The Frauenburg, the citadel of Wuerzburg, held out for the princes, and the main army of the peasants still lay before its walls. As soon as they heard of the Truchsess' march, they resolved on an assault, and at nine o'clock at night on the 15th of May the trumpets sounded, the tricolor flag was unfurled, and the peasants rushed to the attack with horrible shouts. Sebastian von Rotenhan, one of the warmest partisans of the Reformation, was governor of the castle. He had put the fortress in a formidable state of defence, and, having exhorted the garrison to repel the assault with courage, the soldiers, holding up three fingers, had all sworn to do so. A most terrible conflict took place. To the vigor and despair of the insurgents, the fortress replied from its walls and towers by petards, showers of sulphur and boiling pitch and the discharges of artillery. The peasants, thus struck by their unseen enemies, were staggered for a moment; but in an instant their fury grew more violent. The struggle was prolonged as the night advanced. The fortress, lit up by a thousand battle-fires, appeared in the darkness like a towering giant, who, vomiting flames, struggled alone amid the roar of thunder, for the salvation of the empire against the ferocious valor of these furious hordes. Two hours after midnight the peasants withdrew, having failed in all their efforts. They now tried to enter into negotiations, either with the garrison or with Truchsess, who was advancing at the head of his army. But this was going out of their path; violence and victory alone could save them. After some little hesitation they resolved to march against the imperial forces, but the cavalry and artillery made terrible havoc in their ranks. At Koenigshofen, and afterward at Engelstadt, those unfortunate creatures were totally defeated. The princes, the nobles, and bishops, abusing their victory, indulged in the most unprecedented cruelties. The prisoners were hanged on the trees by the wayside. The Bishop of Wuerzburg, who had run away, now returned, traversed his diocese accompanied by executioners, and watered it alike with the blood of the rebels and of the peaceful friends of the Word of God. Goetz von Berlichingen was sentenced to imprisonment for life. The margrave Casimir of Anspach put out the eyes of eighty-five insurgents who had sworn that their eyes should never look upon that Prince again; and he cast this troop of blinded individuals upon the world, to wander up and down, holding each other by the hand, groping along, tottering, and begging their bread. The wretched boy who had played the dead-march on his fife at the murder of Helfenstein, was chained to a post, a fire was kindled around him, and the knights looked on, laughing at his horrible contortions.