At the same time the Lübeckers were beginning to be weary of an unrighteous, burdensome, and unsuccessful war. The elector of Saxony, with other princes and some of the free towns of Germany, looking on the young Christian as one of their own body, offered to mediate between Lübeck and him. A congress was accordingly opened at Hamburg. It was arranged that all hostilities should cease between the king and the state of Lübeck, and that Copenhagen and the other towns still in rebellion should be pardoned if they made their submission. But these towns refused to surrender, in the confidence that Queen Mary of Hungary, governess of the Netherlands, the sister-in-law of Christian II., would send them aid. Necessity at last brought about what inclination refused. Copenhagen, in which the Count of Oldenburg had shut himself up, could no longer hold out. There was no more bread in the town. Those who had a little barley or oats ate them uncooked, lest the smoke should reveal the fact, and the famishing should come and carry off what remained. In a little while this emaciated population had nothing to live on but horses, dogs, and cats; and for this kind of food a very high price was charged. The soldiers who had nothing at all entered houses to snatch, from those who still had any thing left, any poor food, and carried it off, harassing them at the same time with shameful treatment. These unfortunates sought with eagerness after every thing that seemed capable of sustaining life. Men and women who were mere shadows wandered about hither and thither, scaring those who met them; and they were seen dragging themselves upon the ramparts exposed to the fire of the enemy and stooping to pluck from the soil any wild herbs. Some, when they felt that death was approaching, left their beds and dragged themselves along to the cemetery, as their relatives would certainly have no strength to carry them thither, and they lay down to die on the earth which was to cover them. Others, impatient for the end of the long agony, exposed themselves to the shots of the besiegers. Pity was nowhere to be found; and when some of these wretched victims abandoned themselves to cries and lamentations—‘Off with you!’ said the chiefs, ‘you are not so badly off as they were at the siege of Jerusalem, where parents ate their own children.’[354] There was more charity in the prince who was besieging them. Duke Albert of Mecklenburg, who had married a niece of the elder Christian, and was hoping to inherit his crown, was one of the leaders shut up in Copenhagen. His wife being confined, the young king sent her victuals in great abundance for the sustenance of herself and of all her connections. [Sidenote: The King’s Entry Into Copenhagen.]