It was red rain, the parents told their children, that rained down upon them from the crosses. And it was a shrill laughter, nothing more, that came with such rain. But they had no words when the priest fell from the temple roof. And they had no words as comely homes and faces became homely from the flame and the sword.

Undeniably it was the madness humanity covers with what they call civility. Walls were smashed, wagons overturned, foundations cracked and shook. The King and Queen hung on a chain lynch from their balcony while the revolutionaries preached their song from the royals' erstwhile place. "'Tis peace which we seek, but madness in which we thrive," they all know.