With a huge antique knife the old man slit its throat, catching the blood in a stone ewer.

Some was flung on the fire, which had burned small and low.
'Even so,' cried the priest, 'will the king quench in blood the hearth-fires of his foes.' Then on Laputa's forehead and bare breast he drew a bloody cross.

'I seal thee,' said the voice, 'priest and king of God's people.' The ewer was carried round the assembly, and each dipped his finger in it and marked his forehead.

I got a dab to add to the other marks on my face.
'Priest and king of God's people,' said the voice again, 'I call thee to the inheritance of John.

Priest and king was he, king of kings, lord of hosts, master of the earth.