From "Manual of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

The she-witch alive! Gurney thought. The one I swore vengeance against, alive! And it's obvious Duke Paul doesn't know what manner of creature gave him birth. The evil one! Betrayed his own father to the Harkonnens!
Paul pressed past him, jumped up to the ledge. He glanced back, noted that the wounded and dead had been removed, and he thought bitterly that here was another chapter in the legend of Paul Muad'Dib. I didn't even draw my knife, but it'll be said of this day that I slew twenty Sardaukar by my own hand .
Gurney followed with Stilgar, stepping on ground that he did not even feel. The cavern with its yellow light of glowglobes was forced out of his thoughts by rage. The she-witch alive while those she betrayed are bones in lonesome graves. I must contrive it that Paul learns the truth about her before I slay her .
How often it is that the angry man rages denial of what his inner self is telling him.
—"The Collected Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan
The crowd in the cavern assembly chamber radiated that pack feeling Jessica had sensed the day Paul killed Jamis. There was murmuring nervousness in the voices. Little cliques gathered like knots among the robes.
Jessica tucked a message cylinder beneath her robe as she emerged to the ledge from Paul's private quarters. She felt rested after the long journey up from the south, but still rankled that Paul would not yet permit them to use the captured ornithopters.
"We do not have full control of the air," he had said. "And we must not become dependent upon offworld fuel. Both fuel and aircraft must be gathered and saved for the day of maximum effort."
Paul stood with a group of the younger men near the ledge. The pale light of glowglobes gave the scene a tinge of unreality. It was like a tableau, but with the added dimension of warren smells, the whispers, the sounds of shuffling feet.
She studied her son, wondering why he had not yet trotted out his surprise—Gurney Halleck. Thought of Gurney disturbed her with its memories of an easier past—days of love and beauty with Paul's father.
Stilgar waited with a small group of his own at the other end of the ledge. There was a feeling of inevitable dignity about him, the way he stood without talking.
We must not lose that man , Jessica thought. Paul's plan must work. Anything else would be highest tragedy .
She strode down the ledge, passing Stilgar without a glance, stepped down into the crowd. A way was made for her as she headed toward Paul. And silence followed her.
She knew the meaning of the silence—the unspoken questions of the people, awe of the Reverend Mother.
The young men drew back from Paul as she came up to him, and she found herself momentarily dismayed by the new deference they paid him. "All men beneath your position covet your station ," went the Bene Gesserit axiom. But she found no covetousness in these faces. They were held at a distance by the religious ferment around Paul's leadership. And she recalled another Bene Gesserit saying: "Prophets have a way of dying by violence ."
Paul looked at her.
"It's time," she said, and passed the message cylinder to him.
One of Paul's companions, bolder than the others, glanced across at Stilgar, said: "Are you going to call him out, Muad'Dib? Now's the time for sure. They'll think you a coward if you—"
"Who dares call me coward?" Paul demanded. His hand flashed to his crysknife hilt.
Bated silence came over the group, spreading out into the crowd.
"There's work to do," Paul said as the man drew back from him. Paul turned away, shouldered through the crowd to the ledge, leaped lightly up to it and faced the people.
"Do it!" someone shrieked.
Murmurs and whispers arose behind the shriek.
Paul waited for silence. It came slowly amidst scattered shufflings and coughs. When it was quiet in the cavern, Paul lifted his chin, spoke in a voice that carried to the farthest corners.
"You are tired of waiting," Paul said.
Again, he waited while the cries of response died out.