THE WEST’S DARKEST HOUR UNDER THE HEART TREE OF BRAN THE BROKEN Julian, 50 This site in a nutshell: here. Julian presiding at a conference of Sectarians See also “The 14 words” and (Edward Armitage, 1875) “New tablets of stone”. The Fair Race’s Darkest I was placed in the chair of honour beside the fountain, as Hour is a compilation of Prohaeresius presented his wife Amphiclea to me. She is a sad texts by seventeen authors woman who has never got over the deaths of two daughters. She that changed my world- spoke seldom. Obviously philosophy has been no consolation to view. A softcover edition of her. I also met Macrina’s father, Anatolius, a boorish man who the book is available: here. looked like an innkeeper, which he was. Macrina was not fond of him. Basil and Gregory excused themselves. Gregory was most winning. He offered to take me to all the lectures; he would be my guide. Basil was equally pleasant though he said that he might have to excuse himself from most expeditions. “It’s only a few months before I go back. I have a great deal to do, if I’m spared.” And he pressed both hands to his middle, with a look of mock agony. “My liver feels as if Prometheus’s vultures were tearing at it!” “Stay out of draughts, then,” I found myself saying too quickly, “or you may conceive and lay a vulture’s egg!” Prohaeresius and Macrina both got the allusion and burst out laughing. Basil was not much amused and I regretted the quickness with which I had spoken. I often do this. It is a fault. Gregory shook my hand fondly; then he and Basil left. To this day he is probably afraid that A translation of the work of I shall have my revenge on him for what he said about me. But I Karlheinz Deschner on the am not like that, as the world knows. criminal history of Christianity is available: We drank wine in the garden. Prohaeresius asked me about here. matters at court. He was most interested in politics; in fact, when my cousin Constans wanted to ennoble him as a sign of Thomas Goodrich’s admiration, he offered Prohaeresius the honorary title of Hellstorm is the most praetorian prefect. But the old man said that he preferred to be important book of the 21st food comptroller for Athens (a significant title Constantius always century. reserved for himself). Then, exercising the authority that went with his title, he got the corn supply of several islands diverted to Athens. Needless to say, he is a hero to the city. Prohaeresius was suspicious of me from the beginning. And for all his geniality he seemed by his questions to be trying to get me to confess to some obscure reason for visiting Athens. He spoke of the splendours of Milan and Rome, the vitality of Constantinople, the elegant viciousness of Antioch, the high intellectual tone of Pergamon and Nicomedia; he even praised Caesarea—“the Metropolis of Letters”, as Gregory always refers to it, and not humorously. Any one of these cities, Prohaeresius declared, ought to attract me more than Athens. I told him bluntly that I had come to see him. “And the beautiful city?” Macrina suddenly interrupted. Its subject-matter: the Holocaust “And the beautiful city,” I repeated dutifully. perpetrated by the Allied forces on the Prohaeresius rose suddenly. “Let us take a walk by the river,” he Germans, civilians included said. “Just the two of us.” (here). At the Ilissos we stopped opposite the Kallirrhoe Fountain, a sort of stone island so hollowed and shaped by nature that it does indeed resemble a fountain; from it is drawn sacred water. We sat on the bank, among long grass brown from August heat. Plane trees sheltered us from the setting sun. The day was golden; the air still. All around us students read or slept. Across the river, above a row of dusty trees, rose Hymettos. I was euphoric. “My dear boy,” Prohaeresius addressed me now without ceremony Here: an SS as father to son. “You are close to the fire.” pamphlet explaining National Socialism. It was a most unexpected beginning. I lay full length on the thick brown turf while he sat cross-legged beside me, very erect, his How we are light-years back to the bole of a plane tree. I looked up at him, noting how away from the secular, Neo- rounded and youthful the neck was, how firm the jaw line for one Christian ethics of the Alt- so old. Right can be surmised in “Fire? The sun’s? The earth’s?” “Darwin’s exterminationism”. Prohaeresius smiled. “Neither. Nor hell’s fire, as the Christians say.” “As you believe?” I was not certain to what extent he was a Galilean; even now, I don’t know. He has always been evasive. I cannot believe such a fine teacher and Hellenist could be one of them, but anything is possible, as the gods daily demonstrate. “We are not ready for that dialogue just yet,” he said. He gestured towards the swift shrunken river at our feet. “There, by the way, is where Plato’s Phaidros is set. They had good talk that day, and on this same bank.” “Shall we equal it?” “Some day, perhaps.” He paused. I waited, as though for an omen. “You will be emperor one day.” The old man said this evenly, as Presently Siege is only though stating fact. available as a PDF. “I don’t want to be. I doubt if I shall be. Remember that of all our “1945 was the year of the family, only Constantius and I are left. As the others went, so I total inversion of Aryan shall go. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to see Athens first.” values into Christian “Perhaps you mean that. But I… well, I confess to a weakness for values.” —Joseph Walsh oracles.” He paused significantly. That was enough. One word “With the death of Adolf more and he would have committed treason. It is forbidden by law Hitler in the close of the to consult an oracle concerning the emperor—an excellent law, by 2nd World War in 1945 the way, for who would ever obey a ruler the date of whose death Western civilization, as it was known and whose successor had been identified? I must say that I was shocked at the old man’s candour. But also pleased that had existed and is still he felt he could trust me. perceived DIED once and for all. The only thing that was “Is it predicted?” I was as bold as he. I incriminated myself, left now was a gene pool.” hoping to prove to him my own good faith. —James Mason He nodded. “Not the day, not the year, merely the fact. But it will “The fall of Stalingrad is the be tragedy.” finish of Europe. There was a cataclysm. The core of it “For me? Or for the state?” all was Stalingrad. There “No one knows. The oracle was not explicit.” He smiled. “They you can say it was finished seldom are. I wonder why we put such faith in them.” and well finished, the white civilisation.” —L.F. Céline “Because the gods do speak to us in dreams and reveries. That is a fact. Both Homer and Plato…” “Perhaps they do. Anyway, the habit of believing is an old one… I knew all your family.” Idly he plucked at the brown grass with thick-veined old hands. “Constans was weak. But he had good qualities. He was not the equal of Constantius, of course. You are.” “Don’t say that.” “I merely observe.” He turned to me suddenly. “Now it is my guess, Julian, that you mean to restore the worship of the old gods.” My breath stopped. “You presume too much.” My voice shook despite a hardness of tone which would have done justice to Constantius himself. Sooner or later one learns the Caesarian To unplug yourself from the trick: that abrupt shift in tone which is harsh reminder of the rod Matrix you really need to and axe we wield over all men. undemonize Adolf Hitler, “I hope that I do,” said the old man, serenely. Heinrich Himmler, National Socialism and the Third “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken like that. You are the master.” Reich. Click here to hit ten articles on vital info about He shook his head. “No, you are the master, or will be soon. I want the Second World War that only to be useful. To warn you that despite what your teacher Maximus may say, the Christians have won.” the controlled media concealed from you. “I don’t believe it!” Fiercely and tactlessly I reminded him that only a small part of the Roman population was actually Galilean. “Why do you call them Galileans?” he asked, interrupting my harangue. “Because Galilee was where he came from!” Gens alba conservanda est (“The white race must be Prohaeresius saw through me. “You fear the word ‘Christian’,” he preserved”) said, “for it suggests that those who call themselves that are indeed followers of a king, a great lord.” “A mere name cannot affect what they are.” I evaded him. But he is right. The name is a danger to us. I resumed my argument: most of the civilized world is neither Hellenist nor Galilean, but suspended in between. With good reason, a majority of the people hate the Galileans.