the claims against de la Pole, suggesting that they were "trivial or unfounded...merely pretexts for dismissing the chief minister of an unpopular King". In any case, the parliament itself became increasingly focused on personally attacking the earl and the perceived abuse of the authority of the chancellorship, even down to the supposed theft of a charter from Dover Castle. The affair ended up "dragg[ing] on for at least a month [and] degenerated into three badly sustained and trivial charges, behind each of which motives of malice or private interest may be suspected," one commentator has written. De la Pole's main defence was two-pronged: on the one hand, he accused his accusers of expecting a higher morality from him than from the King's other advisers, and on the other hand, that he could not be held solely responsible for what were collective decisions. King Richard had not attended the parliament in person, having retired—possibly in anger—to the royal palace at Eltham, and he refused to obey its demands for impeachment. According to one contemporary chronicler, he declared he would not get rid of a kitchen scullion on the grounds that parliament asked him to. According to the author of another chronicle, the Eulogium Historiarum, he even tried to dissolve parliament at this point, but the Commons refused to leave. Richard's behaviour at this point, says the medievalist Phil Bradford, was "strongly reminiscent" of Edward II's attempts to frustrate his own parliaments earlier in the 14th century, a point not lost on the noble opposition in 1386. Richard's absence Until now, Richard had a good record in attending parliament: he had only missed one day in 1379, and now the Commons reported to him that they could achieve little without his presence. In response, the King sent for a deputation of forty of them to finalise discussions at Eltham. However, the St Albans Chronicler, Thomas Walsingham, reports that the King was planning to have the parliamentary group arrested or even ambushed and killed, and that the Mayor of London, Nicholas Exton had discovered the plan and warned them. This was described by Henry Knighton as the "occultus rumor", whereby the King intended to invite forty members of that parliament to a dinner—and then destroy them. This may well have merely been a rumour, as Knighton suggests—perhaps reflecting the extent to which the King's reputation had declined—but parliament was taking no chances: they