Читать книгу Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century. - Conrad von Bolanden - Страница 8

On a rough stone, in the deep and gloomy dungeon of the fortress of Cinola, sat Guido de Bonello, his body bent forward until his head almost rested upon his knees, his manacled hands hanging helpless under the weight of his fetters, and his tearful gaze fixed despondingly upon the ground. He was a brave man, and had often looked death boldly in the face; and if he was now so unmanned, it was from no thought of his own sad fate; his fears were for his daughter, so soon to be left without a protector. Suddenly the sound of steps met his ear, and he raised his head quickly, in the fond hope of distinguishing the light footfall of a woman. The key grated in the lock, the door swung back upon its hinges, and the chief turnkey, followed by Lanzo and the Abbot, entered the cell.

"Here is the priest," said the jailer, sullenly; "get through your business as soon as possible, for you must be hung at once. If I am to have as much trouble with all my other prisoners, in future, I would rather resign my office now, and have done with it."

"I am entirely at your service, my son," said the Abbot, kindly, as he approached the prisoner.

"Thanks, holy father," replied Guido; "but you are mistaken if you expect to find a criminal here!"

"Of course!" exclaimed the jester. "Nowadays they never hang any but honest men; the scoundrels go scot-free. Come, come, cousin, if for nothing else, you merit the gallows for being such a tender father, and touching a fool's heart. God knows it was nothing but pity which prompted me to get you a confessor."

Without noticing the idle babble of the fool, the prisoner gazed earnestly upon the Abbot, who seemed deeply grieved at the sight of his sad condition.

"You have no hardened criminal to deal with," said he, divining the priest's thoughts. "My sole fault has been that I drew my sword to resist the bloody despotism of the Emperor. I feel confident that you have not visited the camp of Barbarossa to encourage the crimes and errors of the heretic, for your calm and pious eyes show clearly that you are no sycophant sold to the tyrant! As an unworthy sinner, I will gladly avail myself of your kind arm in this my last journey. But first let me beg you to administer aid to my spiritual necessities." The clatter of horses' feet in the court-yard interrupted the prisoner; the sound of light footsteps was heard along the passage; the door swung open, and a slight veiled form entered the dungeon; – the daughter of Bonello was in her father's arms. In the doorway stood Pietro Nigri, gazing, with deep emotion, upon the scene.

The prisoner, passionately embracing his daughter, wept and sobbed bitterly; for the thought that he held now to his heart, perhaps for the last time, all that he loved on earth, was agonizing in the extreme.

The young girl's face was calmer. She uttered neither complaint nor lamentation. For a moment her head reposed upon her father's breast, and then, raising it, she put back the gray hairs which covered his brow, and gazed fondly into his eyes.

"My father!" She could say no more; but the tone was enough to show the world of deep emotions which filled her heart at this awful moment.

Disengaging herself from his embrace, she looked around her.

Women, in trying circumstances, often give proof of marvellous energy and force of character. Mastering for the moment her grief, – dismissing every painful thought, – the young girl sought only to cheer the last hours of the condemned.

"Take off these heavy fetters which crush him," said she to the jailer; "put him in some other less frightful cell, I implore you!"

"I have no desire to be hung in his place," growled the man.

"Oh!" said she, pleadingly, "it can be no crime to soothe the last moments of a dying man!" and she emptied the contents of her purse into the jailer's hand.

The effect of the gold was magical; he smiled, bowed, and muttered some excuse for his churlishness.

"Noble lady-you are too kind-yes, you are right, it would be inhuman to torture the poor wretch unnecessarily. I will conduct him to the upper tower, and, as he cannot wear his chains on his last journey, I may as well rid him of them now."

And, taking a key from the bunch at his girdle, Guido's manacles fell upon the ground.

"Captain Hesso would be incensed, were he to see this, but it matters little; he won't come back again today, and to-morrow all will be over."

These last cruel words wellnigh broke the young girl's heart. The jester observed her changing face, and his own ready sympathies were awakened.

"Yes," said he, "to-morrow all will, probably, be over; but, one word from me to the noble Duke, would falsify your prediction. I cut the rope once, and I would do it again if the fancy took me."

"I owe you many thanks, my kind friend," said Bonello, pressing the hand of the jester. "I would not be here now, if your kind heart and good knife had not acted so promptly."

"Pshaw! It Was a silly thing to do, my good sir; but if you would do something really of use, you should send this reverend gentleman to the Emperor, to get His Majesty to open your cage."

"If you have access to the court, holy father," said Bonello, "use your influence in my behalf! I have never opposed the Imperial supremacy, and only took up arms to resist oppression; but if the Emperor will spare my life, I will consecrate it, hereafter, entirely to my child."

"Sir knight, be assured that I will do all in my power. A mission of grave importance summons me to the Emperor's presence without delay. May God grant that I may find him mercifully disposed! I will return as speedily as possible, to announce to you the result of my efforts."

And the prelate, followed by Lanzo, took his departure for the Camp, while Guido, his daughter, and Pietro Nigri, were conducted by the jailer to a lofty and well-lighted chamber of the upper tower.

"If you wish anything," said he, "open this window and call; I shall be close at hand."

He lingered for an instant, and then left the room, carefully locking the door behind him.

The travellers evidently stood in need of refreshments; but the sad fate awaiting Bonello, had prevented his child from all consciousness of physical wants. Every movement of the girl betrayed her inward suffering; but, with the desire of soothing his last moments, she strove bravely to conceal every trace of her own emotion.

Pietro was pale and suffering; although severely wounded in the late unlucky battle, the proud Milanese felt still more deeply the dangers menacing his beloved country. Wrapped in contemplation of the German camp, he stood at the open window, entirely forgetful of the unfortunate Guido and his daughter.

"I have been awaiting you impatiently, for two days past, my child! Were you delayed by the insecurity of the road?"

"Not at all, father; it was Pietro's wound which prevented me travelling more rapidly."

"Were you not annoyed?"

"On the contrary," she replied; "the German knights paid us every attention in their power."

"What strange people those Germans are!" said Guido. "I have often admired their courteous treatment of women. But your appearance in their camp would, of itself, bring you a host of valiant champions."

"Heaven preserve us from such chivalrous support," said Pietro, whose violent hatred for the Germans would not suffer him to listen to a word in their praise.

"To be just towards the virtues of our enemies, is no proof of either weakness or treason."

"No; but to admit the virtue of an enemy, is not becoming in a sincere patriot," replied Nigri.

Bonello knew Pietro's blind hatred for everything that was German, and had calculated upon a similar answer, the injustice of which it was most easy to show by simple facts. During their discussion, Hermengarde had approached the window, and now gave way to the emotions which she had so long controlled. The tears coursed down her cheeks, for she could see distinctly the gallows and the executioners. Raising her eyes appealingly towards Heaven, which shone clear and pure above the smiling landscape, she thought of the promised intercession of the holy abbot, and she prayed to God and the Holy Virgin, for the safety of her beloved and unfortunate father.

Her tears ceased, and in a calmer tone, she turned towards him: -

"Without doubt, the Emperor will pardon you. The Almighty knows your innocence, and will not suffer you to die the death of the guilty."

"Let us hope so, my child!"

"For my part, I expect nothing," said Nigri. "The heart of the tyrant Barbarossa knows neither pity nor justice. – Hermengarde, resign yourself to the worst, and do not cherish a vain hope."

"Oh! Pietro," said she, turning away.

"Rather be proud of your father's death; he is a martyr to the cause of his country's freedom!"

"Enough! enough!" interrupted Bonello. "A girl of fourteen cannot understand such heroic sentiments, dear Pietro! But if my hours are numbered, as you seem to think; if I am soon to leave you forever," (and Guido mustered up all his courage to preserve the appearance of calm resignation,) "it is you, Pietro, who must endeavor to replace me. You know my wishes; receive Hermengarde's hand now, until the priest can unite you forever."

Tears streamed from the prisoner's eyes and fell upon his gray beard, as he took his daughter's hand to place it in that of Pietro. But the words of the young man had made too painful an impression upon her heart, and turning from him, with a burst of bitter weeping, Hermengarde threw herself upon her father's bosom.