The Forgotten Holocaust
Their king had died and envious greedy foreign eyes looked rapaciously
upon the kingdom’s arable land and great riches. The childless king had named his man on his
deathbed and the powerful men of the land had backed their dead king’s choice,
he was so obviously the best man suited to the job of defending the realm, a
warrior of great renown and a man of the people, a large handsome man, a family
man, a loyal man, a man of honour and for once the people and the church of the
new religion were singing from the same hymn sheet. Even the old gods were probably happy. The realm was safe, the people were happy,
the king was dead, long live the king!
Then they came.
Determined, cruel and violent, an army of foreigners intent on occupation
and subjugation. A terrifying fighting
force of hardened seasoned warriors that had come to take the land from the good
people and the gold and silver from the churches and abbeys. They did
battle most ferociously killing thousands and stormed a great city with fire
and sword, then fell back to their camp to enjoy the spoils of war where the
brave new king of the people fell upon them with great vengeance and speed and
a terrible battle was fought. What was
left of the foreign army fled in their boats while the king buried his many brave
dead. But the foreign invaders had been
repelled. The king had prevailed and the
people were ecstatic and happy with their great new king.
Then the others came.
Devils! Determined, cruel and
violent, a new army of foreigners swelled with mercenaries from far off hot places
with state-of-the-art weapons such as the crossbow, never seen ‘til then. They had come for nothing but plunder and
gain with no care for or love of the indigenous people of a land they had no
right to be in. They systematically set
about laying waste to all the land they came upon. They killed the folk on their farms and
burned their houses to the ground and stole and raped. Their leader had come to take the crown from
the great new king of the people claiming it to be rightfully his, which it
most certainly was not. Armed with many lies
and great liars to spread their lies by written word and sown fabric. Their lies would trick the world into
believing their right to invade and murder innocent people.
The brave and brilliant new king rushed to meet the new
invaders, though his warriors were tired and many had died in the previous
battle, but he rushed to defend the kingdom and his beloved people.
There they bravely stood upon a ridge, on their own soil, in
a tightly packed shield-wall unable to wait and watch while these foreign
Devils taunted them, and so the battle began, even before the rest of the
defenders had even had a chance to arrive.
But the foreign army did not fight with honour and bravery, they fought
cowardly and from afar. They filled the
air with thousands of arrows and crossbow bolts, bolts that split shields in
two and left a man terribly vulnerable.
Then the foreigners charged on great man-killing fighting beasts instead
of standing on their own two feet like real men, fighting shield-wall to shield-wall,
like men. No, not this army.
The defenders fought bravely and they fought hard, they
fought for their land, their families and their king. They fought for their lives, but bit by bit
the defenders of the happy realm began to lose the battle, their lines ragged
and battered, their numbers too reduced by the thousands of cowardly mercenary archers. Then, terribly, the king is injured, badly, a
bolt or an arrow through his forehead, piercing his eye. He is in terrible pain, but still he fights
on. Panic along the lines. Faltering men, becoming fearful, realising
for the first time the battle could be lost, then a devastating terrible charge
straight into the king and his hand-picked warriors, the heart of the army is
hacked to pieces, the king takes a terrible sword blow across his thigh and
blood sprays in a wide arc, yet still he fights on, he has fought all day long,
his army has fought all day long, yet still his sword is raised aloft in his
hand to meet the foreign bastards. He is
cut down and disembowelled and horrifically beheaded. The defending army breaks and scatters,
running for their lives, all hope lost now, the king is dead. They are hunted down and cut down to a man. The foreigners run wild in a killing frenzy,
only too aware that they came within a whisper of being on the losing side
regardless of their un-heroic tactics and mighty papal banner given with the
backing of the Catholic Church in Rome.
They slaughtered everyone and then left their corpses to rot on the
field of battle those glorious dead of the people of the land, so forsaken by
the new religion.
The foreigners spent the next months laying waste everywhere
they went. Murdering. Stealing.
Raping. They only wanted the land
and the spoils, the people they killed, the people they hated and despised. So much of the land and livestock was
destroyed and stolen the powerful men of the church of the new religion turned
their backs on the people and bent their knees to the foreign army’s leader to
save their own wealth and land and declared him king. KING! A
foreigner with no right to the throne. No
right to the land! An act that terribly
weakened any possible future resistance.
With the backing of the churchmen, the people could have found resolve,
they could regrouped in great numbers and fought back, with the knowledge that
God was actually on THEIR side they could still have repelled the invaders or
even slaughtered them to a man. But the
churchmen didn’t care about that, they didn’t really care for England, they only
cared for themselves and their church of Rome.
The new foreign king took all the land from the people of
the land and gave it to his foreign partners in crime until none of the people
of the land owned their own land and their new foreign landlords were cruel and
vicious and greedy who taxed and taxed and taxed until the people starved and died,
in their hundreds by their thousands ‘til they could take this no longer and so
they rebelled against their cruel foreign enslavers with their cruel greedy
king.
The king fell upon the people like a wolf on lambs. He lay waste the whole of the north of the
land ‘til no person lived and nothing grew, no building stood, no bird sang and
one hundred thousand people died, men, women and children starved to death in
the great harsh winter that followed. The land and the people would take many years
to recover, the people far longer. The
king cared nought for these things nor did the Church.
The men of the church that had forsaken the good people of
the land out of greed and selfishness soon found that they had saved nothing for
themselves as their churches and lands were removed from them and given to
foreign churchmen ‘til no churchman of the land held his own church anymore. And so they then encouraged rebellion, but it
was too late. The foreign enslavers had
built great castles across the land in great numbers and more and more
foreigners flooded in to take that which wasn’t theirs to take. This was the fate of the English and the last
true king of England, King Harold, at the hands of the French and William the
bastard and his evil grasping henchmen.
The descendents of the perpetrators of these heinous crimes
are still our landlords to this day, they own something like 95% of the land of
England and they have done their upmost to remove good king Harold from the
history books calling him usurper, purgeror, liar, but they are the liars and
their lies are still peddled to this day, because they are the establishment these
haughty high and mighty people who seem so different from the rest of us and are
still our subjugators. They still have
us enslaved! This is our plight as the Anglo-Saxon
people ruled by an aristocracy of foreign blood and origins. Is it any wonder the Catholic Church is so
mistrusted in England when the pope in Rome set the Devil loose upon our
ancestors, on Christian Anglo-Saxon England and looked on happily as he fed
upon the corpse? And is it any wonder the English are generally not keen on the French when when after all of this the bastard’s offspring
and their offspring after them continued to rule over the people of England with
an iron fist all preferring to speak French instead of English and being buried
in their beloved France after their deaths?
These are the reasons the governing classes, the
aristocratic families and the establishment will never be at one with the
people of England. They have led our
people to great slaughter in great wars over a thousand years and still they
despise us. We make them richer and
richer with our toil while we all grow poorer and poorer, yet still they
despise us. They are not us. They are of William, we are of Harold. The king is dead! Long live the king!
