The early annals of Germany afford many curious instances of trials by ordeal; but, perhaps, one of the most romantic was in the case of Maria of Aragon, consort of Otho III, and the Messalina of her time. It is related of her, that she generally went abroad with a youth disguised in female attire, who was afterwards buried alive. Having become desperately enamoured of a count of Modena, who rejected her addresses, she accused him with having attempted to seduce her. The count was allowed to prove his innocence by the trial of battle; but, having been vanquished, was sentenced to lose his head. Prior to his execution he acquainted his wife with the particulars of his unfortunate case, and enjoined her to avenge his death. She, faithful to his last request, took the bloody head, and, placing it under the cloak of one of her followers, proceeded to the court; then, presenting the gory head to the sovereign, she demanded justice. Otho, struck with horror at the appalling sight, asked her what she wanted, and of whom she had to complain. “Of you, Cæsar,” was her reply; “you behold the result of a most iniquitous deed, and I am ready to submit myself to the ordeal of fire, to prove the innocence of my unfortunate husband.” The Emperor consented, and a brazier with a red-hot iron bar was brought forward. The tradition states that the countess seized the iron without dismay or injury; when, addressing the Emperor, she demanded _his_ head, since he had been found guilty of the death of an innocent man. The prince, however, as might be expected, demurred at this proposal, but ordered his guilty wife to be burned alive; a sentence that was carried into execution at Modena, in 998. The Empress of Henry II, the beautiful Cunegonde, was equally fortunate in handling red-hot bars of iron when accused of having been criminally connected with the devil, who was seen coming out of her bed-chamber every morning. Baronius, in his Ecclesiastic Annals, asserts that she handled the burning metal like a nosegay. Gunehilde, wife of Henry III, and daughter of our Canute, was also very lucky in the choice of a champion when basely accused of infidelity. Her accuser was a gigantic man of the name of Rodinger; but she selected for her defender a little boy, whom she had brought from England, and who miraculously cut the hamstrings of his colossal antagonist. Amongst the curious records of these barbarous and fabulous times, an edict of Frederick II. forbade his nobles from fighting, plundering travellers, and circulating base coin, which had been considered a privilege of feodality; and in his Sicilian and Neapolitan constitution he exempted his subjects from the necessity of accepting a challenge.