Conrad von Bolanden
Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century.
"There is no hurry about my consecration," replied Rinaldo, quickly; "but your Highness makes a mistake in being influenced by such scruples of conscience, which are, to say the least, exaggerated."
"Exaggerated!"
"Certainly! Is it not the Emperor's prerogative to appoint the Bishop of Rome? The history of the Empire is there to prove the correctness of my assertion."
"Without any doubt, my Imperial cousin needs, for the accomplishment of his designs, a very submissive Pope. I shall not discuss this subject. The Northern bishops, likewise, owe me obedience. – There is but one difference in our positions, – none of my bishops is the supreme chief of Christendom."
"There is still another difference," resumed Rinaldo, with some hesitation, "and that is, your cousin Frederic is laying the foundations of a dynasty which is destined to rule the world, whilst your works will perish with you."
The Duke of Saxony was speechless, as, with contracted features, he rose and stood like a bronze statue before the tempter. The vulnerable point of his armor had been touched; for many years Henry's dream had been, to found an independent empire in the North, and all his efforts, all his warlike enterprises looked to this end. Dassel made a last effort to excite the Duke's ambition.
"You have, it is true, several lovely daughters; but you cannot bequeath your domains to them. All your conquests will revert to the Empire; nothing will remain to them, save their titles and their rights of dower."
"Stop a moment, Count!" cried Henry, furious at seeing his conquests, so painfully made, disposed of thus summarily.
"I am well aware, that my words may have offended your Highness; but, pardon my frankness, they were none the less just."
"It is false, I tell you! entirely false! Do you imagine that for years I have toiled and fought, have borne hunger and thirst, and a thousand fatigues of every kind, only to descend to the tomb like a brainless fool?"
"I regret it sincerely, my lord; but, since you refuse the divorce which is proposed, you must take the consequences."
"Refuse it! No; I must consider the matter further. What shall be, shall be; yes, on my honor!"
Rinaldo trembled with pleasure.
"Go, and thank my Imperial cousin!" continued Henry. "This divorce must be pronounced, even should it insure my own ruin! Still, beg his Majesty not to carry the matter further than I wish myself."
CHAPTER XVIII.
CONFIDENTIAL SECRETS
Rinaldo took his way towards the Imperial pavilion, for he was anxious to report the result of his interview with the Duke of Saxony. He was informed by one of the chamberlains that Frederic had gone to the apartments of the Empress, and Dassel decided to await his return in an adjoining room. He had taken but a few steps in a hall littered with cuirasses and swords and lances, when he heard the Emperor's voice, speaking in an angry tone. It was scarcely calculated to produce a reassuring effect upon the statesman, but he approached the partition and listened attentively.
Upon leaving the Empress, Frederic had met Count Rechberg in the antechamber. For some time the young man had been thinking seriously of asking the Emperor's consent to his marriage with Bonello's daughter, and the uncertainty of the result of his application produced a state of painful anxiety. He was seated in a corner, his head resting on his hands and his elbows on his knees, when the monarch entered, and was so absorbed in his reflections that he was unconscious of his presence. Frederic looked at him with some surprise, and shook his head. At this moment Erwin sighed deeply, and the Emperor involuntarily shuddered.
"Erwin!" said he, with a loud voice.
The young count sprang up hastily, and stood, with heightened color, before his sovereign.
"What is the matter, my boy? For some time past you seem out of spirits. Can nothing amuse your sad thoughts? Tell me what ails you."
Erwin only answered by a still deeper blush. The man who by a word could render him happy, was before him, and yet, trembling like a criminal, he did not dare to speak.
"Are you dumb? Ah! now I begin to be really curious to learn the secret which saddens your young heart."
"I must really help this poor fellow," thought Rinaldo.
"Come, Erwin, your reticence displeases me. What motive can there be for silence with your godfather?"
Rechberg looked sadly at the Emperor, as if to show him how painfully he felt this reproach.
"Well! if you have confidence in me, speak out! What is the matter? For some time past I have noticed your mournful and dejected appearance, and I hoped to have received your confession without being obliged to ask for it."
"Pardon, Sire; it is not my want of confidence in your Majesty which has closed my mouth, but rather the conviction that my cares were unworthy of your notice."
"Your cares!" resumed Barbarossa, looking at the young man more attentively. "True, true, it is some piece of childishness; I might have guessed it sooner."
Rinaldo's entrance on one side, and the Empress on the other, interrupted Frederic.
"Beatrice," said he, "I give this sick boy up to your care. I know that you are a skilful physician;" and he left the room with the Count of Dassel.
Beatrice, the wealthy daughter of Count Reinald, of Upper Burgundy, was but sixteen years of age when she was chosen by Frederic as his wife. In spite of the opposition to his marriage made by Pope Adrian IV; in spite of the representations of the Church and the reputation of the world at large, Barbarossa's passion was so violent that he disregarded every obstacle, and on the repudiation of his first wife, Adelaide, conducted Beatrice to the altar.
At the time of which we speak, Beatrice was twenty-one years of age; beautiful, gracious, and accomplished; she was considered the most amiable princess of the age, and she gladly undertook to console a youth whom she esteemed as much for his own virtuous qualities as on account of his relationship to the Emperor.
Dismissing her attendants, she called the young man to her side, and in a few moments had learned his story. She listened to him coldly, without even a smile, and when all was told, merely remarked, -
"I desire that you make a formal demand for the hand of the fair Hermengarde as soon as possible."
"I humbly thank your Majesty; but I scarcely dare to take a step which may not be approved."
"What do you mean? Not approved! and by whom?"
"By the Emperor, who will never consent to my marriage with the daughter of one whom he looks upon as a traitor."
"Nonsense, Erwin! the Emperor cares nothing about love-affairs! He only wants to see you happy."
"Your Majesty may be mistaken in this," replied Rechberg.
"Has the Emperor ever said anything to you on this subject?"
"Nothing. But I feel assured that he will refuse his consent."
"I understand, my dear Erwin. You are one of those people who like to take trouble on interest. I see that I must help you, as His Majesty has ordered me to be your physician. So, the very first medicine which I shall prescribe is to keep up your spirits. In the meantime, I am going to prepare you a sovereign remedy;" and she left the room.
"Richilda," said Beatrice, entering her private chamber, "can you not point out some knight whom I can intrust with a message of importance?"
"The whole army is at your Majesty's orders," replied the waiting-maid.
"No! no! I mean a good sword, on whom I can entirely depend."
"What does your Majesty think of the knight Goswin? He is brave, discreet, and would ride to Egypt for your Majesty."
The Empress' clear and musical laugh rang through the room.
"You are crazy, Richilda! Goswin, that vulgar soldier! Upon my word, he would be a beautiful messenger."
"Pardon, madam; I had no intention of offending you; but, not to be guilty of another mistake, it would be well if I knew your Majesty's intentions."
"Ah! you are curious! But after all, you may as well know all. I have long desired to see this Hermengarde, who has so dazzled with her beauty all the knights who have met her. I think of sending a brilliant embassy to invite her to my court."
"A most excellent idea," said Richilda.
"I have heard a great deal of her noble efforts in her father's behalf, and I am curious of knowing intimately one whose filial devotion I have so much admired."
"But will your invitation be accepted? The lady of Castellamare is only a child yet, – I believe not more than fourteen years of age. She cannot leave the castle without her father's permission, and it is scarcely probable that he will allow his daughter to go where he was treated so roughly himself."
"Your objections are not entirely unreasonable," replied the Empress. "But, as a general thing, parents are not opposed to their children's happiness, and will do a good deal to advance it, even if they have to forget their own personal injuries. But I have just thought of a messenger who will probably be a successful one. Come, let us go to work at once."
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CONSULS
Meanwhile the Milanese were bearing up courageously against all the fatigues and privations of the rigorous siege. The same spirit appeared to animate all classes of the population; merchants, workmen, and nobles were menaced by the same danger, and each and all fought bravely in defence of his rights and the liberty of his country.
Bold sorties were of daily occurrence, and every effort made to introduce convoys of provisions into the city; but the investment was so complete, and all avenues of approach so carefully guarded, that the attempts were always repelled with severe loss. Although as yet there was no scarcity of food, still the possibility of famine at some future day decided the Consuls of Milan to call a council in order to devise the best means of averting the danger. They were fully persuaded that Frederic would not raise the siege, and that they had little aid to expect from their allies.
Genoa, Pisa, and Venice had long envied Milan's power, and would glory in her fall; while the other towns bowed before the formidable armies of the house of Hohenstauffen, and were disposed to acknowledge its supremacy. Their chief reliance was in the success of skilful diplomacy; and for this they counted upon the talents and abilities of one whom the people looked up to as a saint-the Archdeacon Galdini Sala. At the urgent request of the Consul Nigri, the Archdeacon repaired to the hall where the council was deliberating with closed doors, and after a few words of introduction from Gherardo, expressed his views in favor of a continued and obstinate defence.
"If the people are firm," he said, "Barbarossa cannot hope a speedy surrender. I am convinced that Milan cannot be taken by assault, and that the enemy will endeavor to reduce it by famine."
"But is there no means by which we can obtain provisions?" asked the Consul of the merchants. "If Barbarossa ever succeeds in introducing hunger, his most redoubtable ally, within the walls, our cause is lost! No pains, no money must be spared to avert this terrible disaster, even should we be obliged to spend our last penny, and turn into coin our jewels and the holy vessels of our churches!"
"The Church will not be backward if the sacrifice be needed; but before arriving at this extremity, every other resource must have been exhausted."
"It is not money that we need," said the Consul Oberto, a worthy old man, with a snowy beard; "it is not money, for the richest bribes would fail to get an ounce of bread through the gates. The Emperor's blockade is too rigidly enforced, and all attempts to force it have proved a bloody failure."
"Perhaps it would be advisable," said Galdini, "to put the people on rations. So far they have eaten and drunk as though the supply were inexhaustible."
"I am surprised," replied Oberto, "that a man of your shrewdness could propose such a measure. The courage of the people would quail at the bare possibility of a danger to which hitherto they have not given a thought. And," he continued, in a lower tone, "you know well its fickleness, and how little it requires to bring about the most fearful results. The simple report of a defeat excited an insurrection some years ago, in which the Milanese destroyed the palace of a man who had sacrificed everything in the cause of liberty. With even a distant prospect of famine, the citizens would begin to murmur, and probably rise in open mutiny, for they would think it better to wear the yoke of Barbarossa than to die of starvation."
Sala was too just, too practical, to question the reality of the picture.
"Our future looks gloomy," said Nigri. "Should famine begin to decimate our ranks, we shall be obliged to capitulate, and it may perhaps be advisable not to await the last moment. The Emperor might take into consideration our voluntary surrender, and grant us more favorable terms. I propose to open negotiations with him immediately."
The archdeacon opened his eyes with astonishment at Nigri's proposal.
"Open negotiations with Frederic," he cried; "and on what basis?"
"On the most equitable basis," said Oberto; "he who surrenders willingly, always has less to suffer from the conqueror."
"You make a very grave mistake, my lord!" said Galdini; "there is no possible compromise with the tyrant; offer to him the enjoyment of all your rights; abandon all the revenues of the principality, nothing will suffice him."
"But what does he want then?" inquired Cino, the consul of the workmen, a man of rough manners and herculean build, but of very limited intelligence. In spite of the gravity of the situation, Galdini could not repress a smile, as he answered, -
"Barbarossa aspires to universal dominion. He seeks to hold in his own grasp all control of rights and liberties; he wishes to make paltry villages out of our independent cities. Everything must give way before his Imperial supremacy; all must bow at the footstool of the conqueror. Religion, the Church, all that which we look upon as holy, are in his eyes mere machines of government. Such is Frederic's gigantic dream of power; can we, I ask, negotiate with such a man? No! we must conquer, or perish in the attempt!"
The archdeacon had spoken calmly, but with energy, and all felt that he had by no means exaggerated the position. For a moment there was a profound silence, which neither Nigri nor Oberto dared to break, and then the street without seemed suddenly animated, there was a noise of hurried feet and shouts and cries of alarm. Nigri rushed to a window and anxiously inquired the cause.
"To arms! to the walls!" answered a citizen, who in full armor was hastening towards the ramparts; "the tower of Henry the Lion is moving on the city!"
"The tower! the tower!" cried Cino, pale with fear; "take my word for it, before nightfall there will be many mouths less to feed among our fellow-citizens!"
All the consuls seemed equally alarmed, the object of the council was forgotten, and they hastily withdrew. Nigri detained the archdeacon, and taking him on one side, said, -
"One moment, I beg you, my lord Galdini. The words spoken here might, if known, discourage the people. I trust that I may count upon your discretion."
"Your recommendation is needless," replied Sala; "not a word shall pass my lips. Let us hasten, with God's aid, to repel the assault." He pressed Nigri's hand, and the consul hurriedly buckling on his armor, they repaired to the ramparts.
CHAPTER XX.
THE ASSAULT
Milan was in mortal fear. The colossal form of the monstrous machine approached still nearer to the doomed city. The streets were filled with an anxious crowd of women, children, and men-at-arms, all pressing with hurried steps to the scene of danger. From every door rushed the alarmed citizens, buckling their armor as they ran. Wagons filled with caldrons of pitch and boiling oil, creeked as they labored slowly forward, and the shouts of the leaders, the orders of the consuls, and the continued challenge of the sentinels, completed the wild and confused tumult. And still the tower moved slowly on.
The garrison, to repel the attack, brought forward two large machines, which threw stone balls and heavy missiles, and four smaller ones, called catapults, which were to rain stones and arrows upon the besiegers. From the summit of the walls the enemy could be distinguished moving from their camp, in four bodies, and impatiently awaiting the orders to rush forward to the support of the Saxon banner. The city walls were lined with crossbow-men and archers, ready to fire into the loopholes of the town as soon as it should be within range. In the open space between the houses and the ramparts, the noblemen and civic guard were drawn up, ready for the moment when the drawbridges should be lowered and the fight become general. Everything was conducted in an orderly manner, each man knew his duty. The women and children had disappeared; on their knees, in the churches, they were seeking the aid of Heaven in the strife which was so soon to begin.
All the machines were ready to commence their work of destroying the town. The two largest were loaded with stones, so large that it required the united strength of four men to lift them; and fires were lighted, at intervals along the wall, on which were placed huge iron vessels filled with oil and pitch.
Still the tower advanced. Its motive power could not be seen, and it was a terrible spectacle, this enormous giant creeping silently along, as though impelled by the breath of a demon.
From within could be distinguished the dull grating of the machinery, and from the loopholes peered the fierce faces of the German archers as they discharged a cloud of arrows upon the besieged.
Anselmo, the chief of the Milanese artillery, an old man, still vigorous, with bold features and a quick eye, examined the tower carefully, as it neared the walls. The troops, watchful of the least movement of their leader Oberto, were ready to act; but if Anselmo's skill did not succeed in destroying the tower, they felt that the city would be taken.
"Let go the catapults!" cried Anselmo, his eyes always fixed upon the machine.
The order was immediately executed, and the old man stepped back to judge of the effect. There was a deep silence, and all gazed anxiously upon the stern visage of their leader, as he touched the spring of the engine. There was a violent shock and a cloud of stones dashed full upon the front of the tower; but the hay and brushwood, with which it was bordered, broke the force of the concussion. A second discharge was attended with a like result.
"By my holy patron saint!" cried Anselmo, shaking his head, "the jade is solid. If four hundred weight of stone have no more effect than a shower of snow-balls, we have little chance of escaping Barbarossa's companions. However, let us try again."
A larger stone was brought forward and put into the catapult; a moment after it whistled through the air and struck heavily against the tower, but without producing any impression.
"It is useless to try," said Anselmo; "the devil himself must have built that tower!"
"Would it not be advisable," said Nigri, "to arrange the smaller machines for the reception of the stormers, as we cannot prevent the assault?"
"Let go the catapults!" interrupted Anselmo.
But it was all in vain, the advance of the machine could not be checked; and the garrison turned their attention to the smaller engines, which were filled with missiles of every kind, and to the pitch and boiling oil, which was to be poured upon the enemy as he clambered up the walls.
"Attention! hold everything in readiness!" said Anselmo; "mix well the tow with the oil and pitch. Be lively, boys! take care that your casks be filled."
Already, severe fighting was going on, in the open space between the tower and the walls. On both sides bolts and arrows flew unceasingly, and wherever a head appeared at a loophole it became a target for the archers. Germans and Milanese had both suffered severely, for the arrows and stones penetrated through every opening.
"Those Milanese fight very gallantly," said Henry the Lion, as an arrow struck his helmet. "We have already lost fifty men in the tower."
"The foul fiend seize this style of battle!" said Otho of Wittelsbach, who awaited, with impatience, the moment when the tower should close upon the walls.
"We shall encounter worthy adversaries, Count," replied Henry. "They are loading their engines in our honor! – I only trust that the fire may not ruin the tower! The Milanese are skilful artificers."
"Upon my honor, as soon as we are on their walls, they may burn it and welcome," said Otho.
The scene soon began to change; the Milanese had covered their ramparts with boiling pitch, and had lighted a fire at the spot where Henry designed to halt the tower, while barrels filled with burning tow were rolled over on the heads of the assailants.
"Forward now!" cried Anselmo. "Get ready the fireballs!" and he rushed to where the smaller machines were raining a cloud of projectiles upon the drawbridges.
The battle now raged fiercely. The burning tow balls had communicated their fire to the machine, the top of which was in flames; the Germans worked diligently to keep the conflagration in check, until they should be close enough to sally out upon the bridges, while the Milanese with locked shields and drawn swords awaited the attack.
For a moment there was a deathlike silence, and then the bridges fell, and Henry of Saxony and Otho de Wittelsbach, followed by their troops in good order, sprang upon the ramparts. They were resolutely met. Otho had one foot upon the wall, but he was driven back; and though his blows made large gaps in the ranks of the enemy in this fierce hand-to-hand encounter, their places were filled at once with new combatants. The Lion raged, and although a foeman went down at every thrust of his heavy sword, he was still upon the bridge, and could not advance a step upon the rampart. The tower was now in flames, and a cloud of projectiles darkened the air already black with smoke from the burning resin. Still the struggle went on, and many a German knight and Lombard noble fell to rise no more.
Henry and Otho fought on; but in vain: their efforts were powerless to break the wall of steel which the brave Milanese opposed to their assailants. So far, the combat had continued without any decided advantage; for, although they could hold their enemy in check, the citizens were unable to drive him from his position. The image of their patron saint waved proudly above them, and the cry of "Saint Ambrose to the rescue!" rang through the air.
In the midst of the tumult were heard shouts of defiance and of cheer.
"Brothers, think of your liberty! Death to the tyrant!" shouted Pietro Nigri, who was fighting in the foremost ranks.
"For Church and Country! Death to Barbarossa!" cried another voice.
"Death to the traitors! Death to the rebels!" thundered Otho of Wittelsbach, cutting down an adversary at every blow.
The battle became more desperate, and the ground was covered with the bodies of the dead and wounded, whose blood mingled with the boiling oil. Fresh troops came up from the besiegers' camp, anxious to take part in the conflict. The tower was now burning fiercely, and to the cries of the soldiers and the clash of swords and cuirasses, were added the groans of the dying and the crackling of the flames, which issued from every loophole, fit ornaments to this bloody tragedy.
"Back! back!" was heard on all sides; "the bridge is on fire!".
But, though like burning serpents the flames were twisting themselves around the frail passage, although many of the soldiers had retreated from the melée, Henry of Saxony, the Count Palatine, and a few other knights still held their ground. Careless of the enemy in their rear, they gallantly fought onward towards the city. It was in vain; the courage of the besieged increased with the danger. A horrible crackling noise was heard; the tower had commenced to give way, and was sinking. Then those who were on the bridge lost their last hope; an instant more, and all would be lost, for already it was wrapped in flames.
At this moment, the consul Oberto, a white flag in his hand, sprang forward upon the ramparts, and, as the shrill blast of a trumpet pealed out, -
"Valiant knights! noble gentlemen!" he cried; "cease this fearful strife! We value courage, even among our foes; the burning ground is giving way beneath your feet; lower your weapons, and return peacefully to your camp."
From this act of generosity there was no appeal. Henry sheathed his sword, and retired. An instant after, the bridge gave way, and then the tower shooting up one vast column of fire, tottered and fell.
The fight cost the besiegers six hundred men, and the Milanese loss was equally heavy; but it had proved one thing, at least, to Barbarossa, – that Milan could not be taken by assault.
