sanguinary character. Whilst the Italians were
engaged in this work of mutual self-destruction, Frederic was preparing
to submit them all to his Imperial sway.

While the besieged were ready to suffer every extremity in defence of
their sacred rights, the greatest agitation reigned in the camp of the
Italian auxiliaries. Sworn enemies, for years detesting each other,
they were now compelled to live in the forced proximity of a narrow
camp. Leagued together by their common hatred for Milan, the old leaven
still, at times, broke out into open violence, and it required the most
stern and almost cruel severity of the Emperor to preserve anything
like order among them. Frederic had learned, by experience, that fear
was the only master whom they would obey.

Rechberg perceived an immense crowd of strangers pressing towards the
vast open space in the middle of the encampment. Jousts and military
games were, in that age, so much the fashion, that, even under the
walls of a beleaguered town, a place was set apart for the purpose. But
on this occasion it seemed as though the crowd's attraction had another
motive than mere amusement. Frederic's banner floated in the air, and
the Imperial eagle fluttered bold and haughty above the multitude. On
horseback, in the midst, stood a herald in a scarlet tabard and with a
silver-mounted truncheon in his hand, and immediately behind him, a
man, who, in a few weeks' time, had become the terror of the Italians.
It was Hesso, the chief of the Imperial police, surrounded by his men
fully armed. He glared fiercely upon the crowd.

"What does that blood-thirsty dog want here?" was muttered on all
sides. "See how he is looking for some new victims! the poor devils
whom he hung this morning are hardly cold, before he wants to begin
again!"

Although Hesso could not understand their words, he could read their
thoughts.

"You hate and fear me, do you!--Ah well! there's no love lost between
us," he growled, with a still fiercer expression in his eyes.

The loud blast of the trumpets resounded, and the herald commanded
silence. Thousands awaited with trembling anxiety. The man of the
scarlet tabard made another sign; but still the dull murmur went on
unceasingly; he raised his truncheon, and when, after many efforts,
silence had been enforced, he proclaimed, in a clear and distinct
voice, the wishes of the Emperor.

"In the name of our sovereign liege, listen to the punishments to be
enforced