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Page 42
The baron's envoy had not accomplished half the distance between the
rival castles, before he met the duke, unattended, as was his wont,
bearing rapidly down upon him. He was no stranger to the lordly bearing
of the duke, for he had watched him in battle, when the strife was
warmest and the fight most dubious. The moment he recognized him, he
sprang from his horse, and uncovering his head and kneeling down,
presented the parchment as Rodolph advanced. Without dismounting, the
duke received the missive, and eagerly unrolling it, began to read. The
instrument contained a narrative of the proceedings of the council and a
transcript of the sentence of excommunication. The noble's eagle eye
flashed at it scanned the page, and his broad bosom heaved. He struck
his breast in his excitement, and brandishing the parchment in the air,
exclaimed aloud, in a deep, tremulous voice: "Well done, thou noble
Pontiff! Now, my brother Henry, the time has come, and heaven be the
judge between us!"
With these meaning words Rodolph galloped on, unmindful of the soldier
behind him. Yet it would seem he had not entirely forgotten the
messenger, for when alighting at the Castle of Hers, he threw the man a
largess such as had never fallen to his lot before.
The duke could not but smile when he saw Gilbert, and taking him aside,
he whispered in his ear: "You will soon have an opportunity to display
upon the battle-field the gallantry of the Bohemian harp-bearer, and to
couch a lance for Suabia and the Lady Margaret!"
"But how can I thank you for--"
"Thank that generous priest and that noble girl!" said Rodolph,
interrupting the youth; "I ran no risk in interposing: the Baron of
Stramen was but cancelling an old debt; I intercepted a battle-axe that
was descending upon him at Hohenburg, and I asked mercy for you, in
requital."
After a long interview, the duke and Albert of Hers resolved to assemble
the chiefs of the ducal party at Ulm, and to fix the fifteenth of
October for a general meeting, at Tribur, of all who would take up arms
against the king.
While the Lord of Hers was engaged in persuading the Duke of Bohemia and
the bishops of W�rtzburg and Worms to repair to Ulm without delay,
Gilbert was polishing his armor and exercising his barb. The stirring
spirit of the times, the approaching honors of knighthood, with a golden
chance of winning his spurs, assisted in diverting his mind from a
melancholy contemplation of the hopelessness of his love. But even when
brandishing his stout lance, or wheeling his good war-horse, he would
hear those withering words: "_The grave will anticipate her choice!_"
followed by the fatal echo which came from her own lips, in solemn
confirmation of the prophecy: "_My days are numbered here!_" Nor could
the dazzling dreams of young ambition shut out the still more delicious
sight of the Lady Margaret, now kneeling before the _Mater Dolorosa_,
now appealing to him with the pure emotion and wondrous beauty of an
Angel, and now clinging to her father between him and the battle-axe.
While the stern Sandrit de Stramen was preparing his vassals for the
impending strife, and literally converting the scythe into the
sword--while he spared no expense or trouble in supplying his men with
arms and horses, all gayly decorated to make a gallant show at
Tribur--while the sturdy yeomen were leaving their ploughs in the field
to pay their rent by the service of shield and sword--the Lady Margaret,
uninfluenced by the war-like bustle, calmly pursued her meditations, her
daily visits to the church, and her numberless acts of charity. She had
a delicate and difficult duty to perform in soothing the proud mind of
her brother, stung to the quick by his unlucky encounter with Gilbert.
The young knight of Stramen was panting for an opportunity to retrieve
his misfortune and wipe out his fancied disgrace. When in conversation
with his sister, to whom he would outpour his passionate impulses, he
pledged himself over and over again to bring the daring stripling to his
knee, who had dared to insult her in his absence. To his fiery threats,
Margaret would offer no direct opposition, for she feared to awaken an
easily excited suspicion that she sympathized far too warmly with the
culprit. This suspicion would have paralyzed her influence. She
contented herself with pointing out the impossibility of settling a
domestic quarrel at the present moment, and the imperative duty of
considering rather the public weal than the gratification of a private
inclination. And at times, when Henry appeared more tractable, and when,
moved by her tender affection and earnest discourse, he exhibited a
disposition more closely resembling her own, she would suggest what a
nobler and better revenge it would be to seek an opportunity of saving
Gilbert's life in the coming struggle. Henry's chivalrous nature was
easily attracted by this suggestion, and he determined to prove his
superiority over his rival, before attempting his ultimate revenge.
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