“Arise, Count Arras, noble of the German Empire, and first Lord of the Alf-thal.”
The blacksmith rose slowly to his feet, bowed lowly to the Emperor, and backed to the place where he had formerly stood, again resting his hands on the handle of his sledge-hammer. The look of exultation faded from the face of Count Bertrich, and was replaced by an expression of dismay, for he had been until that moment, himself first Lord of the Alf-thal, with none second.
“My Lords,” once more spoke up the Archbishop, “I ask you to salute Count Arras, first Lord of the Alf-thal.”
No noble moved, and again Count Bertrich appealed to the Emperor.
“Are we to receive on terms of equality,” he said, “a landless man; the count of a blacksmith’s hut; a first lord of a forge? For the second time I appeal to your Majesty against such an outrage.”
The Emperor replied calmly:
“Again I support the appeal of Count Bertrich.”
There was this time no applause from the surrounding nobles, for many of them had some smattering idea of what was next to happen, though the muddled brain of Count Bertrich gave him no intimation of it.
“Count Arras,” said the Archbishop, “I promised you a gift when last I left you at your smithy door. I now bestow upon you and your heirs forever this castle of Burg Arras, and the lands adjoining it. I ask you to hold it for me well and faithfully, as you held the pass of the Eifel. My Lords,” continued the Archbishop, turning to the nobles, with a ring of menace in his voice, “I ask you to salute Count Arras, your equal in title, your equal in possessions, and the superior of any one of you in patriotism and bravery. If any noble question his courage, let him neglect to give Count of Burg Arras his title and salutation as he passes before him.”
“Indeed, and that will not I,” said the tall noble who had sat at Bertrich’s right hand in his castle, “for, my Lords, if we hesitate longer, this doughty blacksmith will be Emperor before we know it.” Then, advancing towards the ex-armourer, he said: “My Lord, Count of Burg Arras, it gives me pleasure to salute you, and to hope that when Emperor or Archbishop are to be fought for, your arm will be no less powerful in a coat of mail than it was when you wore a leathern apron.”