The truce of God: A tale of the eleventh century

by George H. Miles

Rodolph paused, and Gilbert, struck dumb with surprise, gazed up into his face.

"It is late, my son," he resumed, "and we must part. Is there anything you would ask before leaving me?"

"There is to be a tournament to-morrow," the youth faltered out.

"And you would take part, in spite of my discourse," said the duke, with a smile.

Gilbert's reddening cheeks answered for him.

"I must forbid you to couch lance to-morrow," said Rodolph, tenderly; "you shall receive your spurs at my hands when I am king, but let me be the judge of the time. And remember, my son," he added, detaining Gilbert as the latter was about to retire, "remember what you have seen this night. When men shall question my motives, and extol or condemn me, you may say that Rodolph of Suabia was inspired by ambition to seek the crown, but that when it was within his grasp, he would have turned from it in disgust, had not conscience and patriotism compelled him to wear it."

As Gilbert, deeply moved, kissed his hand and withdrew, Rodolph retired to an oratory into which his apartments opened. He had been there engaged in prayer for more than an hour, when the Archbishop of Mayence appeared, and, after a brief adoration, entered the confessional. There, in the silent hour of midnight, the king knelt before the priest, in obedience to the voice of that God who bequeathed us a Church to administer the Sacraments which He appointed for our salvation, and through which we can only attain it. When Rodolph sat again in his chamber, his brow was calmer and his eye softer and brighter.

The morning of the twenty-sixth of March dawned calm and bright. A warm sun suddenly interrupted a long-protracted spell of cold weather, the snow rapidly disappeared from the fields and streets, and the credulous saw a happy omen in the genial spring day that broke through the icy fetters of winter to greet the coronation. A splendid procession moved to the cathedral, and during the celebration of Solemn High Mass, Sigefroy, Archbishop of Mayence, crowned and consecrated Rodolph rightful king and defender of the kingdom of the Franks.

After the ceremony, the nobles assembled to witness the tournament, where the newly crowned monarch presided with a crowd of barons at his side. Gilbert stood at some distance from the royal person, and watched the tilting with all-absorbing interest. Henry of Stramen displayed so much address and managed his horse with so much skill that Gilbert could scarce forbear to join in the applause rendered by those around him. So intent was he upon the lists that a citizen by his side had, unobserved by him, severed the links of a massive gold chain which he wore around his neck, and had concealed it in his gown. But a page who had perceived the theft, throttled the culprit and drew the chain from its hiding-place. The man was ordered to prison, and Gilbert had forgotten the occurrence, when the assembly was disturbed by loud cries and imprecations from without. Gilbert quick as thought passed through the doorway and stood in the street. The bourgeois of Mayence were zealous partisans of Henry, and had already scowled upon the honors paid to his rival. The maltreatment of their townsman had kindled the spark of discontent to flame. They had attacked the soldiers of Rodolph, who, as was customary, attended the joust unarmed, and had rescued the thief. As Gilbert stood watching the tumult, he was singled out as the object of attack, probably at the direction of the citizen who had suffered in the attempt to steal his chain. The situation of the young noble, clad only in a velvet doublet and armed only with a light sword, was extremely precarious. Yet he did not dream of flight, but for a time kept his assailants at bay, slowly falling back upon the arena. A number of soldiers issuing from the pavilion gathered around him, but, shorn of their weapons, they could only parry without returning the blows of their adversaries, who were well supplied with stones and clubs.

Gilbert had not left the lists unobserved by Rodolph, who immediately despatched a page to watch his movements. When informed of his young friend's danger, he arose and cried in a loud voice: