The Truce of God / A Tale of the Eleventh Century

ch never ceaseth to enlarge itself Till,

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ancient canons been renewed and Guibert of Ravenna excommunicated, before the envoys of Rodolph appeared, an

the contest. The victory of Fladenheim had calmed the impetuosity of the Italian nobles 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 noble 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 spit

nger doubted, but deemed the agony of the empire already ended. Mass 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 excommunica

owes his elevation to his own unblushing 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 condemnatio

pe, under the name of Clement III. Henry next addressed himself to win the support of England; but

ruggle, the partisans of Rodolph and Henry were daily mingling in deadly strife. Nor were princes and counts, knights, pages, and vassals alone in the field, but the spear and sword flashed in the hands of bishops, abbots,

y the victory of Welf over Frederick of Hohenstau

proach. 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

ved, 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 mo

the troops of Rodolph were jaded with forced marches over roads almost impassable. 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

Suabia raised her arm against her noble 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

by Altman of Constance,

burg, and Worms; he c

of the Abbot of the C

iam de Hirschau, the mo

dheim, Berthold of Car

were ready to support

y at the head of their

were raised the lances

rchard of Nellemburg, Cu

albert of Calm, Albert

ra

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 r

t within striking distance of the enemy. Without moving from his position, Frederick of Hohenstaufen waited the assault. 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 nobles, who had hitherto watched the contest in silence and the deepest interest, besought the king to permit them to aid the retre

against the foe disordered by pursuit, and Rodolph saw his plans accomplished, he t

ay is

yer of thanksgiving, and,

our highn

rs rather than your co

hisper, and he

cts, 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, whil

last, gentlemen," crie

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 nobles to keep up with their invincible monarch, and only by dint of th

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 assailant. But the Suabian, displaying equal quickness, fell suddenly upon the neck of his steed, and the flying mass passed harmlessly over his head, grazing his crest. But as the rider rose to his seat, a Bohemian knight, dart

ing a blow and returning it. "Your shield bears no

earned one," was the reply. "My nam

ick towered full a foot above his adversary. But the Lord of Hohenstaufen was fatigued by his passage 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 R

s as cautious and

suddenly sinking his sword and low

Hers," replied the youth

his glove, "wear that for me, and say for Frederick of

of the strife. Though the praises of an illustrious enemy were sounding in his ears, he felt little of the exultation which such a circumstance 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 su

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 appetite for plunder; and the wisdom of his advice was soon made evident. He

ts us!" cried Otto; "

ines, and, though stubbornly resisted for a time, gained at last a complete victory. When the forces o

and take the rew

eagerness of pursuit, had rashly penetrated too far into the flying masses of the foe, who now tur

gainst a host, while his horse sank up to his knees in the marshy ground. Before succor could

ore up against his foes, and seemed to rejoice in the unequal strife. The chivalry of Suabia were spurring fast to the rescue, and Gilbert, now supported by a small band of friends, was almost at his side, when Godfrey de Bouillon charged the king with levelled lance. The steel, impelled by a powerful hand, entered at the

s arms. From Gregory VII to Pius IX, from the Dominican that accompanied Cortez to the Jesuit who followed a more recent conqueror, the Catholic missionary had been found in the front of battle. It was Father Omehr whose breast now pillowed the monarch's head. Gilbert's heart was almost bursting as he pressed the only remaining hand to his lip

nce it brings victory with it." From this moment he was speechless; and with his gaze earnestly bent upon his shield, that had been raised by a page, and on which was blazoned a crowned lion sleeping upon th

d for a fate still more dreadful. After wandering about, a prey to want and misery, they were now butchered by the peasantry of Saxony and Thuringia, who, armed with hatchets and scythes, flew to avenge upon the relic the wrongs they had suffered from the whole army. Many of the fugitives plunged into the forests, preferring the slow tooth of famine to the

his virtue, and justice, but he had endeared himself to the Saxons by his affability, his wisdom, and his valor. He had healed their private quarrels and humbled their public enemies; he found them divided and feeble, he left them united and v

knelt weeping around the bier, and the Archbishop of Mayence recited prayers for his soul. The night wore away, and when the morning broke out cheerfully as though no care were in the world, Gilbert de Hers still knelt beside the corpse of the king. No tears were in his eyes the

rseburg. After the obsequies had been performed with equal solemnity and magnificence, the body of the king was de

retired to such quarters as they could procure, Gilbert de Hers sought out Father Omehr, an

e to enter and banish every other feeling than that of deep love for her. But from the night of the coronation, a change had fallen upon the youth, which Father Omehr's keen eye had not failed to remark. He displayed no longer the same thoughtless gayety or the same dreamy abstraction. He had reveries, it is true, proceeding from the fear of losing the Lady Margaret, or the hope of gaining her. The missionary had refrained from questioning the young knight,

sat awhile in silence, the latter took his companion by the hand, and, as the visit seemed to s

passed away before he could compose himself, and then he only said: "To witness him struck down by death just as he had gained all for whi

le, excited face and trembling figure which, with clasp

the youth was kneeling

great bell of the cathedr

rted, "you have been taught to despise

e earth than again encounter the Saxons. When Otto and Welf were thus assured of Henry's immediate inability to injure them, they disbanded the troops which had served them so gallantly. Much as the soldiers longed to return to their homes, they did not part without some reluctance. They had long toiled side by side in the same glorious cause; they

y rode along swiftly, and whenever they spoke it was about the Lady Margaret. Father Omehr alone preserved his equanimity, and even he was now unusually absent and thoughtful. Nor was the retinue of Albert of Hers more cheerful. Sir Albert's eyes were fixed o

incere. In spite of her piety, that pride, so difficult to curb, would still break out. But these infirmities had been zealously combated, until religion had triumphed over the weakness of humanity. Still, for some time, the Lady Margaret was unhappy, and accused herself of human love in seeking the reconciliation, imputing the revolution in her feelings to a culpable tenderness. But she soon discovered that vanity-that an aspiration after the consciousness of perfection rather than true piety-occasioned her uneasiness. She no longer tormented herself with dangerous mistrusts, but gave

reverted to the challenge she had given the assailants of Stramen Castle, and

by leaving there a bunch of flowers. She spent most of the day in a cushioned chair-she was too weak to kneel long. She loved to sit in the sunlight, holding the countess's hand in her own attenuated fingers. Then she would speak of her father and brother, and say that on the morrow they would surely be reunited. She never mentioned sickness or pain; she saw her com