Now that the peace was to become an accomplished fact, Venice outdid
herself in preparing to honor the Emperor. The latter, too, was
determined to spare no expense that could add to the splendor of the
occasion. He had negotiated for a loan with the rich Venetians, and he
now imposed a tax of one thousand marks of silver on his nobles.

Frederick's coming was announced for Sunday, July 24th, and by that
time the city had donned its most festive attire. Two tall masts had
been erected on the present Piazzetta, and from them floated banners
bearing the lion of St. Mark's. A platform had been constructed at the
door of the church, and upon it was placed a raised throne for the
Pope.

When the Emperor landed on the Lido he was met by cardinals whom
Alexander had sent to absolve him from the ban. The Doge, the
Patriarch of Grado, and a crowd of lesser dignitaries then appeared
and furnished a brilliant escort with their gondolas and barks. Having
reached the shore Frederick, in the presence of an immense crowd,
approached the papal throne, and, throwing off his purple mantle,
prostrated himself before the Pope and kissed the latter's feet. Three
red slabs of marble mark the spot where he knelt. It was a moment of
world-wide importance; the Empire and the papacy had measured
themselves in mortal combat, and the Empire, in form at least, was now
surrendering at discretion. No wonder that later ages have fabled much
about this meeting. The Pope is said, with his foot on the neck of the
prostrate King, to have exclaimed aloud, "The lion and the young
dragon shalt thou trample under thy feet!"

As a matter of fact Alexander's letters of this time express anything
but insolent triumph, and his relations with the Emperor after the