Meanwhile Rechberg had reached the gate of the cloister; it was opened at once, and, with his companion, he entered a small courtyard.
"It is too soon yet," said the porter, when the monk had informed him of the object of their visit; "but you can wait here."
They stepped forward towards a low wall, festooned with creepers, which shut off the garden, exclusively reserved for the brotherhood. Erwin could see and admire their grave and dignified deportment, and remarked their difference from the German monks, who were usually occupied in out-door pursuits; whereas at Cluny they passed their lives in the practice of interior virtues, and the advancement of science.
At this moment two lay brothers approached the wall, talking with an earnestness which indicated the importance of their subject. They spoke gravely and in measured tones, although Rechberg could not understand a single word of their conversation, he imagined that it was probably a discussion of some intricate problem of philosophy.
"What language is that?" he asked.
"Greek, Count," replied Severinus, in a low voice; "every known language is spoken in our community; Latin and Greek, and Arabic and Hebrew; they are perfectly familiar with all of them, and with more still. I like to hear them talk Hebrew, it is such a strange dialect,--so guttural, that it seems uttered rather by the throat than by the tongue. I doubt, whether the Franks could articulate a single syllable of it; but I think you will have a chance to judge for yourself during our walk. Ah! here come two of your artists!--The very ones of all whom I prefer, for they have heart and a soul; whereas some learned men have nothing but intellect Look, how they argue. Let us go a little nearer; I will wager that their discussion turns upon Homer, Pindar, Apollo, or Horace."
Erwin listened.
"You deny then all value to pagan sciences, brother Odilon?"
"By no means. I simply remarked that religious faith was the true domain of true science. The pagans had their own belief, and consequently their own school of art; but a Christian's art is as far superior to a pagan's as Christianity is to paganism."
"Do you think that our poetry is better than that of Horace?"
"Yes, inasmuch ours celebrates truth; his, only pagan errors. But, brother Colomban, in all that relates to style, the pagans are our masters, for Christian poetry is still in its infancy."
"We have admired together the statues lately received from Rome; do you think we are capable of doing anything as perfect?"
"We must make a distinction here," replied Odilon. "The pagans attained a rare perfection of form; but is the body the only, the real object of art? No; the sculptor must give a spirituality to his work! The most skilful pagan would never have been able to chisel out the pure image of the Holy Virgin."
"I think I understand your meaning," said Colomban.
"It is the same with poetry. The fountain head of all sublimity, the source of the beautiful is God; the nearer the poet approaches that, the more truly artistic he becomes, and, in proportion as his ideas diverge from the Divinity, so much farther is he from perfection."
The two monks disappeared at a turn of the path.
"Well, what think you? are not those men true lights of the faith?" asked Severinus. "They have great privileges, they can go to Rome and further, too, if they wish, and sometimes are excused from attendance in the choir."
At this moment the bell rang; all conversation was immediately suspended, and each monk took his place with a regularity which surprised the young German, who could almost fancy that he was looking at a well disciplined troop of soldiers, as they defiled before him in stately procession.
The solemn strains of the organ were heard, and the chants began.
"Now, let us make good use of our time," said Severinus, hurrying forward. "Let us see the refectory first; it is only a refectory, it is true, but its equal does not exist in France or Germany."
They entered the hall, near the door of which was a large crucifix artistically sculptured. At the upper end of the room was the Abbot's chair placed so as to overlook everything, and his table, to which the chief dignitaries of the monastery were often invited, stood upon a raised platform. Long oaken tables, with richly carved supports, were ranged methodically, and covered with a white cloth, at which, as Severinus assured the Count, more than four hundred guests could be seated; for Cluny counted at that time four hundred and eighty monks, many of whom lived as hermits in the neighboring forest.
On one side stood a single table covered with black cloth.
"Thepulmenta defunctorumare served there," replied Severinus, to Rechberg's curiosity. "This, is the place of the pious Duke of Aquitain, the protector of our convent; that, is for his saintly wife Ingeburge."
And so he went on enumerating the eighteen places.
"But all those of whom you speak are dead," said Erwin. "What is the use of spreading a banquet every day, of which they cannot partake."
The monk looked at Erwin with astonishment.
"Do you not remember," he said, "that the Archangel Raphael assured the young Tobias, that it was better to give alms than to build up pyramids of gold and silver? It is for this that every day the deceased benefactors of Cluny feed the poor. Do you not believe that the blessings which they receive in Heaven are worth more than precious stones?" Rechberg was too fervent a Catholic to doubt of the correctness of this view of the subject; it was a praiseworthy and pious custom.
His attention was directed to the pictures on the walls; many of them, such as the hunt of Saint Eustace, and the fight between Saint George and the Dragon, he recognized at once; but there were others so strange in all their details, that he was obliged to ask for explanations.
On their way from the refectory to the artist's apartments, as they crossed a long gallery, Rechberg stopped before a bronze statue, which attracted his admiration.
"It is the image of our late Superior, Peter the Venerable," said Severinus, very respectfully. "It was cast about two years since, and those who knew him during his lifetime, affirm that the likeness is striking. We will have it made in silver one of these days, when our convent is richer."
The galleries were filled with statues of saints and holy men, in wood and stone; some of recent date, others of ancient workmanship; so that it would have been easy to trace, step by step, the progress of the art. But the Count was little versed in such matters, and what was more, he could not forget Cocco Griffi.
"My lord Count, you must visit the library, even if it is only for a moment," said the monk, opening the door. A score of desks were arranged in a half-circle around one of larger size, which Rechberg perceived, at once, was a masterpiece of sculpture. This work of art was ornamented with arabesques, and with flowers, birds, and animals of every description; upon it was a book in Greek characters.
"They write the books here," said Severinus; "the reader is seated at the upper desks, with the copyists in front and around him. You can judge for yourself, (and he offered the manuscripts to Rechberg,) if they know their business. And our fathers attend to everything! We have twenty copies of the Holy Scriptures. Nearly all the works of the early Fathers, and many of those written by pagan authors and priests are to be found in our library. Every year some of the order go through France and England, and even as far as Greece, in search of rare manuscripts, of which four copies are immediately made."
After leaving the cloister, and crossing a vacant yard, they came to a house with large windows. The rooms were filled with evidences of the sculptor's art; figures and images of all sorts were standing there on pedestals.
"Is not that a splendid angel's head?" said Severinus; "the features are so sweet and delicate, and the folds of the robe so natural! And that Holy Virgin! how beautiful and gracious she appears! I do not think it possible to give more life to a work of stone."
But Rechberg was thinking of something else, and sympathized very little with the artistic enthusiasm of his companion.
"It is a pity that we cannot go in," said Severinus, pointing to a placard on which was written,Porta clausa. "The door is closed and the painter is at work; but it is a great loss, Count."
"I cannot see everything in one day," replied Erwin, who was delighted.
"You would be obliged to stay at Cluny for months if you would do justice to everything. The church alone, with all its pictures, and portraits, and mosaics, would require a long examination."
"Whose dwelling is this?" asked Erwin, as they passed before a handsome house.
"The Holy Father lives there. May God protect him! His enemies give him no rest. He was forced to fly from Italy, and with difficulty can obtain an asylum in France."
"With difficulty? Are the French, partisans of Pope Victor?"
"God preserve us from it!" said Severinus; "but we fear the fierce Barbarossa, who has taken it into his head that Victor must be Pope, whether or no!"
Erwin smiled at the dread which his godfather inspired,
"This Barbarossa is a cruel man, and they tell dreadful stories about him," continued the monk. "It appears that he wants to be Pope and Emperor at the same time, and this desire is unchristian. He is now on the frontier with a mighty army, in order to force the king of France to give up the Pope. Woe to us if this merciless sovereign comes here! He will destroy our convent as he destroyed Milan."
"You have too bad an idea of the Emperor," said Rechberg; "why should he cherish evil designs against your abbey? Is it because you show hospitality to Alexander? I assure you that the Emperor is too chivalrous to inflict a punishment for the accomplishment of a duty."
He spoke so warmly that Severinus almost regretted his frankness.
"I have never yet seen the Pope," continued Erwin. "Do you think it possible?"
"It is difficult," was the reply. "The Holy Father takes but a few moments' repose each day, when he comes to this garden. From morning till night he works or receives visits and ambassadors or letters from every part of the world. We are often compelled to refuse admittance to persons of distinction."
As they reached the door which led to the enclosure reserved to the brotherhood. Severinus drew a key from his girdle and took leave of Erwin, who thanked him warmly, regretting that he would accept of no gratuity for his trouble.
"Do not insist, Count," he said; "gold or silver would be useless to me. The best reward for a monk is that which results from a consciousness that he has done his duty."
Rechberg immediately proceeded to look for Antonio, for Cocco Griffi's face had haunted him ever since they had met, and he began to imagine that there must be some connection between Pietro's servant and the fears which he entertained about the fate of Hermengarde.
Two noblemen were on their way towards the modest dwelling of the Holy Father: they were the Archbishop Peter of Tarantasia and Count Dietrich, the envoy of the primate of France. Peter had been in Cluny for the last two days. The message had been calmly received, but the form did not deceive His Holiness for a moment as to its true import. Alexander guessed everything; he knew that Louis would not dare to resist Frederic, and that Peter had brought him not an invitation, but an order. On the other hand, Count Dietrich conveyed to the Pope the assurance of the entire and perfect devotion to him of the Archbishop of Rheims.
As soon as the Primate had discovered the intentions of his royal brother, and the orders given by him to the Count of Champagne, he hastened to his presence, with the hope of effecting a change of policy. But either through fear of Barbarossa's violence, or influenced by the demands of his own vassals, Louis, instead of listening to his brother's arguments and representations, broke out into bitter accusations against the Pope. Convinced of the fruitlessness of his attempts, the Primate at once dispatched Count Dietrich to Cluny, to inform the Pontiff of the danger with which he was threatened.
They were received, upon their arrival, by a steward who showed them to a room in the upper story, where they found the celebrated founder of Notre Dame, the Archbishop Maurice of Paris, and three cardinals. While the chamberlain repaired to Alexander's private apartment, the news was communicated to the prelates, who were thunder-struck.
Alexander was standing before a desk covered with parchment, which he was examining attentively; dictating at the same time to a deacon who took down his words, for the Pope possessed the rare talent of being able to do several things at once.
The Pontiff's exterior indicated the energy of his mind, and his strong physical constitution enabled him to support the fatigues which the cares of the Church rendered necessary. His features were strongly marked and displayed great firmness tempered by benevolence. His eye was calm and decided; a gracious smile was playing around his mouth; but his brow was furrowed by the afflictions he had experienced. He had been formerly a professor in the University of Bologna and shone, by his great attainments, in all branches of learning. Although the untiring champion of the rights and liberties of the Church, he was personally humble and modest. He hated no one, not even Barbarossa, his successful and implacable adversary.
Alexander's costume was of the most simple description: a long white garment reached to his feet; above he wore a short red tunic, with full sleeves, the dalmatica of that age: from his shoulders a white woollen pallium, with a black cross, folded over on his breast, whence it hung almost to the ground, after the manner of the ancient stole. On his finger the Pontiff wore the pastoral ring, and his head was covered with a round mitre ornamented with a number of small crosses.
As soon as he had been informed of the arrival of the French envoy, he left his work and repaired to the hall of audience, where Count Dietrich and the cardinals were in waiting.
All knelt at the entrance of the Head of Christendom, who advanced towards the Count and extended to him his hand which the latter kissed reverently, and then took his seat with the cardinals, on chairs placed in a semicircle around the Papal throne.
"Most Holy Father," he said, "your devoted son, Henry, Archbishop of Rheims and Primate of France, has sent me to give warning of the danger which threatens your personal safety. A short time after the departure of the Archbishop of Tarantasia, a partisan of the Emperor, the Count Henry of Champagne presented himself before the king, and so alarmed him that His Majesty has promised to abandon your holy cause in order to avoid the danger of a quarrel with Barbarossa. The Count of Champagne, uniting his forces with those of William of Nevers, the Bishop of Orleans, and other enemies of your Holiness, is now marching towards Cluny, with the intention of arresting your Holiness, and giving you over to Barbarossa. My revered lord has sent me to you, now to advise, that you avoid this captivity by seeking refuge on English soil."
During this speech the features of the cardinals indicated their consternation, but the Pope never lost his coolness for one instant, although his face gave signs of the pain he inwardly experienced.
"I thank you, Count," said the Pontiff, calmly. "Be so kind as to assure our worthy son, the primate of France, of our paternal and sincere affection; but we cannot follow his advice. We shall remain here, although we may be led into captivity, if such be the design of God. It is not the first time that the head of the Church has been forced to yield to violence. If God in his infinite wisdom; and in the interest of His holy name, judges me worthy to suffer even death itself, let His will be done."
"Permit me, Holy Father," said the cardinal, John of Naples; "your resolution does not appear to me to be prudent. As soon as you have fallen into the power of the tyrant, your enemies will drag you before the council and throw you into a dungeon. Octavian, who styles himself Victor, would then rule in the name and according to the wishes of the Emperor, while the successor of St. Peter would be in a prison. Avoid this peril and the whole Catholic world will rise to resist the schismatical Emperor and his bishops. Did not St. Paul fly from danger in order to be able to spread more widely the divine word?"
"Worthy brother," replied the Pope, "in this particular we have been long a zealous disciple of St. Paul; we have fled from Rome, we have fled from Genoa. Where, hereafter, could we hope to avoid the inveterate pursuit of Barbarossa?"
"The Greek Emperor Manuel," replied John of Naples, "has, on several occasions, offered you men and money to defend Rome and drive the Germans from Italy!--Your Holiness cannot be ignorant of the fact that Venice and other powerful cities will give strenuous aid to this enterprise."
"But, my lord Cardinal, what conditions did Manuel exact in return," said Alexander.
"He demands the guaranty of the Imperial crown to him and his successors. Now, as this crown belongs to the Pope, he can dispose of it as he pleases."
"Very true!" said Alexander; "but, in that case, would we not seem to deprive the German princes of their rights in order to gratify our own personal spite? The wisdom of our predecessors has for ages placed the crown on German princes, and should we from purely personal motives presume to abrogate the acts of their wisdom? No, my lord Cardinal! may God preserve, keep, and enlighten the Emperor Frederic."
"Perhaps it would be well," said the Cardinal William of Pavia, "to request aid from the English king. His Camp is only ten miles from here, and a simple request from your Holiness will be sufficient to have his troops put at your orders."
This proposal awakened the Pope's astonishment; his irritated glance was fixed upon the Cardinal.
"We take refuge at the English Court!--we trust to a man who has violated the bonds of matrimony, and whose cruelty never hesitates in shedding innocent blood!--We put ourself in the power of one who acknowledges no laws, who has nothing of human in his constitution, who tramples underfoot divine and ecclesiastical laws and precepts!--But we should be in a position still more degraded than that which poor Victor occupies with the Emperor."
The Cardinal had nothing to reply to this and bent his head in silence.
"Perhaps Spain is the only country in which your Holiness can find an asylum?" said Maurice of Pavia.
But Alexander interrupted him at once.
"Spain!---oh! poor Spain," said the Pope sadly. "You have not yet learned, my dear brothers, the news which reached me yesterday. The Moors have mustered all their forces; they have summoned from the deserts of Africa their countless hordes of savage bandits, who will throw themselves upon Spain like the sands of the desert. And to think," continued the Pope, "that the Emperor, instead of fighting against the Crescent, encourages the enemies of our holy religion by his own impious struggles against the Apostolic See. My brethren, these are bitter trials!--May God preserve the faithful from persecution, prison, and death!--May Christendom be not divided by schism!--May we remain at the helm to guide our bark through the troubled sea."
He was silent and with bent head forgot his own situation in reflecting on that of the Church. On their part, the prelates remained speechless with emotion.
At last Alexander raised his head, and his look was calm though dejected, as he declared his unalterable determination not to seek to escape by flight from the danger which now threatened him.
"You will be good enough, Cardinal," he said to William of Pavia, "to take care that all the archbishops, bishops, and prelates whom we have admitted to the reception of the royal envoy be invited to the reunion. Our intention is, perhaps for the last time, to speak openly in order to defend the rights and the liberties of the Church."
He rose as a signal that the audience was at an end. All who were present knelt piously, received the Pontiff's blessing, and bowing respectfully, left the room.
"Oh, my Lord and my God!" said Alexander to himself, as he sought the little oratory in which he usually said mass.
He knelt devoutly before the altar, where a golden dove contained the Body of his Redeemer. The vicar of Christ had come to implore the aid of his divine Master. He prayed long and fervently; his features by turns assumed the expression of grief, consolation, and resignation; and when the rays of the setting sun shone through the red windows of the chapel, they shed a halo of glory around the head of the still kneeling Pope.
"In any case," thought Erwin, "Antonio must be aware of Griffi's presence at Cluny."
He sent his faithful Gero to the Italian quarter to look for Antonio, but he was not there. "He usually walks in the public square among the strangers," said the squire; "but I don't know where he has hidden himself to-day."
The day passed without any further result, but the next morning Antonio was announced. The Count received him coldly.
"We can go to Laon at last, my lord Count. Henry the Lion persists in his designs, even at the risk of being put under the ban of the Empire; and the Duke of Austria has sent a strong escort to accompany the Duchess to her home. It was a prudent measure; for the poor lady would have fared badly if her husband had thought proper to use violence."
"Where did you receive these details?"
"From an old acquaintance who met the Pope's envoy, Galdini Sala, at the camp."
"Have you no other news?"
"None."
"Did not Pietro Nigri's servant pay you a visit?"
Antonio started, but recovered himself promptly.
"Yes, Cocco Griffi came to see me; but I did not intend to speak of a visit which was not a pleasant one for your Lordship."
"Speak freely; you have nothing to fear."
"I know that, but I dislike to wound those whom I esteem. Pietro Nigri has sent to request me to meet him on a matter of great importance; for you must know that we are intimate friends; this ought to suffice you."
"Not at all. Why this invitation, and what is this important business?"
"The accomplishment of a great design."
"Which has reference to Hermengarde?"
"Since you mention her name, I will confess that it has. But compose yourself; nothing is lost yet; as we return to Laon to-morrow, we shall have time enough to see your betrothed and remind her of her promises."
Erwin grew pale and red by turns, and then became very serious. Turning his back upon the Italian, he walked towards the window to reflect.
"May I ask," inquired Antonio, after a brief pause, "whether you will leave to-morrow?"
"Leave! and what for?" answered Rechberg, dreamily. "Ah! well,--yes, to-morrow."
And he left Antonio, who soon after might have been seen upon the road leading from Cluny to the neighboring village. Accustomed to pick up information from every source, he approached a man who was going in the same direction as himself.
"Do you know," said the stranger, "that they wish to capture the person of His Holiness? The Count of Champagne is on his way with a strong party of knights and varlets to seize and give him up to the Emperor, who will put him to death."
"That is a very likely story, my good man!"
"You think it is an invention of mine, do you?--But I tell you that I saw him and his daughter Richenza in the village last night."
"With his daughter?" repeated the Italian, looking with stupid amazement at the stranger.
"Yes, with his daughter and a troop of his retainers; but I swear that they shall not give the Pope up to Barbarossa. The people will rise in his defence."
Without listening further to the conversation of the old man, Antonio began to reflect over the fact of Richenza's presence at Cluny. It seemed so strange, so unlikely, that he could attribute it only to the designs of the Emperor to enforce the marriage with his cousin, as soon as possible.
When he arrived at the village, Pietro hailed him from a window, and on his entrance received him with every demonstration of friendship.
"Let me recover a little, my dear Pietro; it is all so extraordinary, that my ideas are somewhat confused."
"What is the matter with you?"
Antonio made no answer.
"Are you mad, Antonio?--Look me in the face! Come!"
"I am undone! I cannot repair what you have compromised. And why did you tell Hermengarde that Erwin was at Cluny? Your mistake has spoiled everything."
"Enough, Antonio, enough! I know that I have made a mistake; why then do you take pleasure in increasing my regrets for it."
"Let me console you, Pietro; the Count of Champagne is expected every moment."
"What matters that to me?"
"His daughter Richenza is with him; I foresee that the Emperor has designs on young Rechberg."
"Something may be made out of this circumstance," said Pietro.
"Do you think so? your eyes are at last opened to the light? You begin to understand now why I was anxious? My plans have failed! It was necessary for Erwin to leave to-morrow to avoid meeting Hermengarde; but now he must remain!"
"What have you decided to do?"
"Ask me no questions, but do as I bid, for I have no confidence in you, friend Pietro; did you speak of me to Hermengarde?"
"No; she only knows that a friend of mine, named Antonio, came here with me."
"Very well! present me at once, for there is no time to be lost."
They entered a room where two of the retainers were seated at a chess-board. Their armor hung upon the wall, and their lances stood in a corner.
"Ubaldo, ask the waiting-woman if your mistress will receive my friend?" said Pietro to one of the soldiers.
In a few moments the soldier returned with an affirmative reply.
They then proceeded to a sumptuously furnished apartment, where Hermengarde was awaiting them. She rose as they entered, and greeted Antonio with a friendly smile. As she resumed her seat, Hedwige placed two chairs for the visitors.
"This is my friend Antonio, noble lady," said Pietro; "he accompanied Count Rechberg to Cluny, and I had the good fortune to meet him in the street."
"I am happy, my lord Pietro, to receive your friend. But what business has brought Count Rechberg here?"
"He came with the Duchess of Saxony, who, divorced and banished by her husband, has sought the Pope's protection.--It was a duty he owed to chivalry," the Italian added, "and the more meritorious that Rechberg travelled without, or rather against the consent of the Emperor."
"I hope that his generosity will not put him in disfavor with Barbarossa?"
"I am unable to say anything positive on this point; but I imagine that Frederic will endeavor to preserve the friendship of one who is about to be allied to one of the most powerful houses of France."
Hermengarde started.
"From what Rechberg tells me," continued Antonio, "the Count of Champagne is expected with his daughter to-day. It is possible that the young Count will retire with the Countess to her father's estates."
"Can I not see the Count, Antonio?" asked Hermengarde; "he saved my father's life, and we are under great obligations to him."
"It appears to me rather difficult, noble lady. Women are admitted within the convent only once a week, and I doubt that the Count will tarry here long; still, if you so desire, I will inform him of your wishes."
"I beg you to do so, sir, and as soon as possible."
"I am entirely at your orders, noble lady. But if I mistake not, here comes the Count of Champagne."
The blast of a trumpet and the clatter of horses, resounded in the street. The Count and a numerous retinue was passing along the road, and at a few paces in his rear, Richenza was riding along in a showy costume.
Hermengarde stood motionless, as though her strength was about to fail her, but, with a violent effort, she recovered herself, and dismissed her visitors.
"Be kind enough to remember my request, knight," she said to Antonio; "perhaps you can bring me the Count's answer this evening?"
"I repeat, madam, that I am entirely at your command," replied the Italian, bowing himself out of the room.
"I say, my friend, you don't mean to tell him anything, do you?" said Nigri to the other.
"What are you thinking about? I will tell her tomorrow, that the Count will neither come to her, nor receive her visit. We shall see then what will happen. It is a capital joke after all, to lead people about by the nose in this way! But we must be prepared for everything; suppose that Hermengarde meets the German?"
"Then I will put an end to the joke with a single blow!" said Pietro, sullenly.
"Well, that is your lookout, not mine. Expect me here to-morrow," said Antonio.
Stephen, prior of Cluny, entered the Pope's chamber; the Abbot Hugo had been deposed the same day by the Chapter, on account of his schismatical tendencies, and the prior had just been informed that the Count of Champagne had placed guards at all the doors of the cloister.
"The Count is much interested in our affairs," said Alexander. "You perceive how faithful he is to his master; why then should we be less so to ours? Is every thing ready for the council?"
"Your orders have been executed, Holy Father."
"I will administer the holy sacrament, and then receive the Count of Champagne. Is there anything else, my son?" asked the Pope, seeing that Stephen still waited with a restless and uneasy expression on his features.
"Holy Father, are you then decided to allow yourself to be made prisoner by these impious men?" asked the good prior, with an emotion which touched his hearer. "All the doors are guarded, but you can get out in the disguise of a monk and escape! I have prepared everything."
"Stephen," answered the Pope, in a tone of reproach, "you have been busy about many things, when there was but one important;" then, with a milder voice, he continued: "The hour is at hand, my son; take care that everything be ready."
"The hour is at hand!" repeated the prior as he withdrew; "our blessed Redeemer said those words when they came to lay hands on him. Woe is me! Cluny has become a Mount of Olives, and the Holy Father will leave it to go to prison, and perhaps to death."
As has already been observed, the church of Cluny was the largest in the world. The roof was supported by gigantic columns, measuring eight feet each in circumference; the whole building was ornamented with pictures and sculpture; a magnificent mosaic pavement covered the floor of the choir, and the walls were hung with invaluable works of art, representing the life of Jesus Christ and the Saints, and scenes from the Old Testament. Gold and silver candlesticks stood upon the altar, and in front hung a chandelier of four branches, wrought in solid silver, with lanterns studded with precious stones.
As soon as Stephen had ascertained that Alexander's orders had been carried out, he proceeded to the cloister, where the Count of Champagne and thirty men-at-arms had just entered.
Without vouchsafing a glance at the works of art around them, these advanced boldly into the very house of God, and drew up in line before the pulpit at the entrance to the chancel. With helmets on, clothed in complete mail, and their swords drawn, they resembled the horde of barbarians who had come to pursue Christ in the holy temple of God.
The moment fixed upon by Alexander was approaching. The door of the sacristy opened, and the procession entered the chancel. At the head walked the monks and lay brothers, robed in white; then came the abbots, bishops, and cardinals, in rich costumes, wearing the mitre, and with cross in hand; last of all, the Pope, in red vestments, and all the pomp of solemn ceremony.
"Red! the color of the holy martyrs," thought Stephen, as he remarked the color which had been selected by the Pontiff; "and there are the executioners!" he added, looking at the soldiers. The holy sacrifice began. The Pope, entirely absorbed in his devotions, thought of nothing which was going on around him. The prelates were kneeling upon scarlet cushions; the monks and lay brothers upon the pavement.
As soon as the office was terminated, and without laying aside his pontifical robes, the Pope entered the chancel and ascended his throne, around which were seated the cardinals, bishops, and abbots. The monks stood in line waiting, with anxious faces, for the end. About three paces in front stood a table, covered with parchments, at which two clerks were seated, in order to copy the proceedings. The men-at-arms, led by Henry of Champagne and the fierce Count of Nevers, advanced boldly towards the Pontiff.
"Sir Pope," said Henry, "we have been sent to invite you, in the name of our sovereign lord and king, to appear before an ecclesiastical council, which is to meet at an early day in Besançon. We can take no excuse, as your refusal might plunge France and Germany into a bloody war. Our king has pledged himself by oath that you will be present at the assembly, and he means to keep his word. You must, then, accept the invitation graciously, if you do not wish to compel us to resort to violence."
This harangue, so devoid of all courtesy, excited the openly expressed disapproval of the audience.
"Count of Champagne!" exclaimed the pious but impetuous Maurice, Archbishop of Paris; "you not only act contrary to all custom, but you are also wanting in the respect which you owe to the Head of the Church. How can you dare to address such words to the Vicar of Christ in the very temple of God? Would you have us to suppose that the great vassals of the French crown surpass in irreligion the slaves of the schismatic Barbarossa?"
Maurice would have continued, but Alexander III. interfered.
"My lord Count," he said, "it is not obstinacy, but duty, which dictates our refusal to this invitation. We will certainly repair to Besançon, but not as a culprit. Who convoked the assembly? Men who are forgetful of their duties, and almost without exception under the ban of ecclesiastical censure. We cannot submit our cause to any earthly tribunal, least of all to one acting only under the orders of the Emperor. Frederic has violated all laws, human and divine, in placing the Council above the Pope, and the Emperor above the Council. We rebuke this injustice, and we are ready, in the discharge of our duty, to suffer every torture, and even death itself."
Alexander paused, and then rose from his seat with an expression of such majesty upon his features that even Count William himself was impressed.
The Vicar of Jesus Christ resumed, with a calm, dignified energy which carried conviction to the minds of all.
"My dear brethren," he said, turning towards the prelates, "it is most probable that we are about to be again called to tread the road on which our Lord and Saviour has preceded us, and in which many of our predecessors have followed Him to martyrdom! Yes, the way of the Cross alone leads to victory, and to a better world! You have long known the drift of the Emperor's designs. Misled by the false glitter of Pagan Imperialism, Frederic aims at ruling over both Church and State. The Head of Christendom is for him a mere instrument of his own will, and our holy religion only a means of attaining his ends. We are amazed that such ideas should have taken possession of a prince whom God has gifted with so many noble qualities. You are aware, my brethren, that the Emperor has nominated to all the vacant Sees of his Empire, men who are unworthy of such positions, without either the learning which is indispensable, or the spirit of piety which should animate the shepherds of God's flock. And yet the Apostle has said, 'For a bishop must be without crime, not proud, not subject to anger, not given to wine, no striker, nor greedy of filthy lucre; but given to hospitality, gentle, sober, just, holy, continent.' And yet, he would make the bishops nothing but the Emperor's slaves! We feel grievously afflicted at the sight of such grave misconduct. What misfortunes are they not preparing for the Church! The ecclesiastical spirit is less and less valued every day; the liberty of the Church no longer exists except in name, and her property is at the mercy of impious hands. But in the midst of this deluge of injustice, the Holy See has been established, by divine Providence, like the rock of order, against which storms and tempests will spend their fury in vain. So, we solemnly announce to you, in the name of God, that the Cardinal Octavian, falsely styled Pope Victor, is excommunicated and put under the ban of ecclesiastical censure. We declare, in advance, all the proceedings and resolutions of the Council of Besançon to be null and void. If, until to-day, we have refrained from launching the thunders of the Church against the scourge of Christendom, it is because our Lord Jesus Christ has taught us to pardon. And, although the time for speaking has come at last, we still pardon the Emperor for all the misery and pain which he has caused us. You will repeat this discourse, my brethren, in the pulpits of all your parishes, and you will circulate it, by every possible means, in order that the Christian world may not be misled into error. As regards ourselves, we pray God ceaselessly, that he may prevent the success of the enemies of the Holy Church; may He protect her with His mighty arm! May he lead to repentance and contrition the souls which have strayed from her fold!"
"Amen,amen!" repeated the prelates.
"Amen,amen!" said the witnesses.
And the crowd throughout the Church exclaimed, "Amen!"
The Count of Champagne stood amazed. Thoroughly convinced of the justice of Alexander's claims, ambition alone had united him to the Imperial faction, and he had been impressed by the discourse of the Holy Father; for it seemed to him as though God himself had spoken.
"Holy Father," he said, "I appreciate your reasoning and the resolution with which you wish to discharge the sacred duties of your ministry. But my personal opinions have naught to do with the execution of the order which is intrusted to me. I await then, Holy Father, until it may please you to notify me of the hour which you have fixed for your departure for Laon."
Richenza's arrival at Cluny surprised Erwin; but she manifested so sincere a sympathy with the misfortunes of the Duchess Clemence, that he related to her all the details of the outrage. The influential position of the Count of Champagne permitted him to lodge in the dependencies of the cloister, and his apartments opened upon an immense garden ornamented with flowers, groves, and shady walks.
Richenza and her retinue had just entered the garden, followed at a distance by brother Severinus; and Erwin, after leaving the table, went thither to join the party. Antonio, who was constantly on the watch over Rechberg's movements, at once left the cloister and hurriedly proceeded to the village, where Hermengarde was awaiting his return with feverish anxiety. At last he came, and entered the lady's presence with an air of supreme indifference.
"Your absence has been long, Antonio; was it not possible for you to give my message yesterday?"
"Noble lady, Rechberg remained quite late with the Count of Champagne and the other nobles. He rose late this morning, and I was unable to give him your message until a few moments since, as he was going to the garden with the Countess Richenza. The time was ill-chosen."
"Well! what was his answer?"
"'Hermengarde here?' he said, with surprise. 'Come to see her!--you say. I am very sorry; but it is no longer possible----'"
"Go on, Antonio, and tell the truth!" said she. "Is he in the garden?"
"Precisely; now, as the garden is close to the road near the mountain, you can see for yourself."
"Yes, and that is what I mean to do," replied Hermengarde, who seemed to have all at once regained her courage. "Wait for one moment, gentlemen; I will be back again soon;" and she left the room.
"You have done a stupid thing," said Pietro. "If she succeeds in entering the garden----"
"Pshaw! she cannot get over a ten-foot wall."
"And if Rechberg were to perceive her?"
"He! his eyes are not clear enough to see so far."
Hermengarde returned in a few minutes, and at once set out, followed by the two Italians and her nurse Hedwige.
In a short time they were on the road which overlooked the garden. Antonio led the way to an elevation, from which they could see all the adjoining country, and the young girl followed, without heeding the words which the spy still continued to address to her. Suddenly she paused, and then, before her companions could interfere, ran towards a little gate in the cloister-wall.
As soon as Antonio perceived her intention, and that the door was open, he sprang towards her.
"For the love of God!" he cried, "where are you going? Your entrance into the convent may have disastrous results!"
She turned her head a little, glanced at Antonio, and disappeared. Hedwige and Pietro followed, but the other remained behind.
"That door open!--unlucky mishap!" he said; "all is lost! The best thing for me to do is to run away, and escape the Count's anger;" and he hastily left the place.
A narrow path wound through several clumps of bushes, and terminated at a conservatory surrounded by vines. Hermengarde stopped here. At about a hundred yards in front, Richenza and the young nobleman were walking together, in earnest conversation. Brother Severinus stood near the door, reading his breviary.
"The Duchess of Saxony is a noble woman," said Richenza; "and what did she say of her husband's disloyal conduct?"
"Galdini Sala was obliged to repeat three times the Duke's words: 'Clemence ceased to be my wife by the Pope's decree, and with my consent. No one, not even Alexander, can change my determination.' At first the Duchess seemed thunderstruck. She repeated only, 'With his consent!' in a tone which I cannot describe. It seemed at first as though her heart would break, and then her eyes flashed with anger. The Duke of Saxony had lost all claim to her affection. 'My lord Count,' she said to me, 'accept my thanks for all the trouble I have given you;' and taking a rich jewel, 'Accept this,' she said, 'it is the only way in which the repudiated Duchess can show her gratitude.' Then she went to see His Holiness, and this morning left Cluny, escorted by some of the Austrian men-at-arms."
"How noble! how truly great! but, alas! how unfortunate!" said Richenza, with emotion.
"Now that the Duchess has gone," said Erwin, "and the object of my journey is accomplished, I can return to Laon, where I have business of great importance."
"It can be put off a little longer, and we will go there together," urged Richenza.
"I regret that it is impossible; but everything is prepared, and I must leave Cluny to-day. Allow me, noble lady, to bid you farewell."
He was interrupted by a piercing shriek.
"Erwin! my Erwin!" cried a voice from the conservatory.
The Count approached. In the dim light he saw a group of three persons, one of whom lay fainting on the ground. He had recognized the voice, but he could scarcely believe that Hermengarde was there. But it was she, and Rechberg knelt in astonishment beside his lady-love, from whose face all signs of life had disappeared. Suddenly the Count was seized, and thrust violently away.
"Back! wretch," cried Pietro, whose anger broke out at the sight of his rival. "Back! you have no longer the right to tend her, German savage."
Rechberg gazed first at the Lombard and then at the fainting girl.
Nigri again pushed him away.
"If you dare to approach her again, I will plunge my sword into your breast." And Pietro, sword in hand, placed himself between the Count and the lady.
"Who are you, who dare to separate me from my affianced wife?" cried Rechberg.
"Draw and defend yourself," said the Italian furiously.
"Here, in her presence? No, sir!" replied the Count. "Put up your sword; elsewhere I will chastise you as you deserve."
"You shall not escape me thus! Villain, defend yourself!" said Pietro.
And his sword's point grazed Erwin's breast.
"Hold!" cried the Count. "Would you dare to assassinate me?"
"I will take your life.--If you will not defend it," said Nigri, striking Rechberg, as he spoke, with the flat of his sword. Scarcely had the Count felt the blow, when his sword, quick as lightning, flashed from the scabbard, and the fight began. Hermengarde still lay upon the ground, her head upon Hedwige's knee. During the progress of the duel, she opened her eyes and called her lover's name, but Erwin saw and heard nothing except his antagonist who had slightly wounded him. Suddenly, he saw his opportunity, and with a rapid thrust stretched Pietro lifeless on the ground. Just then the chamberlain. rushed forward to prevent the combat, but it was too late, and as he saw the bloody corpse,--
"Woe to us!" he cried, "a murder has been committed within the cloister-walls. Wretch, what have you done?"
But Rechberg paid no attention to the question; he wished to approach the young girl, who was seated with her nurse upon a neighboring bench, but she motioned him away.
"I was present during the whole affair," said brother Severinus, who endeavored to apologize for the Count. "I saw it all, worthy father; the Count would have gone elsewhere, but this unhappy man, whose soul is before his God, tried to kill him; he was obliged to defend himself."
"That certainly diminishes the enormity of the offence," replied the chamberlain, "but a crime has been committed within the cloister, and it is to be judged here at Cluny. Follow me, Count."
"At once," said Rechberg. "Noble lady," he added, turning to Richenza, "I regret sincerely, that my violence has caused your young lady of honor to faint. I trust that she will be cared for until I have established my innocence and can offer my excuses in person. Richenza understood the hint; for, except as an attendant of the Countess, Hermengarde would have been obliged to leave the cloister immediately.
"It was scarcely necessary to ask me to take care of my young friend," she said; "it is only my duty."
She gave the necessary orders for her to be conveyed to her own apartments, and Erwin with one last look at Hermengarde, followed the chamberlain.
On the ensuing day, the judges met, but the testimony of Severinus, and the favorable reputation which Erwin bore as Clemence's champion, procured his acquittal. Still the court was at a loss to understand the motives of the Count's quarrel with the Italian. The judges withdrew into an adjoining room, whence, after a short deliberation, they returned.
"My son," said the president, "the law absolves you on the ground of legitimate self-defence. God alone, to whom the secrets of all hearts are known, can pronounce whether your act was free from all earthly passion. Still, in the interest of your own soul, we advise you, as a penance, to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where in defence of our Redeemer's tomb you can purge your sword of the stain left on it by the blood of Pietro Nigri."
The Count expressed his thanks and proceeded at once to Richenza's apartments, where he expected to find Hermengarde.
To his great surprise he was informed that the Count of Champagne, with all his retinue, had started at an early hour for Laon, and that the young Italian had returned to the neighboring village.
He repaired there at once, and on his entrance to the inn was received by Hedwige, who informed him that her mistress was quite unwell, and had not yet left her chamber.
"But I will tell her," she said, "that you are here."
Erwin paced the room until the servant announced that her lady would receive him.
"Great heavens!" said Hedwige, "how she has suffered! I have always maintained that you would not be false to your plighted word, and that in spite of Richenza's relationship to the king of France, she could not make you forget your betrothed."
"I cannot understand you, Hedwige. How could you entertain such an idea?"
"Pietro assured us that you wanted to marry Richenza, and Antonio confirmed his story. Besides, you stayed for several days in her father's castle and refused to receive us, and then Richenza came to Cluny with you."
"Now I understand it all," said Erwin; "ah! the wretched knave!"
The door opened, and Hermengarde entered. She was dressed simply in white, with a blue sash around her waist.
"Pardon me, dearest," said the Count, tenderly; "pardon me for all I have made you suffer." But Hermengarde was already assured of Erwin's innocence before he had even spoken.
"Count," she replied, "you need make no excuses; only tell me why I did not see you yesterday?"
"I had no idea that you were at Cluny."
"Then Antonio did not carry you my message?"
"Most certainly not! You seem surprised, Hermengarde; but you do not know all. That villain Antonio was in a plot to separate us, and his measures were skilfully taken."
"Fortune sometimes favors the wicked," said the noble girl. "But was the arrival of Richenza merely the result of chance?"
"It may have been a part of the plot! I intended to return to Laon, and was taking my leave, when--"
He suddenly paused, for the recollection of the scene in the garden seemed painfully depicted on Hermengarde's features. She sat down and gazed silently at her lover, whose attentions to the young Countess she had fancied meant more than was called for by the mere requirements of chivalrous courtesy. But it was impossible to cherish a suspicion of Erwin's loyalty after his frank and honest explanations.
"Ah! Erwin," she said; "but that murder, that fearful crime!"
"You could not have wished me to allow myself to be assassinated?"
"No, oh! no. But after the combat I saw how your sword was covered with blood; I seem to see even now his wild glance and the blood streaming from the ghastly wound." And she hid her face in her hands as if to shut out the horrid vision.
"Wretch that I am," said Erwin, "to have caused you this fright! But console yourself, dearest; with time, the painful impression will fade away. Would you make me regret having been the victor? The pious monks have pronounced me innocent; will you be more severe than they? Tell me, dearest Hermengarde; I will abide by your decree, however rigorous it may be."
"I know you are guiltless, Erwin,--and yet this blood seems to rise up between us: it is a childish feeling, I know, but I cannot overcome it."
The Count stood in pensive silence, for the monks even in his acquittal had uttered doubts of his complete innocence. And indeed, if he had gone directly to Laon, instead of waiting for Antonio, Pietro would not have met his death in the gardens of Cluny. His remorse was poignant.
"The pious monks," he said, "have counselled me to make a pilgrimage to Palestine, to the sepulchre of our blessed Redeemer. It is for you, Hermengarde, to decide whether I shall submit to this penance."
This singular question was entirely consistent with the manners of the times. Hermengarde reflected for a moment.
"To-morrow," she said, "after having invoked together, the aid of Mary, the Mother of Sorrows, you shall know my decision."