Chapter L · THE CONSPIRATORS.

The young nobleman galloped rapidly through the narrow valley of Castellamare, and more than once turned in his saddle and gazed earnestly upon the ancient walls of the lofty castle.

"What could he have meant?" he asked himself, "The good old man probably wishes to give me a suit of that costly armor which I have so often admired. If he do so, I will send him the best horse in my stables." In his excessive modesty, he had not suspected the old man's intentions, for he had never allowed such a hope to dwell in his imagination for a moment.

After a long ride, he entered a ravine, shut in on every side by lofty mountains. The heights were covered with trees, but below, all was barren and desolate. A few fruit-trees stood here and there as vestiges of former cultivation, and some stakes, almost decayed by time, rose from among the thistles and rank grass. In the lower part were the ruins of an ancient monastery, of which the four walls and the tower alone remained, and although of comparatively recent date, the stones were covered with parasitic plants. Heribert fastened his steed to a fragment of the wall, near which stood a number of other horses, all saddled, but browsing upon the abundant herbage.

He then proceeded to the church, where the profound silence would scarcely have allowed him to suppose, that he was in the immediate vicinity of hundreds of men all breathlessly awaiting an orator of a kind widely different from those who had formerly spoken there.

A rostrum of moss-covered stones had been erected on the place where the altar had once stood, and upon it was a man depicting in fervid language the misfortunes and disasters of Lombardy. His audience, who were all in armor, listened to him with passionate and earnest attention; at times they applauded his words, at others their shouts of menace and defiance proved that he had succeeded in arousing their resentment. Rapallo, fearing to interrupt the harangue, stopped at the door.

"Dearly beloved brethren," cried the orator, with a piercing voice, "you have seen that Barbarossa is insensible to our grievances. In vain you have protested against the insolence of his prefects, against the injuries done to your property, the drudgery which has been imposed upon you, the ill treatment which you have borne; in short, against all the acts of violence and oppression of which you have been the victims. The Emperor has remained deaf to all your complaints. Do you know the reason?"

The orator paused for a moment; his lips compressed, his nostrils dilated, he seemed to infuse into his hearers, by his looks, the fury with which he was himself animated.

"It is," he resumed in a still higher key, "because he looks upon you as slaves, whose necks are fitted to bear the yoke of his tyranny. Think of what he once said at Pavia: 'Italy is a conquered province, she has lost all her rights; to demand any of her former privileges is an act of rebellion.' Yes, this is what he said openly, the despot! I heard him with my own ears; yes, he dared to say, that you have no longer any rights, that you are nothing but his vassals."

A dull murmur ran through the assembly.

"Thus, brothers, when we appeal to right and justice, we are guilty of rebellion. With such principles, what have we left to hope for? Are you astonished now that an abstract has been made of your lands, of your houses, of your herds, of all your wealth, and that you have been taxed in consequence? Do you not know, brothers, that you no longer possess anything, but that all belongs to the Emperor? Gather in your harvests, the bailiffs come with their satellites and take what they please. Prayers and tears are unavailing. Only enough is left us to barely prolong our own wretched existence, and that of our children; and this is all that is necessary for slaves, who live merely in the interest and for the service of their master."

The murmurs became more threatening, for passion was working in the hearts of all.

"Poor slaves," he continued, "life is only a burden destitute of every joy. For this we have been deprived of our rights to hunt and fish, for this we are not allowed an instant which we can devote to the most innocent amusement. Woe to him who would leave his work to take a moment's rest. Is it right and just that your lives should be consumed in the most painful drudgery, that you should be subjected to every privation, whilst your masters revel in every luxury?"

The orator had attained his object, for he was compelled to pause an instant in order to allow his auditors to give vent to their rage in fierce imprecations against the oppressors of their native country.

"In ancient times the barbarians overran our fair land, but they only passed over her surface; by bending the head to the storm, its fury was soon spent, and the evils could be repaired. Barbarossa, on the contrary, has put about our necks a yoke from which there is no relief. We must build with our own hands the fortresses which threaten us; with our own hands we must construct for these cruel vultures--I mean for the worthy prefects of the Emperor--those nests from which they can swoop down upon us with impunity, to pillage and murder. Will you always submit to slavery? Are you willing to be oppressed until death sets you free? Will you not, at last, rise in your might, and expel the tyrants?"

"Liberty forever! Death to the tyrants! Down with Barbarossa! May he die, he and his infamous satellites!" was heard from all parts of the ruined church.

"Yes! liberty forever," resumed the orator in a calmer tone; "the hour of our deliverance is at hand; profit by it, for it may pass, never to return. At present the Emperor is before Rome. The most solid bulwarks to our liberty are the Church and Alexander, the successor of Saint Peter. If Barbarossa succeeds in overthrowing him, we shall lose forever all hope of shaking off the yoke imposed upon us by the Germans and the Emperor." And the orator descended from his rude platform amid the clamorous applause of his auditory.

The speaker was a nobleman of great respectability, whose patriotism was equalled by his benevolence towards the needy and distressed. He had exaggerated nothing; but, on the contrary, had endeavored to palliate; and this very circumstance had increased the effect of his discourse. The pitiless severity of the prefects was, unfortunately, a positive and general fact, and the harsh sentiments of the Emperor towards unhappy Italy were only too evident. By adroit allusions, the orator had awakened all the memories of his hearers. A great number of them had felt the avidity of Frederic's agents; many had even suffered cruel tortures; and as they related their misfortunes, each imparted to his hearers the hatred by which he was himself convulsed.

Soon the assembly arrived at a paroxysm of fury. On all sides were heard fierce curses and expressions of grief and anger. Their arms shook with menacing sound; their eyes flashed; the audience seemed inspired with indignation.

At last another orator mounted the rostrum, and the noise gradually ceased.

"It is the Milanese Pandolfo," was said in a low tone; for all that came from Milan was received with great respect. Milan had won the martyr's crown.

"I bring the good wishes of my city to all the brothers of the Lombard League," said Pandolfo, with a clear, ringing voice. "You have heard, no doubt, that Milan is no longer a mere heap of ruins; her walls have risen; her fortifications have again appeared, and soon she will stand more proud, more threatening, than in former days. But walls and towers are not enough to defend us against tyranny; what we need above all, what already constitutes our strength, is a powerful organization, and an extension of the Lombard League. Many powerful cities have already joined her; and next to Milan I can cite Brescia and Bergamo, Cremona and Placenza, Parma and Modena, while others are ready to raise the standard of Italian liberty. We no longer hold our meetings in the midst of ruins, or in narrow ravines, but in the open country. Whilst you are still forced to tremble before the minions of tyranny, and escape by stealth, to meet here, we defy Barbarossa's prefects, for we are now powerful, and strength gives us courage. Fear not for the interests of our sacred cause. Neglect nothing to gain over to it your kinsmen, your friends, and your neighbors. Encourage the timid, arouse the cowardly. The victory is ours, and the chains of slavery will be broken from the very moment in which we shall be united."

Until then, Pandolfo had spoken in a calm and measured tone, and he observed with great satisfaction the favorable impression which had been produced by his report on the progress of the league. But soon, to arouse still more the minds of his audience, he began to paint the unhappy condition of Italy, and his language and manner became more passionate.

"Dear brothers," he said; "you have all seen at Milan, of what Frederic is capable, and what is the fate which threatens you. Perhaps you think that your misfortunes have reached their furthest limit, but you are mistaken. You are robbed, you are beaten, the fruit of your toil is torn from you, your horses and your oxen are stolen before your eyes, but as yet they have not carried away your wives and your children. You are treated with harshness, but they have not yet pillaged your churches; they have not profaned and desecrated your sanctuaries."

"Yes they have!" cried a voice, trembling with anger; "yes they have! Our bailiff--may God curse him!--has carried off everything of value which was in our church; he tried to force our old priest to pray for Barbarossa and the high-priest Caiphas (the Antipope Pascal). Our good priest protested, and was shamefully beaten, and we ourselves, for refusing to pray for our oppressors, were driven from the church with blows and curses."

"All this is but a drop in the bucket," resumed Pandolfo. "Do you not know, brothers, that the Church, the Pope and the Clergy, are slaves like ourselves? Is it not right and proper that the Pope and the Clergy teach, pray, and preach in conformity with the Emperor's orders? Since you are Frederic's property," he added with bitter irony, "it is only reasonable that he should watch over your minds and your bodies; of course always in accordance with his own personal interests. You seem astonished! Perhaps you think that I exaggerate? If so, it is because you do not know what an Emperor is, and what ideas he has of his own importance. Are we not told that the ancient Romans worshipped their sovereigns? Go to Rome, you will still see there the statue of the divine Augustus. Aye, the Pagan emperors called themselves gods, and their subjects were compelled to pay them divine honors."

"What infamy! what impiety!" exclaimed the audience.

"Has not Barbarossa already assumed the title of Augustus? As he affects to imitate the Roman emperors in all things, he will finally oblige us to adore him as a divinity."

A derisive laugh interrupted the speaker for a moment.

"You laugh, brothers, you imagine that I am jesting? I speak in sober earnest. The tyrant's pride will not stop short of the abomination of idolatry. You shake your heads; it appears impossible? Let me only ask, did it not seem impossible ten years ago, that you would become slaves; that the time would come when you would no longer have possessions, or rights, or liberty? Is not the Emperor to-day Pope? Is not the pretended Pope the Emperor's humble slave? Does not the Emperor pretend to an authority over the Church which is wellnigh divine? Is it not he who lays down the forms of preaching and prayer? Thanks to him, our bishops have been replaced by the minions of tyranny, and our good shepherds by ravening wolves who tear the flock."

"He is right! all that is only too true; Pandolfo is right!"

"Barbarossa is the Antichrist!"

"He is a child of Satan!"

"A worthy successor of Nero!"

"An infamous tyrant!"

"Curses upon him! may he die unabsolved!"

"Long live our Holy Father the Pope! May God save Alexander!"

"Yes, long live the Pope! may God protect him!" resumed Pandolfo, who was charmed with the enthusiasm which he had excited. "The sovereign Pontiff is the rampart of liberty, the only real defence against Imperial despotism. Why is it that Barbarossa has turned all his rage against Alexander? It is because he knows that he can never accomplish his perfidious ends so long as the Christian world shall retain him whom God himself has appointed to be the guardian of right, and morality, and liberty. The Pope suffers and struggles in our cause; let us unite with him, let us bravely flock to freedom's standard. Raise your right hands, and swear allegiance to the Lombard league."

Instantly a hundred hands were stretched forth in breathless silence. A heavy cloud overshadowed the sun and seemed to threaten the roofless cloister. A violent wind rushed through the dismantled windows and shook the parasitic plants upon the crumbling walls.

"As it is better to die gloriously than live in shameful slavery," cried Pandolfo, whose clear voice rang through the ruined building, "we promise obedience and fidelity to the principles of the Lombard league. We swear to devote our property and our lives to our faith and our country, to the Church, and to liberty. We take God as witness to our loyalty; may He doom us to eternal torments if we violate our oath!"

"We swear it;" and the oath unhesitatingly pronounced by a hundred voices was repeated by the echoes of the surrounding hills. The assembly then broke up, and the conspirators separated; on their features might be read the thoughts which filled their minds, and the noble resolutions to which they had subscribed. Less than a quarter of an hour afterwards the ruins had become once more silent and deserted.