The Turks soon arrived and commenced an unceasing bombardment day and night.  The little garrison vigorously responded.  The besieged made frequent sallies, spiking the guns of the besiegers, and again retiring behind their works.  But their overpowering foes advanced, inch by inch, till they got possession of what was called the “old city.”  The besieged retiring to the “new city,” resumed the defense with unabated ardor.  The storm of war raged incessantly for many days, and the new city was reduced to a smoldering heap of fire and ashes.  The Turks, with incredible labor, raised immense mounds of earth and stone, on the summits of which they planted their batteries, where they could throw their shot, with unobstructed aim, into every part of the city.  Roads were constructed across the marsh, and the swarming multitudes, in defiance of all the efforts of the heroic little garrison, filled up the ditch, and were just on the rush to take the place by a general assault, when Zrini abandoned the new city to flames, and threw himself into the citadel.  His force was now reduced to about a thousand men.  Day after day the storm of war blazed with demoniac fury around the citadel.  Mines were dug, and, as by volcanic explosions, bastions, with men and guns, were blown high into the air.  The indomitable Hungarians made many sallies, cutting down the gunners and spiking the guns, but they were always driven back with heavy loss.  Repeated demands for capitulation were sent in and as repeatedly rejected.  For a week seven assaults were made daily upon the citadel by the Turks, but they were always repulsed.  At length the outer citadel was entirely demolished.  Then the heroic band retired to the inner works.  They were now without ammunition or provisions, and the Turks, exasperated by such a defense, were almost gnashing their teeth with rage.  The old sultan, Solyman, actually died from the intensity of his vexation and wrath.  The death of the sultan was concealed from the Turkish troops, and a general assault was arranged upon the inner works.  The hour had now come when they must surrender or die, for the citadel was all battered into a pile of smoldering ruins, and there were no ramparts capable of checking the progress of the foe.  Zrini assembled his little band, now counting but six hundred, and said,

“Remember your oath.  We must die in the flames, or perish with hunger, or go forth to meet the foe.  Let us die like men.  Follow me, and do as I do.”

They made a simultaneous rush from their defenses into the thickest of the enemy.  For a few moments there was a scene of wildest uproar and confusion, and the brave defenders were all silent in death.  The Turks with shouts of triumph now rushed into the citadel.  But Zrini had fired trains leading to the subterranean vaults of powder, and when the ruins were covered with the conquerors, a sullen roar ran beneath the ground and the whole citadel, men, horses, rocks and artillery were thrown into the air, and fell a commingled mass of ruin, fire and blood.  A more heroic defense history has not recorded.  Twenty thousand Turks perished in this siege.  The body of Zrini was found in the midst of the mangled dead.  His head was cut off and, affixed to a pole, was raised as a trophy before the tent of the deceased sultan.