At last the Bohemians were forced to call in their former conqueror to deliver them from this cruel tyranny; and Otto soon succumbed to the Imperial forces. He consented to summon an Assembly at Prague, at which he appointed Bishop Tobias as chief ruler of the kingdom; and he further issued a decree that those Germans who had entered Bohemia for the purposes of plunder should leave the country within three days. He again promised to release young Wenceslaus, and again broke his promise. The German robbers, awed doubtless by the power of Rudolf, hastened to obey the orders of their master. But the evil seed which they had sown did not cease to produce its natural fruits. It must be remembered that for three years the lands had been left uncultivated; and trade, except where carried on by Germans, had been totally paralysed. The consequence of these misfortunes was a terrible famine. Unemployed workmen and starving peasants crowded into Prague and enforced by violence their demands for food and clothing. Driven out by the authorities of the city, they perished of cold in the woods; large holes were filled with the dead bodies; family affection ceased in the bitter struggle for life; and, when all kinds of strange food had been tried and exhausted, mothers killed and ate their own children. At last, in 1283, a better harvest began to restore some hope for a return to human conditions of life. Then wild rumours and speculations fed the rising expectation. A beautiful rainbow was the source of bright prophecies; and a half belief began to arise in some minds that King Ottakar was not really dead, and would return in triumph. Suddenly a definite announcement took the place of dreams and fancies. Not Ottakar, but his son Wenceslaus, was to return to reign in Bohemia. Base and sordid to the last, Otto had demanded from the half-starved Bohemians a ransom of 35,000 marks, as compensation for what he called his care and expense in guarding the young Bohemian king, in reality as a bribe not to break any more promises. But the sum was paid, and no doubt willingly. There is something inexpressibly touching in the enthusiasm which greeted the return of the twelve-year-old king. Men, hardly recovered from years of starvation and plague, seemed at once convinced that at last a better time was coming; and on June 9, 1283, barons, knights, clergy, citizens, and peasants flocked out to meet the young king, Bishop Tobias leading the motley throng, and all singing the hymn of St. Adalbert, the opening words of which had served Ottakar as a war-cry at the fatal battle of the Marchfeld.