The king was sorely perplexed. This dreamy maiden hardly seemed like a criminal. Looking at the sad, fair face of the prisoner, he could not find it in his heart to believe her guilty. Yet he held the count, as a true and honorable knight, incapable of falsehood; one who had, besides, risked his life for king and country.
Turning to the count, he then asked solemnly: “Frederick of Telramund, wilt thou in mortal combat let Heaven’s ordeal decide thine accusation as true or false?”
“Yea, that will I, O king,” answered Telramund, with proud confidence.
“And thee also, I ask, Elsa of Brabant, wilt thou abide by Heaven’s decree in the mortal combat that shall be fought for thy cause?”
Elsa’s eyes were fixed on the far distance. “Yea, that will I,” she replied slowly.
“What champion shall defend thee?” asked the king.
“That knight whom Heaven sent me! He and none other shall be my champion,” replied Elsa. “And this is the reward I offer. He shall wear my father’s crown, and high honor I shall deem it to give to him my land, my wealth, and my hand.”
“A prize worth fighting for!” murmured the people. Their hearts beat true to their princess, in spite of appearances against her.
“Let the summons go forth!” cried the king.
The heralds and trumpeters then marched to the outposts and proclaimed the challenge, so that all might hear it, far and near: “Let him who will fight in mortal combat for Elsa of Brabant now appear!” There was a long pause, and breathless silence followed. The echo of the trumpet’s blast died away into the distance. But no one appeared in answer to the call. Elsa listened, looking round on all sides, with anxious, expectant gaze. “O gracious king,” implored Elsa, “I beseech thee let the call go forth once again to summon my knight. He dwells so far he has not heard.”