He passed near the picture of “Rizpah Defending Her Relatives,” which by some mischance had been left near the chapel door. Instantly the knight’s attention was fixed; he became excited, then suddenly turning to an attendant, exclaimed:
“Here, tell me, where am I? Is this London or Bozrah?”
“London, good Teuton.”
Again he gazed at the picture, and his transformation was startling. His face was distorted, his body became rigid and swayed as that of the hooded snake making ready to strike a victim. Then bounding to the Grand Master’s side he snatched the latter’s sword from its hilt, quickly returned to the picture, and before any could prevent him began to hack it to pieces.
One tried to restrain him, but was overpowered, two, then three were flung aside. Presently he was pinioned but not silenced.
“Away! Unhand me!” he shouted. “In the name of the King of Jerusalem, the defenders of the Sepulcher, unhand me! Do you not see? There! they’ve come to make riot at the feast of Cana! Ruddy priest, come quickly. Help! This fearful gang will all be loose in a moment; they be the ghosts of the giants, and war everlastingly against the peace of homes; against our Mary and her Son’s kingdom.”
He was breathless for a moment, and all were anxious lest he be permanently unsettled. Some were praying for him, others holding him. Then he broke forth again as before.
“Unhand me, infidels! God wills it! Let me cut to pieces yon horrible thing fresh from hot hell; painted by the gory and beslimed hands of devils! See! it’s bewitched, and the woman and the hanging men and the vultures are all alive! They’ll be at us! One of those black birds has feasted on my heart for years, and yon woman has nightly beaten my bare brain with her club.”