Barbarossa; An Historical Novel Of The XII Century Part 61

After a moment's reflection, he went towards the table and sought among the parchments.

"Here is a doc.u.ment," he said, "written by Pope Adrian. It will show you that our predecessor was gravely annoyed by the Emperor's conduct which always was hostile to the independence of the Church. 'G.o.d be thanked,' he writes to the German bishops, 'that you have remained faithful! G.o.d be thanked for giving you the ability to judge, dispa.s.sionately, between Frederic and the Holy See! This schism which he has instigated will recoil upon his own head; it is like a dragon, which, wis.h.i.+ng to fly to heaven, has fallen to the earth, and has been swallowed up. He who would exalt himself, shall be abased. This fox seeks to lay waste the Lord's vineyard; this guilty son forgets all grat.i.tude and all fear. He has fulfilled none of his promises, he has deceived us in everything; he deserves then to be treated as a rebel to his G.o.d, as a heathen, as an outlaw.' You see then, my children, how severely Adrian judged the Emperor. What would this saintly Pontiff write now; what sentence would he pa.s.s upon Frederic at the time when he is persecuting with still more virulence the Church of G.o.d?"

A savage yell, which seemed to approach the castle, interrupted Alexander, and Frangipani appeared.

"Holy Father," said the soldier, "I can no longer endure the presence of these bandits; allow me to drive them away by force."

"By no means; let no blood be spilled! Tell them," he said, turning to Guerrazzi, "that there can be no alliance between Christians and the enemies of G.o.d; tell them, distinctly, that Rome has naught to fear, so long as she fights against the foes of the Church!"

He withdrew, and a few moments later, Guerrazzi was again upon his column, haranguing the rabble which pressed eagerly around him. The tailor inveighed bitterly against the harshness of Alexander, who, he a.s.serted, had no pity for the sufferings of the people, and was disposed to resist the Emperor at any cost.

"I represented everything to him," he said, "I reminded him of Milan, of your inevitable destruction if you rejected the proffered mercy! I reminded him of our captive brothers who will certainly be hung, unless we stretch out our hand to Barbarossa. With tears in my eyes, I besought him to have pity upon us, upon our wives, upon our helpless children; my words would have touched a heart of stone, but they were powerless to move this barbarian. Do you call such a one a holy man, a father?--He is a tyrant, a destroyer!"

Guerrazzi at last had carried his point; the crowd was rampant with sedition.

"Death to Alexander! Down with the tyrant!"

"Forward!" resumed the tailor, violently,--"brave people, rise in your might, break your chains, and go to meet your Augustus!"

He sprang to the ground, for his task was accomplished, and the fire of sedition was spread rapidly through the ma.s.ses. Rinaldo's emissaries urged on the revolt, and soon nothing was heard but wild panegyrics of Barbarossa, and curses against the Pope.

Each day the excitement increased in Rome, where the Chancellor had already distributed large sums of money, and where the seditious harangues of Guerrazzi, Bariso, and many others embroiled everything.

Alexander was denounced as a merciless savage.

"Soon, brothers, you will suffer all the pangs of hunger," said the tailor, always speaking from his favorite column. "You will be obliged to feed upon roots, and leather, and old shoes, and other things too disgusting to mention. What does Alexander care for our sufferings, he is well provided with every luxury behind the walls of St. Angelo."

"The man of the castle has no heart!" cried Bariso, who had replaced Guerrazzi upon the pedestal; "if he had, would he compel us to bear this misery, and submit to the misfortunes which ruined Milan? Yes, the Emperor has sworn to destroy everything with fire and sword, if we do not surrender within a week."

"Alexander will not resign the pontifical chair," said another voice.

"What does it signify to him if his obstinacy causes our destruction?

Barbarossa desires to restore to Rome her ancient splendor and her liberty. Alexander has other intentions, he claims everything for himself. He cares for neither our honor, nor our glory; he is plotting our ruin!"

Every day there were popular meetings in different quarters of the city, and loud complaints were launched against Alexander, while some of the insurgents even went so far as to shout, through the loopholes in the walls, words of encouragement to the enemy.

At last Frederic stormed a portion of the works, and burned the church of Santa Maria della Torre; the conflagration spread, and the vestibule of the dome of Saint Peter was destroyed.

From the summit of St. Angelo, the Pope saw the flames surround the tomb of the prince of the Apostles; but although his face glowed with indignation, and his lips trembled with emotion at the sacrilege, he remained undaunted in his resolution to endure every trial in the interest of the Church. He wept, and his tears were doubtless carried to the foot of the eternal throne of G.o.d, where they pleaded for pity and forgiveness.

After the capture of the Vatican, Barbarossa attacked the castle of San Angelo, but the a.s.sault failed. Several other positions were also in the possession of the Papal troops, but a longer resistance seemed of no avail. It was useless to remain in a city the people of which was hostile.

Alexander saw the precarious condition of the desecrated Church, and resigning himself to his fate, determined to seek safety in flight. But the enemy had evidently foreseen the contingency, and every disposition had been made to prevent the escape of the Pontiff.

A cordon of troops was drawn around the citadel; these were doubled after nightfall, and so great was the importance which the Emperor attached to the Pope's capture, that none but Germans were detailed on the service, for Frederic had little confidence in his Italian mercenaries.

The gigantic castle of Saint Angelo rose towards heaven, and the gilded statue of St. Michael glittered upon its summit. The helmeted sentinels in full armor, their lances poised upon their shoulders, paced the bridge with measured tread. At times they looked towards the castle, then upon the river, and then towards the distant horizon; for they knew that the Pope would seek to escape.

Further on, a strong detachment of soldiers were sleeping on the ground, with their helmets and lances carefully piled near them. Among these might have been seen the knight Goswin and the tailor Guerrazzi, who were engaged in earnest conversation.

The frankness of the worthy German found little to sympathize with in the crafty Italian; but Guerrazzi, who never lost the opportunity of showing his zeal for the Emperor, had offered to keep him company and share the fatigues of the night-watch. Of course no fault could be found with this, but Goswin looked upon his companion much as a dog would on a cat which fawned upon him. The German, it is true, had a very limited intellect, but his natural good sense taught him that the Italian was full of tricks and artifice.

At first he paid no attention whatever to Guerrazzi, as if to show him that his presence was a matter of perfect indifference, and he walked up and down the banks of the Tiber immersed in thought.

But Goswin was not a philosopher, and could not remain for hours at a time in a revery, so he very soon began to weary of the silence, and finally approached Guerrazzi.

"A very fine evening!" said the knight, opening the conversation like one who did not know what to say.

"We are in the month of July, n.o.ble sir, and at this season, I think, the custom ought to be to sleep all day and work at night."

"Sleep all day!--you?" said Goswin; "did I not see you on the square, haranguing the Romans, and working them up as a baker kneads soft dough? And if I mistake not, you were at the allied camp before daybreak? Don't you sleep either day or night?"

"Not when there is anything to be done, my lord; and there will be, as long as Rome is not entirely in the power of the Emperor!"

"What means that statue on the top of the tower?" asked Goswin, pointing to the castle.

"Ah! that is a strange story," replied the tailor, laughing. "They used to call the fort, Adrian's Mausoleum, but ever since an angel lighted on it, it has been named the tower of Saint Angelo."

"An angel came there? This is a strange story."

"I will tell it to you in a few words. It happened one night while Gregory the Great occupied the throne of St. Peter, that a terrible pestilence had broken out in Rome. None knew whence the scourge came, nor what caused it, but he who was smitten fell dead at once; the very air was infected, and it is since then that it is customary to say when a man sneezes: G.o.d bless you!--that means: may G.o.d preserve you from the pestilence! Now, when the disease had reached its height, Pope Gregory ordered a general fast and a procession through the city, to implore G.o.d's pity. Nothing was of any avail, although the physicians opposed the procession, on the ground that the concourse of so many persons would necessarily tend to spread the contagion. Gregory, absorbed in pious meditations, mounted to the summit of that tower, precisely as Alexander has since done. The people marched slowly onward, chanting the _miserere_; at every moment their ranks grew thinner, as a corpse fell to the ground. Suddenly the sky became illumined, and an angel was seen upon the tower. He held in his hand a fiery sword, which he brandished over the city, and then he seemed to return it to the scabbard. At the same instant the plague disappeared.

It is for this that you see there the image of the blessed Archangel St. Michael, who protects us still, for since then the pestilence has never appeared among us."

"This is indeed a marvellous legend!" said Goswin. "The flaming sword in the hand of St. Michael clearly shows the punishment which G.o.d intended for the Romans."

"There is no doubt about it," sneered Guerrazzi.

"You laugh?"

"Certainly; for I look upon the legend as an idle tale: old women often see miracles where our cool, good sense perceives nothing which is not entirely natural."

"But did not the plague cease?"

"Yes; but it would have disappeared all the same without St. Michael's interference."

The tailor's irony shocked the honest German, whose pious faith saw nothing astonis.h.i.+ng in the visitation of the glorious archangel.

"If all the Romans thought as you do, they did not deserve St.

Michael's a.s.sistance."

"Bah! the St. Michael of the mausoleum is not an article of the Creed!

Although I may think the story of the apparition false, I am not a pagan."

Goswin stared angrily at the tailor, and turned away.

Whilst this scene was pa.s.sing upon the bridge, Alexander was hurriedly preparing for his flight. The garrison was ignorant of the intentions of his Holiness, but in the antechamber of the apartment, the bishops and cardinals were kneeling, and reciting fervently the prayer for the safety of travellers.

The door of the Pope's chamber was open, and through it might be seen the Head of the Church and two ecclesiastics, all clothed as pilgrims, kneeling before the little altar, on which burned two candles before a large crucifix.

The cardinals and bishops prayed with voices tremulous with emotion.