Flushed with this success, he next marched to Bari. Here he met with no resistance; but, on the contrary, an affecting appeal to his mercy in the spectacle of the citizens coming out before him, dressed in sackcloth, in token of submission. So solemn a humiliation, however, could not atone in the king's eye, for their crime in having demolished the citadel of the town, because it refused to turn disloyal, when the rebellion first broke out. To their entreaties for pardon, he sternly replied, that he should deal out strict justice to them; that as they had not spared his house, he should not spare their houses. A respite of two days only was allowed them, in which to quit their homes with their goods; upon its expiration, the entire city with its walls was reduced to a heap of ruins. Struck with terror at so cruel a vengeance, the rest of the revolted Apulian towns hastened to send in their submission; whereupon, William turned his arms at once against Beneventum; where not only the pope, but also prince Robert of Capua, and several other leaders of the rebellion resided. As the king approached, the prince of Capua, seized with terror, fled; but with so little caution as to fall into an ambush set for him by his vassal and fellow rebel, Richard Count of Fondi; who took the prince his son and daughter prisoners, and delivered them to his sovereign; by which piece of seasonable perfidy, Richard atoned for his treason, and recovered the royal favour. As to Robert, he was shipped off to Palermo, thrown into a dungeon, where his eyes were put out. In this sad condition, however, he did not long survive, as the severity of his treatment soon brought death to his relief.