“And the Lady Margaret, from whom not a knight can boast a token, though all are striving to obtain one?”

“She has not altered since you saw her,” answered the priest; “she was always rather frail, but I do not see that she grows weaker.”

“You cannot imagine,” interposed Rodolph, “how much it grieves me to be unable to reconcile these two families whom I so dearly love, and who, in the camp or in the chamber, have proved themselves so devotedly attached to me.  I cannot even ask of one in the hearing of the other, without giving offence or receiving a bitter answer.  In all things else, they are obedient as this horse to his rein; but the moment I speak of reconciliation, the stubborn neck is arched, and will not relax either for threats or entreaties.”

“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 Lord of Hers, perhaps, might be induced to throw enmity aside, if his adversary relented; but he cannot be persuaded to sue for peace, especially when his supplication might be unavailing.”

“I cannot believe,” continued the duke, “that my friend of Hers could have killed Robert of Stramen, since he most positively denies it.  It is true that their relations were anything but amicable, yet Albert of Hers would scorn to take a knight at a disadvantage, and would not attempt to conceal the result of a mortal struggle.  If Robert of Stramen fell by his hand, it must have been in fair combat; and if in a fair tilt, there is no motive for concealment.”

“But the circumstances are strong enough to amount to conviction in an angry brother’s eyes.  A woman, who has since lost her mind, named Bertha, her father, and her husband, all swore to have seen Sir Albert ride away from the spot a short time before the body was found; and the scarf of the Lord of Hers was clutched convulsively in the dead man’s hand.  The wound upon the head resembled that produced by hurling a mace, and was of such a character that the head could not have been protected by any steel piece.  I do not consider this conclusive against the Lord of Hers, or even incapable of explanation; but real and unequivocal guilt itself could not justify the untiring malignity of the Baron of Stramen.  His brother’s soul would be much better honored by his prayers, than by imprecations and the clash of steel; we cannot avenge the dead, for their bodies are dust, and their souls absorbed in things eternal; and Sandrit de Stramen is but making his brother’s misfortune the occasion of his own temporal, and perhaps eternal injury.  I wish, indeed, this criminal work of vengeance could be stopped.”

“Yes,” replied the duke, “they had better husband their energies, for if I read the future aright, Suabia will have need of every nerve.”

Rodolph paused here; and as his companion did not reply, they rode on in silence.