Meanwhile, in the dark recesses of the Ardennes a band of the exiles had been wandering about, sleeping on the bare ground in the open air, clothed in rags, starving, and ready for mischief. These men, under the leadership of Jean de Ville, hearing that Liége was unguarded, and that war was likely to break out once more between Burgundy and France, marched from the forest to Liége, and complained to the Pope's legate. He went to the Bishop, who was then at Maestricht, and laid before him the miserable condition of the country. The Bishop promised that he would return to Liége; but Charles the Bold, from whom nothing was hid, wrote and told him that, as soon as he had settled his affairs with the King of France, he was coming to the Principality to punish these new rebels against his authority. On this the Bishop, instead of going to Liége, went with the legate to Tongres.
This desertion drove Jean de Ville and his followers to despair. They made a night march to Tongres, surprised the Bishop's guards, some of whom they killed, and persuaded, or, rather, compelled, Louis and the Pope's legate to come with them to Liége. The war on which the insurgents counted when they thus captured the Bishop did not break out. On the contrary, negotiations had commenced, and ambassadors from France were discussing terms of peace with Charles at the very time of the raid on Tongres.
The summer of 1468 was a time of splendour at the Court of Burgundy. On June 25 Margaret of York, attended by a brilliant company of English lords and ladies, sailed into the harbour of Sluis, where she was met by Charles the Bold. A week later they journeyed by the canal to the ancient town of Damme, where their marriage was celebrated at five o'clock on the morning of July 3. On that same day they entered Bruges in state, followed by a train of sixty ladies of the greatest families of England and Burgundy, and surrounded by nobles and princes who wore the Order of the Golden Fleece. The famous tournament of the Tree of Gold was held, after the marriage feast, in the market-place, and the revels continued for eight days longer. All was bright and gay in Flanders; but far away among the Ardennes dark clouds were gathering over the Valley of the Meuse.
In the beginning of October the headquarters of the Burgundian army were at Peronne on the Somme. Louis XI. went thither with only a small escort, and sought an interview with Charles. Whatever his motive may have been for putting himself in the power of his rival, he had soon good reason to repent of his rashness. A party of Burgundians from Liége arrived at Peronne, accused the rebels of gross cruelty to the Bishop and to the Duke's friends, and asserted that some Frenchmen had taken part in the affair at Tongres. Charles, on hearing their statements, burst into one of his fits of uncontrollable anger. 'I know,' he cried, 'who is at the bottom of all this,' and forthwith locked up the King of France in the citadel of Peronne. After three days, during which Louis went in fear of his life, and Charles meditated all sorts of vengeance, the King was set free, and swore a solemn oath that he would assist Charles to punish the Liégeois.
Then the allied forces of France and Burgundy marched into the Principality. When they approached Liége the Bishop and the papal legate met them, and endeavoured to make terms for the people, throwing themselves on their knees before Charles, and beseeching him not to punish the innocent and the guilty alike. The Bishop, it was pointed out, had pardoned the affront which he had received; but the Duke forbade them to speak of pardon. He was master, he said, of the lives and property of these incorrigible rebels, and he would do with them as he pleased. After this there was nothing more to be said. The doom of Liége had been spoken.
A sally, made during the night by Jean de Ville and his men, though it threw the Burgundian outposts into confusion, had no effect but to increase the Duke's anger; and on Sunday, October 30, he entered the town at the head of his army, passing over the ruins of the old walls. There was no resistance. The streets were empty. The wealthier inhabitants, and all who had made themselves prominent in the recent disturbances, had fled to the Ardennes with their families, taking away as many of their possessions as they could carry. A great multitude of poor people, women, children, and old men, had concealed themselves in the cellars of their houses. Charles and the King rode through a deserted town till they came to the Hôtel de Ville. Here the Duke waved his sword on high, and shouted, 'Vive Bourgoyne!' The King of France drew his, and shouted likewise, 'Vive Bourgoyne!' and at this signal 40,000 soldiers were let loose.
OLD HOUSE OF THE QUAI DE LA GOFFE, LIÉGE
The people were dragged from their places of concealment and slain. Many who escaped immediate death ran to the churches for shelter. The priests, with crucifixes in their hands, came to the doors and implored the soldiers not to enter. They were cut down, and those whom they had tried to protect were killed, even on the steps of the altars. Old men and children were trampled underfoot. Young girls were outraged before their mothers' eyes, or put to death, shrieking and imploring mercy. Churches, convents, private houses were alike pillaged. Tombs were broken open in the search for plunder, and the bones of the dead were thrown out. Those who were suspected of possessing valuables were tortured to make them confess where their treasures were hidden. As the day went on every street in Liége ran with blood like a slaughter-house, till at last the soldiers grew tired of killing their victims one by one, and, tying them together in bundles of a dozen or more persons, threw them into the Meuse, where men and women, old and young, perished in one struggling mass. It is said that nearly 50,000 died, most of them in the town or by drowning in the river, but many from cold and famine among the Ardennes.
The horrors of the sacking of Dinant had been surpassed. Charles, however, was not yet satisfied. His real wish was to wipe Liége from the face of the earth—to destroy it utterly; but before doing so, he made a pretence of consulting Louis of France. The King, who understood him thoroughly, replied: 'Opposite my father's bedroom there was a tree, in which some troublesome birds had built their nest, and made such a noise that he could not sleep. He destroyed the nest three times, but they always returned. At last, on the advice of a friend, he cut down the tree, and after that he was able to repose in peace.'