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Updated: May 9, 2025
"Tell me," said Albert of Hers, addressing Father Omehr, "did not the Pope revoke his pardon at this evident insincerity?" "No," was the reply. "Then, may God forgive me," returned the excited knight, "but the mercy of His Holiness sounds like human folly!" "It is weakness cowardice!" muttered the Baron of Stramen. The missionary smiled at cowardice in connection with the name of Gregory VII.
A hymn, befitting the occasion, had been intoned, and the priest had left the altar, but those fervent men and women did not hurry from the church as if grateful for permission to retire, but lingered to meditate and pray. Gilbert remained until all had gone save Henry de Stramen and a lady who knelt beside him.
All was calm in the lordships of Hers and Stramen. The Lady Margaret was lamenting the absence of Father Omehr, who had been summoned to Rome, and whose missionary duties were performed by the pious Herman.
The face of Sandrit of Stramen was sterner than ever, and his son seemed to have caught a portion of his severity. They rode along swiftly, and whenever they spoke it was about the Lady Margaret. Father Omehr alone preserved his equanimity, and even he was now unusually absent and thoughtful. Nor was the retinue of Albert of Hers more cheerful.
'Come! I said to Albert, 'let us take the body to Sir Sandrit, and tell him that we found it in a spot from which we had just seen the Lord of Hers depart. He refused at first, and would not touch the body, but by argument and entreaty, I prevailed upon him to be guided by me. "Sandrit of Stramen, you know the rest.
"Your grief cannot equal mine," returned the missionary, "and I confess, that without the hope of obtaining assistance from heaven, I should despair of ever softening the determined animosity of the Baron of Stramen.
The two horsemen were now at the church, but they passed it and kept on to the castle; and hearty was the welcome of the noble duke to the halls of Stramen castle.
The maniac was sitting upon a rude bench, close to the firebrand which gave a fearful lustre to her haggard features, while with a species of exultation she gazed upon the knife stained with Gilbert's blood, still clenched in her hand. The husband of this unfortunate woman had, about a year before, been mortally wounded in a chance affray between the partisans of the lords of Hers and Stramen.
The male line of the Franconian emperors had expired in Henry V; Lothaire of Saxony, a zealous champion of Rome, had been raised to the throne. Time was revealing that Gregory VII was triumphant even in death, for the right of investiture was conceded to the Pope, and the celibacy of the clergy strictly enforced. The Lords of Stramen and Hers were sleeping with their fathers.
Gilbert had drawn his sword, but at a sign from the Lady Margaret, replaced it in his belt, and suffered himself to be seized by two of the men of Stramen. Margaret led the way along the corridor, followed by Bertha, whose voice could be heard at times mingling with the clang of the heavy feet that waked a hundred echoes along the vaulted passage.
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