Barbarossa; An Historical Novel Of The XII Century Part 63

During the height of the storm, two soldiers were riding towards the camp, but it was in vain that they spurred on their jaded steeds; the terrified animals tumbled and stood still, as each flash burst forth.

So far as his appearance went, one of these hors.e.m.e.n belonged to the highest rank of the aristocracy; his armor was costly and richly arabesqued in gold, and his helmet bore a Count's coronet; but on the s.h.i.+eld the only device was a simple cross, the emblem of the crusaders.

His face, half hidden under his casque, was bronzed by the suns of Asia, and his eyes shone brightly, as if he would have defied the fury of the elements. He rode on calmly, with loosened rein, and at times patted his charger's neck, with words of encouragement.

"What is the matter, my good Velox?" he said; "we have braved many a storm before. Courage, good horse, we will soon be there."

On his arrival at camp, the stranger requested to be taken at once to the Imperial tent.

Frederic was seated at a table; before him a parchment was spread out, which he was reading attentively, and occasionally crossing out words and writing marginal notes. He was correcting the sermon which his Pope was to deliver next day in the Church of St. Peter.

A heavy step was heard, and the Emperor looked up, angrily, for he had expressly forbidden all intrusion. But when the curtain of the tent was drawn aside, and a man of tall stature and n.o.ble bearing entered, Frederic uttered an exclamation of glad surprise. Throwing down his pen, he sprang forward and caught Rechberg in his arms.

"G.o.d be thanked! You are back at last.--Come here, my boy, and let me look at you!" and the Emperor led him to the table. "Why, you have grown to be a man, Erwin! Your eyes glow with the fire of the Eastern sun, and your face has gained a look of energy and resolution."

He again embraced him, and laying aside the sermon, ordered in some refreshments.

"You are wet to the skin, Erwin; change your clothes first," said Frederic. "Why did you travel in this horrible weather?"

"The storm broke upon me suddenly, and as far as I can judge, it has done some damage in the camp. All I need do is to change my surcoat."

The powerful figure of the young man stood out in bold relief before the Emperor, who looked upon him with an expression of almost paternal interest, which softened his stern features.

"How does it happen that we have had no news of you for the last two years?"

"The Infidels captured me while I was asleep, and for eighteen months I have been in a dungeon, with scarcely a hope of release, for the ransom which they demanded was exorbitant."

"I don't blame them," said Frederic, laughing; "you cost them dear enough. All the pilgrims returning from the Holy Land relate marvels of your prowess."

"At last the Knights of the Temple stormed the fortress where I was confined, and delivered me."

"Ah! the Templars!--Valiant warriors! Their courage is wonderful, and their daring amounts wellnigh to rashness; but how did you get back to Europe?"

"On a Norman s.h.i.+p, which landed me at Tarentum."

"Well! you will tell me all your adventures when we have more leisure.

I look forward with pleasure to their recital. But you arrived most opportunely for the celebrations of our late victories. We are to crown Pascal to-morrow in the Church of St. Peter."

Rechberg made no answer, but his face wore a pained expression.

"As I have just returned from Palestine," he said, after a brief pause, "I trust, my dear G.o.dfather, that you will excuse me from taking part in Pascal's glorification."

"Very good! I understand," exclaimed the Emperor, with a slight frown.

"The Crusader is not inclined to recognize our Pope! Well, well, be it so! you shall be entirely free to act in everything which concerns your conscience."

The two kinsmen continued their conversation until a late hour of the night.

_CHAPTER LIV_.

_THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY_.

At last the day so anxiously longed for by Barbarossa arrived; the tents which had been overthrown by the storm were again pitched, and the Romans completed their preparations for the festival.

Still all hearts appeared to suffer from this fict.i.tious joy; no one seemed at his ease; a dull presentiment hovered over Rome, where all felt vaguely that the angel of vengeance was at hand.

A crowd of citizens dressed in holiday attire, was a.s.sembled upon the main road leading from Saint Angelo to the Basilica of St. Peter. The settled gloom of their features contrasted strikingly with their brilliant costume, and as they glanced towards the castle, where had stood formerly the statue of St. Michael, they shook their heads and sighed.

"Saint Michael has protected us for centuries," said an old man, "but he has disappeared now! May G.o.d have mercy on us!"

"You are alarmed at nothing, Master Bartholomew," replied his friend Anselm; "you know that metals attract the lightning, and as the statue was of gilded bronze, it could scarcely escape the fluid at that exposed point."

"You are very wise, Anselm," resumed the first speaker; "but the statue has stood there unhurt during all the storms of five hundred years! not one had power against it until the eve of our reception of this schismatical Emperor!"

"It is nothing but the merest chance!"

"Take care, Bartholomew," added a third, "the Emperor has hosts of friends, and it might be dangerous to speak against him."

"I am certain that chance has had nothing to do with it!--I take care!

Anselm, do you think that an old man of eighty-seven years of age is afraid to speak the truth? Yes, Barbarossa is a schismatic, he is the scourge of the Church. He will bring bad luck to Rome, and I know there are many who think as I do, but have not courage enough to express their opinion!--Look how money has been lavished here for the last four weeks! but see if the gold and the treason which it purchased do not burn those who are guilty!"

And Bartholomew started off again in the direction of the Castle of Saint Angelo.

"He is right in the main," said Gervase; "not a man in Rome has a doubt who is the lawful Pope, but what could we do? the terrible Barbarossa would have demolished Rome, as he did Milan, without the slightest scruple."

"Certainly he would," replied Anselm.

"Is it true that Alexander has anathematized the city?"

"No, no!" exclaimed several voices; "he did not even curse Barbarossa."

"I can speak positively on this point," said Anselm, "Frangipani heard the Pope's very words as he was kneeling before the image of our Saviour; this is what he said:--'Arise, O Lord, and judge between me and my enemies! O Almighty G.o.d, stretch out thine arm against the enemies of the Church!'--This was precisely what happened, and nothing more."

"It is quite enough! he called down Heaven's vengeance upon us, and we may expect the most direful calamities!"

"Nonsense!" said Anselm; "all this is merely the effect of yesterday's tempest."

"What a time that was, what a storm!"

"Yes, and cries and groans were heard in the air."

"And some people even saw a cross of fire above St. Peter's Church."

"Did not the hurricane come from the direction of Gaeta? Such a thing was never known before; I tell you it was more than natural."

"You are a fool, Ambrose."