The two rival emperors made vigorous preparations to settle the dispute with the sword, and the German States arrayed themselves, some on one side and some on the other.  The two armies met at Gelheim on the 2d of July, led by the rival sovereigns.  In the thickest of the fight Adolphus spurred his horse through the opposing ranks, bearing down all opposition, till he faced Albert, who was issuing orders and animating his troops by voice and gesture.

“Yield,” shouted Adolphus, aiming a saber stroke at the head of his foe, “your life and your crown.”

“Let God decide,” Albert replied, as he parried the blow, and thrust his lance into the unprotected face of Adolphus.  At that moment the horse of Adolphus fell, and he himself was instantly slain.  Albert remained the decisive victor on this bloody field.  The diet of electors was again summoned, and he was now chosen unanimously emperor.  He was soon crowned with great splendor at Aix-la-Chapelle.

Still Albert sat on an uneasy throne.  The pope, indignant that the electors should presume to depose one emperor and choose another without his consent, refused to confirm the election of Albert, and loudly inveighed him as the murderer of Adolphus.  Albert, with characteristic impulsiveness, declared that he was emperor by choice of the electors and not by ratification of the pope, and defiantly spurned the opposition of the pontiff.  Considering himself firmly seated on the throne, he refused to pay the bribes of tolls, privileges, territories, etc., which he had so freely offered to the electors.  Thus exasperated, the electors, the pope, and the King of Bohemia, conspired to drive Albert from the throne.  Their secret plans were so well laid, and they were so secure of success, that the Elector of Mentz tauntingly and boastingly said to Albert, “I need only sound my hunting-horn and a new emperor will appear.”

Albert, however, succeeded by sagacity and energy, in dispelling this storm which for a time threatened his entire destruction.  By making concessions to the pope, he finally won him to cordial friendship, and by the sword vanquishing some and intimidating others, he broke up the league.  His most formidable foe was his brother-in-law, Wenceslaus, King of Bohemia.  Albert’s sister, Judith, the wife of Wenceslaus, had for some years prevented a rupture between them, but she now being dead, both monarchs decided to refer their difficulties to the arbitration of the sword.  While their armies were marching, Wenceslaus was suddenly taken sick and died, in June, 1305.  His son, but seventeen years of age, weak in body and in mind, at once yielded to all the demands of his imperial uncle.  Hardly a year, however, had elapsed ere this young prince, Wenceslaus III., was assassinated, leaving no issue.