"You owe me nothing, lady," returned Humbert.
"Is my life nothing?"
"If you prize that," was the reply, "reserve your thanks for him who made your safety my duty."
CHAPTER VIII
Hark to the trump and the drum,
And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn,
And the flap of the banners that flit as they're borne,
And the neigh of the steeds, and the multitude's hum,
And the clash, and the shout, "They come, they come!"
SIEGE OF CORINTH.
Rodolph was received with open arms by the Saxons. Dukes, counts, barons and gentlemen hastened to Merseburg, where, at a grand festival in his honor, he was solemnly acknowledged king of the Saxons. On every side the Saxons were flying to arms against their old enemy, and the princes unanimously advised the new monarch to march against his competitor, who had been recently again anathematized by the Papal legates. Rodolph, burning to retrieve his defeat and to save Suabia from further desolation, hearkened eagerly to suggestions that chimed so well with his own inclinations. He tarried only to wait the reinforcements of Welf and Berthold, and, hoping to expedite their union with him, marched upon Melrichstadt in Franconia.
Henry was no sooner apprised of this intended junction, than he resolved to defeat it. Instantly evacuating Suabia, he led his powerful army toward Saxony. He had deployed twelve thousand peasants to cut off the two dukes, and advanced with the rest of his force to the banks of the Strewe. Before reaching the river, he ascertained that Rodolph was encamped on the opposite side. It now occurred to his unprincipled mind, that he might deprive his rival even of the warning which his open approach would give, by deputing a flag of truce to solicit a parley. The artifice succeeded. Scarcely had the deputation left the Saxon camp, before Henry began the attack. Unprepared for this treacherous movement, Rodolph had barely time to form his ranks and address a few words of encouragement to his troops. He was answered with a shout that attested the eagerness of his soldiers for the fray. Already the clang of arms, the cries of the living, and the groans of the dying were heard along the line. The army of Rodolph was drawn up in two divisions—one commanded by the king, the other by the valiant Otto of Nordheim. As the division of Otto was a little in the rear, that of the monarch was for a time exposed alone to the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. But nobly indeed was the brunt of the battle borne. Rodolph waited not the onset, but led on his columns to the charge. Then Suabian and Saxon darted forward shoulder to shoulder, and the lords of Hers and Stramen, side by side, shouted their battle-cries and hurled their followers upon the opposing ranks. Such was the ardor inspired by Rodolph that, at the first shock, two of Henry's columns were broken. But this advantage did not long avail against equal courage and superior numbers. Henry was at the head of the finest troops in the empire. But the consciousness of the sacredness of their cause made the soldiers of Rodolph invincible. Already Eberard le Barbu, the faithful counsellor of Henry, the Count of Hennenburg, Thibalt, and Henry of Lechsgemund had fallen around their lord. At this moment some bishops, retiring from the ranks of Rodolph, communicated a panic to those around them. It was in vain that Rodolph displayed the brilliant valor that had won him the name of the first knight of the times—that the Lord of Hers put forth his utmost skill, and the Baron of Stramen displayed his unrivalled strength. Menace and entreaty failed alike, nor could example or reproach recall the fugitives.
"Why does not Otto advance!" exclaimed Rodolph, who, by dint of almost superhuman exertion, had preserved his front still unbroken. "Unless I am supported within a minute, the battle is lost."
Hardly had the words escaped his lips, before the war-cry of Saxony—"St. Peter! St. Peter!" burst from three thousand throats, and the noble Otto and the Count Palatine Frederick could be seen leading on their troops, all fresh and panting for the fight. Borne down by this vigorous assault, the pursuing column fell back in confusion, and were routed with great slaughter. Rodolph, having rallied his men, rushed on to where the imperial standard was waving, and with his own hand cut down the banner of his rival. A cry now arose: "Henry is dead!" Dispirited and borne down, the troops of Henry turned and fled in confusion. They were pursued up to the gates of Würtzburg, where the vanquished monarch found an asylum. The Saxons passed the night on the battle-field, amid hymns of praise and cries of joy.