ENTRY 26 -- The First Horseman

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March 19th 1987

Published: January 17th 2006

An Excerpt from the Travel Journal of Nigel Fox (c. 1940)

Entry 26 -- The First Horseman

Whilst Hans was once again in the thick of his travels in Germany, my excursions took me to Wewelsburg. The Spiritual centre for this New World Order was in the shape of a spear. On the surface, Wewelsburg was a glorious Teutonic castle, majestic and somewhat overpowering. Its depths held many mysteries: there could be found a complete library of the Dark Gods; a secret printing complex which published 'Sigrunen' (the Armanen newspaper); a planetarium; a courtroom. Runic symbols permeated the entire complex: the Evil could be felt at every level.

The Round Table of the New Order was where the elite of the Armanen gathered. This intricately carved, massive oaken structure was located in a great hall. Around the table stood thirteen high-backed chairs upholstered with pigskin. Here the elect would meet in conference and meditation: mankind's destiny was held in the palm of their hands. The leader's chair was positioned nearest the front of the chamber. He had taken the title 'Führer' which meant messiah, supreme leader or divine master. The title, which was used with reverence, implied that he was a deity or god. The secret name engraved on his throne was 'The Wolf' .

To his right sat the 'Sigprophet' whose role was to speak on behalf of the Old Ones and sway the masses into following the Dark Gods of their ancestors. To the leader's left was the Master of the Order of the Death's Head, a new order of Teutonic Knights. This man was in many ways the high priest of The Thousand-Year Reich. His symbol was the skull and he organised the rituals of the Pagan-Nordic calendar. The new Holy Days were: the Führer's birthday; May Day; Summer Solstice; Winter Solstice; Yule Festival. Naming rites and funeral rituals were devised to supplant the ceremonies of the Jewish Kristgod. The Lord's Prayer had even been replaced with the following:

My Adolf Hitler, Thou art our great leader.
Thy name makes the enemy tremble.
Thy Third Reich comes, thy will alone is law upon earth.
Let us hear daily thy voice and order us by thy leadership,
for we will obey to the end,
Even with our lives.
We praise thee!
Hail Hitler!

Also sitting at the Round Table was the new Philosopher King, Rosenburg, who had succeeded the deceased Lord High Chamberlain. Included in the group was the New Order’s secretary and the leader’s deputy. In all there were twelve, plus the Wolf. Directly below the great hall was the Realm of the Dead. It contained a large stone crypt as well as the 'Holy of Holies', a massive room located deep below ground where the elite brothers of the Armanen held their rituals. In art, size, cost, and splendour this area surpassed anything in the Vatican. At the centre of the altar in the 'Holy of Holies' sat the two most important relics known to man, the Holy Lance and the Holy Grail. As long as the Armanenshaft held both these talismen, they would be invincible.

Before my eyes, prophecy after prophecy was being fulfilled. Was Germany being led by the dark forces of the Verführer? When Germany seized Austria, I put a note in the margin of my Bible: 'there will be wars and rumours of wars'. Following the invasion of Czechoslovakia, our Prime Minister went to Germany and did his level best to appease the dark forces that were about to plunge the world into a war unlike any other. He believed he had been successful. Returning to England in triumph, he waved a sheaf of papers and declared, "Peace in our time." I made a note beside 1 Thessalonians 5:3. Had the Great Tribulation had begun?

A Tremendous Blast

Recently, I became the victim of some rather odd occurrences. Something was not right, but I could not quite put my finger on it. Possibly I was missing Sipho. My friend and confidant had, at my request (but much to his displeasure), returned to his home in South Africa. If England were to fall, Sipho would most certainly be at risk.

I had the distinct sensation of being watched. Confirmation of my feeling came a few days after the defeat of Poland: I returned home to find my house had been broken into. Each and every room had been turned upside down. Frightened and all alone, I concluded that the time had come for me to flee England as well.

Having already arranged a meeting with my solicitor and financial advisor, I knew what I must do. Taking very few clothes, I secured my residence and drove to London. My driver made good time and I invited him for a pint at the local pub (we had arrived early). I questioned him about whether or not he had noticed anything recently that had struck him as odd.

"Yes Mister Fox, come to think of it I have. Are you in any difficulty, sir?" he asked, respectfully.

"Conceivably," I pondered, offering nothing more.

We finished our beer. I asked him to sit in the motorcar and wait for me, explaining that the meeting with my fiduciary should take about two hours. He was to keep his eyes open for anything that appeared suspicious. I further suggested that my sedan be moved closer to the main entrance of the building.

Walking away from the vehicle, I was knocked to the ground by a tremendous blast. My motorcar had been torn to pieces as if hit by a tornado.

'Private and Confidential'

I was not seriously injured, although my driver had been killed instantly. Picking myself off the pavement in a state of shock and not waiting for the police; I hurried into the office building. Mister Baldwin's firm was on the seventh floor. The lift was a long time coming, but his staff was still at the windows when I arrived.

"Bloody awful," was his greeting.

I replied with some unwonted expletive as I looked at the carnage below.

We went into Mister Baldwin's office.

"That was meant for me. I have run afoul of some very unpleasant people," I informed him quietly, trying to calm myself in his somewhat uncomfortable easy chair. "Leaving England seems like my only option." I went on to explain only some of my reasons for departure.

"It would be a pleasure to handle your affairs and property while you are away and be assured that you shall find our fees quite reasonable."

"I would like all my assets and property liquidated; then converted to U.S. dollars and held in American banks."

"You are in quite a state, Mister Fox. Am I to understand that you want your family estate sold?"

"Correct" was my simple reply. "but store my personal effects pursuant to the list I have given you. I shall also need couple of thousand pounds in large notes immediately." During the next hour I signed numerous documents that would give my financial advisor the authority to carry out my wishes.

"Act swiftly, Mister Baldwin, and, if necessary, bend the rules."

"Mister Fox, relax; you are not the first person to want his fortune out of England. There are always ways; legal ways for people of influence to protect themselves."

"Fine," I said, knowing my fiduciary was a good and honest man, yet a wizard at overcoming 'difficulties'.

I was standing up to leave when a thought struck me. "By the way, Mister Baldwin, what did Norah do with the new Auburn when she left?" My calm tone and practical line of thinking surprised me.

"Oh; that reminds me, Mister Fox. You have been given a parcel that I believe is from Missus LaPierre. I would recognise her distinctive handwriting anywhere."

A momentary faintness came upon me. The parcel was addressed in her script. It was marked 'Private and Confidential'. "May I use your viewing chamber?" I asked, feeling the need for privacy. Enclosed in the bundle was a small envelope. The sealing wax was of a peculiar substance. The note explained that they had broken into Wewelsburg and had retrieved the talisman. Norah's precious artefact, the old stone cup, had been reclaimed. I stared at it, resting innocently on the palm of my hand.

Leaving London,

Exiting the building from the back, I saw my taxicab waiting for me. I had nothing with me, save a small valise containing a substantial amount of cash, the ancient chalice, and the security ticket to Norah's motorcar. It would have to do! I had to travel light while on the run. I felt as though I had stepped into a Humphrey Bogart picture when I instructed the cabby to make sure we were not 'tailed'. He drove like an American gangster trying to lose a G-man.

A stone's throw from the Auburn, I exited and gave him a twenty-pound note. He had earned it. The man at the garage storage-facility was given the proper ticket and he confirmed with Mister Baldwin my bona fides. As I ignited the engine, the Boattail Speedster roared. It was an awesome machine. The horses under the bonnet gave me a rush of confidence. Leaving London, my spirits began to rise. The setting sun symbolised the closing of an era in my life.

Twilight

In the twilight, I perceived a tail: a black Mercedes Benz automobile. It was difficult not to panic as fear welled up inside of me. I attempted to collect my wits. How could they have found me? I was an inexperienced and rusty driver; my driving abilities were not worth tuppence. The road coming up was the worst in all of Britain - many curves and extremely narrow.

On the other hand, I knew this road well. I had an extraordinary motorcar and it would soon be dark, dark as pitch. There was no moon. What would Bogie do? My mind raced as I continued to drive at a moderate speed. As darkness fell I could see that the first difficult curve was approaching, followed by a four mile straightaway, then two treacherous curves in a rather deserted part of the countryside.

I went into the first curve at under 30 miles per hour; my tail had dropped back as tails sometimes do. As soon as the Mercedes was obscured from view, I pushed the accelerator to the floorboard. It was phenomenal; exhilarating. By the time I had come out of the curve I was speeding along at 60 m.p.h. Still the car accelerated: 70, 75, 80 m.p.h. . . . until it reached its maximum.

My pursuers must have received quite a shock when they came out of the curve to see me far off in the distance. Their big luxury car had nowhere near the power of the Auburn. I left them 'eating exhaust fumes', as Bogart would say . . . or was it 'eating dust?' At any rate, my lead was growing by the minute. These 'dirty, yellow-bellied rats wouldn't dress me in concrete galoshes'... or is that cement overshoes? In any event I slowed for the next curve and, although still racing along, I navigated better than I thought possible, headlamps breaking the darkness, tyres gripping the road. I had missed my calling; I should have been a racing-car driver! My confidence gaining, I came to the second treacherous curve at an accelerated speed. It was here the car left the road, went over the edge and fell some fifty feet or more into the gully below. My descent took a long time -- as though I were flying in slow motion. Surprisingly calm, I reflected that my end was definitely at hand, as there was not even a gleam of hope.

At that moment, it is my belief that God directly intervened: near the stream at the bottom of the gully was one rather large tree with numerous thick, bushy branches. The car landed squarely on top of it. It is truly amazing how an Auburn motorcar can 'squat' even a large tree. It is even more amazing how a rather large tree can break the fall of an Auburn motorcar and its foolish driver. I am not sure whether we bounced or ricocheted or somersaulted, but the car landed proper side up in the centre of the shallow stream, sinking about two feet into the thick silt.

The headlamps shorted out, but, praise God, I was not electrocuted. I toiled painfully to right myself. My body was somewhat mangled, having sustained two bad cuts and numerous lacerations, but, judging by the lack of blood, no arteries had been severed. The crown of my head had received a nasty bump and it was inevitable that a few bad bruises would appear in the coming days. As I had had the top down a number of twigs had laced themselves in my clothing, giving me the appearance of a mutant shrub. However, quite remarkably, the only serious casualty seemed to be the tree. Even the motorcar appeared to be more or less intact. I sat there stunned for about three minutes in almost total darkness.

Then something illuminated the road up above. It was the headlamps of my pursuers. They sped by me in full pursuit. And why not? They had no idea that the driver of the Auburn was a damned idiot.