"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.