Chapter LV · THE HAND OF GOD.

The plague continued to rage as violently as it had broken out. Death smote its victims without forewarning: some fell as they were putting foot in stirrup to mount their steeds; others, by the side of the friend whom they were placing in the grave, which had been dug for him through charity.

"God chastises us for our behavior to the Pope," said the Romans.

This feeling spread even among the German soldiery. The tents were emptied of their inhabitants who had fallen victims to the direful contagion. In a few days, many thousands had perished, and among them the Emperor's cousin, the Duke of Suabia, and Diepold of Bohemia; but the bishops were attacked with marked virulence, and it seemed as though not one of them was destined to return to his home. There was a dead silence everywhere, unbroken even by the clash of arms, and naught was heard but the creaking of the death-carts piled up with corpses which were thrown together by hundreds into a common pit. But soon it was no longer possible even to bury them, and the dead bodies lay rotting in the sun; adding by their pestilential odors to the malignity of the disease.

Even the horses were attacked; they fell into a species of stupor which terminated in death. Still, although his camp was almost depopulated, Barbarossa remained unmoved; he hoped that the plague would wear itself out, and that he might resume the great work which it had interrupted. As yet the Romans had not sworn allegiance to the Empire, Pascal had not been installed as sovereign Pontiff and Frangipani still held bravely out in the Castle of St. Angelo, The partisans of Alexander must be entirely destroyed; and to accomplish this Frederic would not yield a step, not even to the plague.

In this determination he was encouraged by Dassel.

"If we give up now," he said, "we are lost. All Christendom will look upon our defeat as a judgment of Heaven. You cannot hereafter undertake anything which will not appear to be marked with the seal of divine displeasure."

Frederic admitted the justice of the policy, and determined to dare everything. He rode through the streets of the camp, striving to encourage his troops. Erwin was always at his side, although he had frequently implored his young kinsman to return to Germany.

"You must go beyond the Alps," he said. "I wish it; and as soon as this Roman question is settled, I will join you."

"But I will not go, my dear godfather, even were the camp peopled with corpses."

The Emperor was deeply touched by this mark of affection, and he pressed the young man's hand with emotion.

One day, Barbarossa returned to his tent, after his usual round of inspection. The destruction of his army seemed inevitable, if it was not soon removed from this pestilential atmosphere, and his indomitable pride was crushed at last.

He ordered the immediate attendance of his chancellor.

Rinaldo was writing in his tent; near him sat his favorite pupil Hillin, who had been nominated upon his recommendation to the bishopric of Augsburg, and the Chancellor was then dispatching his orders and instructions to the chapter, for which Hillin was to start at once.

"You have scarcely as yet the age which is prescribed by the canons," said Dassel; "but the canons are out of date, like many other things. What an absurdity it is to leave talent unrewarded on the pretext of youth! How old are you, Hillin?"

There was no reply.

"I ask you your age."

Still there was the same silence! He turned his head and started back in horror. Hillin was dead, his hand still held the pen, his arms rested on the table, and his head had fallen forward upon the parchment.

Shaking his head in astonishment, Dassel walked towards the corpse and then called for his servants. His fear had passed away, for the Chancellor was not easily agitated.

"Hillin is dead," he said; "the young man had fine prospects, and would have been useful; but dead, he is only a nuisance. Take away this carcass!"

At this moment the Emperor sent for him, and Rinaldo, throwing into the fire the now useless letter, dressed himself in his court-robes and repaired to his master's presence.

Frederic's face was sad and calm. He replied to his minister's bow with a mute smile, and motioned him to a seat.

"Chancellor," he said; "we have done all that is possible. But Heaven seems inexorable; the plague rages with renewed fury; two-thirds of my army have perished, and if we remain here longer, the remainder will share their fate."

"Still we must stay here. Our flight will only aggravate our condition; I have foreseen all this. The plague will cease as unexpectedly as it began."

"But if it really were a chastisement from God?" said Barbarossa.

Rinaldo sneered viciously: he looked steadily at the Emperor for a moment, and then answered,--

"We must then suppose that God amuses himself by punishing the Romans every year; for every year the heat raises these noxious vapors from the marshes, and breeds a pestilential fever; it is an unhealthy climate, that is all that can be said."

Barbarossa shook his head.

"Your explanations are not satisfactory," he replied; "this is no fever, it is the plague, and the plague is not the result of mere chance, it is the effect of divine wrath! We must humble ourselves before God!"

"By all means, Sire; and since God opposes our designs, we must give up, and acknowledge ourselves to be beaten by Alexander!"

This remark touched the Emperor's pride, and Rinaldo continued his arguments.

"I thought," he said, "that it was only the rabble who had these ideas about God's judgment--"

A wild shriek closed his speech: the Chancellor was a corpse, and Barbarossa stood gazing upon his confidant, whose features still bore the impress of devilish hate.

The Germans, however, did not abandon the bodies of their princes. All were embalmed and transported from Italy beyond the Alps, to be buried in the cathedrals of their native land. Two large tents were pitched, beneath which were laid out in state the deceased nobles: the bishops in full canonicals, with cross and mitre; the knights in complete armor, as if about to go to battle.

A small escort rode up: in front came the cross, borne by the Bishop of Pavia, and followed by the clergy, and then Rinaldo's body, carried by four of his own soldiers; Barbarossa, Rechberg, and a few of the nobles closed the procession. At the entrance, the Bishop of Pavia recited the prayers for the dead, and then the mortal remains of the once powerful Chancellor were deposited with the others. All, save the Emperor and his kinsman, departed in silence, but Frederic still stood there, sad and dejected, a tear in his eye, gazing upon all that was left on earth of those who had died in his cause. There lay his cousin the Duke of Suabia; near him Diepold of Bohemia, Count Berenger of Sulzbach. Rodolph of Pfulendorf, Henry of Tubingen, and Ludolf of Dassel, the bishops of Prague, Ratisbon, and Augsburg, of Basle, of Spires, and of Constance, of Toul and Verdern and Cologne. Who could say whether he too would not soon take his place among these lifeless bodies? He began at last to look with awful fear upon his eternal future, and almost completely weaned from earthly vanities, he returned to his own apartments.