In that day the Genoese lost 3,000 men killed, and 3,500 taken prisoners. The Republic had never before suffered such a disaster. Despair took possession of government and people, and they abdicated their independence and proclaimed John Visconti, Duke of Milan, as Lord of Genoa. Lucien (1506-14) murdered his brother John, so as to obtain the principality for himself—at least, so it was surmised, and Lucien was obliged to fly from Monaco on that account, and conceal himself, till Duke Charles of Savoy gave him an indult, forbidding all inquiry to be made into the matter of the crime, and search after the murderer. Then Lucien stole back to Monaco and assumed the sovereignty. His sister Francesca had married Lucas Doria, and when left a widow, by her will constituted her brothers Lucien and Augustine, who was bishop of Grasse, guardians of her children. After her death her son Bartholomew Doria complained bitterly that his uncle Lucien Grimaldi kept hold of the inheritance and would not surrender it. At last, resentment induced him to resolve on revenging himself on Lucien, for the wrong done to himself, and for the murder of his uncle John. He secured the promise of co-operation, if required, of the famous admiral, Andrew Doria, and he sent to Monaco some confederates, with a request to Lucien to let them be lodged there in safety, as they had got into a broil at Genoa. He also intimated his intention to follow shortly and halt at Monaco on his way to Lyons, where he hoped to have an interview with the King of France, and to obtain from him a charge in his army. When Bartholomew arrived at Monaco, Lucien invited him to breakfast and gave to his nephew the place of honour at the table. Bartholomew could not eat, and when pressed to do so by his uncle complained that he had lost his appetite. Lucien then placed one of his children on Doria’s knee; but the young man trembled so that the child had to be taken from him. On rising from table Bartholomew asked the prince to give him some instructions as to his course. At this time Andrew Doria’s fleet put into the harbour of Monaco, and the admiral sent to Bartholomew a laconic epistle, “What thou hast to do, do quickly.” Lucien bade his nephew accompany him into a cabinet at the end of the gallery. As the prince entered, the major-domo came up and informed him that Andrew Doria’s galleys had arrived in the port, and handed to Bartholomew the sealed letter bidding him be speedy in executing what he had undertaken. When the major-domo withdrew, none were in the cabinet save the prince, who seated himself, a black slave, and Bartholomew, who stood by the window. All at once the tramp of feet sounded in the gallery, and an assassin rushed in, followed by others holding daggers and shouting, “Ammaza! kill! kill!” In a few minutes Lucien was despatched, and then the murderers, surrounding Bartholomew, marched forth, descended to the port, and were received on board the galley of Andrew Doria.