chery on the gibbet."

Frederic turned towards the prisoners, but even before he spoke, his
angry glance showed what fate was in store for them. Still he was
silent for an instant, in the hope that some of them might sue for
mercy. But there was no appeal, and pointing to a tree, he said,--

"Let them die!"

Undismayed by the approach of death, the Lombards met their fate in
silence. None asked for pardon. They died martyrs to the holy cause of
freedom, and in the defence of the most sacred rights of their native
land. But their last glance was one of implacable hatred for the
tyrant.

"Count Palatine, take possession of the fortress of Cinola at once,
before the Milanese can strengthen themselves in the works," said
Barbarossa. "We will wait here for Goswin, and then follow with the
wounded."

Wittelsbach mounted, and rode away.

Erwin had remained near the prince, and Barbarossa turned with a kind
smile towards the boy, who had so bravely fulfilled his knightly duties
in the fight, and who had so efficiently protected the life of his
sovereign.

"You have well merited your godfather's thanks, my young friend," said
he, "and we will not prove ungrateful. Ask me what favor you will, I
promise that it shall be granted."

Erwin bowed in silence, but before he could speak, Goswin rode up,
bringing with him as prisoner the knight Bonello, the late treacherous
governor of Cinola.

"Ah! by Saint Guy, Sire, this has been a brave day's work," said he,
pointing to the dead bodies. "I would have finished mine long since,
but for this noble chevalier. I must admit that he is a gallant
soldier, although, alas! a most foul traitor!"

Frederic gazed contemptuously upon his former partisan. Bonello was a
man still in the prime of life, and, though short in stature, well and
powerfully built. His visage, though dejected, was calm. Like the
majority of the inferior nobility, he had been long one of the warmest
adherents of the Emperor, although he had acted as such rather through
necessity than from choice. His glance fell before that of his
sovereign.

"Are you ready to die the death of a traitor?" asked Frederic.

"I am ready to die," answered Guido; "but I implore you to withdraw the
epithet of traitor!"

"And why, pray?"

"Sire, Guido Bonello was a traitor only on the day when he swore
allegiance to his country's tyrant, forgetting, for a moment, that he
was a Lombard."

"Are you not ashamed to seek thus to dis