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Page 64
Rodolph, pale and thoughtful, but calm and dignified, rode through his
columns, uttering brief expressions of encouragement and confidence,
which were answered by cheers that made the welkin ring. When he had
gained an eminence which commanded a view of both armies, a messenger,
darting from his side, flew like an arrow toward the column of Welf of
Bavaria. After the lapse of a few minutes, the Bavarians had turned the
morass, and were almost within striking distance of the enemy. Without
moving from his position, Frederick of Hohenstaufen waited the assault.
The next instant the Bavarians had encountered the Bohemians hand to
hand. For a time the combat seemed equal, but at length the division of
Welf could be seen slowly falling back. The Suabian nobles, who had
hitherto watched the contest in silence and the deepest interest,
besought the king to permit them to aid the retreating column. But
Rodolph firmly refused. He watched the combatants sternly, but without
moving a muscle, until the main body of Henry's army was in motion, and
then Gilbert could see the smile he had marked at Fladenheim, curling
the hero's lip and lighting up his eye. Yet it was not the same smile:
there was something sadder, yet fiercer in it. Never had his eye flashed
forth such wild lustre, or his bosom heaved with such pent-up emotion.
Then, as the main body of the Saxons pressed rapidly forward under Otto
of Nordheim, against the foe disordered by pursuit, and Rodolph saw his
plans accomplished, he turned to the Archbishop of Mayence, and
exclaimed, in a voice broken by deep feeling:
"The day is ours!"
The prelate uttered a prayer of thanksgiving, and, turning to the king,
said:
"I give your highness joy!"
"I may need your prayers rather than your congratulations," replied
Rodolph, in a whisper, and he closed his visor.
The king still occupied the height from which he had directed the
battle, that had now become general. Around him were the chivalry of
Suabia and his former faithful subjects, acting in concert with a large
body of Saxons. Henry's army was divided into two bodies, one of which,
commanded by the monarch in person, was engaged with Otto, while the
other, led by Godfrey de Bouillon and Frederick of Hohenstaufen,
assailed the Bavarians. Welf, borne down by numbers, still retreated in
obedience to his instructions.
"Our turn has come at last, gentlemen," cried the king. "Forward!"
The barons, who had waited as impatiently as hounds in the leash,
required no second bidding, but dashed after their chivalrous monarch,
who was in full course with his lance in rest. Already, in Henry's camp,
the _Te Deum_ was sounding in anticipation of the victory promised by
the supposed rout of the Bavarians. But the arrival of Rodolph changed
the face of affairs. The strife then began in earnest. The enemy
recoiled at first before the king's impetuous charge, but they were
commanded by the ablest knights in the empire, and soon recovered from
their momentary panic. Foremost of all his gallant chiefs, Rodolph
carried death and terror into the Bohemian ranks. He seemed endowed with
supernatural strength, and neither lance nor mace could arrest his
brilliant career. Wherever the foe was thickest, or the fight most
dubious, his white crest gleamed like some fearful meteor. It was
difficult for the Suabian nobles to keep up with their invincible
monarch, and only by dint of the most extraordinary efforts about twenty
of the best lances of his army could prevent his falling alone upon the
hostile masses. Among those who fought at his side were the lords of
Stramen and Hers, Gilbert and Henry. At this moment a band of perhaps
thirty horsemen, with their spears in rest, headed by a knight of
gigantic size and another whose deeds had proclaimed him equally
formidable, came like a thunderbolt through the opening files of the
Bohemians, and fell upon the Suabian group.
The shock was fearful. Many of the combatants were hurled to the earth;
but the white plume still waved, and Rodolph of Suabia was in mortal
combat with Godfrey de Bouillon. The giant had singled out Sandrit of
Stramen, who spurred to meet him with equal avidity. In an instant both
riders rolled in the dust. The antagonist of Sir Sandrit was the first
to rise, and as the knight of Stramen staggered to his feet, the
battle-axe of his opponent was poised above his head. A moment more and
the Lady Margaret would have been an orphan--for Frederick of
Hohenstaufen's strength was not to be babied by steel casque or bars of
proof. But the axe was destined to take another direction. A mounted
knight, spurring to the rescue of Sir Sandrit, was within a few bounds
of the Lord of Hohenstaufen. Sir Frederick saw his danger, and with
wonderful quickness changed his aim, and discharged the ponderous weapon
against this new assailant. But the Suabian, displaying equal quickness,
fell suddenly upon the neck of his steed, and the flying mass passed
harmlessly over his head, grazing his crest. But as the rider rose to
his seat, a Bohemian knight, darting before Sir Frederick, checked his
career. Such was the fury of the onset that both were unhorsed. The
saddle-girths of the Suabian had given way, but the Bohemian fell,
pierced by the spear of his antagonist. The former sprang uninjured to
his feet, and drawing his sword, rushed against the first object of his
attack. Sir Sandrit, dizzy from his first shock, was staggering beneath
the heavy blows of his powerful opponent, as the knight whose advance we
have marked, crying "God and Suabia!" turned aside a stroke aimed at the
exhausted baron, and stepped between them.
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