On June 13th, 1392, at the close of a fête given at the Hôtel St. Pol, the constable lingered a little to take leave of the king and the duke of Orleans, and then with eight attendants, two carrying torches, made his way towards the rue Ste. Catherine. Here Peter de Craon was waiting for him, with forty mounted brigands, scarcely a half dozen of whom knew what was expected of them. When Clisson appeared, Craon’s men threw themselves on his attendants and extinguished their torches. Clisson at first thought it a joke of the duke of Orleans, whom he supposed to have followed him. “My lord,” he said, “you are young, we must pardon you. These are the pranks of youth.” But Peter de Craon cried, “Die, die, Clisson; here you shall die.” “Who art thou,” asked Clisson, “who speakest such words?” “I am Peter de Craon, your enemy. You have many times provoked me, and shall here pay for it. Forward,” he called to his men, “I have him whom I wanted and will have.” The constable tried to defend himself but was soon wounded and thrown from his horse. In falling, his head came against the unlatched door of a bake-shop, which gave way. This saved him. The assassins thought him dead; they had, moreover, recognised the constable, and fearful of having attacked so powerful a personage, they fled with Craon to his castle of Sablé in Maine. The news of the outrage was brought to the king as he was preparing for bed. He called his guard, had torches lighted and went to the bake-shop where Clisson was beginning to recover consciousness. “Constable,” said the king, “how do you feel?” “Weak and poorly, sire.” “And who brought you to this pass?” “Peter de Craon, sire, and his accomplices, treacherously and with no warning.” “Constable, nothing will be paid more dearly or amends made for than this thing.” Peter de Craon, who no longer felt himself safe in the castle of Sablé, sought refuge with the duke of Burgundy, who, called upon to deliver up the rascal, caused him to be hid and replied that he knew nothing whatever of him. Charles immediately collected an army, swearing to take no rest until he had punished this rebellion. The dukes of Burgundy and Berri endeavoured to block this enterprise. Their hatred towards Clisson had grown since they learned he possessed great wealth. The constable, believing himself about to die, had made his will, and besides his fiefs and heritage he had disposed of 1,700,000 francs’ worth of personal property. But the king paid no heed to the delays and bad will of his uncles and to the fears which his physicians expressed for his health. He led his army as far as Le Mans. THE KING GOES MAD: THE PRINCES RETURN TO POWER (1392 A.D.)