This tyranny so incensed the nobles and citizens that they rose in self-defence, and Ziska, finding that Prague had grown too hot to hold him, deemed it prudent to lead his men away.  Sigismund took immediate advantage of the opportunity by marching on Prague.  But, quick as he was, there were others quicker.  The more moderate section of the reformers, the so-called Horebites,—­from Mount Horeb, another place of assemblage,—­entered the city, led by Hussinez, Huss’s former lord, and laid siege to the royal fortress, the Wisherad.  Sigismund attempted to surprise him, but met with so severe a repulse that he fled into Hungary, and the Wisherad was forced to capitulate, this ancient palace and its church, both splendid works of art, being destroyed.  Step by step the art and splendor of Bohemia were vanishing in this despotic struggle between heresy and the papacy.

As the war went on, Ziska, its controlling spirit, grew steadily more abhorrent of privilege and distinction, more bitterly fanatical.  The ancient church, royalty, nobility, all excited his wrath.  He was republican, socialist, almost anarchist in his views.  His idea of perfection lay in a fraternity composed of the children of God, while he trusted to the strokes of the iron flail to bear down all opposition to his theory of society.  The city of Prachaticz treated him with mockery, and was burnt to the ground, with all its inhabitants.  The Bishop of Nicopolis fell into his hands, and was flung into the river.  As time went on, his war of extermination against sinners—­that is, all who refused to join his banner—­grew more cruel and unrelenting.  Each city that resisted was stormed and ruined, its inhabitants slaughtered, its priests burned.  Hussite virtue had degenerated into tyranny of the worst type.  Yet, while thus fanatical himself, Ziska would not permit his followers to indulge in insane excesses of religious zeal.  A party arose which claimed that the millennium was at hand, and that it was their duty to anticipate the coming of the innocence of Paradise, by going naked, like Adam and Eve.  These Adamites committed the maddest excesses, but found a stern enemy in Ziska, who put them down with an unsparing hand.

In 1421 Sigismund again roused himself to activity, incensed by the Hussite defiance of his authority.  He incited the Silesians to invade Bohemia, and an army of twenty thousand poured into the land, killing all before them,—­men, women, and children.  Yet such was the terror that the very name of Ziska now excited, that the mere rumor of his approach sent these invaders flying across the borders.

But, in the midst of his career of triumph, an accident came to the Bohemian leader which would have incapacitated any less resolute man from military activity.  During the siege of the castle of Raby a splinter struck his one useful eye and completely deprived him of sight.  It did not deprive him of power and energy.  Most men, under such circumstances, would have retired from army leadership, but John Ziska was not of that calibre.  He knew Bohemia so thoroughly that the whole land lay accurately mapped out in his mind.  He continued to lead his army, to marshal his men in battle array, to command them in the field and the siege, despite his blindness, always riding in a carriage, close to the great standard, and keeping in immediate touch with all the movements of the war.