Quaking with fear was the king. He thought that if the duke should now fail to make a complete conquest of Liege, his own fate would hang in the balance. At a hasty council meeting held that night, Charles was very doubtful as to the expediency of carrying out his proposed assault upon the city. Very distrustful of each other were the allies, a fact that caused Philip de Commines to comment,[3] "scarcely fifteen days had elapsed since these two had sworn a definitive peace and solemnly promised to support each other loyally. But confidence could not enter in any way." Charles gave Louis permission to retire to Namur and wait until the duke had reduced the recalcitrant burghers once for all. Louis thought it wiser to keep close to Charles's own person until they parted company for ever, and the morrow found him in the duke's company as he marched on to Liege. "My opinion is, [says Commines], that he would have been wise to depart that night. He could have done it for he had a hundred archers of his guard, various gentlemen of his household, and, near at hand, three hundred men-at-arms. Doubtless he was stayed by considerations of honour. He did not wish to be accused of cowardice." Olivier de la Marche, also present as the princely pair entered Liege, heard the king say: "March on, my brother, for you are the luckiest prince alive." As they entered the gates, Louis shouted lustily, "_Vive Bourgogne_," to the infinite dismay of his former friends, the burghers of Liege. The remainder of the history of that dire Sunday morning differs from that of other assaults only in harrowing details, and the extremity of the pitilessness and ferocity manifested by the conquerors. Charles had previously spared churches, and protected the helpless. Above all he had severely punished all ill treatment of respectable women. Little trace of this former restraint was to be seen on this occasion. The inhabitants were destroyed and banished by dozens. Those who fled from their homes leaving their untasted breakfasts to be eaten by the intruding soldiers, those who were scattered through the numerous churches, those who attempted to defend the breaches in the walls--all alike were treated without mercy. The Cathedral of St. Lambert, Charles did endeavour to protect. "The duke himself went thither, and one man I saw him kill with his own hand, whereupon all the company departed and that particular church was not pillaged, but at the end the men who had taken refuge there were captured as well as the wealth of the church." [Illustration: OLIVIER DE LA MARCHE (FROM MS. REPRODUCED IN MÉM. COURONNÉS, ETC., PAR L'ACAD, ROYALE DE BELGIQUE VOL. XLIX.)]