leness and persuasion were the means by which she hoped
to influence the rude dukes and haughty archbishops of the empire, but
qualities such as these were wasted on her fierce subjects, and served
but to gain her the contempt of some and the dislike of others. A plot
to depose the weakly-mild regent and govern the empire in the name of
the youthful monarch was made by three men, Otto of Norheim, the
greatest general of the state, Ekbert of Meissen, its most valiant
knight, and Hanno, Archbishop of Cologne, its leading churchman. These
three men were present at the banquet, which they had fixed upon as the
occasion for carrying out their plot.

The feast over, the three men rose and walked with the boy monarch to a
window of the palace that overlooked the Rhine. On the waters before
them rode at anchor a handsome vessel, which the child looked upon with
eyes of delight.

[Illustration: SCENE OF MONASTIC LIFE.]

"Would you like to see it closer?" asked Hanno. "I will take you on
board, if you wish."

"Oh, will you?" pleaded the boy. "I shall be so glad."

The three conspirators walked with him to the stream, and rowed out to
the vessel, the empress viewing them without suspicion of their design.
But her doubts were aroused when she saw that the anchor had been raised
and that the sails of the vessel were being set. Filled with sudden
alarm she left the palace and hastened to the shore, just as the
kidnapping craft began to move down the waters of the stream.

At the same moment young Henry, who had until now been absorbed in
gazing delightedly about the vessel, saw what was being done, and heard
his mother's cries. With courage and resolution unusual for his years he
broke, with a cry of anger, from those surrounding him, and leaped into
the stream, with the purpose of swimming ashore. But hardly had he
touched the water when Count Ekbert sprang in after him, seized him
despite his struggles, and brought him back to the vessel.

The empress entreated in pitiful accents for the return of her son, but
in vain; the captors of the boy were not of the kind to let pity
interfere with their plans; on down the broad stream glided the vessel,
the treacherous vassals listening in silence to the agonized appeals of
the distracted mother, and to the mingled prayers and demands of the
young emperor to be taken back. The country people, furious on learning
that the emperor had been stolen, and was being carried away before
the