As the morning dawned, Gilbert de Hers, accompanied by a troop of horse, set out for Monte Cassino.

Gregory had retired to Salerno, where he passed his days in the contemplation of heavenly things, and in reading the lives of the Saints and ecclesiastical history.  Gilbert soon heard of his increasing weakness.  The sun that had poured its light over the world, despite the mists and clouds of error and vice, was setting at last.  How his dying words bespeak the Saint:  “My best-loved friends, I count my labors nothing.  That which gives me confidence is the consciousness of having loved justice and hated iniquity!” When his assistants, groaning in anguish, adverted to their desolate condition after his death, he raised his arms to heaven, exclaiming, “I will ascend there, and plead your cause before a God supremely good!”

On the twenty-fifth of May, 1085, were uttered those memorable words that smote the forehead of guilty Europe as if with a burning hand:  “I have loved justice and hated iniquity—­therefore I die in exile.”

* * * * *

Years passed by.  Peace smiled once more in the lordships of Hers and Stramen.  A new dwelling had risen from the ashes of Stramen Castle.  The Church of the Nativity was repaired, and again rose in beauty over the faithful who flocked there to worship.  Yet there was a stranger priest at the altar, and often after Mass the people would gather around a marble slab just before the altar, on which was written: 

“Credo quod Redemptor meus vivit.”

This was the tomb of Father Omehr; his epitaph was written and treasured in the hearts of all who knew him, and, transmitted from sire to son, required no foreign chisel to deepen the impression upon the living tablet.

The Lords of Stramen and Hers were often together, and were beloved by their vassals for their uniform courtesy and charity.  Their hairs were whitening, and when Sir Sandrit walked to the churchyard he leaned upon Henry’s arm.

* * * * *

Years passed by.  Henry IV, worn down by misfortune and the rebellion of his eldest son, for his own offspring held up the poisoned chalice to his lips, had followed his sainted antagonist to the eternal tribunal, and his body had been cast out as excommunicated from its sepulchre.  The male line of the Franconian emperors had expired in Henry V; Lothaire of Saxony, a zealous champion of Rome, had been raised to the throne.  Time was revealing that Gregory VII was triumphant even in death, for the right of investiture was conceded to the Pope, and the celibacy of the clergy strictly enforced.