were awaiting Henry's will, his Herald stepped forth and blew
a blast upon his trumpet.
"Hark! Princes, Nobles, Freemen of Brabant! Our sovereign has called
ye all to rally to his defence. May he count upon the loyalty of all?"
At once, the nobles took up the cry, and welcomed their sovereign to
the country. Then King Henry thanked them for their good will and made
the following announcement:
"Nobles, Freemen, all! I come not only to receive this welcome, but to
tell ye that Germany is in danger of invasion from the Hungarian
hordes; and that upon our frontiers there are German wives and
children praying for our protecting arms. As the nation's guardian it
is fitting that I make an end of this misrule which has left us
threatened again and again by this lawless people. As ye will recall,
I made a nine years' truce with our enemies, when they last tormented
us; and now the time is past, they demand a tribute which, for the
sake of our people, I have refused them. It is time for us to up and
arm against them, and once for all defeat them."
Henry spoke earnestly, with evident devotion to his subjects, and both
Saxons and Brabantians responded, but the men of Brabant looked to
their immediate Lord, Frederick of Telramund, for assent. He hesitated
a moment, and then stepped before the King.
"Great King," he said, "thou art here to judge, to listen to the
differences of thy people, to make wrong right, so far as in thee
lies, and on my part I will not stoop to falsehood. I have a
grievance. Thou knowest when death took away our beloved Duke, his
children, Elsa and Gottfried, were left in my charge. I became their
guardian. I treasured them and guarded their interests valiantly; but
one day, the two wandered forth into the forest. In time Elsa, the
elder, returned, trembling and seemingly full of fear. She was alone,
and when questioned about the safety of her young brother could tell
us nothing. We sought for him, but never found him. She pretended to
be in great distress, but her manner betrayed her guilt; of that I am
certain. There were but they two, alone, and yet she could give us no
intelligent story of his disappearance. A horror of the young girl
fell upon me. I could not bear her in my sight, because I felt she was
responsible for her young brother's death. Her hand had been offered
me in marriage by her father, but feeling that she was guilty, I gave
her up. I could not have married one who, in my mind, wa
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