Heralds came forward who asked the Parisians: “Where are your leaders? Which of you are captains?” The Parisians replied, “We have none other than the king and his nobles.” The heralds then demanded whether the constable and four barons would be allowed to enter in safety. “Ah, you laugh at us,” returned the Parisians; “go, tell them that we are ready to receive their commands.” The constable then confronted them. “Well, men of Paris,” he said, “who has made you come out thus from the city? You look as though you would fight your lord the king.” “My lord,” they replied, “we have no such wish and we never had; we only wish to show the king the power of his fair city of Paris. He is very young and does not know what we could do for him should he ever need us.” “Well said,” retorted the constable, “but the king for this once does not wish to see you thus. If you would that he enters your city, go back to your homes and lay aside your arms.” They obeyed (1383). [Illustration: CHARLES VI (From an old French print)] The next day the king arrived. The gates were all wide open; but he wished to enter through a breach and had a section knocked out. Then he made his way through the streets, helmeted, lance in hand, with the most terrible air his young person could assume. Executions began at once; first those of the city’s liberties. They took away its franchises, its elective magistrates, provost, aldermen, clerk, syndic, centurions, and tithing-men; they suppressed the people’s masterships, corporations, and brotherhoods; they deprived them of their arms and of the chains that made the streets safe. Then followed executions of persons; they arrested, made summary investigation, and finished by killing. Three hundred of the richest bourgeoisie were drowned, hanged, or decapitated with scarcely a form of trial. Noteworthy were the deaths of Nicholas le Flamand, one of those who followed Étienne Marcel the day of the slaying of the two marshals, twenty-six years before, and of John Desmarets, _avocat-général_ in the parliament, one of the negotiators of the Peace of Bretigny, and who was worn out in vain efforts between the two parties. His trial was iniquitous and his death touching. “When Desmarets,” says the monk of St. Denis,[d] “arrived at the place of execution, ‘Ask mercy of the king, Master John,’ the people cried, ‘that he may forgive your crimes.’ The old man turned to them and replied, ‘Loyally and well did I serve King Philip his great-grandfather, King John, and King Charles, his father; never had these kings anything to reproach me with; and this one would reproach me neither, had he the age and knowledge of a grown man. I do not believe him responsible in the least for this judgment. I have done nothing to ask mercy of him. It is God alone from whom I must ask it and I pray him to pardon my sins.’” [Sidenote: [1383-1388 A.D.]]