The Sorceress of Rome

  *CHAPTER XV*

  *THE STORM OF CASTEL SAN ANGELO*

  The sun of autumn hung a bloody circle over Rome, but seemed to giveneither light nor warmth. The city itself presented a seething cauldronof rebellion. The gates had been closed against the advancing Germansand when, with the first streak of dawn, Haco had arrived under theMarian hill with the contingents from Tivoli, they found themselvesbefore a city, which had to be reconquered ere they could even join thecomparatively weak garrison on the Aventine, where Otto was a prisonerin his own palace. During the night Eckhardt had assayed to reach aplace of concealment on the Tiburtine road, where he awaited the arrivalof his forces, which he had immediately marshalled in their respectivepositions. Castel San Angelo rested on an impregnable rock, butEckhardt had sworn a terrible oath, that he would scale its walls beforethe sun of another day rose behind the Alban hills; and although a rainof arrows and bolts, so dense and deadly that it threatened to break theline of the assailants, was poured into the German ranks, it did notstay their determined advance.

  The first line of assault consisted of heavy-armed foot-soldiers withround bucklers, short swords and massive battle-axes. Forming in closephalanx, these men of gigantic size, in hauberks and round helmets,fixed shield to shield like an iron wall, advanced in dense array to thecharge. They were led on the right wing by the imperial guard, whosehuge statures, fair long hair and gleaming halberds formed a strangecontrast to the lighter arms and the more pliant forms of the defendersof Castel San Angelo.

  The Roman army, which the Senator had stationed round the base of hisformidable stronghold, could not withstand the shock of this tremendousphalanx, so far heavier in arms and numbers, and with all their courageand skill they wavered and broke into flight. Many were precipitatedinto the Tiber and drowned miserably within sight of their helplesscomrades; most of them were mowed down by the pursuing German cavalry orshot by the German archers.

  After the terrible defeat of the Senator's army by the first line ofEckhardt's battle-array, the squadrons of the second line of battlespread over the plain, preparatory to the last and final assault. Thevast stronghold of the Senator looked as proud and menacing as ever;reared upon its almost impenetrable granite-foundation it formed even atthis date one of the most powerful fortresses of Western Europe. Itshuge battlements were defended with a long chain of covered towers, fromwhich Albanian bowmen shot down every living thing, that approached thecircuit of its walls. Every attempt to scale the lofty stronghold withladders had during former sieges been beaten off with fearful loss,after desperate combats at all hours of day and night. Although he hadtwice stormed the walls of Rome, Eckhardt had never succeeded incapturing the fortress, which he must call his own, who would be masterof the Seven Hills. But the wrath of the Margrave defied everyobstacle, laughed to scorn every impediment which might retard hisvengeance upon the cursed rabble of Rome, those mongrel curs, with whomrebellion was a pastime and for whom oaths existed but to be broken.All day long the Germans had hurled themselves against the massivewalls, sustaining terrible losses, while those within the city wereequally severe. All day long they had plied their huge catapults, whichhurled masses of rock and iron into the city and fortress, keeping up anincessant bombardment. They also used the balista, an immense fixedcross-bar, which shot bolts with extraordinary force and precision uponthe battlements, whereon nothing living could stand exposed withoutcertain destruction.

  Seated motionless on his coal-black charger, like some dark spirit ofrevenge, plainly visible from the ramparts of Castel San Angelo,Eckhardt directed the assault of his army at this point, or that,according as the situation required. Many an arrow and stone struck theground close by his side, but he seemed to bear a charmed existence andnever stirred an inch from his chosen vantage ground. Already had abreach been made in one or two places in the base of the walls, yet hadhe not given the order to break into the city, but seemed to watch forsome weak spot in the defences. It was verging towards evening. Thebesiegers could hear the cries and the rage of those within the walls,who dared not remain in the streets during the terrific rain of iron andstones hurled by the German machines. Despite their strenuous efforts,Castel San Angelo hurled defiance into the teeth of the Margrave, whodemanded its surrender, and the task of capturing the stronghold,otherwise than by starving the garrison, seemed to hold out smallerpromise with every moment, as the sun hurried on his western course.The sky became overcast and the night bade fair to be stormy.

  During the assaults of the day, Eckhardt had many times strained hisgaze towards the road leading to Tivoli, as if he expected some succourfrom that direction, when, as the sun was sinking in a crimson haze, acloud of dust met the general's gaze and at the same moment a thunderousshout rose from the imperial hosts. Drawn by twelve oxen, thereappeared at the edge of the plain a new engine of assault, whichEckhardt had ordered constructed, anticipating an emergency, such as thepresent. It had remained with the host in Tivoli, and despite thecomparatively short distance, it had required almost twenty-four hoursto draw it over the sloping ground to Rome. It was a tower of threestages, constructed of massive beams, protected by frames and hides andcrowned with a stout roof. It was now being rolled forward on broadheavy wheels to afford means of scaling the walls. As it slowlyapproached the ramparts of Castel San Angelo, the assault of theGermans, renewed on the whole line of the walls with redoubled fury,presented a terrific sight. The catapults and balistae were pouringstones, bolts and arrows on the defenders; the whizzing of the missiles,the shouts of the assailants, answered by furious yells from the walls,the roar of the flames, as here and there a house near the city wallscaught fire from burning pitch, made a truly infernal din.

  "The turret is within twenty feet of the walls,--on a level with theramparts,--fifteen,--ten feet,---down with the scaling bridge!" shoutedHaco, who was standing by the side of Eckhardt. Crashing, the gang-waywent from the front of the pent house. But as he spoke, the soft earth,whereon the turret stood, gave way. The gang-way fell short, the turrettoppled and split. The besieged hurled on it bolts, rocks, boilingpitch and fire balls, and presently it collapsed with a sudden crash andfell in a heap, mangling and burying the men inside it and beneath it,and at once it blazed up, a mass of burning timber.

  "It is, as I feared," said Eckhardt. "No turret lofty enough to overtopthese walls can be brought up to work on ground like this. We mustresort to the catapults! Let all be brought into action at once!"

  The destruction of the great, movable turret, on the success of whichsuch hopes and fears had been placed, caused the ranks of assailants anddefenders to pause for a space, while both were watching the spectacleof the blazing pile. A lull ensued in the storm of battle, during whichEckhardt, while he seemed to direct his men towards a certain point nearthe walls, never released his gaze from Castel San Angelo. Then he gavea whispered order to Haco, who set off at once on its execution. Anappalling crash rent the sky, as the German machines began theirsimultaneous attack on the walls of Rome, while a storming-column,forming under their protection, rushed forth towards the gates of thecity. The strain on the mind of Eckhardt, who alone knew the intensecrisis of that moment, was almost unbearable. He must succeed this verynight; for on the morrow the peremptory order of the Electors wouldrecall his forces beyond the Alps. There would be no respite; therecould be no resistance. His only salvation lay in their undauntedcourage and their ignorance of the impending decree.

  The evening grew more and more sultry.

  At intervals a gust came flying, raising the white dust and rustling inthe dying leaves. It passed by, leaving the stillness on the Aventinemore still than before. Nothing was to be heard, save the dull,seemingly subterranean growls of thunder, and against this lowthreatening and sullen roar the pounding of Eckhardt's catapults againstthe walls. At times a flash broke across the clouds; then all stood outsharp and clear against the increasing darkness. Only the watchfires ofCas
tel San Angelo were reflected in the sluggish tide of the Tiber, fromwhich rose noisome odours of backwater, rotting fern leaves and decayingwood.

  The Piazza of St. Peter meanwhile presented a singular spectacle,congested as it was with a multitude, which, in the glare of thelightning, resembled one waving mass of heads,--a cornfield before ithas been swept by a tornado. It was an infuriated mob, which listenedto the harangue of Benilo, interrupting the same ever and ever with thehysterical shout: "Death to the Saxon! Death to the Emperor!"

  "Blood of St. John!" exclaimed an individual in the coarse brown garb ofa smith, "Why do we bellow here? Let us to the Aventine--to theAventine!"

  His eye met that of Il Gobbo the grave-digger. He pounced upon him likean eagle on his prey, shaking him by the shoulder.

  "Gobbo! Dog! Assassin! Art deaf to good news! I tell thee, there isstrife in the city,--some new sedition! It may be that our friends haveconquered--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 thousandcurses on thee!"

  The artisan had correctly interpreted the temper of the Romans, when heraised his shout: To the Aventine! To the Aventine!

  "Romans! We give our enemies red war! War to the knife!" screamed thespeaker 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 reasonwith the mob. It was impossible to distinguish in the ensuing melee,but in the distance a man was being tossed and torn by the mob. For amoment his white face rose above the sea of heads, with all the despairwhich a drowning man shows, when it rises for the last time above thewaves, then it sank back and something mangled and shapeless was flungout into the great Piazza, where it lay still.

  "To the Aventine! To the Aventine!" shouted the mob, and armed with allsorts of rude weapons they trooped off, brandishing their clubs andstaves and shouting confused maledictions.

  Count Ludeger of the Palatinate, to whom Eckhardt had entrusted theKing'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 tomake it appear, in the case of assault, that he commanded a muchsuperior number, than were actually at his disposal.

  The warlike Count Palatine, who, aroused on an alarm, had instantlyequipped himself with casque and sword, stood listening to what waspassing outside, sniffing the air and rolling his eyes as if he desirednothing better than a conflict. Arranging his archers round the barredgate, with the order to hold their bows in readiness, he descended tothe entrance which was surrounded by a howling mob, who demandedadmittance or, if denied, declared they would enter by force. Afterhaving surveyed the assailants through a wicket, and having convincedhimself that they were of the baser class, he demanded to speak with theleader of the mob. A surly individual, armed with a club, came boldlyforward and demanded to see the King.

  "For what purpose?" asked the Count Palatine.

  "That is,--as we choose!" replied the ruffian.

  By this time the archers had mounted the roof of the palace, while CountLudeger stood in the foreground. To him the routing of such a rabbleseemed a task not worth speaking of, and it was not his intention toparley. He dared not open the gates until he was prepared to act,therefore mounting a balcony in the upper story of the palace, whichlooked over the entrance, he stood fully visible from where the invadersstood, whose numbers swelled with every moment. Then advancing to theparapet, he made a signal, demanding silence, and spoke in a voiceaudible to every ear in the throng:

  "Dogs! You came hither thinking the palace was defenceless. You wish tosee the King. Off! Away with your foul odours and your yelpingthroats! And if when you have turned tail, any cur among you dares barkback, he shall pay for it with an arrow through his chine! Away withyou!"

  The crowd seemed to waver and to look for their leader, but the CountPalatine gave them little time. Raising his hand he waved a signal tothe archers. The low growling and snarling of the mob swelled to a yellof terror, as three score or more of their number fell under the hail ofarrows. At the same moment the gate of the palace was thrown open andthe guards charged the Roman mob with drawn swords, mowing down all thatwere in their path. Back fell the first rank of the rioters, pressingagainst those in the rear, and with an outcry of terror the crowdscattered in flight.

  From the balcony of his palace, Otto had witnessed the scene which hadjust come to a close. He saw hatred and vengeance around him in theeyes of the populace. He knew himself to be hated, deserted, betrayed,most unjustly, most cruelly, despite all he had done for the state andthe people. After the mob had departed, he retreated to his chamber.Here his strength seemed utterly to forsake him. Calling hisattendants, they took from him his cloak, his diadem, and his sword ofstate, they unlaced the imperial buskins and gilt mail, in which he wasencased. He seemed eager to fling from him his gilded trappings, whilehis attendants watched him in perplexity and fear. He spoke not, norgave any sign.

  At length Count Ludeger, presuming on his high office, broke thesilence.

  "By the Mother of God, we pray you, shake off this grief and take heedof the manifold perils which surround your throne and life. You aresurrounded with traitors, intrigues and plots! And the one--oncenearest to your heart is your greatest foe!"

  Otto raised his head and glared at the speaker like a lion at bay, butspoke not, and again covered his face and sank upon the couch.

  The storm clouds gathering over Rome were scarce as dark as those onCount Ludeger's brow. For a time intense silence prevailed. At last,carried away by Otto's mute despair, the Curopalates ventured toapproach the King and whispered a word in his ear.

  Otto looked up, pale, staring.

  Count Ludeger advanced and knelt before the emperor.

  "My liege--what shall I say to the Electors?"

  There was a breathless silence.

  Then Otto raised himself erect on his couch.

  "Say to them,--that I will die in Rome--in Rome--"

  He checked himself and looked round.

  "Leave me! Begone all of you!" he said. "Set double guards at thedoors of this chamber and admit no one on pain of death.--I choose to bealone to-night!"

  "And may not I even share my sovereign's solitude?" questioned Benilowith a look of feigned concern in his eyes.

  "I wish to be alone!" Otto replied, then he beckoned Count Ludeger tohis side. After all had departed, the King turned to the CountPalatine.

  "Can we hold out?"

  The Count's visage reflected deep gloom.

  "All Rome is in the throes of revolt! All day Eckhardt has beenpounding the walls of Castel San Angelo--to no avail!"

  "He will storm the traitor's lair," Otto replied, "but then?" hequestioned as one dream-lost.

  Ludeger pointed to Northward. With a deep moan Otto's head drooped andthe scalding tears streamed down between his fingers.Betrayed--betrayed! Not by Crescentius, his natural, his hereditaryfoe, but by the woman whom he had loved, whom he had worshipped, whom hestill loved above all else on earth. What was the possession of Rome,the rule of the universe, to him without her? He could picture tohimself no happiness away from her.

  When Otto looked up, Count Ludeger was gone.

  For a time there was stillness, deep, intense.

  A dazzling flash of light, succeeded by a deafening peal of thunder,that was like the wrath of a mighty God,--then came darkness, thehowling of the storm, the sobbing of bells tossed and broken by thehurricane, into a wraith of dirge,--and now, as by some fantastic freakof nature, as the wind rose higher and higher, the iron tongue of thebell from the Capitol came wrangling and discordant through the air, asif tortured by some demon of despair. But the howlings and the tempestand the roar of the thunder had a third, most terrible ally to make thatnight memorable in Rome.
It was the wrath of Eckhardt, the Margrave, ashe marshalled his hosts to the assault. Terror-stricken the cowardlyRomans scattered before the iron avalanches that swept down upon them.The scythe of the enraged mower made wide gaps in their lists and thedead and dying strewed the field in every direction. Little didEckhardt care how many he mangled and maimed under the hoofs of hisiron-shod charger. Had all Rome been but one huge funeral pyre, hewould have exulted. Rome had not been kind to him and the hour ofvengeance was at hand at last!

  The broken clangour of the bells of Rome, the bellowing of the thunderthrough the valleys, the howling of the storm--and the shouts of thestorming files of his Germans struck Otto's ear in fitful pauses.

  For this then he had journeyed to Rome! This was to be the end of thedream!--The man he had trusted was a traitor! The woman whose kissesstill burnt upon his lips had sold, betrayed him. The candle sank lowerand the shadows deepened; but the tempest howled like a legion of demonsover the seven-hilled city of Rome.

  What caused him to raise his head after a period of brooding, Otto knewnot, nor why the opposite wall with its drear flitting shadows held hisgaze spellbound. To his utter discomfiture and amazement he saw theVenus panel noiselessly open, a shadow glided into the chamber and thepanel closed behind it.

  Ere Otto could utter a word, Stephania stood before him.

  He rose and receded before her, as one would before a spectre.Hungrily, madly his eyes gazed into her pale face, despairingly. Astrange fire was alight in her orbs, as once more she stood face to facewith the youth, whose soul she had absorbed as the vampire the soul ofhis victim.

  With fingers tightly interlaced she stood before him, then, as he wouldnot speak, she said with a strange smile:

  "You see,--I have come back."

  He made no reply, but receded from her as some evil spirit to thefarthest nook of the chamber.

  For a time she seemed at a loss how to proceed; when she spoke again,there was a strange, jarring tone in her voice.

  "Fear nothing!" she said, a great sadness vibrating in her speech. "Icame not hither to renew old scenes. What has been is past for ever!Strange, that I had to come into your life, King Otto, or that you hadto cross the line of mine,--who is to blame? You have once told me thatyou believe in a Force, called Fate. You have convinced me now,--evenif my own suffering had not."

  "How came you here?" Otto spoke, hardly above a whisper.

  Stephania pointed below.

  "Through the secret passage!"

  Otto started.

  "Mother of Christ!" he exclaimed. "Had they seen you they would havekilled you."

  A smile of disdain curved her lips.

  "I should have welcomed the release."

  "But what do you want here--and at this hour?"

  "Your Saxons are storming Castel San Angelo. By a feigned attack theylured its defenders to a part of the ramparts, where no real dangerthreatened, but to scale the walls on their rear. Send a messenger toEckhardt to desist. Crescentius is ready to treat for honourableterms."

  If there was indeed truth in her words, the message was lost on him, towhom it was conveyed. His heart was dead to the voice of gladness, asit was dead to any added pang of misery.

  "Thrice the Senator of Rome has broken his word! His fate lies withhimself!" he replied with a shrug.

  Stephania's pallor deepened.

  She stared at Otto out of large fear-struck eyes.

  "You would not give him over to your Saxons?" she spoke impulsively.

  "They will take him without that!"

  "Castel San Angelo has never been taken,--it shall never be taken! KingOtto! Think how many of your best soldiers will be crushed and mangledin the assault,--be merciful!"

  "Has Crescentius been merciful to me? I came not hither to deprive himof his own.--I have not struck at the root of his life.--He has takenfrom me the faith in all that is human and divine,--and through you! Anoble game you have played for my soul! You have won, Stephania! Butthe blood of Crescentius be on his own head!"

  There was a lull in the uproar of the elements without; but new banks ofthreatening clouds were hurrying from the West, gathering like armies ofvengeful spirits over the Seven-Hilled City, and shutting off everybreath of air.

  An oppression throbbing with nameless fears was upon them,--a hush, asif life had ceased.

  Stephania, urged by a strange dread, had stepped to the high oval windowwhence a view of Castel San Angelo was to be obtained. And as she gazedout into the night with wildly throbbing heart, she grew faint andwide-eyed for terror. A dull roar, like muffled thunder, ceaselesslyrecurring, the terrible shouts of Eckhardt's Saxons reached her ear.

  Would the walls withstand their assault, ere she returned, or would thedefenders yield under the terrible hail of iron and leave the Senator ofRome to his doom? Like knells of destiny boom upon boom resoundedthrough the wail of the rising gale.

  She pressed her hands despairingly against her temples, as if to calmtheir tempestuous throbbing, and her lips muttered a prayer, whilebroken voices came through the storm,-- fragments of a chant fromnear-by cloisters:

  "Ave Maria--Gratia Plena--Summa parens clementiae--Nocte surgentes--"

  Otto had tiptoed to the doors of the chamber and after carefullylistening had locked them. The order he had given to admit no one wouldsecure for him a few moments of immunity from interruption from without.Supporting himself against a casement he endeavoured to master the awfulagony, which upheaved his soul at the sight of the woman who had playedwith his holiest affections; he tried to speak once, twice, but histongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He thought he would choke.

  The brazen blast of a trumpet from the battlements of Castel San Angelocaused him to approach and to step behind Stephania. In the now almostcontinuous glare of the lightning troops could be seen moving slowlyalong the walls and base of the fortress. The air pealed withacclamations. A thousand arrows from Frisian bowmen swept the defendersfrom the walls. The battlements were left naked; ladders were raised,ropes were slung, axes were brandished; of every crevice and projectionof the wall the assailants availed themselves; they climbed on eachother's shoulders, they leaped from point to point; torches withoutnumber were now showered on every thing that was combustible. At lengtha stockade near the central defence took fire.

  They fought no longer in darkness. The flames rolled sheet on sheetupon their heads, mingling their glare with that of the blazing horizon.But the issue was no longer doubtful. Castel San Angelo was doomed. Nolonger it vindicated its claim to being impregnable. The defenders,reduced in number, exhausted by the ever and ever renewed and desperateattacks, staring in the face of certain defeat, were becoming visiblydisheartened.

  Spellbound, both viewed the spectacle, which unfolded itself to theirawe-struck gaze. But there was no flush of victory in Otto's face, nogladness in his eyes as, sick at the sight, he turned away. His eyesreturned to the woman whose half-averted face shone out in the glow ofthe conflagration. Never had it seemed to him so mystic, so unearthly,so fair.

  The storm was drawing nearer; the thunder bellowed louder through theheavens, the lightning flashes grew ever brighter; the great bell fromthe Capitol, the lesser bells of Rome, still shrieked forth theirinsistent clamour on the sultry air.

  She silently drew near him, fixing him with her wondrous eyes.

  At that moment the lightning rent the clouds and flashed on her paleface. A peal of thunder, now quite overhead, shook earth and sky,rolling through the air in majestic reverberations. Slowly it died awayinto the great silence, now again rent and broken by the Germancatapults, by the renewed shouts of the defenders and assailants. Up tothis moment Stephania had still hoped that Castel San Angelo would defythe united assaults of the storming Saxons; suddenly, however, a shriekbroke from her lips, she turned away from the window and hid her face inher hands. Then she rushed to where Otto was witnessing the progress ofthe assault and fell on her knees before him.

 
"Save him!" she moaned, raising her white clasped hands in despairingentreaty. "Save him! Save him!"

  He raised her and, looking into her face, he read therein remorse andhelpless entreaty. He knew that the moment was irrevocable for both,final and solemn as death. He felt he must break the pregnant silence,yet no word came to his lips. The more he forced his will, to find asolution, the more conscious he became of his own powerlessness and thedepth of the abyss which must divide them for ever more.

  "Save him, Otto--save him!" she moaned, stretching out her arms towardshim,--"You alone can--you alone."

  He receded from her.

  "I could not save him, even if I would!"

  But the woman became frantic in her fear.

  The consciousness of the terrible wrong which Crescentius had sufferedat her hands, though the most subtle scrutiny of her heart failed toaccuse her of a deed, unworthy herself, the unwitting instrument ofFate, added to her despair. She must save the Senator of Rome, even ifshe should herself pay the penalty of the crime of high treason, ofwhich he stood accused.

  "You will not have it said that you crushed your foe under your heels,"she cried. "You are too kind, too generous,--Otto! The Senator'sresistance is broken. He could not rise a fourth time, if he would--youhave conquered. Otto,--for my sake,--by the memory of the past--"

  He raised his arms. Now he was himself.

  "Stop!" he said. "Why conjure up that memory which you have so cruellypoisoned and defiled? There was nothing,--even to life itself,--that Iwould not have given to you in exchange for your love--"

  "But that it was not mine to give!" she moaned. "Can you not see?"

  "You should have remembered that, ere you slowly but surely wove yournet of deception round my heart. I loved you! Foe of mine, as I knewyou to be, I trusted you! See, how you have requited this trust! See,what you have made of me! You but entered my life to wreck it! Once Iloved the hours and the days and the nights and the stars, now my heartis a burnt-out volcano. And you who have taken all my life from me, nowcome to me crying for mercy for him, who showed such wondrous mercy forme! And you too--you! Did no pity ever enter your heart, when you sawthat you were mercilessly chaining my life to despair? And after yourevealed yourself his instrument,--Stephania, are you so mad as tothink, that I would save the man who insidiously wrecked my life?"

  Almost frozen with horror Stephania had listened to the voice she lovedso well. The card she had played, the appeal to his generous nature,had lost. She might have foreseen it. But her wondrous beauty stillexercised its fatal spell. The moments were flying. She must saveCrescentius from Eckhardt's wrath.

  "You once told me that you loved me," she spoke with choked, dry throat."You accuse me of having deceived you--ah! how little versed you are inreading a woman's heart!"

  And approaching him as of old, she took his hands into hers.

  "What do you mean?" Otto replied, while her touch sent the hot bloodhurtling through his veins. "Some new conceit, to gain your end?"

  She shook her head, while she gazed despairingly toward the Senator'slast defence.

  "This is not the time," she gasped. "On every moment hangs a life!Otto, save him! Save him for my sake! Can you not see that I love you?Think you, else I should be here? Can you not see that this is my lastatonement? Oh, do not let me be guilty of this too! Save him,--savehim, ere it is too late!" she moaned, kneeling without releasing hishands, on which she rested her head. "Save him,--save him, KingOtto--or his blood be on your head!"

  "On my head? On my head?" exclaimed Otto. "Heaven that has witnessedyour unfathomable treachery can never ratify this invocation! Never!Never!"

  She glanced up despairingly.

  "Otto--he knows all! All! I saw it in his looks--though he neverspoke.--He knows--that--I love you!"

  "Then you do love me?" Otto replied with large wondering eyes.

  "Ask your own heart,--it will answer for mine!"

  "Then if you love me,--be mine,--my wife,--my queen!"

  "How can I answer you at this moment, how can I? Look yonder,--thestockades are afire,--your Saxons are scaling the walls,---Otto,--willyou have it said that you killed him to possess me?"

  He snatched his hands away from her.

  "But how can I save him, Stephania?--Collect your woman's wit! How canI?"

  "Oh, how they swarm on the parapets!" she moaned. "Mercy, KingOtto,--ere it be too late!"

  "Let not the King know the mercy in Otto's heart," he replied betweenirresolution and resentment. "But how can I reach Eckhardt? And thinkyou my messenger would move him? Think you, he would listen to me?"

  "You are the sovereign! The King! Have you none that you can send,that you can trust? None, fleet of foot and discreet?"

  Otto pondered.

  Stephania's gaze was riveted on his face, as the eye of the criminalabout to be condemned, hangs on the countenance of his judge, who speaksthe sentence. At this moment loud shouts came through the storm. TheGermans were hoisting new ladders for the assault. In the glare of theconflagration and the incessant lightning they could be discernedswarming like ants.

  Castel San Angelo appeared doomed indeed.

  Otto pushed Stephania into a recess, then he made one bound towards thedoor. In the anteroom sat Benilo, the Chamberlain. His usually placidcountenance seemed in the throes of a tremendous strain. Which waywould the scales sink in the balance? A straw might turn the tide ofFate. Benilo waited. He held the last card in the great game. He wouldonly play it at the last moment.

  As Otto appeared on the threshold, he glanced up, then arose hurriedly.

  "Victory is crowning your arms, King Otto!" he fawned, pointing in theregion of the assault. "Soon your hereditary foe will be a myth--a--"

  Otto waved his hand impatiently.

  "Hasten to Castel San Angelo,--take the secret passage!--You may yetarrive in time to place this order in Eckhardt's hands!--Hurry--on everymoment hangs a life."

  "A life," gasped the Chamberlain. "Whose life?"

  "The Senator's!"

  "Ah! It is the order for his execution!" Benilo extended his hand, toreceive the scroll, while a strange fire gleamed in his eyes. He hadwaited wisely.

  "It is the order for Eckhardt,--to spare him! Hasten! Lose not amoment! Through the secret passage!"

  Benilo stared in Otto's face as if he thought he had gone mad.

  "Spare Crescentius? Your enemy? Spare the viper, that has thrice stungyou with its poison fang?"

  "I implore you by our friendship,--go!--I will explain all to you at afitter hour;--now there is not time."

  "Spare Crescentius!" Benilo repeated as if he were still unable to graspthe meaning.

  "The Senator's men will lay no impediment in your way,--and to myGermans you are known.--You will,--you must--arrive in time--I pray youhasten--be gone--"

  A sudden light of understanding seemed to flash athwart Benilo's palefeatures. Through the open door he had seen a woman's gown.

  Snatching up his skull-cap, he placed the order intrusted to him insidehis doublet.

  "I hasten," he spoke. "Not a moment shall be lost!"

  And rushing out of the chamber, he disappeared.

  Stephania had listened in awestruck wonder. What was the friend of theSenator, the man who had counselled the uprising, doing in the imperialante-chamber at this hour? But,--perchance this was but another mesh inthe great web of intrigue, which the Romans had spun round theirunsuspecting foes. Perhaps,--she trembled, as she thought out thethought,--he was to seize the King, if Crescentius was victorious. Hehad never left the youth.--Had the Chamberlain become his sovereign'sjailer? The ideas rushed confusedly through her brain, where but theone faint hope still glimmered, that Crescentius would escape his doom.

  When Otto entered, she held out both hands to him.

  "How can I thank you!"

  He warded them off, and stepped to the window, whence the progress ofthe assault could be watched in the
intermittent flashes of lightning.The raging storm had temporarily drowned the signals and cries of thecombatants, but though the clouds hung low and heavily freighted overthe city, not a drop of rain fell. The lightning became more incessant;soon it seemed as if the entire horizon was ablaze and the thunderbellowed in one continuous roar over the Seven Hills.

  Stephania had stepped to Otto's side.

  "I must go," she said with indescribable mournfulness in her tones. "Myplace is by his side! Living--or dead! Farewell, King Otto, andforgive--if you can!"

  She stretched out her hands towards him. It seemed to him, as if a darkveil was suddenly drawn before his eyes. Despite the lightning there wasnothing but a great darkness around him. His victory would cause awider, more abysmal gulf between them than his defeat.

  If she went from him in this hour, he knew they would never meet onearth again.

  At her words he turned and vainly endeavouring to steady his voice, hespoke.

  "Stephania,--I cannot let you go! Remain here, until the worst is over!It would mean certain death to you, if my men discovered you,--andperhaps you would hardly escape a similar fate at the hands of your owncountrymen."

  She shook her head.

  "My place is by his side,--no matter what befall! If I amkilled,--never was death more welcome! Farewell, Otto--farewell--"

  Her voice broke. She covered her face with her hands and sobbedpiteously.

  He drew them down with gentle force.

  "It is not my purpose to detain you here! All I ask of you, is to wait,until my order has had time to reach Eckhardt. After the Senator hasyielded,--you may go to him,--I will then myself have you escorted toCastel San Angelo. For the sake of the past,--wait!"

  "The past! The past! That can never, never be revived!" she moaned."Oh, that I were dead, that I were dead!"

  He took her in his arms.

  "My love,--my own,--I cannot hear you speak thus--take courage! I havelong forgiven you!"

  Her head rested on his shoulders. For a moment they seemed to haveforgotten the world and all around them.

  Suddenly the rush of mailed feet resounded in the ante-room. The door ofthe chamber was unceremoniously thrust open and Haco, captain of theimperial guard, entered the apartment, recoiling almost as quickly as hehad done so, at the unexpected sight which met his gaze.

  "How dare you?" Otto accosted him with flaming eyes, while Stephania hadretreated into the shadows, covering her face, which was pale as death,with her hands.

  Eckhardt's envoy prostrated himself before the King.

  "I crave the King's pardon--it was my Lord Eckhardt's command to carrystraight and unannounced the tidings to the King's ear--your hosts havestormed Castel San Angelo! Your enemy is no more!"

  "Rise!" thundered Otto, while Stephania had rushed with a pitiful moanof anguish from her retreat, and was gazing at the messenger, as if lifeand death sat on his lips. "What do you mean?"

  But ere the man could answer, a terrible shriek by his side caused Ottoto start. Stephania had rushed to the window. Following the directionof her gaze, his heart sank within him with the weight of his owndespair.

  A body was seen swinging from the ramparts,--it needed neithersoothsayer nor prophet to explain what had befallen.

  Eckhardt had kept his oath.

  "When the imperial Chamberlain told him that you were here with theKing," Haco addressed the woman, who stared with wide-eyed despair fromone to the other, "Crescentius charged in person the invading hosts.Struck down twice, he staggered again to his feet, fighting like amadman in the face of certain death and against fearful odds. When hefell the third time, Eckhardt ordered him suspended from thebattlements--to save him the trouble of rising again!" the captainconcluded in grim humour.

  "What of my pardon for the Senator?" gasped Otto.

  "I know of no pardon," replied Haco.

  "The pardon of which Benilo was the bearer," Otto repeated.

  Haco stared at the King, as if he thought him demented.

  "It was the order for the Senator's execution, which the Chamberlainplaced in Eckhardt's hand," he replied, "to take place immediately uponhis capture."

  "Ah! This is your work then!" Stephania broke the terrible silence,which hung over them like suspended destinies,--creeping towards Ottoand pointing to the ramparts of Castel San Angelo, on which the imperialstandard was being hoisted. "This you have done to me!--You have liedto me, detaining me here when I should have been with him,--whose dyinghour I have filled with a despair that all eternity cannotalleviate,--let me go--I tell you, let me go! Fiend! traitor,--let mego!"

  She fought him in wild despair.

  Otto had barred her way. Releasing her, he looked straight into hereyes.

  "Your own heart tells you, Stephania, this is the work of atraitor,--not mine!"

  She gazed at him one moment. She knew his words to be true. But shewould not listen to the voice of reason, when her conscience doublysmote her.

  "Let me go!" she shrieked. "Let me go! My place is by the side of himyou have foully slain,--murdered--after luring me away from him in hisdying hour."

  "You know not what you say, Stephania. Your grief has maddened you! Isnot the word of the King assurance enough, that he himself is the victimof some as yet unfathomable deceit? By the memory of my mother I swearto you--I never wrote that order! Remain here until I hear fromEckhardt,--your safety--"

  "Who tells you that I wish to be saved?" she cried like a lioness atbay. "Remain here with you, whose hands are stained with his blood?Not another moment! You have no claim on Stephania! A crimson gulf hasswallowed up the past and his shade divides us in death as it hasdivided us in life! You shall never boast that you have conquered thewife of the Senator of Rome!"

  "Stephania."

  He raised his arms entreatingly.

  She sprang at him to gain the entrance to the Venus panel, which hecovered with his person. For a moment he held her at bay, then shepushed him aside, rushed past him and disappeared in the dark passage,the door of which closed behind her with a sharp clang. She vanished inthe subterranean gloom.

  Haco had silently witnessed the scene.

  Otto seemed to have forgotten his presence, when turning he foundhimself face to face with the trusty Saxon.

  "Did you say--execution?" he addressed the man, his brain whirling.

  "Signed by the King!" came the laconic reply.

  "You may go! Bid Eckhardt repair hither at the earliest!"

  Haco departed. Broken in mind and spirit Otto remained alone. Victoryhad crowned his cause,--but Death reigned in his heart.