Conradin was playing at chess in prison when the news of this unjust sentence was brought to him.  He calmly listened to it, with the courage native to his race.  On October 22, 1268, he, with Frederick and his other companions, was conducted to the scaffold erected in the market-place, passing through a throng of which even the French contingent looked on the spectacle with indignation.  So greatly were they wrought up, indeed, by the outrage, that Robert, Earl of Flanders, Charles’s son-in-law, drew his sword, and cut down the officer commissioned to read in public the sentence of death.

“Wretch!” he cried, as he dealt the blow, “how darest thou condemn such a great and excellent knight?”

Conradin met his fate with unyielding courage, saying, in his address to the people,—­

“I cite my judge before the highest tribunal.  My blood, shed on this spot, shall cry to heaven for vengeance.  Nor do I esteem my Swabians and Bavarians, my Germans, so low as not to trust that this stain on the honor of the German nation will be washed out by them in French blood.”

Then, throwing his glove to the ground, he charged him who should raise it to bear it to Peter, King of Aragon, to whom, as his nearest relative, he bequeathed all his claims.  The glove was raised by Henry, Truchsess von Waldberg, who found in it the seal ring of the unfortunate wearer.  Thence-forth he bore in his arms the three black lions of the Stauffen.

In a minute more the fatal axe of the executioner descended, and the head of the last heir of the Hohenstauffens rolled upon the scaffold.  His friend, Frederick, followed him to death, nor was the bloodthirsty Charles satisfied until almost every Ghibelline in his hands had fallen by the hand of the executioner.

Enzio, the unfortunate son of Frederick who was held prisoner by the Bolognese, was involved in the fate of his unhappy nephew.  On learning of the arrival of Conradin in Italy he made an effort to escape from prison, which would have been successful but for an unlucky accident.  He had arranged to conceal himself in a cask, which was to be borne out of the prison by his friends, but by an unfortunate chance one of his long, golden locks fell out of the air-hole which had been made in the side of the cask, and revealed the stratagem to his keepers.

During his earlier imprisonment Enzio had been allowed some alleviation, his friends being permitted to visit him and solace him in his seclusion; but after this effort to escape he was closely confined, some say, in an iron cage, until his death in 1272.

Thus ended the royal race of the Hohenstauffen, a race marked by unusual personal beauty, rich poetical genius, and brilliant warlike achievements, and during whose period of power the mediaeval age and its institutions attained their highest development.