The long expected arrival of the Abbot was promptly noised through the Imperial camp, and scarcely had he returned to the jester's hospitable tent, when he found himself surrounded by the courtiers. Adelbert was one of the foremost, and the prelate strove, by most humble excuses, to atone for his former incivility. Conrad retained his native modesty, and smiled as he witnessed the assiduity of the German nobles.
"His Eminence the Bishop regrets that he is not to have the honor of offering you his hospitality," said Adelbert. "But His Majesty has ordered the most sumptuous apartment of his own tent to be prepared for your reception, my lord Abbot. His Eminence has overwhelmed me with well-merited reproaches for my unlucky mistake of this morning. But I could scarcely imagine that so illustrious an Abbot would have been thus disguised beneath a monk's cowl!"
"Lord Adelbert, I beg that you will cease these apologies; the mistake is of too little importance to be referred to a second time."
"I feel deeply mortified, my lord!" continued Adelbert. "Your celebrated order is welcomed by all, and surely its virtuous superior should have been received with open arms."
The abbot began to feel an intense disgust for this obsequious servility, and was well satisfied when he reached the monarch's tent. At the farther side of the square, on which it stood, was planted a tall flagstaff where floated the proud banner of the Emperor. On either side, midway between it and the tent, were two knights in complete armor, who, with drawn swords, mounted guard over the Imperial shield. This was in conformity with a traditional custom, and the duty was shared, in turn, by every noble, spiritual and temporal, of the court. Unlike the rest of the camp, a profound silence replaced the noisy bustle. Warriors in shining mail, and courtiers in rich dresses, stood around the pavilion; but their grave and respectful deportment showed that they were near the presence of their sovereign.
The Emperor and his chancellor were seated at a table, in deep consultation. Frederic had much reason to be gratified with the alacrity shown by the majority of the German princes in obeying his summons; but the absence of many of the bishops was a bad omen for the success of his cause. Some, it is true, had sent both men and money, others merely excuses; but the Emperor could not but feel that there was a very evident disinclination to hold converse with a schismatic.
His numerous and well-organized army could easily have overrun and conquered all Italy, but his long cherished project, the submission of the spiritual power of the Church to the temporal sovereignty of the Empire, could not, in that age, be attained by force of arms.
He was particularly indignant against the Bavarian Episcopacy, whose primate, Eberhard of Salzburg, was the chief and most zealous adherent of Alexander III. A threatening message had been dispatched to the Archbishop, demanding his immediate presence; but, instead of appearing in person at the head of his men-at-arms, the primate had delegated an humble monk as his representative to the Court.
"In truth!" exclaimed Frederic, "I am beginning to weary of this;--the Archbishop appears to despise both threats and entreaties!--By Heavens! he shall feel my anger!"
"Violence would be out of place here," remarked the Chancellor, dryly. "Your Imperial Majesty is scarcely in a condition, at present, to break the cross and mitre."