The chronicler, Domenico Gravina, relates how that a few days later Count Charles was found dead in his prison, the lips covered with a bloody froth, and the wrists all gnawed away—so we may suppose him to have died either of rage or of some corrosive poison; or, very likely, of both. And not long afterwards his son Bertrand, in despair, hanged himself from a grating in the vault at Malfi, into which he had been transferred by order of Catherine of Taranto. But retribution, as condign as it was merited, was about to fall upon the head of that wicked woman. On returning, laden with her ill-gotten spoils, to Naples, her triumph was dashed to the ground to learn that, during her absence, Charles of Durazzo, her ancient enemy and that of her house, had once more sent word to Joan, demanding that she should instantly create him Duke of Calabria, and so acknowledge him to be the rightful heir to the throne as the husband of her sister Maria. This demand the Queen had rejected with contumely; and Charles, stung to madness by her refusal, had thereupon sent back word to inform her that he had accordingly written to King Louis of Hungary, inviting him to take possession of the kingdom and promising to deliver to him the chief murderers of his brother Andrew, who had so far escaped the just consequences of their iniquity. It was now indispensable, as Joan saw clearly, to secure the public opinion of Europe to her side in the life-and-death struggle with her implacable foe. Therefore, she sent ambassadors to plead her cause with the Florentine Republic and to exonerate her of the crime generally imputed to her of having caused the murder of her husband. She even wrote in the same sense to the Hungarian King himself; but only received for reply a letter in which Louis of Hungary enumerated the proofs against her—her disordered life both before and after marriage; the exclusive power that she had arrogated to herself; the fact that it had been in no way owing to her exertions that King Andrew’s murderers had ever been brought to justice, and that she had so quickly taken another husband in his place—all of which certainly pointed to Joan’s aggravated guilt. Indeed, the King of Hungary had already, on receipt of Charles of Durazzo’s letter, written back to accept the offer of the throne and to say that he would at once set about making preparations for coming down to Naples at the head of a large army of Hungarians. For, apart from Charles’ invitation to him, King Louis, stirred up by love for his murdered brother, as well as by the tears of their mother, Elizabeth, and the incitement of the Dominican, Father Robert, who, after Andrew’s demise, had taken refuge in Budapesth, was now entirely bent on avenging his brother to the utmost of his ability.