This event was nothing less than the murder of the duke of Orleans, only brother to Charles the well-beloved, king of France. The duke was, on a Wednesday, the feast-day of pope St Clement, assassinated in Paris, about seven o’clock in the evening, on his return from dinner. This murder was committed by about eighteen men, who had lodged at an hôtel having for sign the image of our Lady, near the Porte Barbette, and who, it was afterward discovered, had for several days intended this assassination. On the Wednesday before mentioned, they sent one named Scas de Courteheuze, valet de chambre to the king, and one of their accomplices, to the duke of Orleans, who had gone to visit the queen of France at an hôtel which she had lately purchased from Montagu, grand master of the king’s household, situated very near the Porte Barbette. She had lain in there of a child, which had died shortly after its birth, and had not then accomplished the days of her purification. Scas, on his seeing the duke, said, by way of deceiving him, ‘My lord, the king sends for you, and you must instantly hasten to him, for he has business of great importance to you and him, which he must communicate to you.’ The duke, on hearing this message, was eager to obey the king’s orders, although the monarch knew nothing of the matter, and immediately mounted his mule, attended by two esquires on one horse, and four or five valets on foot, who followed behind bearing torches; but his other attendants made no haste to follow him. He had made this visit in a private manner, notwithstanding at this time he had within the city of Paris six hundred knights and esquires of his retinue, and at his expense. On his arrival at the Porte Barbette, the eighteen men, all well and secretly armed, were waiting for him, and were lying in ambush, under shelter of a pent-house. The night was pretty dark; and as they sallied out against him, one cried out, ‘Put him to death!’ and gave him such a blow on the wrist with his battle-axe as severed it from his arm. The duke, astonished at this attack, cried out, ‘I am the duke of Orleans!’ when the assassins, continuing their blows, answered, ‘You are the person we were looking for.’ So many rushed on him that he was struck off his mule, and his skull was split that his brains were dashed on the pavement. They turned him over and over, and massacred him that he was very soon completely dead. A young esquire, a German by birth, who had been his page, was murdered with him: seeing his master struck to the ground, he threw himself on his body to protect him, but in vain, and he suffered for his generous courage. The horse which carried the two esquires that preceded the duke, seeing so many armed men advance, began to snort, and when he had passed them set out on a gallop, so that it was some time before he could be checked.