"Away now!" cried the hero of Hohenburg.

Bidding the n.o.ble duke an affectionate farewell, Gilbert and his follower sprang to the saddle and galloped off. But the adventures of the night were not yet over. Hardly had they pa.s.sed the ravine, before Humbert's quick ear detected the tramp of a horse behind them.

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

Faster they went, but the sound came nearer and nearer. Again Gilbert urged on his horse, and again the galled creature bounded forward, but the pursuing sound came faster than they. Humbert looked behind, and by the bright moonlight saw a solitary horseman advancing at a furious pace.

"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 darted ahead, and confronted them.

"Had I been well mounted," answered Gilbert, "you should have had your trouble 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 should already have been embraced by a Suabian n.o.ble."

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

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

"No! Let me pa.s.s, I entreat you!" said Gilbert, putting his horse in motion. 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 my absence to insult my sister, but I returned too soon for your chivalry.

Dismount! The truce of G.o.d covers not to-day. Dismount! Add not cowardice to deceit!"

This was more than Gilbert could bear. Quick as lightning he stood beside the challenger. It was but the work of a moment to throw off his coa.r.s.e cloak and draw his sword. Having chosen his position, he awaited the a.s.sault of his adversary. Humbert looked on in breathless interest, while the two young n.o.bles fought in the moonlight. For some minutes Gilbert maintained his ground, despite the furious efforts of his a.s.sailant. There was a strong contrast between the desperate energy of Henry and the calm courage of Gilbert. But at length the latter began to recede rapidly down a gentle slope. His antagonist recklessly pursued.

The motive of Gilbert's retreat soon became evident. Henry's foot slipped on the long gra.s.s, slimy from the recent rain, and he fell at full length upon the ground. Before he could rise, Gilbert had mounted the 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!" answered Gilbert; and, without regarding the denunciations of the knight of Stramen, he called to Humbert, and resuming the road to Hers, was soon out 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 p.r.o.nounced at Rome against Henry IV of Austria spread consternation wherever it went; the resolute prepared for instant action, and the timid looked in vain for a peaceful asylum. There could be no neutrality, since not to serve the king was to serve his antagonist. Throughout the empire the stern challenge was ringing: "Are you for the Pope or for the king?" The gay and reckless champions of the court, the knights of the house of Franconia, and many a bold adventurer, crowded around the royal banner. Many a haughty prelate, too, seduced by avarice or ambition, urged on the monarch in his mad career.

But the enterprise of Rodolph and the Lord of Hers had been most happily timed, and the chivalry of Suabia were prepared to follow their martial duke at a moment's warning. That warning followed shortly after the date of the last chapter. Gilbert had gained his chamber as the morn was breaking, and had hardly time to review the exciting events of the night, before an attendant announced his father's arrival. The Lord of Hers had reached Zurich on his return, just as the tidings from Rome had been received; and without pausing an instant, he hurried across the lake to convey the intelligence to the King of Arles. The baron was himself too much excited with the momentous results at last developed, and the still more momentous sequel already shadowed forth in the uncertain future, to remark the nervous and somewhat jaded appearance of his 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, as effectually as possible, giving his father a clue to his hare-brained expedition with Humbert. It was well for him that the baron was too well satisfied with the information to inquire how it had been obtained; for, incapable of deceiving his parent, he would have been compelled, very reluctantly, to submit a brief account of his connection with Ailred of Zurich, the minnesinger. A chilly antic.i.p.ation of the question struck him, just as the words escaped his lips, and his cheek tingled as the blood came creeping against it. But, to his great relief, his father, without noticing his confusion, turned to a soldier who stood behind him, 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 and was going; "this for his highness, the King of Arles. Guard it with your life from the enemies of the duke, and if you meet the serfs of Stramen, proclaim your errand. Away! spare neither spur nor rein!" cried the knight, 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 rigorous measures. He felt a.s.sured that the infamous conventicle at Worms must have 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 in executing his plans, which were to be regulated by the action of the Holy See, he could scarcely be prevailed upon to defer till daylight his return to Zurich by the Castle of Hers.

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

With these meaning words Rodolph galloped on, unmindful of the soldier behind him. Yet it would seem he had not entirely forgotten the messenger, for when alighting at the Castle of Hers, he threw the man a largess 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 display upon the battle-field the gallantry of the Bohemian harp-bearer, and to couch a lance for Suabia and the Lady Margaret!"

"But how can I thank you for--"

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

After a long interview, the duke and Albert of Hers resolved to a.s.semble the chiefs of the ducal party at Ulm, and to fix the fifteenth of October for a general meeting, at Tribur, of all who would take up arms against the king.

While the Lord of Hers was engaged in persuading the Duke of Bohemia and the bishops of Wurtzburg and Worms to repair to Ulm without delay, Gilbert was polishing his armor and exercising his barb. The stirring spirit of the times, the approaching honors of knighthood, with a golden chance of winning his spurs, a.s.sisted in diverting his mind from a melancholy contemplation of the hopelessness of his love. But even when brandishing his stout lance, or wheeling his good war-horse, he would hear those withering words: "_The grave will antic.i.p.ate her choice!_"

followed by the fatal echo which came from her own lips, in solemn confirmation of the prophecy: "_My days are numbered here!_" Nor could the dazzling dreams of young ambition shut out the still more delicious sight of the Lady Margaret, now kneeling before the _Mater Dolorosa_, now appealing to him with the pure emotion and wondrous beauty of an Angel, and now clinging to her father between him and the battle-axe.

While the stern Sandrit de Stramen was preparing his va.s.sals for the impending strife, and literally converting the scythe into the sword--while he spared no expense or trouble in supplying his men with arms and horses, all gayly decorated to make a gallant show at Tribur--while the st.u.r.dy yeomen were leaving their ploughs in the field to pay their rent by the service of shield and sword--the Lady Margaret, uninfluenced by the war-like bustle, calmly pursued her meditations, her daily visits to the church, and her numberless acts of charity. She had a delicate and difficult duty to perform in soothing the proud mind of her brother, stung to the quick by his unlucky encounter with Gilbert.

The young knight of Stramen was panting for an opportunity to retrieve his misfortune and wipe out his fancied disgrace. When in conversation with his sister, to whom he would outpour his pa.s.sionate impulses, he pledged himself over and over again to bring the daring stripling to his knee, who had dared to insult her in his absence. To his fiery threats, Margaret would offer no direct opposition, for she feared to awaken an easily excited suspicion that she sympathized far too warmly with the culprit. This suspicion would have paralyzed her influence. She contented herself with pointing out the impossibility of settling a domestic quarrel at the present moment, and the imperative duty of considering rather the public weal than the gratification of a private inclination. And at times, when Henry appeared more tractable, and when, moved by her tender affection and earnest discourse, he exhibited a disposition more closely resembling her own, she would suggest what a n.o.bler and better revenge it would be to seek an opportunity of saving Gilbert's life in the coming struggle. Henry's chivalrous nature was easily attracted by this suggestion, and he determined to prove his superiority over his rival, before attempting his ultimate revenge.

Father Omehr's duties increased as the fifteenth of October approached.

The yeomen and va.s.sals of Stramen recked little of their bodies, but they cared not to peril their souls. They feared not to expose their b.r.e.a.s.t.s to the arrow and lance, and to meet the powerful war-horse with unflinching spear; but they were solicitous, at the same time, to purify their hearts for the mortal struggle. This wise precaution indicates no craven spirit, for he who fears eternity the most, fears death the least. The good missionary beheld with a mournful eye the preparations everywhere making for a struggle apparently inevitable. He shared not in the ambition of Rodolph or the ardor of his barons; and he bitterly lamented the dire necessity which compelled blessed peace to disappear beneath the withering breath of war. Yet war seemed to be the unavoidable result of the excommunication, and the action of the Pope was necessary to preserve the purity and liberty of the Church. Deeply as he deplored the present crisis, he exclaimed, "Thy will, O G.o.d, be done! We have done what seemed to be our duty, be the consequences what they may!"

The empire was thus divided into two great parties. At first the partisans of the king were much more numerous and powerful, but their strength was daily diminishing, as conscience began to operate upon some, and fear upon others. The most marked and appalling chastis.e.m.e.nt was 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 Ma.s.s by a violent denunciation of the Pope, in which he called him an adulterer and false apostle, and a.s.sailed him with bitter raillery. Hardly had the ceremonies been concluded before the episcopal slanderer was struck down with a fatal malady. In the midst of the most excruciating torments of mind and body, he turned to the minions of Henry 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!" The clerks at his bedside conjured him not to rave in that manner; but he replied, "And why shall I not reveal what is clear to my soul? Behold the demons clinging to my couch, to possess themselves of my soul the moment it leaves my body. I entreat you--you, and all the faithful, not to pray for me after my death!" With this he died in despair. The same day, the cathedral of Utrecht, in which he had preached, and the royal pavilion, were suddenly consumed by fire from heaven. Burchard, Bishop of Misne, Eppo of Ceitz, Henry of Spire, and the Duke Gazelon, were successively the victims of sudden and fatal misfortunes. Whatever may be the impression produced at the present day, it is certain that these examples and a great number of others, struck terror into the partisans of the king, and many prelates and priests threw themselves at the feet of the Pope and renounced their errors. Thus, Udo, Archbishop of Treves, repaired all penitent to Rome, and Herman of Metz began to waver in his. .h.i.therto steady fidelity to Henry.

While these causes were sapping the imperial power, Henry was unexpectedly menaced from another quarter. The two sons of Count Geron, William and Thiery, who had for some time secretly cherished the hope of regaining the lost freedom of their country, saw in the present confusion the moment for which they had sighed. They raised the standard of revolt, and were soon at the head of a band of young and n.o.ble chieftains, whose intrepid bearing and dauntless confidence inspired the nation with the desire and the hope of liberty. The escape of the two Saxon princes from Henry's hands and their arrival in Saxony gave an irresistible impulse to the movement, and the whole circle, animated by the same spirit, rose haughtily to throw off the heavy yoke, never patiently endured.