CHAPTER LV.
THE HAND OF GOD
The plague continued to rage as violently as it had broken out. Death smote its victims without forewarning: some fell as they were putting foot in stirrup to mount their steeds; others, by the side of the friend whom they were placing in the grave, which had been dug for him through charity.
"God chastises us for our behavior to the Pope," said the Romans.
This feeling spread even among the German soldiery. The tents were emptied of their inhabitants who had fallen victims to the direful contagion. In a few days, many thousands had perished, and among them the Emperor's cousin, the Duke of Suabia, and Diepold of Bohemia; but the bishops were attacked with marked virulence, and it seemed as though not one of them was destined to return to his home. There was a dead silence everywhere, unbroken even by the clash of arms, and naught was heard but the creaking of the death-carts piled up with corpses which were thrown together by hundreds into a common pit. But soon it was no longer possible even to bury them, and the dead bodies lay rotting in the sun; adding by their pestilential odors to the malignity of the disease.
Even the horses were attacked; they fell into a species of stupor which terminated in death. Still, although his camp was almost depopulated, Barbarossa remained unmoved; he hoped that the plague would wear itself out, and that he might resume the great work which it had interrupted. As yet the Romans had not sworn allegiance to the Empire, Pascal had not been installed as sovereign Pontiff and Frangipani still held bravely out in the Castle of St. Angelo, The partisans of Alexander must be entirely destroyed; and to accomplish this Frederic would not yield a step, not even to the plague.
In this determination he was encouraged by Dassel.
"If we give up now," he said, "we are lost. All Christendom will look upon our defeat as a judgment of Heaven. You cannot hereafter undertake anything which will not appear to be marked with the seal of divine displeasure."
Frederic admitted the justice of the policy, and determined to dare everything. He rode through the streets of the camp, striving to encourage his troops. Erwin was always at his side, although he had frequently implored his young kinsman to return to Germany.
"You must go beyond the Alps," he said. "I wish it; and as soon as this Roman question is settled, I will join you."
"But I will not go, my dear godfather, even were the camp peopled with corpses."
The Emperor was deeply touched by this mark of affection, and he pressed the young man's hand with emotion.
One day, Barbarossa returned to his tent, after his usual round of inspection. The destruction of his army seemed inevitable, if it was not soon removed from this pestilential atmosphere, and his indomitable pride was crushed at last.
He ordered the immediate attendance of his chancellor.
Rinaldo was writing in his tent; near him sat his favorite pupil Hillin, who had been nominated upon his recommendation to the bishopric of Augsburg, and the Chancellor was then dispatching his orders and instructions to the chapter, for which Hillin was to start at once.
"You have scarcely as yet the age which is prescribed by the canons," said Dassel; "but the canons are out of date, like many other things. What an absurdity it is to leave talent unrewarded on the pretext of youth! How old are you, Hillin?"
There was no reply.
"I ask you your age."
Still there was the same silence! He turned his head and started back in horror. Hillin was dead, his hand still held the pen, his arms rested on the table, and his head had fallen forward upon the parchment.
Shaking his head in astonishment, Dassel walked towards the corpse and then called for his servants. His fear had passed away, for the Chancellor was not easily agitated.
"Hillin is dead," he said; "the young man had fine prospects, and would have been useful; but dead, he is only a nuisance. Take away this carcass!"
At this moment the Emperor sent for him, and Rinaldo, throwing into the fire the now useless letter, dressed himself in his court-robes and repaired to his master's presence.
Frederic's face was sad and calm. He replied to his minister's bow with a mute smile, and motioned him to a seat.
"Chancellor," he said; "we have done all that is possible. But Heaven seems inexorable; the plague rages with renewed fury; two-thirds of my army have perished, and if we remain here longer, the remainder will share their fate."
"Still we must stay here. Our flight will only aggravate our condition; I have foreseen all this. The plague will cease as unexpectedly as it began."
"But if it really were a chastisement from God?" said Barbarossa.
Rinaldo sneered viciously: he looked steadily at the Emperor for a moment, and then answered, -
"We must then suppose that God amuses himself by punishing the Romans every year; for every year the heat raises these noxious vapors from the marshes, and breeds a pestilential fever; it is an unhealthy climate, that is all that can be said."
Barbarossa shook his head.
"Your explanations are not satisfactory," he replied; "this is no fever, it is the plague, and the plague is not the result of mere chance, it is the effect of divine wrath! We must humble ourselves before God!"
"By all means, Sire; and since God opposes our designs, we must give up, and acknowledge ourselves to be beaten by Alexander!"
This remark touched the Emperor's pride, and Rinaldo continued his arguments.
"I thought," he said, "that it was only the rabble who had these ideas about God's judgment-"
A wild shriek closed his speech: the Chancellor was a corpse, and Barbarossa stood gazing upon his confidant, whose features still bore the impress of devilish hate.
The Germans, however, did not abandon the bodies of their princes. All were embalmed and transported from Italy beyond the Alps, to be buried in the cathedrals of their native land. Two large tents were pitched, beneath which were laid out in state the deceased nobles: the bishops in full canonicals, with cross and mitre; the knights in complete armor, as if about to go to battle.
A small escort rode up: in front came the cross, borne by the Bishop of Pavia, and followed by the clergy, and then Rinaldo's body, carried by four of his own soldiers; Barbarossa, Rechberg, and a few of the nobles closed the procession. At the entrance, the Bishop of Pavia recited the prayers for the dead, and then the mortal remains of the once powerful Chancellor were deposited with the others. All, save the Emperor and his kinsman, departed in silence, but Frederic still stood there, sad and dejected, a tear in his eye, gazing upon all that was left on earth of those who had died in his cause. There lay his cousin the Duke of Suabia; near him Diepold of Bohemia, Count Berenger of Sulzbach. Rodolph of Pfulendorf, Henry of Tubingen, and Ludolf of Dassel, the bishops of Prague, Ratisbon, and Augsburg, of Basle, of Spires, and of Constance, of Toul and Verdern and Cologne. Who could say whether he too would not soon take his place among these lifeless bodies? He began at last to look with awful fear upon his eternal future, and almost completely weaned from earthly vanities, he returned to his own apartments.
CHAPTER LVI.
CONCLUSION
Barbarossa retreated with the remains of his once powerful army towards Germany; but before he had reached Lucca, two thousand more were stricken down by the pestilence. Attacked and annoyed on all sides by the Lombard league, he finally fought his way to the loyal city of Pavia, where he rejoined the Empress Beatrice and was able to take some repose.
But the terrible chastisement at Rome had only quelled his pride for the moment, and it now broke out again, as he turned to crush the Lombard league. The confederation had attained an extension which he had not anticipated; Lodi and Cremona had joined it, and all swore to root the German rule out of Italy.
But although Frederic was preparing to open an energetic campaign against the Lombards, the reasons which had induced our hero to remain in the camp existed no longer, and he felt himself irresistibly drawn towards Castellamare. He was only at two days' journey from the dwelling of his betrothed; but the roads were infested with the light troops of the Lombard league. Still the young knight determined to risk everything, and he informed the Emperor of his intentions, with little care whether they met with his sovereign's approval or not.
To his surprise, however, Barbarossa listened gravely, but without any marks of disapprobation.
"I should be wrong," he said, "to make any further opposition to a love which has survived so many trials. Bonello acted badly, but I have since learned he is not implicated in this new confederation, although his refusal may have been really perilous to his own safety, and this deserves some consideration. I approve of your choice, Erwin, and wish you every happiness; but the roads are unsafe, and I cannot now give you the proper escort."
"The insurgents will respect my pilgrim's cape," replied the young man.
It was true, the pious spirit of this age forgot every party feeling in presence of the crusader's staff, and even Frederic's hatred was obliged to do this justice to his adversaries.
Rechberg left the Emperor to search for his faithful Gero. As he passed through the palace he met a nobleman who was entering at the gates. It was Heribert of Rapallo.
"Have you aught to lay before His Majesty, sir knight?" asked Rechberg.
"Yes, if you will assist me," replied Heribert, who was attracted by the frank demeanor of our hero; "but I can find no one to present me to him. I have already spoken fruitlessly to several persons, but it is absolutely necessary that I communicate to the Emperor a message from the lady of Castellamare. I must speak with him."
"The lady of Castellamare!" said Erwin, whose heart was beating violently.
"As you are the only person who has shown me any courtesy, you shall know the whole affair. Hermengarde, for so the lady is named, has been betrothed for six years past to the Emperor's cousin, the famous Count Erwin of Rechberg. But the Count went to Palestine, where, it is said, he fell a victim to the Saracens; and Bonello, the lady's father, now wishes her to choose another husband."
"And Hermengarde?" said Erwin, trembling.
"She will obey, provided the Count be really dead, but she still doubts the fact."
The young man grew pale.
"Count Rechberg!" he spoke wildly as if he scarcely knew the import of his words. "But I have heard of him; I think that I remember."
"Where then is he? does he live?" inquired Rapallo, with a voice of mixed joy and sadness.
"He does live."
"God be thanked!"
"Do you know him who seeks Hermengarde's love?" asked Rechberg.
"It is I."
"And yet you would rejoice at the Count's safe return?"
"With all my heart! Hermengarde would have married me only through obedience to her father's wishes."
"You are a noble heart," said Rechberg, taking the other's hand. "Yes, Erwin of Rechberg still lives, and he stands before you now."
Heribert uttered an involuntary ejaculation of surprise and started back; then he bowed respectfully.
"The Emperor's cousin is your friend for life," said Erwin; "it can never be otherwise, after such noble self-devotion. Come with me to my own apartments, for I have many questions to ask you."
On the next day they started with their retinue for Castellamare. The journey was made without interruption, for although they encountered many of the Lombard bands, Heribert's pass-words removed every opposition. Erwin soon perceived that his companion belonged to the League; but this circumstance in no way injured him in his consideration. Although thoroughly loyal to his sovereign, Rechberg could not approve of his system of government, and was obliged to admit that the insurrection was by no means without cause. On the second day they reached Castellamare, where joy knew no bounds, and the old Bonello even wept with emotion.
A few months later, the marriage of the long betrothed couple took place in the presence of all the nobility of the province.
Frederic succeeded in retreating into Germany; but he was no longer a conqueror at the head of his army; he was a fugitive.
The catastrophe at Rome had annihilated all his plans, and the people were convinced that God had interfered between him and the Church. His partisans were discouraged and lost all influence; and he was at last compelled to sue for a reconciliation with Alexander.
The meeting of the two sovereigns took place at Venice, where they embraced, and swore a friendship which was never afterwards broken.
No longer guided by the pernicious counsels of his Chancellor, Frederic attended to his duties, and abjured all his errors. He governed his empire with energy and justice; and what he could not accomplish with the Church against him, was an easy task as soon as he submitted to her sway; within a few years he became the most powerful sovereign of the world.
At last, at an advanced age, he left Germany for the Holy Land. But he could not reach the goal which he sought, and on the very frontier of Palestine, on the 10th of June, 1190, he found his death in the freezing waters of the Cyanus.
The crusaders recovered his body, which they buried under the banner of the cross, at Antioch.
Recalled to the presence of his God, in the fulfilment of a holy enterprise, Barbarossa, we may hope, expiated the errors of his past life, and was vouchsafed the forgiveness of his sins.