Summary

George H. Miles The truce of God: A tale of the eleventh century

Her color fell at the sight of this new force—yet only for a moment: the next instant her cheek resumed its glow. This column, about a hundred strong, approached slowly and cautiously, as if expecting a sally, until they too had reached the moat.
"We call upon you to open your gates!" exclaimed a knight, who rode a little in advance.
"To whom?" replied the Lady Margaret, in a loud voice.
"To your rightful king and master, Henry of Austria!"
"We do not own a monarch," she returned, "who has forfeited the crown, and our gates shall be closed against all who come in his name."
Source: Gutenberg

George H. Miles The truce of God: A tale of the eleventh century

At these words, Rodolph fell back in the missionary's arms, saying, "Then I accept with joy the end to which God has called me. Death no longer disturbs me, since it brings victory with it." From this moment he was speechless; and with his gaze earnestly bent upon his shield, that had been raised by a page, and on which was blazoned a crowned lion sleeping upon the knees of the Blessed Virgin, Rodolph of Suabia breathed his last. The calm face of the dead was not paler than Gilbert, who, unmoved by the shout of victory, watched the clay that had so lately been—a king.
Source: Gutenberg

George H. Miles The truce of God: A tale of the eleventh century

MARMION For three weeks the Lady Margaret had expected the duke and her brother; for three weeks Gilbert had impatiently awaited his father's return.
Toward the close of September, a group of young children might be seen clustering around an old man, at the edge of the forest, within a stone's throw of the Church of the Nativity. They were listening eagerly and delightedly to the patriarch they had surrounded, in whom we recognize Father Omehr. The faces of the infant band were bright with innocence and that happy alchemy which turns the merest toy to a costly treasure.
Source: Gutenberg

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