"Gobbo! Dog! Assassin! Art deaf to good news! I tell thee, there is strife in the city,—some new sedition! It may be that our friends have conquered—down with the tyrant and oppressor! Down with the Saxon! Down with everything!"
And he laughed—a hoarse, mad laughter.
"We Romans shall yet be free,—think of it, thou villain,—a thousand curses on thee!"
The artisan had correctly interpreted the temper of the Romans, when he raised his shout: To the Aventine! To the Aventine!
"Romans! We give our enemies red war! War to the knife!" screamed the speaker at the conclusion of his harangue.
"Death to the Saxons! Death to the King!" came the answering yell.
In the midst of all this some partisan of the King ventured to reason with the mob. It was impossible to distinguish in the ensuing mêlée, but in the distance a man was being tossed and torn by the mob. For a moment his white face rose above the sea of heads, with all the despair which a drowning man shows, when it rises for the last time above the waves, then it sank back and something mangled and shapeless was flung out into the great Piazza, where it lay still.
"To the Aventine! To the Aventine!" shouted the mob, and armed with all sorts of rude weapons they trooped off, brandishing their clubs and staves and shouting confused maledictions.
Count Ludeger of the Palatinate, to whom Eckhardt had entrusted the King's safety, had made sure that all approaches were locked and barred, while he had disposed his spearmen and archers in such a manner as to make it appear, in the case of assault, that he commanded a much superior number, than were actually at his disposal.
The warlike Count Palatine, who, aroused on an alarm, had instantly equipped himself with casque and sword, stood listening to what was passing outside, sniffing the air and rolling his eyes as if he desired nothing better than a conflict. Arranging his archers round the barred gate, with the order to hold their bows in readiness, he descended to the entrance which was surrounded by a howling mob, who demanded admittance or, if denied, declared they would enter by force. After having surveyed the assailants through a wicket, and having convinced himself that they were of the baser class, he demanded to speak with the leader of the mob. A surly individual, armed with a club, came boldly forward and demanded to see the King.