutfollower or page, and whose shield was simply blazoned with an azurecross. He was silent and reserved, shrinking from observation and mirth, and either engaged in meditation or prayer. 

The gloomy aspect of the future was also capable of furnishing the youthwith sufficient food for reflection. The death of Rodolph spreadconsternation over Saxony and Suabia: both circles were crippled byinternal dissensions, and unable to profit by their victory. Inspired bythis, and by his rival's death, and encouraged by the attitude andsuccesses of the Lombards, Henry meditated an invasion of Italy, and theconquest of Rome itself. He reorganized a powerful army, and penetratedLombardy, leaving Frederick of Hohenstaufen to hold Suabia in check, while Saxony was convulsed by the rival schemes of Otto and Herman. 

Never before had the Holy See seemed in such imminent danger. Englandand France looked coldly on, and the emperor of the East sympathizedwith his brother of Austria. 

Gregory alone awaited the storm calm and fearless, relying upon thesacredness and justice of his cause, neither dismayed nor discouraged bythe fickle course of human events. He deplored the spirit which arrayeditself against truth, but he found in the recollection of the trials ofthe Apostles and their successors abundant consolation for himself andhis friends. Florence, Padua, Cremona, Milan had fallen before theAustrian invader. Lucca swelled the triumphs of the tyrant. Fortressafter fortress was wrested from Matilda; Henry sat down before the gatesof Rome at last, in the plains of Nero and opposite the fortress of St. Peter. Yet the sublime Pontiff displayed no symptom of uneasiness, though half of Europe was against him. 

Gilbert's first impulse was to fly to Rome, but the approaches to thecity were all in possession of the enemy. The noble Matilda could illspare a good lance, and the Romans then displayed so much resolution andgallantry, that the German army was repulsed in every assault. To theyoung knight's heart, wounded by the siege of Rome and misfortunes ofMatilda, the tidings of the reconciliation at home were like a sweetbalsam. And though the blessed intelligence was blended with the accountof the Lady Margaret's death, it was not the less welcome. Gilbert hadlong since ceased to regard the Lady Margaret with human love. Herevered her as one sacred to heaven, upon whom death had already set theseal of eternity, and, far from weeping over her early grave, he exultedat her triumphant flight to the judgment-seat of God. 

Two long years crept by, and the imperialists were still before Rome. Gilbert looked anxiously for succor to Suabia and Saxony, but the suddendeath of Otto of Nordheim laid his hopes in the dust, and Henry, for thethird time, invested the eternal city. Hitherto, the Romans, encouragedby the Pope, had made an heroic resistance, and the besiegers hadsuffered incredibly from their desperate sallies, as well as from thediseases that decimated them. But the fidelity of the citizens wasbeginning to totter beneath the protracted warfare, and many sighed fora period to their calamities. Henry failed not to profit by thesedispositions, and poured in thirty thousand golden florins to inflamethem. 

The horizon grew darker and darker--the Pope more winning, moreeloquent, more determined. Matilda did not fail him in this crisis. Theknight of the azure cross had already won the confidence of the princessby his valor, his prudence, and his piety, and she now selected him asthe instrument of her generosity. She pointed to a large amount ofsilver, saying that she intrusted him with the dangerous and difficultduty of conveying it to Gregory. Gilbert gladly accepted the perilouscommission. He loaded a number of mules with the treasure, concealedbeneath vegetables, and disguising himself as a peasant, took a guideand set out for Rome. During a dark and stormy night he contrived topierce the hostile lines and enter the city by the Lateran gate. 

Gilbert found the Pope seated in the midst of an assembly. He could atlast feast his eyes upon the wonderful and sainted man whom he had allhis life loved and venerated. When the Pontiff rose and spoke of thevirtue and fortitude that ought to sustain them in this crisis, heseemed endowed with supernatural power, and moved all present to tears. It seemed as though his soul foreknew it was the last time his voiceshould be raised in defence of his grand and holy cause. 

Another year passed by; the festival of Easter was approaching. Henrywas meditating a return to Germany, when a deputation of the citizensarrived in his camp, offering to surrender the capital. The Lateran gatewas opened, and the imperial army began to enter the city. The Romansoldiers, finding themselves betrayed, flew to arms, and Gilbert de Herswas once more contending with the warriors he had met at Fladenheim andthe Elster. Godfrey de Bouillon fell wounded before the desperateresolution of the besieged, and as he was brought to his knee, vowed apilgrimage to the Holy Land. But, outnumbered and confused, thedefenders were driven into the citadel, and Henry, with his queen at hisside, entered in triumph. The next day Guibert of Ravenna was installedin the Lateran palace in the See of St. Peter, and consecrated on thetwenty-fourth of March, by the bishops of Modena and Arezzo. His firstact was to crown King Henry in the Vatican. Gregory retired to thecastle of San Angelo, and the giddy populace greeted the anti-pope withshouts of joy. A severe chastisement awaited their perfidy andinconstancy. Robert Guiscard was advancing with thirty thousand infantryand six thousand cavalry, and Henry fled before the redoubtable prince, whom he had provoked by an alliance with Alexis, the Emperor of theEast. Abandoned by Henry, who had returned to Austria, the treacherousRomans barred their gates. Robert asked admission, but in vain; and hisirritated soldiers forced their way at midnight through the Flaminiangate. The city was crimsoned with flame and sword. A body of Saracensformed part of the Norman's army, and their fury knew no bounds. Fromthree points of the city the flames were streaming. Scarce could thePapal guards preserve a portion of the churches from pillage anddestruction. St. Sylvester's and St. Lawrence were wrapped in fire, andthe basilicas, from the quarter of Lateran to the Coliseum, wereinvolved in the red ruin. For three days the conqueror raged like a lionin the capital of the Christian world. The frenzied people againattempted resistance, and again the streets ran with their blood. When, gorged with slaughter and booty, the ferocious conquerors had evacuatedthe city, Gregory and his attendants reentered Rome and occupied theLateran palace. He lingered in the venal city only long enough toconvoke a council and renew his anathemas against Henry and Guibert, andthen retired to Monte Cassino. 

Gilbert was not permitted to accompany the Pontiff to his retreat, butwas dispatched to Matilda with an account of all that had occurred. Hefound the magnanimous princess threatened by an army more than trebleher own. But she was undismayed and full of hope, meditating a boldenterprise that was crowned with success. In the dead of the night, whenthe imperialists, secure in their numerical superiority, were plunged insleep, she led the remnants of her troops into the hostile camp. Thesleepers awoke to the cry of "St. Peter! St. Peter!" and perished erethey could grasp their arms. The chivalry and nobility of Lombardy werewell-nigh exterminated. In a few hours, corpses and tents alone remainedof the hostile array. Why should not Sorbara be as magical a word asThermopylæ? It _would_ be, if the Christian chroniclers had shared thepride or shown the polish of Grecian historians, and if modernChristians felt a Grecian enthusiasm for the deeds of their Christianancestors. Matilda differed from Leonidas but in one respect--insurviving the action and remaining victor on the field. 

Some days after the battle, Gilbert was summoned into Matilda'spresence. 

"I owe you more, " she said, "than I can ever repay. Your formervoluntary services and fidelity are enhanced by your brilliant exploitsin this last victory. Be pleased to style yourself Governor of Modena. "

Gilbert advanced a step, and sinking upon one knee, replied:

"Madam, I came to share in your generous devotion to our common Father, and to assist you as best I could. You are now--thanks to your ownvalor--victorious and secure. I must decline your bounty, for from thismoment I renounce the soldier. Here is my sword, madam; since Rome andyou no longer require it, I shall not need it; nowhere would I morewillingly resign it than thus at your feet. "

As the morning dawned, Gilbert de Hers, accompanied by a troop of horse, set out for Monte Cassino. 

Gregory had retired to Salerno, where he passed his days in thecontemplation of heavenly things, and in reading the lives of the Saintsand ecclesiastical history. Gilbert soon heard of his increasingweakness. The sun that had poured its light over the world, despite themists and clouds of error and vice, was setting at last. How his dyingwords bespeak the Saint: "My best-loved friends, I count my laborsnothing. That which gives me confidence is the consciousness of havingloved justice and hated iniquity!" When his assistants, groaning inanguish, adverted to their desolate condition after his death, heraised his arms to heaven, exclaiming, "I will ascend there, and pleadyour cause before a God supremely good!"

On the twenty-fifth of May, 1085, were uttered those memorable wordsthat smote the forehead of guilty Europe as if with a burning hand: "Ihave loved justice and hated iniquity--therefore I die in exile. "

 * * * * *

Years passed by. Peace smiled once more in the lordships of Hers andStramen. A new dwelling had risen from the ashes of Stramen Castle. TheChurch of the Nativity was repaired, and again rose in beauty over thefaithful who flocked there to worship. Yet there was a stranger priestat the altar, and often after Mass the people would gather around amarble slab just before the altar, on which was written:

"_Credo quod Redemptor meus vivit. _"

This was the tomb of Father Omehr; his epitaph was written and treasuredin the hearts of all who knew him, and, transmitted from sire to son, required no foreign chisel to deepen the impression upon the livingtablet. 

The Lords of Stramen and Hers were often together, and were beloved bytheir vassals for their uniform courtesy and charity. Their hairs werewhitening, and when Sir Sandrit walked to the churchyard he leaned uponHenry's arm. 

 * * * * *

Years passed by. Henry IV, worn down by misfortune and the rebellion ofhis eldest son, for his own offspring held up the poisoned chalice tohis lips, had followed his sainted antagonist to the eternal tribunal, and his body had been cast out as excommunicated from its sepulchre. Themale line of the Franconian emperors had expired in Henry V; Lothaire ofSaxony, a zealous champion of Rome, had been raised to the throne. Timewas revealing that Gregory VII was triumphant even in death, for theright of investiture was conceded to the Pope, and the celibacy of theclergy strictly enforced. 

The Lords of Stramen and Hers were sleeping with their fathers. The hillon which the Pilgrim's Chapel stood was no longer crowned with a castle, but with a monastery occupied by Benedictine monks. The whole lordshipof Hers was blooming under their munificent administration. Humbert, whose long locks had now seen eighty winters, still lived at the foot ofthe hill, surrounded by a goodly number of stalwart sons and fair-haireddaughters. And sometimes in the long winter evenings, when the firesparkled brightly and the old man was garrulous with joy, he would tellhow he once entered a hostile castle as a minnesinger with a noblelover, and how the knight defied the angry father. Yet he never revealedthat this knight was the generous abbot who now supplied them with themeans of innocent mirth, who ministered to all their wants, and whoselife was so meek and blameless. For Gilbert de Hers was abbot in thecells that had once been the halls of his sires. 

And one word, reader. It was not after the Lady Margaret's death that heembraced the resolution of dedicating himself to God, but on thebattle-field of the Elster, and over the corpse of Rodolph of Suabia. He had proved his sincerity in the wars of Matilda, and when he quittedthe princess for Monte Cassino, it was to assume the habit of thenovice. 

 * * * * *

One bright afternoon in the fall of 1126, two aged men were walkingarm-in-arm toward the Church of the Nativity. One was attired as aBenedictine, the other as a knight. They stopped at the church andbefore a cluster of tombs. On one of the slabs was carved a Greek crosswith a single tear under it, and beneath the tear the words:

"_O crux sancta adjuva nos. _"

It was the resting-place of the Lady Margaret, between the graves of herfather and mother. The monk and the knight knelt down and prayed. Asthey rose, the bells of the church announced the close of day, andushered in the TRUCE OF GOD. 

With their bosoms heaving with recollections of the past, Gilbert ofHers and Henry of Stramen went into the church where fifty years beforethey had met in youth and enmity, and they knelt together beside thegrave of Father Omehr, with their hearts full of tenderness and hope andlove, while the sun of ancient Suabia was setting, and the bells pouredforth their silvery peal. 

THE END