The Vengeance of Rome

FOUR

1648, you say? As if this somehow makes up for 1492. Everyone is talking in that dingy distance. A no man’s land of howls, imploring shrieks. And then they are talking again. And you say there is nothing to fear from the East? I say you are looking in the wrong places. Look to Australia or China or Siam, not to Russia or her empire, who will always be European, for it is Christendom herself she defends. It is her free Cossacks who will ensure Christendom’s boundaries. For it is written that the borders were drawn upon the world by God’s own finger tracing them as He traced the mosaics of our history.

Abraham, der ah erster seiner eigenen Menschlichkeit ein Opfer brachte: Wo traf dein Messer deinen vertrauensvollen Sohn?

Those decent horsemen riding into Ur, their eyes bright with the significance of a new idea. Such expressions were worn by the men who saw the wheel invented and the women who learned to card wool. By Norsemen who carried the banner of Christ. By Easterners who bore their own flags. Sooner or later, as many predicted, East and West would meet, either at war or having learned a way of peace. On one side the gold, white, red, black, green and blue of Christendom. On the other side the dark emerald of Islam, the scarlet crescent and whatever colours of convenience thrown up by criminals, kulaks and cowboys of modern Zion. Who would be a Jew?