Barbarossa; An Historical Novel of the XII Century.

by Conrad von Bolanden

"The hour is at hand!" repeated the prior as he withdrew; "our blessed Redeemer said those words when they came to lay hands on him. Woe is me! Cluny has become a Mount of Olives, and the Holy Father will leave it to go to prison, and perhaps to death."

As has already been observed, the church of Cluny was the largest in the world. The roof was supported by gigantic columns, measuring eight feet each in circumference; the whole building was ornamented with pictures and sculpture; a magnificent mosaic pavement covered the floor of the choir, and the walls were hung with invaluable works of art, representing the life of Jesus Christ and the Saints, and scenes from the Old Testament. Gold and silver candlesticks stood upon the altar, and in front hung a chandelier of four branches, wrought in solid silver, with lanterns studded with precious stones.

As soon as Stephen had ascertained that Alexander's orders had been carried out, he proceeded to the cloister, where the Count of Champagne and thirty men-at-arms had just entered.

Without vouchsafing a glance at the works of art around them, these advanced boldly into the very house of God, and drew up in line before the pulpit at the entrance to the chancel. With helmets on, clothed in complete mail, and their swords drawn, they resembled the horde of barbarians who had come to pursue Christ in the holy temple of God.

The moment fixed upon by Alexander was approaching. The door of the sacristy opened, and the procession entered the chancel. At the head walked the monks and lay brothers, robed in white; then came the abbots, bishops, and cardinals, in rich costumes, wearing the mitre, and with cross in hand; last of all, the Pope, in red vestments, and all the pomp of solemn ceremony.

"Red! the color of the holy martyrs," thought Stephen, as he remarked the color which had been selected by the Pontiff; "and there are the executioners!" he added, looking at the soldiers. The holy sacrifice began. The Pope, entirely absorbed in his devotions, thought of nothing which was going on around him. The prelates were kneeling upon scarlet cushions; the monks and lay brothers upon the pavement.

As soon as the office was terminated, and without laying aside his pontifical robes, the Pope entered the chancel and ascended his throne, around which were seated the cardinals, bishops, and abbots. The monks stood in line waiting, with anxious faces, for the end. About three paces in front stood a table, covered with parchments, at which two clerks were seated, in order to copy the proceedings. The men-at-arms, led by Henry of Champagne and the fierce Count of Nevers, advanced boldly towards the Pontiff.

"Sir Pope," said Henry, "we have been sent to invite you, in the name of our sovereign lord and king, to appear before an ecclesiastical council, which is to meet at an early day in Besançon. We can take no excuse, as your refusal might plunge France and Germany into a bloody war. Our king has pledged himself by oath that you will be present at the assembly, and he means to keep his word. You must, then, accept the invitation graciously, if you do not wish to compel us to resort to violence."

This harangue, so devoid of all courtesy, excited the openly expressed disapproval of the audience.

"Count of Champagne!" exclaimed the pious but impetuous Maurice, Archbishop of Paris; "you not only act contrary to all custom, but you are also wanting in the respect which you owe to the Head of the Church. How can you dare to address such words to the Vicar of Christ in the very temple of God? Would you have us to suppose that the great vassals of the French crown surpass in irreligion the slaves of the schismatic Barbarossa?"