The attack prospered notwithstanding, for the death of their leader, instead of disheartening his soldiers, roused them to increased effort. A thick fog prevailed and under cover of this the constable’s troops crossed the entrenchments and swarmed the ramparts with so much determination that the Romans threw down their arms, and, panic stricken, sought safety in headlong flight. Meanwhile Pope Clement, who had been at his prayers in the chapel of the Vatican, was roused from his knees by the terrible news that the city was practically captured. Without a moment’s pause he ran to the covered passage or corridor communicating with St. Angelo to take refuge in his castle. As he hurried along in frantic haste, he feared that his white robes might betray him to some marksman, so he drew his skirts over his head and in this garb safely reached the wicket gate. A number of cardinals and bishops went with him, eager to seek safety in this welcome retreat. They were safe enough inside, but without the city was given over to pillage and devastation by the savage and bloodthirsty troops. Men were massacred wholesale, women violated, and the air was rent with their shrieks mingled with the groans of the dying. The soldiers, Spaniards and Germans, maddened and infuriated, overran the streets, destroying the palaces, robbing the churches of their furniture and the altars of their relics and sacred ornaments. The horrors of that night of storm and sack are indescribable; the castle alone held out and afforded shelter to the pope and his cardinals, but it was ill-provisioned and could hardly hope to beat off the attack when the brutal soldiery, sated with spoil and slowly recovering from their wild orgies, began a regular siege. Now Cellini came to the front and distinguished himself greatly. He had entered the castle with the other fugitives, and eager for active employment, joined a battery of guns under a Florentine named Giuliano. This man was in despair. From the battlements he could see his own house being pillaged, his wife and children in danger, and he did not dare to open fire but, “throwing his match upon the ground made piteous lamentations, tearing his hair and uttering the most doleful cries.” The energetic goldsmith promptly interposed, and calling upon others to assist, directed the guns where their fire would be the most effective and killed a considerable number of the enemy. After this Cellini continued to fire, which, he says, “made some cardinals and gentlemen bless me and extol my activity to the skies. Emboldened by this I used my utmost exertions; let it suffice that it was I that preserved the castle that morning.”