The red wrath I call it--an overwhelming, all-mastering desire to kill and destroy.

I forgot that Philippa waited for me in the great hall.

All I knew was my wrongs--the unpardonable interference in my affairs by the gray old man, the errand of the priest, the insolence of Fortini, the impudence of Villehardouin, and here Pasquini standing in my way and spitting in the grass.

I saw red.

I thought red.