Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century.

CHAPTER XXIX.

HUMILIATION

The Milanese had not doubted that their proposition would be at once accepted. Frederic's refusal consequently was a matter of surprise, and a majority of the most influential citizens felt confident that the people would continue an energetic defence, rather than unconditionally capitulate. They were mistaken. The Milanese refused to hear a word spoken in favor of further resistance.

When this information was communicated to the monarch, his satisfaction was unbounded, for he foresaw at once the results of his victory; – with Milan fell the last support of Alexander III.

Frederic had driven the unfortunate Pontiff from Rome; and although Genoa had offered him an asylum, this city could not hope to be able long to serve as a refuge to the fugitive head of the Church; for with the surrender of Milan, the resistance of the remaining cities of Lombardy became unavailing.

"The chief bulwark of Alexander's faction is levelled, and his defeat prepares a glorious future for you, Sire," said Rinaldo, entering the Imperial chamber. "Your wish of itself will suffice to drive Roland from Genoa. And where can he go then? Spain alone can support his supremacy so long as she is not struggling against the Moors. As to France, she cannot recognize this pretended pope, and England must follow her example. I see nothing for him but to seek the aid of the Saracens, – a strange alliance for His Holiness."

He was dreaming of the future; Frederic, on the other hand, was occupied only with the present. He desired that the formal surrender of Milan should take place in the style best calculated to strike the imagination. He wanted a tragedy to mark the fall of this queen of Lombardy, and he fixed the 6th of March as the date of the performance.

A platform, sufficiently vast to accommodate, at the same time, the Emperor and all his nobles, was erected outside of the camp. It was an amphitheatre, with fourteen tiers of seats for the nobility, whilst the Imperial throne towered above in splendid magnificence, an emblem of the supremacy of the sovereign. The platform was hung with scarlet cloth, and costly carpets were spread in the immediate vicinity of the monarch's stand, which was richly ornamented with garlands of flowers and decked with the pennons of the different princes. Behind was hoisted the Imperial banner.

On the appointed day the troops were drawn up in battle-array upon the plain, and the sunlight danced merrily upon the thousands of helmets and lances of polished steel. Nearer, the knights, in complete armor, sat motionless upon their chargers, like a wall of iron.

The Milanese advanced despondently and slowly in dense masses. At their head walked the consuls, barefooted, with halters around their necks, and clothed in sackcloth. The banners and escutcheons of the several municipalities were borne aloft on long lances. Not a breath of wind moved them, and they hung sadly against their staves, as though mourning their city's ruin. The keys of the town were carried on a cushion of blue velvet, ready to be offered, by the consuls, to the Emperor. The bugles at times rang out a melancholy wail of despair, and when they ceased, there went up a dirge of woe mingled with supplications for mercy, like those uttered by the people in moments of national calamity. It seemed as if Heaven were taking part in the sombre pageant, for dark clouds suddenly veiled the sun, and the air grew heavy and oppressive. The victors themselves were affected by the sight of this humiliation of their valiant enemies, and only among the troops of the Italian auxiliaries could be seen a sneer of irony and exultation.

The consuls halted in front of the platform, and a thrill of anxious expectation ran from rank to rank, until it reached the gates of Milan, whence the people still continued to issue. Insensibly the crowd stood still. The very boldest now were bowed to the earth. On all sides nothing met the eye but ashes and cords and penitential vestments. The trumpets were silent, and the solemn chant,

Kyrie Eleison

!

Kyrie Eleison

! was heard, as if the citizens would show that they expected no aid now but from God. From time to time a plaintive groan was answered by a thousand sighs of agony: it seemed the dying breath of a whole nation whose funeral knell was sounding.

There was a flourish of trumpets near the Imperial tent; Barbarossa was about to appear. The sound grew nearer and more distinct; and then the Emperor, surrounded by his nobles, rode up and dismounted about thirty paces from the throne. With haughty bearing and a look of pride upon his face, Frederic moved forward, followed by a splendid array of knights and princes. Far away in the distance stretched the serried ranks of the army, and the whole scene had that character of majestic grandeur so well suited to the sovereign who dictated the laws of the world.

Next to the monarch came the ambassadors of France and Spain and England, who, although nominally sent to the Court on business of State, seemed only there to share in Barbarossa's triumph as spectators of his greatness. Frederic mounted the throne, his nobles took seats in the amphitheatre, and at once a loud shout of glad applause rent the air. The meanest soldier of the army rejoiced, for he felt that the bright rays of the Imperial sun shone even upon him. He saw the Emperor above all; below him were the brilliant ranks of the nobles, at his feet the people of Milan, prostrate and humbled in the dust! The mind of Barbarossa was occupied with considerations of grave importance. His face beamed with the intoxication of success, for his soul exulted in his new honors. He saw all the nations, from Rome to Lubeck, with their millions of inhabitants, submissive to his sceptre. He thought of England and Spain, and France and Greece; and though there was much for him to do ere they could be overcome, the end which he had in view seemed bright with hope. His dream was to establish the supremacy of the Empire over all the thrones of Christendom. He was ambitious to be the successor of Charlemagne, not merely in name and dignity, but also in power. Plunged in his revery, he had forgotten even the contemplated demolition of rebellious Milan. The consuls had delivered up the keys of the city, already they had sworn their fealty, in the presence of four hundred nobles, when a tumultuous movement of the troops interrupted his meditations.

One wing of the army which occupied the open space between the encampment and the fortress, had changed front, and swinging round, opened a passage to the advancing population, which was mingling its groans and lamentations with the blasts of martial music and the shouts of triumph. With halters around their necks and cross in hand, covered with sackcloth and penitential vestments, they halted, successively, before the Imperial throne, and as each group laid down before it their banners and trumpets, they solemnly swore fealty, and then, slowly and sadly, took their way towards the narrow space reserved for them on the opposite side of the plain.

There was something really majestic in this simple demonstration of the Milanese; and as their bugles sounded their farewell notes, and their banners fell upon the ground, one would have imagined that a fraction of the people was breathing its last sigh. Even the conquerors were moved to pity, and although those nearest to the sovereign prudently dissembled their emotion, the tears coursed down the bronzed cheeks of more than one rude soldier. Barbarossa alone was stern and pitiless, and his remorseless glance, bent upon the vanquished foe, seemed to indicate that he considered the punishment a feeble atonement for the outrage offered to his Imperial majesty.

The plain was now covered with a dense crowd. An immense chariot, drawn by five white oxen, advanced slowly, bearing the celebrated statue of St. Ambrose, Milan's patron saint, and an immense pole from which fluttered the city's flag and those of all the other towns of the confederation. The chariot was hung with scarlet cloth, the drivers were dressed in scarlet, and twelve warriors, with casques and corslets of polished steel, covered with robes of purple, formed an escort of honor.

This chariot, which had been built by the Archbishop Ariberti, played an important part in times of war, and was looked upon almost as the

Palladium

 of the City of Milan.

During battle its banner towered above the combatants, and served as a rallying-point; and it was the duty of the citizens to defend it to the death, – it was the symbol, the soul of the free City, the glory and honor of Milan.

It halted in front of the throne, and the guards descended. A death-like silence reigned, and glances of tearful anger were turned towards Barbarossa. Suddenly an ominous crash was heard, the flag-staff had broken, and its fall upset the car. The image of St. Ambrose, the flags and banners, had rolled in the dust; and the deep bell of the distant cathedral tolled out mournfully, as these symbols, once so brilliant, lay stretched upon the ground, in striking analogy to the fate which awaited Milan.

The people broke oat in groans of rage; some tore their hair in very desperation, while others, yielding to the weight of their emotion, were silent and bit their lips with grief and mortification. Still the Emperor remained unmoved, although there were tears on the energetic face of Henry the Lion, and his features told of his deep sympathy with the humiliation of the illustrious city.

The Count of Biandrate, formerly an ally of the Milanese, but now a stanch partisan of the Emperor, advanced, and kneeling before the sovereign, craved his mercy.

"I implore your Majesty," he said, "to have pity upon this people, which, humbled in the dust, prays for your forgiveness. All the greatness, all the power of the proud city is at your feet. Do not regard them as criminals; look upon them as your children who knew not how to discriminate between good and evil; grant them their lives, and let compassion moderate your justice!"

"Experience has already taught us the sad results of too much clemency," answered Barbarossa. "Milan has despised and rejected our favors, and has always remained the centre of all the seditions, the directress of all the plots against the Empire and its sovereign."

"Nevertheless, I still supplicate your Majesty," continued the Count, seeing that the Emperor's hesitation displeased the nobles, "not to break the bruised reed. Would the fame of your Highness, or of the German nation be increased, if, upon a sign from you, this mighty city, this assemblage of warriors, became the object of a chastisement unequalled in the annals of Christendom?"

The nobles audibly gave signs of approbation, and Frederic was unable to resist. Too much violence might produce unpleasant consequences; he understood the position and moderated his sentence.

"I will treat them with all the forbearance which is compatible with justice," he said. "All have merited death; we will grant their lives to all!"

"God be praised!" exclaimed the nobles.

But the Italians murmured. They wished nothing less than the destruction of the city; and several of the consuls of the allied towns stepped forward, and expressed their views with a violence and animosity which, inwardly, pleased the Emperor.

"Sire," said the Pavian consul, "Milan destroyed Como and Lodi, it is but justice that she should share their fate."

"Recollect, Sire," added the consul of Vercelli, "that you owe support to those who always remained faithful to your cause. So long as Milan exists, neither peace nor order is possible. You have conquered the she-wolf; your trusty sword has forced her to grovel in the dust; but that is not enough; she must be destroyed! A few years hence, and Milan, always thirsting for her neighbors' blood, will again extend her tyranny over all Lombardy. We ask for simple justice. Sire, give us justice!"

"You have every right to demand our protection," replied Frederic, "and you shall have it. We will never permit our faithful subjects to be oppressed. Milan shall be deserted, and within fifteen days all its inhabitants must leave the city, and be divided into four detachments separated from each other by a distance of at least two miles."

The monarch arose and gave the signal that the ceremony was finished. – He mounted his charger, and, surrounded by his nobles, trampling under their horses' hoofs the banners which were spread out upon the ground, – returned to his camp amid the loud strains of martial music, while the Milanese wept sadly over the destruction of their much loved city.

CHAPTER XXX.

AMUSEMENTS

On the 26th of March, 1162, the victorious Emperor made his triumphal entry into the conquered city, not through the gates, but over the dismantled fortifications. Thence he proceeded with his Court to Pavia, where he celebrated his successes with extraordinary pomp, and received the envoys from the cities allied to Milan, who, despairing of preserving their liberty, came to tender their submission. Severe terms were imposed upon Brescia, Placenza, Imola, Faenza, and Bologna, while immense concessions were granted to those towns which had remained faithful to their allegiance. Barbarossa also opened negotiations with the powerful maritime republics of Genoa and Pisa, to which were secured, by a secret treaty, portions of Sicily and Catania, until a more equal division could be made of the rich treasures of the King of Naples.

In this way Frederic followed up his designs, even while he seemed most absorbed in his pleasures.

Pavia surpassed herself in her efforts to entertain her illustrious guest. The different corporations took turns in the amusements; but he always found time to see everything, and nothing escaped his attention or passed without praise. Accompanied by a brilliant retinue, often with the Empress at his side, he rode through the streets decked with flags, winning golden opinions from all, for he conversed freely with the humblest citizen, and never dismissed unaided any one who came to ask his pity.

Frederic possessed the great talent of nearly all those who aspire to extended dominion; he knew how to conciliate popular sympathy.

After a succession of jousts and tournaments, balls and joyous galas, it was decided to produce the spectacle of the capture of a fort defended by women and young girls. A square redoubt was built, flanked with small towers and balconies, and with walls of variegated stuffs, of velvets, purple, and ermine. The actors were clothed in rich tissues, decorated with gold and diamonds; and in place of helmets they wore crowns of filigree-work or costly diadems. In lieu of deadly weapons, they carried perfumed rose-water and amber, with which they drenched the assailants. The variety of colors, the splendid materials which formed the fortress, and the grace and beauty of its defenders, made up a charming picture.

Before the assault, a new pageant advanced to the sound of joyous music; it was the corporation of bakers, carrying before them on a car decked with flags and ribbons, an immense cake, a masterpiece of their art. They marched around the fortress singing, and then deposited their offering near a tall pole, announcing that it was to be the prize of the person who could pull down the banner fastened to the summit of the mast.

Next came the corporation of the butchers, with an immense hog roasted whole; they were followed by the game dealers and the other trade societies, all with costly presents. The vast cask of wine offered by the tavern-keepers caused especial pleasure to the Germans.

Meanwhile the young men prepared for the assault; surrounding the mimic fortress, they were met with a shower of dates, pears, apples, nutmegs, and cakes. Although it was only in sport, there was a good deal of excitement, as is the case in the beginning of every contest, and the cheeks of the fair defenders flushed, and their eyes flashed as their enemies drew near.

The podestà raised his baton, and, to the sounds of a flute, the strife began. On all sides a cloud of dates, quinces, and sweetmeats was hurled against the fortress; the walls shook, and a noisy music drowned the cries of the wounded. A shower of rose-water filled the air with rich perfume, whilst a crowd of boys eagerly picked up the dainty missiles.

One young man, particularly, displayed great energy during the assault. Despite the rose-water and the amber, he reached the castle-door, and forcing the passage with a rose-covered wand, penetrated to the heart of the place. His courage excited the emulation and the envy of all; but his triumph was short-lived, and he was soon expelled by the besieged. He came out, wrapped from head to foot in a sheet smeared with honey, and when at last he had succeeded in disentangling himself, a swarm of flies covered him, to the great amusement of the spectators. Soon the besiegers declared that the citadel was impregnable, and then a lady of lofty bearing appeared upon one of the balconies, and announced the terms of capitulation.

"You have learned, valiant warriors," she said, "that violence can accomplish nothing against us women. It is true that you are our masters, but we know how to repay with usury, anything like cruelty or ill-treatment. Only show us kindness and courtesy, and you can have what you will. By virtue of my office, as governor of this castle, I think it my duty to inform you that we have kept it as long as it so pleased us, and now we surrender of our own free will, in order to set you an example of moderation."

This harangue was received with laughter and shouts of applause, and then the music announced that the ascent of the pole would begin.

The Knight of Groswin, who was among the lookers-on, took no pains to conceal his discontent; for the assault of the mimic fortress, far from amusing him, had only provoked his anger, and it was evident that he would have sought more congenial amusements, had he not been detained there on duty.

"What a stupid game! what a silly idea!" he said, as he glanced towards the balcony, where Frederic and his courtiers were laughing and talking with animation.

"I cannot understand the Emperor," he resumed; "he chatters like an old woman, and laughs as though he really were amused by these mummeries. But, after all, it may only be a mask, the better to deceive these Italians. – I wonder how he will look when he hears my message?"

Goswin left the crowd, and entering the palace, sought the Imperial hall.

"That fellow climbs well," said Barbarossa to the Pisan envoy; "see how tightly he clings to the slippery pole; I advise you to recruit him for your fleet."

"We have plenty of sailors still more active than he Sire. The approaching hostilities against Naples will show you of what our men are capable."

"Have the deputies yet started for Pisa and Genoa?" inquired the Emperor.

"They went yesterday, Sire," replied the Pisan.

"We will take advantage of the present opportunity, and no longer delay the punishment which the unfriendly behavior of the Neapolitan king so well merits. I am confident that the opposition of Venice is only prolonged by William's assistance."

"Perhaps it would be well to curb the power of the Venetians a little?" remarked a Genoese. "It is not an easy matter, but your Majesty can be assured of our hearty co-operation."

Frederic received this overture with evident satisfaction; the mutual jealousy of the Italian cities served his own projects admirably.

"What tidings does the Knight Goswin bring us?" asked the Emperor, as the noble entered.

"A communication which your Highness-"

"Is it very important?" said Frederic, hastily, fearing lest the imprudent soldier might reveal, to indiscreet ears, things which ought not to be known to every one. "Excuse me for a moment, my lords," and he withdrew on one side with Goswin.

"Well, what is it?" he asked.

"Count Rechberg has returned to Lombardy."

"Is that all? there was scarcely need to take the trouble of telling me anything so unimportant."

"It was the abbot who announced it to me; and I was to communicate it to you," replied Goswin.

"The abbot! – What abbot?" asked the Emperor.

"The one who came to your camp before Milan, last summer."

"The Abbot Conrad, you mean?"

"Perhaps that is his name; he awaits you in the palace."

"What motive can bring him?" inquired Frederic, greatly surprised.

"I can tell you, Sire: the abbot comes in the name of the Archbishop of Salzburg, who is now near Pavia with some other prelates."

"What is this you say?" cried Barbarossa; "the Archbishop of Salzburg in Italy, near us! How stupid in you, Goswin, to announce in this frivolous manner a matter of such great importance!"

"I supposed that Count Erwin had, at least, as much importance in your eyes, as the Bishop of Salzburg," answered the knight.

"But why does he remain outside of the town? What prelates are with him?"

"You can ask him yourself, Sire."

Frederic was going out, when the Podestà of Pavia entered.

"One word only, Sire," he said.

"Well, but speak quickly; the Metropolitan of Salzburg, accompanied by several other prelates, has just arrived to offer us their congratulations."

The crafty Pavian understood better than Goswin the bearings of this visit.

"It is another victory, Sire, a new triumph for your ideas, more important, perhaps, even than that which you achieved at Milan. I merely wished to inquire whether the two hundred silver marks, which Pavia has laid at your feet, will be sufficient? – we are quite ready to offer more, should it be required."

"The sum is sufficient, Count; many thanks!"

"I also desire to remark, that the destruction of Tortona is absolutely necessary to the security of your faithful Pavia. Your magnanimous generosity was satisfied with the demolition of the fortifications; but, Sire, the work is only half done."

"Pavia has nothing to fear from an open place."

"Walls are soon rebuilt, Sire, and you know the unfriendly feelings of Tortona towards us. We Pavians are ready to make any sacrifice, if you will allow us to destroy that city."

Frederic, without answering, left the room abruptly.

"Very well!" said the Podestà, rubbing his hands gayly; "that means, do as you please: I will not do it myself, but I will not forbid it."

Goswin had heard all the conversation, and even his intelligence took in all the immorality of the scene.

"This really is a piece of knavery!" he said, as he followed his master. "Tortona displeases Pavia; Pavia offers money to the Emperor, and Tortona will be destroyed! Now I call this proceeding neither honorable, imperial, nor even Christian."

The monarch hastened to the ancient palace of the Lombard kings, in which he had established his quarters. Scarcely had he arrived, when Pope Victor requested an audience. It was refused, but the Abbot Conrad, on the contrary, was immediately admitted in company with the Chancellor Rinaldo.

"You are right welcome to Pavia, my lord Abbot," said Barbarossa, "and the more so, because you announce the visit of our worthy Metropolitan of Salzburg."

At these words he glanced towards Dassel, whose impassive face, as the Emperor well knew, boded no good.

"The prelate offers his respectful salutations, and begs your Majesty to appoint a time for an audience, in some other city than Pavia," said the Abbot Conrad.

"In some other city! And for what reason?"

"Because it is not seemly for the Archbishop to enter the city where Victor holds his court. His duty forbids him to have any intercourse with the Antipope, and a sojourn in Pavia might be construed as a recognition of his claims," replied the abbot.

Rinaldo made a sign to Barbarossa, who listened without any evidence of what was passing in his mind. Eberhard's reputation in Italy was wide-spread, and this refusal to hold any communication with the Antipope was naturally calculated to displease the Emperor.

"We can fully appreciate the Archbishop's prudence," remarked Frederic, after a moment's reflection; "where is he at present?"

"In the Abbey of St. Martin."

"At St. Martin, in that paltry cloister which has scarcely wherewithal to feed its own monks! We will direct an immediate change, more in harmony with Eberhard's dignity and position. What prelates has he with him?"

"The Bishop of Brixen, the Prior of Reichersburg, and several abbots," answered Conrad.

"We are highly pleased at the arrival of these worthy prelates. Be prepared, my lord Abbot, to return here soon with some of my courtiers, whom we will send forward to meet the Archbishop."

Scarcely had Conrad left the room when Victor entered; mortification and anger were depicted on his countenance.

"I crave your pardon," he said, "if my visit here be inopportune, but I have been grievously insulted, and I am well aware that your Majesty will not leave unpunished those who outrage the legitimate Pope."

"We are seriously busy in State affairs," replied Frederic, in a tone of ill-humor; "however, relate at once your complaint."

"Eberhard of Salzburg refuses to obey me, and rather than contaminate himself by contact with the schismatic Victor, has left Pavia. This public degradation is insupportable; the Chief of the Church, duly appointed and confirmed by the Emperor, must not be thus vilified before all Christendom; such an indignity deserves punishment."

"I am extremely grieved by this affront; what would you advise me to do?" asked the Emperor.

"Chastise the Archbishop's pride, Sire; and oblige him to acknowledge the lawful Pope."

"Oblige him! how does your wisdom interpret this?"

"If he will not obey willingly, let him be made to obey by force: – The only man whose energy sustains the schism in the German Church is in your power."

"You counsel, then, his arrest and close confinement?"

"It will scarcely be necessary to proceed to such extreme measures. The fear which your Majesty inspires is quite enough of itself to make him bend the knee."

"Men of Eberhard's character are not easily influenced by fear; that sentiment is unknown to them. A much more effective mode of persuasion would be a visit from you to the Archbishop."

"What say you! – I humble myself thus! – I solicit the friendship of a rebellious prelate!"

"Perhaps we may desire you to take this step. If this alone can put an end to the present difficulty, it must be done."

Victor was thunderstruck at these words. Although his relations with the Emperor were such that he had long lost all self-consideration or respect; even his spirit revolted at the baseness of the step which he was advised to take.

"Your Majesty can never force me to this act of degradation," he said; "I would rather resign the tiara."

"I have said perhaps: – We must be prepared for everything. But allow me to return to this business, which is pressing."

Victor protested his ready obedience, and bowed himself out of the room.

"He will have to come to it," said Frederic, turning towards Dassel, who had kept to one side. "You will remember," he added, "that you have heard nothing of our conversation with the Pope."

"Sire, it is impossible; I must speak to you of it."

"To what end?"

"To what end! Can anything be of greater importance than to