No definite news of
the outcome of the sortie had reached them and they were moving in a
dense pack down toward the walls to hear the worst. The whole hurrying
mass seemed to vibrate with suspense and dread. The maniac met them.
"Woe, woe to Jerusalem!" he cried.
A lean, apish, half-naked, lash-scarred idiot in the street,
instantly, as if in echo to that mad cry, shouted in a voice of the
most prodigious volume:
"A voice from the east, a voice from the west, a voice from the four
winds, a voice against Jerusalem and the Holy house, a voice against
the bridegrooms and the brides and a voice against this whole people!"
The temper of the crowd had reached that point of tension that needed
only a little more strain to become panic. Some one received the
discordant cries of the maniacs with piercing rapid screams. Instantly
the choked passage filled with frantic uproar. Scores attempting to
flee blindly trampled over those transfixed with fear. They fought,
men with women, youths with old age, children with one another.
Hundreds attracted by the tumult rushed in on the panic and added
fresh victims and new death. Out of the horror rose the fearful cries
of the madmen:
"Woe, woe to this wicked city!"
Meanwhile, the soldiers of Simon and John came to prevent citizens
from gathering in bodies, and with sword and spear drove into the
struggle and added murder to it all.
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