The Truce of God Part 17

Rodolph instantly acceded to the request, and commanded the Baron of Stramen to a.s.sist in the enterprise. Though somewhat loath to unite in any undertaking with his sworn enemy, Sir Sandrit had learned to subdue his personal prejudices for the welfare of Germany. And perhaps his desire to avenge his recent wrongs overpowered his aversion to the author of older injuries. He readily a.s.sented, and now, united for once, the rival clans of Hers and Stramen moved rapidly across the ice on their chivalrous mission. By a well-executed movement they came unperceived upon the guard. No quarter was given there; scarce a hostile soldier escaped. Sir Albert bade his men spare not the cowards whose swords were red with the blood of babes and mothers. Sir Sandrit, at the top of his voice, shouted, "Remember the castle!" Henry and Gilbert unrelentingly pursued the terror-stricken fugitives. When they returned to the captured camp, every article of luxury was gone. The vessels of gold and silver, which the Patriarch of Aquileia and many of the other n.o.bles had brought to grace the revels of their king, were now in the hands of their rough victors, who brandished the precious goblets in the air, crying, "Death to the spoilers of Suabia!" The purple curtains, torn into shreds, were trailed in the clotted gore and dust. Before many minutes the pillage was as complete as the surprise. When nothing remained to slay or plunder, the barons gave the signal to retreat, and they recrossed the ice. Had they remained an instant longer, Henry IV would have fallen into their hands; for hardly had they left, before the monarch, 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 the Bohemians were routed with prodigious slaughter. The fugitives rallied under the walls of Wartburg. But they were speedily dispersed and pursued, until nightfall saved them from further molestation.

"The mist of Fladenheim is clearing away," said Rodolph, pointing to the setting sun, which now broke out in unclouded splendor, as the fog vanished before a strong north wind. That day was like his life, most brilliant at its close. Otto now advanced, and the two monarchs embraced with mutual affection and esteem. Whatever rivalry there might be between them was forgotten in success.

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

The news of these victories imparted some consolation to the Lady Margaret's breast, now torn with anxiety and solicitude. Her grief was not lightened because her own misfortunes were avenged in Henry's adversity, but because the chances of peace were increased by Rodolph's success. She was now incapable of relis.h.i.+ng revenge. The feudal antipathies so long nourished and so early instilled as to be almost a part of her existence, were entirely, eradicated. From the evening of her interview with Father Omehr, before the now ruined Church of the Nativity, she had dedicated her life to the extinguishment of the feud between the houses of Hers and Stramen. For this she had prayed, for this she had toiled. But her labors were interrupted by the harsh music of war, by gong and tymbalon.

What could she do now? Nothing. Nothing? When she knelt before the altar at Tubingen before the sun had risen, and the Countess of Montfort felt as if she had given shelter to an Angel, was she doing nothing? When she lingered in the oratory of our Blessed Mother long after the sun had set, and the menials pa.s.sed by on tiptoe lest they should mar the celestial expression of her face, was she doing nothing? There had come a deeper l.u.s.tre still into the Lady Margaret's eye, and the blush on her cheek 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 lost in firmness what it gained in grace. Already the men and women of Montfort had learned to love and bless her, and as she pa.s.sed among them serenely and silently, like a spirit of light, and as they marked the strange transparency of her features, they would salute her with a feeling in which awe prevailed, and, after thoughtfully gazing at her awhile, transfer their glance to the skies. The Lady of Montfort loved to hear the maiden sweetly singing the _Salve Regina_, for which Humbert had invented or selected a melody of singular beauty, but often, when the 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 earnestly into her face.

Gilbert! Gilbert! come read this face of more than earthly beauty! See if 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 his seventh synod at Rome. Hardly had the ancient canons been renewed and Guibert of Ravenna excommunicated, before the envoys of Rodolph appeared, and, after reciting Henry's fresh iniquities, supplicated their master's coronation and his rival's deposition.

The Pope had not failed to invite his impious antagonist to abide by his decision, but his recent defeat seemed only to have confirmed his obstinacy. It was evident that Henry would keep the field while a hope of success remained, and that peace could not be recovered but by the complete triumph of one of the hostile parties. The Pontiff no longer hesitated. Since all hope of an amicable adjustment had fled, the interests of the Church and of mankind required the ascendency of Rodolph; and Gregory saw that to withhold his sanction now, was to peril his cause, or at least to prolong the contest. The victory of Fladenheim had calmed the impetuosity of the Italian n.o.bles who burned to declare for Henry; and they were disposed to preserve a safe neutrality. The cruelties and vices of the Franconian were past endurance; the moment for which the Suabian so patiently and yet so ardently looked, had at length arrived. Rising before the crowded council, the n.o.ble Pontiff, giving voice to a holy enthusiasm he could not restrain, invoked the aid of St. Peter, the Prince of Apostles, and of St. Paul, the Teacher of the Nations. He called upon them to witness, that in spite of his grief, his groans, and his tears, he had been chosen their most unworthy successor; and that princes, ecclesiastics, and courtesans were leagued to accomplish his death or exile. "By _your_ authority," he exclaims, "relying upon the mercy of G.o.d and the pity of His Virgin Mother, I excommunicate Henry and all his partisans, and absolve his subjects from their allegiance. And even as Henry is justly deprived of his royalty by his pride, his disobedience, and perfidy, so are the same power and royal authority granted to Rodolph for his humility, his submission, and his merits."

The envoys of Rodolph hastened back to Saxony, bearing him the Papal confirmation of his election and the benediction so fervently p.r.o.nounced. The king and his army were inspired with the most lively joy and confidence. Those who before had dreaded the result, no longer doubted, but deemed the agony of the empire already ended. Ma.s.s was celebrated amid universal rejoicings, and Saxon and Suabian forgot the desolation of their homes in this presage of victory and peace. The camp of Henry presented another scene. The excommunicated king abandoned himself to the most violent transports of fury. He swore the destruction of the daring Pontiff and the usurper who now went forth as the chosen champion of the Holy See. He a.s.sembled at Mayence thirty bishops and a proud array of princes and barons.

Here again was acted the solemn farce of the conventicle of Brixen. A decree was prepared and published, a.s.serting that it was necessary to cut off from the communion of the faithful, a priest who had been rash enough to deprive the august person of majesty of all partic.i.p.ation in the government of the Church, and to strike him with anathema. "He is not the elect of G.o.d," runs the instrument, "but owes his elevation to his own unblus.h.i.+ng fraud and corruption. He has ruined the Church--he has distracted the State; he has embittered the life of a _pious and peaceful_ monarch, upheld a perjured rebel, and scattered everywhere discord, jealousy, and adultery. For this, here in final council at Mayence, we have resolved to depose, expel, and, if he disobey our command, to doom to eternal condemnation a monster who preaches the pillaging of churches and a.s.sa.s.sination, who abets perjury and homicide, who denies the Catholic and Apostolic faith concerning the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ--this accursed Hildebrand, this ancient ally of the heretic Berengarius, this conjurer and magician, this necromancer, this monk possessed by a devil, this vile apostate from the faith of our fathers."

After this violent invective had been launched, Guibert of Ravenna was unanimously elected anti-pope, under the name of Clement III. Henry next addressed himself to win the support of England; but Cardinal Lanfranc condemned his precipitation, and refused to unite in these insults and outrages.

The brief respite from arms that followed the battle of Fladenheim was over. Hostilities had commenced. Cries of war were heard from every quarter, and while the two kings were mustering their strength for another great struggle, the partisans of Rodolph and Henry were daily mingling in deadly strife. Nor were princes and counts, knights, pages, and va.s.sals alone in the field, but the spear and sword flashed in the hands of bishops, abbots, and monks. Ulrich, Abbot of Saint Gall, was ravaging Linzgau and Thurgovia, demolis.h.i.+ng the castles of Otto, of Marchdorf, Marquard of Bregence, and Hartman of Kyburg, and forcing the friends of Rodolph to fly before him.

These trivial advantages were amply compensated by the victory of Welf over Frederick of Hohenstaufen, at Hochstadt, and the occupation of Augsburg.

It was in the month of October, 1080, that Henry, confiding in the superior of numbers and discipline of his army, advanced upon Saxony, where Rodolph calmly awaited his approach. Each monarch well knew that the approaching contest would be decisive of his fate, and had omitted nothing to insure the victory. Anxious to shorten an interval of such painful suspense, they longed to meet, Henry stimulated by hatred and the memory of his recent defeats, Rodolph animated by a just indignation and conscious rect.i.tude.

Once upon the soil of Saxony, Henry swept the country with fire and sword to the banks of the Elster. He took a strong position at Mulsen, and awaited reinforcements from Bohemia. When the desired succor had arrived, he put his army in motion, intending to desolate the country and then retire. But he had not advanced far, before he discovered the allied forces of Saxony and Suabia drawn up to oppose him. Daunted for a moment, by this gallant host, he fell back upon the Elster. The deep river prevented a farther retreat. His position was protected by narrow and difficult approaches, and by a deep mora.s.s. Here he pa.s.sed the night.

Early in the morning of the fifteenth of October, the army of Henry was drawn up in battle array along the Elster, while the vanguard of his rival became visible in the distance. The soldiers of the former were unwearied and invigorated by a night of repose; the troops of Rodolph were jaded with forced marches over roads almost impa.s.sable. Rodolph, apprehensive lest fatigue should prove fatal, would have declined an immediate action, but he found it impossible to restrain the ardor of his men. The knights leaped from their sinking steeds and formed themselves on foot, and the infantry, forgetting their toil at the sight of the foe, continued to advance. They halted at length on the edge of the deep mora.s.s of Grona, in full view of the opposing army on the other side.

With Henry were the bishops of Basle and Lausanne with their men-at-arms, the Count Palatine Herman with all Franconia, Marquard of Carinthia, and Lutold, his son. Many recreant Bavarians were around him, and even Suabia raised her arm against her n.o.ble duke, in the person of Werner, Archbishop of Strasburg. There, too, were found Ulrich of Eppenstein, Arnaud of Lentzburg, Ulrich of Bregenz, Lutold of Dillingen, the counts and prelates of the house of Welschneuenburg, Egina of Achalm, and Werner of Gruningen. But conspicuous, even amid that high-born and martial group, stood the Duke G.o.dfrey of Bouillon and Frederick of Hohenstaufen.

Rodolph was surrounded by Altman of Constance, and the mitres of Coire, Rheinau, Stein, Wurtzburg, and Worms; he could touch the hands of Eckhard of Richenau, of the Abbot of the Convent of All Saints at Schafhouse, and of William de Hirschau, the most exemplary man of his day. Welf, Otto of Nordheim, Berthold of Carinthia, and Hugo, Count Palatine of Tubingen, were ready to support him with their lives, as they marched on proudly at the head of their va.s.sals 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 of Stramen.

At the moment the advancing columns halted, the legates of Gregory appeared in front of the army and imparted the Papal benediction to all who had taken up arms against the enemy of the Church and of the liberties of Germany. As if a thunderbolt had stricken them down, the soldiers sank simultaneously upon their knees, and, with their heads bent upon their hearts, received the boon so dearly prized. While they were yet kneeling, the clerks began to intone the eighty-second Psalm, and the solemn strains could be heard all along the ranks. How sad was the thought, that this calm music was but the prelude to the groans of the dying and the hoa.r.s.e shouts of blood-stained victory! As the army rose at the last note of the Psalm, the clash of steel, instead of the mournful chant, was heard along the line.

Rodolph, pale and thoughtful, but calm and dignified, rode through his columns, uttering brief expressions of encouragement and confidence, which were answered by cheers that made the welkin ring. When he had gained an eminence which commanded a view of both armies, a messenger, darting from his side, flew like an arrow toward the column of Welf of Bavaria. After the lapse of a few minutes, the Bavarians had turned the mora.s.s, and were almost within striking distance of the enemy. Without moving from his position, Frederick of Hohenstaufen waited the a.s.sault.

The next instant the Bavarians had encountered the Bohemians hand to hand. For a time the combat seemed equal, but at length the division of Welf could be seen slowly falling back. The Suabian n.o.bles, who had hitherto watched the contest in silence and the deepest interest, besought the king to permit them to aid the retreating column. But Rodolph firmly refused. He watched the combatants sternly, but without moving a muscle, until the main body of Henry's army was in motion, and then Gilbert could see the smile he had marked at Fladenheim, curling the 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 flashed forth such wild l.u.s.tre, or his bosom heaved with such pent-up emotion.

Then, as the main body of the Saxons pressed rapidly forward under Otto of Nordheim, against the foe disordered by pursuit, and Rodolph saw his plans accomplished, he turned to the Archbishop of Mayence, and exclaimed, 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," replied Rodolph, in a whisper, and he closed his visor.

The king still occupied the height from which he had directed the battle, that had now become general. Around him were the chivalry of Suabia and his former faithful subjects, acting in concert with a large body of Saxons. Henry's army was divided into two bodies, one of which, commanded by the monarch in person, was engaged with Otto, while the other, led by G.o.dfrey de Bouillon and Frederick of Hohenstaufen, a.s.sailed the Bavarians. Welf, borne down by numbers, still retreated in obedience 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 antic.i.p.ation of the victory promised by the supposed rout of the Bavarians. But the arrival of Rodolph changed the face of affairs. The strife then began in earnest. The enemy recoiled at first before the king's impetuous charge, but they were commanded by the ablest knights in the empire, and soon recovered from their momentary panic. Foremost of all his gallant chiefs, Rodolph carried death and terror into the Bohemian ranks. He seemed endowed with supernatural strength, and neither lance nor mace could arrest his brilliant career. Wherever the foe was thickest, or the fight most dubious, his white crest gleamed like some fearful meteor. It was difficult for the Suabian n.o.bles to keep up with their invincible monarch, and only by dint of the most extraordinary efforts about twenty of the best lances of his army could prevent his falling alone upon the hostile ma.s.ses. Among those who fought at his side were the lords of Stramen and Hers, Gilbert and Henry. At this moment a band of perhaps thirty hors.e.m.e.n, with their spears in rest, headed by a knight of gigantic size and another whose deeds had proclaimed him equally formidable, came like a thunderbolt through the opening files of the Bohemians, 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 mortal combat with G.o.dfrey de Bouillon. The giant had singled out Sandrit of Stramen, who spurred to meet him with equal avidity. In an instant both riders rolled in the dust. The antagonist of Sir Sandrit was the first to rise, and as the knight of Stramen staggered to his feet, the battle-axe of his opponent was poised above his head. A moment more and the Lady Margaret would have been an orphan--for Frederick of Hohenstaufen's strength was not to be babied by steel casque or bars of proof. But the axe was destined to take another direction. A mounted knight, spurring to the rescue of Sir Sandrit, was within a few bounds of the Lord of Hohenstaufen. Sir Frederick saw his danger, and with wonderful quickness changed his aim, and discharged the ponderous weapon against this new a.s.sailant. But the Suabian, displaying equal quickness, fell suddenly upon the neck of his steed, and the flying ma.s.s pa.s.sed harmlessly over his head, grazing his crest. But as the rider rose to his seat, a Bohemian knight, darting before Sir Frederick, checked his career. Such was the fury of the onset that both were unhorsed. The saddle-girths of the Suabian had given way, but the Bohemian fell, pierced by the spear of his antagonist. The former sprang uninjured to his feet, and drawing his sword, rushed against the first object of his attack. Sir Sandrit, dizzy from his first shock, was staggering beneath the heavy blows of his powerful opponent, as the knight whose advance we have marked, crying "G.o.d and Suabia!" turned aside a stroke aimed at the exhausted baron, and stepped between them.

"Who are you?" said the Lord of Hohenstaufen, parrying a blow and returning it. "Your s.h.i.+eld bears no device; beware lest you fall before it obtains one!"

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

"Then perish in your insignificance!" exclaimed the giant, bringing down his sword with both hands. But the blow was avoided with admirable agility, and the combat went on in silence. It seemed as if the struggle could not last an instant, for Frederick towered full a foot above his adversary. But the Lord of Hohenstaufen was fatigued by his pa.s.sage with the Baron of Stramen, and his wonderful strength was partially balanced by the superior activity of the Suabian. In the mean time, numbers of Rodolph's knights had now arrived, and the Duke G.o.dfrey was compelled to retreat. Frederick of Hohenstaufen lingered until almost surrounded, and then retired slowly before his antagonist, hoping to obtain some advantage from the pursuer's impetuosity.

But the Suabian was as cautious and dangerous as ever.

"Hold, Sir Knight!" said Frederick, suddenly sinking his sword and lowering 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, "wear that for me, and say for Frederick of Hohenstaufen, that he rarely coped with better knight."

At these words, the giant mounted a horse which a groom had brought him through the fray, and, waving an adieu, wheeled off to another part of the field. Gilbert raised the gage and fastened it in his casque. There was a strong tumult in the young n.o.ble's heart. In spite of his impulsive disposition, he was never so calm as when in danger. Though sharing the intense excitement of the battle-field, he was not carried away by the frenzy of the strife. Though the praises of an ill.u.s.trious enemy were sounding in his ears, he felt little of the exultation which such a circ.u.mstance might naturally impart. He had rescued the Baron of Stramen from imminent peril; but though the Lady Margaret's image had been before him through the horror and glory of the day, it was only for a moment that he thrilled at the prospect of a relenting father. His interview with Rodolph had sunk deep into his soul, and not even the pomp and terror of war could blot from his mind the contemplation of the king and his solemn language. He knew not why, but he could scarce withdraw his eyes from the snow-white crest, which, still unwearied, hung upon the now retiring columns of the foe. The Count Rapatho had already fallen before the fiery Rodolph, and the _Te Deum_ was hushed as the mangled corpse was brought into Henry's camp.

Nor was Otto of Nordheim less successful. At the head of the Saxon infantry, he had routed the legions of Franconia, and had driven numbers into the deep and rapid river. Fruitlessly did Henry endeavor to preserve his array and keep his ground: he was routed at every point.

The Saxons, now certain of victory, would have fallen upon and pillaged the camp. But Otto was too old a warrior to throw caution aside because of a partial success. "Wait a moment!" was all the veteran said, as he checked their appet.i.te for plunder; and the wisdom of his advice was soon made evident. Henry de Laca, Count Palatine of the Rhine, began to menace his rear. The troops of the count were fresh, and had been proved in former trials. As they advanced with the rapidity and steadiness of veterans, singing the _Kyrie eleison_, they seemed well able to retrieve the fortunes of the day.

"Another triumph awaits us!" cried Otto; "let us trust in G.o.d!"

Without hesitating a moment, the gallant Saxon, with his wonted impetuosity, fell upon the advancing lines, and, though stubbornly resisted for a time, gained at last a complete victory. When the forces of the Palatine of the Rhine had been driven across the Elster, Otto turned 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 a confused flight. Rodolph, in the eagerness of pursuit, had rashly penetrated too far into the flying ma.s.ses of the foe, who now turned upon the pursuer. Awhile the white crest danced amid hostile helmets and spears--then vanished.