_CHAPTER XVII_.
_AN EVIL SPIRIT_.
After communicating to Barbarossa, Victor's promise of obedience,Dassel took his way towards the tent of Henry the Lion, to announce tothe prince the speedy dissolution of his marriage. The Saxon Dukelodged in the Augustinian convent in front of the city. In spite of thedecisions of the council of war, this cloister had been neitherpillaged nor burned, for it stood in the midst of his camp, and servedas his headquarters; and the demand for its destruction, urged by someof the Italians, had met with a stern refusal.
"In the North," he said, "I spare neither time nor money in buildingchurches and monasteries. Why should I consent to destroy them in theSouth? You must understand, once for all, that I will not do violenceto my principles, in order to gratify your hatred for the Milanese."
These words put an end to the discussion; the beautiful church wasspared, but the anxious monks were driven to take shelter within thecity. Ever since Henry had begun to entertain seriously the idea of adivorce, he had lost the air of frankness and good-nature which hadformerly characterized him. He walked with downcast eyes, his browswere knit, his head stooped, and a heavy burden seemed to oppress hisintellect. While Rinaldo urged the divorce, the Duke remainedirresolute; his pride prompted him to the step, but his heart opposedit. A union of fifteen years had proved the sincere affection andunalterable fidelity of his wife, who lived only in her husband's love.He could not call to mind a single unkind word; Clemence, on thecontrary, had always striven to make her husband forget his cares andanxieties. And even now, although well aware of this scheme for theirseparation, she never gave utterance to one murmur or reproach; all herefforts were directed to conceal her sadness and despair. But hiswife's anguish was not unknown to the Duke. He admired the generousspirit of the noble woman, and it cost him many a heartache, to feelhimself, as it were, compelled to do her such a cruel wrong. Had theDuchess reproached him with his injustice, the struggle would have beenless difficult, but this mute sorrow, this submissive love disarmedhim. It was in vain that he looked back over years long gone by, hecould discover nothing worthy of dissatisfaction, for each succeedingyear since their marriage gave new proofs of Clemence's affection andfidelity.
Sad thoughts filled his mind as he sat beneath an arbor of clematis inthe convent garden. His back leaning against the wall, his limbsstretched out and his hands clenched upon his breast, his haggard,downcast face denoted the painful struggle raging within him, whichfrom time to time took vent in a deep sigh.
A child's clear voice awoke him from his mournful revery. At the end ofthe grove his wife appeared, leading his little daughter Adelaide bythe hand. As soon as she perceived her father, she ran towards him, butsuddenly stopped at a short distance with an air of indecision anddoubt.
"Well, well! little one, come on!" said Henry, forcing a smile.
The child obeyed, but it was plain that she did not feel at ease, forshe looked anxiously towards her mother.
Henry seemed annoyed as Clemence seated herself beside him, butalthough the noble woman had remarked his grave and troubled expressionand divined its cause, her strong will concealed her sad emotions.
"Father, why do you always wear these iron clothes?" said the child,playing with the rings of his coat of mail.
"Because it is necessary in time of war, my child. Would you not liketo have one like it? See how it shines and sparkles!"
"No, father; it is too hard and stiff; I like my mother's dressesbetter."
"If you were a boy, instead of a little girl, it would please youmore."
These words produced a strange effect upon the infant. She first turnedtowards Clemence who seemed ready to burst into tears, and then threwher arms around her father's neck, as if to prevent him reproaching hermother.
"I want to be a boy, father!" said Adelaide, laughing through hertears.
"You do, do you? and what for?"
"So that my mother may not cry any more!"
"Nonsense, little chatterbox; why should your mother cry?"
"Oh yes, she does cry, and a great deal too; only when you come, shedries her eyes, and smiles."
The Duke was touched; these artless words from the mouth of his childcontained a reproach which shamed him. Until then, he had never spokento his wife of the proposed divorce, and even now, although theopportunity seemed favorable, he hesitated, for the consciousness ofhis injustice deprived him of his courage.
Clemence read his thoughts, and a mingling of love for her husband andpity for his weakness, joined to a faint hope that, even yet, he mightbe weaned from his determination, decided her to speak.
"Dear Henry," she began, "a wife's duty is to watch and pray, whenevera danger menaces her lord. I can no longer remain silent in thepresence of the schemers who seek to beguile you. The sinful projectsof the chancellor Rinaldo will destroy your eternal soul. Believe me,no motive can excuse an evil deed; nothing can make innocent that whichthe laws of God forbid. I am ready, if it were possible, to make anysacrifice to your happiness, even were my heart to break in theattempt!"
Tears choked her further utterance; but the Duke well knew that herwords were not an idle speech, but that they were dictated by true andsincere affection.
"Why do you allude to this circumstance, so painful to us both," hesaid. "There are some things which must be placed even above thefeelings of the heart. On the honor of a knight, Clemence, I look uponyou as the noblest of women, and yet, with me the Guelphic dynasty inthe North will end."
"I know the chancellor's famous discovery of our consanguinity!"replied the Duchess. "Henry, you know that the plea is false. If ourdivorce will make you happier, I would submit, without a murmur; butthe certainty that this divorce will imperil your immortal soul, wringsmy heart with anguish. Henry! I implore you, give up this guiltyproject! Trust to the future.--Perhaps--perhaps, my days are numbered."
At this moment a horse's hoofs rang on the pavement of the outer court,and almost immediately Rinaldo stood before the arbor. Clemence rosehastily; although pale and trembling, her tears had ceased, and shegazed upon the chancellor with a look of horror. Slowly leaving withher child the presence of her husband, she cast upon him one lingeringglance in which were reflected the feelings of her soul.
Robed in the magnificent costume which he wore only on great occasionsof ceremony, wearing on his finger the pastoral ring of theArchbishopric of Cologne (conferred upon him by the Emperor), a costlychain of triple gold around his neck, and on his head a splendid mitre,the Count of Dassel, with a smiling face, saluted the Saxon Duke.
"I have ridden over to examine the tower which your Highness hasbuilt," he said, with a low bow; "what a noble piece of work! I canonly compare it to the one constructed by the Emperor for the Siege ofCremona."
This was one of Henry's weak points, and the crafty Dassel knew it.
"You are in error, my dear Count," he replied; "it is very true that myImperial cousin constructed a splendid machine for that siege, but histower could not accommodate, by two hundred men, as many as mine.Besides, it could only be moved slowly and with much danger."
Rinaldo did not venture to doubt the superiority of the ducalconstruction.
"Oh, if that is the case, the perfection of your edifice threatens tobecome dangerous."
"Dangerous! and how so?"
"Yes," said Dassel; "dangerous to the fame and aspirations of more thanone hero who has built up his dreams of glory and renown upon thetaking of Milan. Think of the disappointment of the Count PalatineOtho, of the Duke of Austria, of the Landgrave of Thuringen, and a hostof other illustrious captains, when they see the Suabian lion floatover the ramparts of the city."
The Duke laughed boisterously.
"The thoughts of your triumph recalls to me naturally the certitude ofyour good fortune. His Holiness, the Pope, has expressed his readinessto annul the marriage which you have contracted with your relative."
At these words the Duke's
face darkened as his right hand began to playwith his beard, while the left sought angrily his sword-hilt.
"It only remains for your Highness to indicate the day and hour forthis wished-for divorce," added the Chancellor.
"Hum! you appear very much interested in my affairs," replied the Duke."Why this precipitation?"
"Was it not your desire, my lord?"
"Certainly, it was my desire. But I will not submit to dictation fromany one, and it may suit me better to leave matters as they are."
The courtier appeared surprised.
"Oh! that amazes you; yes, I said it might suit me better to leavematters as they were, my dear Count."
"Your Highness is certainly the best judge of your own affairs,"replied Dassel, cautiously, as if he felt himself in the presence of anunchained lion; "still I must observe that matters are already prettyfar advanced."
"Well, turn them back again. That must be an easy matter for you; youhave experience in such things."
"May I venture to inquire the reasons which have influenced yourHighness to this sudden change?"
"The reasons!" he cried angrily; "the reasons! because it would beinfamous! Why do you stare at me thus? Look there!"
And he pointed to where, at the extremity of the garden, Clemence, halfhidden by the rose-trees, was kneeling before an image of the Madonna.Near her stood the little Adelaide with clasped bands, gazingalternately at the image and at her weeping mother. Rinaldo saw themother and the child; he understood the Duke's anger; he resolved tocomplete his infernal work.
"She is a pious woman," he said; "a model for her sex! The separationwill be most painful to her. I understand it well; but it is alsopainful for a valiant prince to witness the extinction of his race."
"Oh! the pangs of separation, the grief which they cause a lovingheart, may be healed in time," said Henry; "but, my dear Count, thisaction will be not only cruel and pitiless, but it will be criminal inthe sight of God."
"Criminal in the sight of God! this is a new phase to give to theaffair. The Pope annuls your marriage; he knows his privileges, and isresponsible for the consequences."
"Yes, your Pope," replied Henry, with an angry sneer. "Tell me, can theact of that puppet of the Emperor make an evil act a good one?"
"This is certainly a grave point for a timid conscience," said Dassel,ironically.
"But yourself, my dear Count? Years ago, the Emperor put thatarchiepiscopal ring on your finger; tell me, how it happens that youhave not yet been consecrated? All that is needed is your request.Victor will be delighted. But--and it is natural enough--you despisethe consecration of the Anti-Pope! And yet you pretend that hisintervention ought to be sufficient for me?"
"There is no hurry about my consecration," replied Rinaldo, quickly;"but your Highness makes a mistake in being influenced by such scruplesof conscience, which are, to say the least, exaggerated."
"Exaggerated!"
"Certainly! Is it not the Emperor's prerogative to appoint the Bishopof Rome? The history of the Empire is there to prove the correctness ofmy assertion."
"Without any doubt, my Imperial cousin needs, for the accomplishment ofhis designs, a very submissive Pope. I shall not discuss this subject.The Northern bishops, likewise, owe me obedience.--There is but onedifference in our positions,--none of my bishops is the supreme chiefof Christendom."
"There is still another difference," resumed Rinaldo, with somehesitation, "and that is, your cousin Frederic is laying thefoundations of a dynasty which is destined to rule the world, whilstyour works will perish with you."
The Duke of Saxony was speechless, as, with contracted features, herose and stood like a bronze statue before the tempter. The vulnerablepoint of his armor had been touched; for many years Henry's dream hadbeen, to found an independent empire in the North, and all his efforts,all his warlike enterprises looked to this end. Dassel made a lasteffort to excite the Duke's ambition.
"You have, it is true, several lovely daughters; but you cannotbequeath your domains to them. All your conquests will revert to theEmpire; nothing will remain to them, save their titles and their rightsof dower."
"Stop a moment, Count!" cried Henry, furious at seeing his conquests,so painfully made, disposed of thus summarily.
"I am well aware, that my words may have offended your Highness; but,pardon my frankness, they were none the less just."
"It is false, I tell you! entirely false! Do you imagine that for yearsI have toiled and fought, have borne hunger and thirst, and a thousandfatigues of every kind, only to descend to the tomb like a brainlessfool?"
"I regret it sincerely, my lord; but, since you refuse the divorcewhich is proposed, you must take the consequences."
"Refuse it! No; I must consider the matter further. What shall be,shall be; yes, on my honor!"
Rinaldo trembled with pleasure.
"Go, and thank my Imperial cousin!" continued Henry. "This divorce mustbe pronounced, even should it insure my own ruin! Still, beg hisMajesty not to carry the matter further than I wish myself."
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