Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century.. Conrad von Bolanden

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Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century. - Conrad von Bolanden

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on Hermengarde, his bold imagination at once conceived a plan of which it alone was capable.

      "My support is cheerfully offered, my lord Abbot," said he, after a moment's silence. "As much through respect for you, as from interest in this amiable young lady; but we must take every precaution, and not act rashly. I have a trifling affair to arrange with the Saxon Duke, and will then at once join you. Pray, in the meanwhile go into my tent."

      The Count directed one of his attendants to show every respect to the prelate and his suite during his absence, and then, after a few words of cheer to the young girl, continued on his way.

      "What a lucky meeting!" said the Chancellor, who never neglected even the most unimportant circumstance. "The Lion can never look at this girl calmly. She is rather young, it is true, and a few years more would be in her favor; still, compared with Clemence, the Duke will not hesitate an instant."

      He had by this time arrived at the Saxon tent, and dismounting, he left his escort in the ante-chamber, passing himself into an inner apartment. Beckoning to a servant who was in waiting, -

      "Can I speak with your master?" he asked.

      "In a few moments, my lord! The Duke is at present with his family, and desires not to be interrupted."

      In the adjoining room he could hear the deep voice of a man mingling with the gay laugh and joyous prattle of children.

      "There is no hurry about it," replied Dassel.

      And he paced the ante-chamber, seemingly immersed in grave thought, but in reality listening to what was said in the Duke's chamber.

      Henry the Lion was a bold and courageous monarch, ever occupied in the extension of his territories. His dream was to unite under his sway all the provinces of Northern Germany, as Frederic had done with those of the South. Under the pretext of converting the heathen, he had been engaged for many years in a war with the Slaves, but the aggrandizement of his kingdom was a motive far more potent than could be the triumph of the true faith.

      The innovations attempted by Frederic in the affairs of the Church met with little favor in his eyes, for he made no secret of his leanings towards orthodoxy, and although, as a vassal of the Empire, he fought against the Lombards, still in his heart he sympathized with their resistance to the encroachments of the Emperor. He refused to recognize Victor, the anti-Pope, whose slavish nature he despised, and whom he openly treated with contempt as occupying a position to which he was not legally entitled. It needed all Frederic's diplomacy to secure the co-operation of the Duke in the struggle which he was about to inaugurate, for Barbarossa had long felt the necessity of detaching him from the support of Alexander III., and it seemed as though the crafty Chancellor had discovered a sure means of success.

      Whilst the minister was plotting his dishonorable combinations, the Duke, all unconscious of the visit awaiting him, was seated in the bosom of his family, Henry was a tall, powerfully built man, with dark hair and eyes, a heavy beard, and a frank open expression upon his sun-burned features. His remarkable strength had gained him the surname of the Lion. He was impatient of all repose, and chafed bitterly at the inaction to which the Emperor had condemned him.

      Near him sat the Duchess, busied with her embroidery. Not without personal and intellectual attractions, she was sincerely attached to her husband, but the affection which he had once felt for the lovely Clemence had long since made way for other sentiments. Honoring her virtues, he could not but feel deeply mortified that he was without an heir, and to his intimate associates he had more than once hinted at the possibility of a divorce.

      "Look, Clemence! what a fine boy our little Hildegarde would make," said the Duke, playing with the silken curls of the child who had glided between his knees. "He would be old enough now to play with arms, or sharpen arrows, and in a few years could fight by my side!"

      "And perhaps die there, husband!"

      "Our five daughters run no risk of dying a hero's death!" he replied bitterly. "Ah! I would give the half of my left hand if one of those girls were a boy!"

      "Henry, do not cherish such gloomy thoughts. You make me tremble for our future!"

      "Never mind! a hand for a son!" continued Henry, with growing rage. "If my death-bed could be surrounded by five sons, I should feel that my toils had not been altogether unavailing. Ah! those five young lions could complete the work which their father had begun, and their combined efforts might defy the Emperor. But it is a painful, a bitterly painful thought, that I shall die and leave to helpless girls the great work which I have so painfully achieved."

      Clemence let fall her work and gazed upon her husband; despite her gentle nature and her sentiments of Christian resignation, she was much depressed by his violent outburst.

      "Pardon, dear Henry!" she said; "your views are selfish ones. He who toils only for earthly fame, gives little thought to Eternity. In this world, we should be contented with the consciousness that we have always acted honestly and from noble motives!"

      "A sad fate!"

      "But the best, the most really meritorious! The true crown of glory is eternal and unfading! What we accomplish on earth is often valueless hereafter, for what then avails a lifetime spent in strife, and storms, and troubles! I implore you, dear husband, do not question the decrees of Providence; think less of earthly greatness, for pride leads to forgetfulness of God, and to eternal perdition!"

      "You are right," said the Prince, who had listened calmly while Clemence was speaking, "if we are to measure honor's reward by what comes after death; but I maintain that I would gladly exchange some leaves of my heavenly crown, for the prospect of an earthly heir."

      A slight noise was heard, the curtains were lifted, and Lanzo with a serious face entered the room.

      "Whence come you, knave?"

      "From the gallows, godfather!"

      "What! am I the sponsor of a gallows-bird?"

      "You have no reason to be ashamed of it, cousin, since it appears to be the fashion, nowadays, to hang honest people!"

      "Who has been hanged?"

      "Oh! just now, no one; but those who have the halter around their necks are not always the worst off. It may be that your Grace or the Emperor would send an honest citizen to execution; but, when the devil in person leads a man to the scaffold, it is another thing!"

      "You are not bright to-day, Lanzo!"

      "And why not, master?"

      "This stupid speech about the devil leading a man to the scaffold."

      "My luminous idea was a true one, though," said the jester. "Would you like me to show you one of Satan's tricks?"

      "I am somewhat curious; let us see."

      "Be good enough then to open wide the eyes of your understanding, for he who is blind in spirit, although carnally lucid, cannot discover the wiles of the demon. The works of his diabolical Majesty are, like Beelzebub himself, of a spiritual essence. The first and chief agent of the devil is-guess what, cousin!"

      "What do you mean?"

      "Pride! Whenever Satan can entangle a man in the meshes of pride, it is all over with him! Pride rises, and aspires to rise. Let us suppose that our individual is a duke, he covets the Empire; and to accomplish his purpose, would destroy every barrier to his ambition, even were it necessary to be guilty of a crime. Should he be an Emperor, he desires the power of God, and even the

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