“What means this demagogue?” Montreal muttered to himself.  “Would he trick me?—­has he got rid of my presence in order to monopolise all the profit of the enterprise?  I fear me so!—­the cunning Roman!  We northern warriors could never compete with the intellect of these Italians but for their cowardice.  But what shall be done?  I have already bid Rodolf communicate with the brigands, and they are on the eve of departure from their present lord.  Well! let it be so!  Better that I should first break the power of the Barons, and then make my own terms, sword in hand, with the plebeian.  And if I fail in this,—­sweet Adeline!  I shall see thee again!—­that is some comfort!—­and Louis of Hungary will bid high for the arm and brain of Walter de Montreal.  What, ho!  Rodolf!” he exclaimed aloud, as the sturdy form of the trooper, half-armed and half-intoxicated, reeled along the courtyard.  “Knave! art thou drunk at this hour?”

“Drunk or sober,” answered Rodolf, bending low, “I am at thy bidding.”

“Well said!—­are thy friends ripe for the saddle?”

“Eighty of them already tired of idleness and the dull air of Rome, will fly wherever Sir Walter de Montreal wishes.”

“Hasten, then,—­bid them mount; we go not hence with the Colonna—­we leave while they are yet talking!  Bid my squires attend me!”

And when Stephen Colonna was settling himself on his palfrey, he heard, for the first time, that the Knight of Provence, Rodolf the trooper, and eighty of the stipendiaries, had already departed,—­whither, none knew.

“To precede us to Rome! gallant barbarian!” said Colonna.  “Sirs, on!”

Chapter 2.VIII.  The Attack—­the Retreat—­the Election—­and the Adhesion.

Arriving at Rome, the company of the Colonna found the gates barred, and the walls manned.  Stephen bade advance his trumpeters, with one of his captains, imperiously to demand admittance.

“We have orders,” replied the chief of the town-guard, “to admit none who bear arms, flags, or trumpets.  Let the Lords Colonna dismiss their train, and they are welcome.”

“Whose are these insolent mandates?” asked the captain.

“Those of the Lord Bishop of Orvietto and Cola di Rienzi, joint protectors of the Buono Stato.” (Good Estate.)

The captain of the Colonna returned to his chief with these tidings.  The rage of Stephen was indescribable.  “Go back,” he cried, as soon as he could summon voice, “and say, that, if the gates are not forthwith opened to me and mine, the blood of the plebeians be on their own head.  As for Raimond, Vicars of the Pope have high spiritual authority, none temporal.  Let him prescribe a fast, and he shall be obeyed; but, for the rash Rienzi, say that Stephen Colonna will seek him in the Capitol tomorrow, for the purpose of throwing him out of the highest window.”

These messages the envoy failed not to deliver.