The Bishop's Trumpet

The finest of Alwa, 
Iron shod hooves, 
Sharp pointed were their spears, 
Great was their faith. 

Onward, onward, onward they strode, 
Mighty warriors of Christ, 
Now they are with God. 

The battle line was drawn, 
By Axum's evil temples, 
Trusting in their God, 
Our soldiers hearts were pure. 

They strung their bows, 
Sharpened their swords, 
Prayed for salvation, 
No fear was to be found. 

Onward, onward, onward they strode, 
Mighty warriors of Christ, 
Now they are with God. 

In dunes and bushes the Blemm did lurk, 
"Lone-psiloi"-ing our men 
Cheating, cheating, cheating rule 
Cheating, cheating Blemm! 

King Meles, tall and proud did stand, 
In front of the mighty hosts, 
Ten thousand thanks he gave to each, 
And every loyal subject. 

Onward, onward, onward they strode, 
Mighty warriors of Christ, 
Now they are with God. 

No speech gave he, 
His men were ready, 
No pagans did they fear, 
God would know His own. 

St. Michael he did bless the throng, 
His vision lit the sky, 
Advance, the cry was loud and clear, 
They were not 'fraid to die. 

Onward, onward, onward they strode, 
Mighty warriors of Christ, 
Now they are with God. 

Storm forth, storm forth our bold heros, 
Take strength from knowing thou art right, 
A thousand souls each sent to hell, 
In this the bloody fight.

Editors Note: In the continuing tradition of providing the best quantity journal, we bring you an occasional column of opinions. 

Already several prominent supposed Mithras worshippers have been sent on dangerous suicide missions many never returned. Back home the families of such loyal troops are quite rightly, shunned and 
spat on in the streets.  Many prominent citizens have disappeared, some saying they are tending their estates in the country others supposedly with the army. 

The reason for this is that Thoedora believes that Mithraism aims to exclude women from spirituality, to counter this threat she is actively recruiting the women folk of suspected Mithras worshippers to deny their men their conjugal rights until they convert.  Of course the idea that any of our brave lads are anything but a good stout Christians beggars belief. 

Mithraism: an offshoot of the cult of Zoroaster extremely common in the armed forces of the old empire before its suppression by the Christian emperors. 

The worship of Mithras is incidentally not prohibited by the Persians, further proof that none of our boys could be followers of Mithras otherwise why would they be attacking them?  Mithras is an evil mystery death cult involving the slaughter of virgins, the drinking of blood and vile acts of sodomy too explicit to be put in a family paper. 

Three in one or one in three? In a candid off the record interview in Persia our brave general Vigilius Palaeologus discussed his own deeply held personal beliefs. Rejoicing at his latest successes he thanked the Son of God for inspiring him on to ultimate victory. 

When asked why particulars he thanked the Son rather than the Father and Holy Ghost as well he replied he felt that the Son was the aspect of the Triumvirate concerned with this mortal coil. 

Although not strictly 
theologically correct (The Father the Son and the Holy Ghost are indivisible and combined in the Godhood). Surely this minor aberration won't be held against our hero in his moment of triumph. 
 
 

Onward, onward, onward they strode, 
Mighty warriors of Christ, 
Now they are with God. 

The sky grew dark, 
The devil rose, 
All his power to use, 
He smote the goodly, 

But brave King Meles 
Stood against the tide. 
The last of Alwa, 
They could fight no more, 
Pagan bodies surrounded their feet, 
The whole host of hell at last let loose, 
We fought and fought 
We fewer and fewer. 

The end it came, 
Our souls we gave, 
In service of our Lord, 
King Meles flag was seen to fall, 
But still he fought, 
A lion of the desert. 

His sword struck left, 
His sword struck right, 
Dealing death to each and all, 
Hacking his way through pagan flesh, 
He finally reached safety, 
And saw the dismal slaughter. 

Onward, onward, onward they strode, 
Mighty warriors of Christ, 
Now they are with God. 

Now we sit, 
And sing our laments, 
The souls of the dead to heaven have flown, 
Ten thousand saints this day are born. 

Onward, onward, onward they strode, 
Mighty warriors of Christ, 
Now they are with God.

In commemoration of all the brave souls slain protecting Baltia, King Vicas declared a one-hour silence, followed by a 12 day blow-out in the Royal Palace for all his nobles and supporters. 

At the end of the one-hour silence, no less than 174 people who had failed to remain silent were colourfully decorated with flower-garlanded garottes, and then had their heads removed to add a cheerful holiday colour to the event. 

The Treasury must have been scraped bare, as one of the features of the feast was a daily 'hunt' over the fields of the nearby peasants. One can only assume that domestic help in the palace is very scanty, as many of the nobles returned bearing bouncy peasant girls across their saddlebows. 

Vicas the Vengeful also took the time to have a public show, in the central square of Pskov. He wheeled out a large platform, on which was bound a naked man, and announced that he had captured the latest correspondant for this news media, and was going to give a graphic illustration of what would befell any other would-be Trumpeter. 

He then proceeded to exact the vilest and most unnatural practices and tortures on the poor innocent on the slab. Wisdom dictates that I not detail all the vicious and disgusting tortures he used, but let me say that I devoutly hope the royal trumpeter washes his trumpter before next using it. 

It is rumoured that the innocent publicly slain by vile Vicas was in fact the leading reporter for that august competitor of ours, the Mede Messenger - but how he could have been mistaken for a Trumpet reporter has yet to be revealed. 
I 
Editors Note: We offer our sincere condolences to Rupertus, late of Persepolis and the Mede Messenger, after a long and distinguished career. In sympathy with his widows (3) and children (19), we offer them a lifetime pension, consisting of a free subscription to the Bishops' Trumpet.

Rumours emerged yesterday of a dreadful scandal within the household of Isidoros Phokas, Magister Militum Africum. A reliable source has informed your correspondant that Isidoros' wife has been heavily 
involved in Black Masses, committing immodest acts with Crucifixes and statues of Our Lord and drinking the blood of Christian children. Our source: a former employee of the Phokases narrowly escaped Aegyptianus with his life after expressing concern over these goings on "They tried to corrupt me into their perverted rituals, when I refused they locked 
me in a cell with only rats to eat". 

"I couldn't posssibly comment on the rumour that she gave birth to a goat", he continued. 

A lawyer for the Phokas was unavailable for comment.An Abyssinian diplomat was quoted: "There's something rotten in the highest office of that country, and attacking the upper Nile is a cynical ploy to throw the press off the scent." 

Your Abyssinian correspondant 
Editorial: a successful ploy as well! 
 

The judgement of God the ALmighty appears to have fallen on sundry nations this season, strickening their rulers with various and divers plagues and fatal incidents. Amongst the stricken: 

Arturus of Britannia, variously rumoured to be killed while raping an innocent, or slain while he slept by a vile Saxon agent; 

Mauralf the Mighty, after eating a surfeit of peasants treats (mushrooms), laid waste; 

Natan of Khazaria, laid low for the whole season with the shaking sickness; 

Tariq Emir of Arabia (at last!), torn apart by religious demonstrators in the streets of Mecca; 

King Bogomils of Wendland, stricken with the plague, weltering in Saxony with his army; 

King Odoin of Langobardia, from the after-effects of being wounded by a Greek assassin's rake and hoe. 

Let this be born in mind as a divine lesson to those other ruthless leaders that would follow the same path. 
 
 

• The Visigoths claim complete domination of Mauretania, and have proclaimed the African Protectorate.
• The King of Italia has been stricken by the vilest food poisoning in the Swiss Alps. He has publicly blamed the Azeri cooks as Byzantine agents, but observers consider the fondue more likely to be the source of trouble.
• The Afrikans, victorious over the savage tribes of the interior, are now pacifying the tribes, while searching for the remnants of the former government.
• Egypt and Nubia are locked in battle on the Nile, which runs red with the struggle (mostly over the spilled wine so far).
• With the death of Emir Tariq in Arabia, religious unrest and tension has redoubled, with many claiming divine justice in his death.
• The new Shah of Persia (long may he live) seems ocnsiderably more energetic than his predecessors, having issued 10 times as many orders already as his three last predeccessors combined. We await news as to the name of the new dynasty ... The Cornuelleophas?
• Wendish warbands have raided the Saxon capital, but with the distraction of their Austrasian ally seem to be outnumbered.
• His Holiness has declared the veneration of the new Saint Atilu of Fondue (see following story) 

Austrasia reels, desolate and unguarded, as the Eucians swoop upon it with glee. Apparently unchecked and uncaring, the Eucian warbands are wandering ither and thither across fair Austrasia, laying waste to one town after another. 

Not content with letting his capital of Adricons be sacked, King Chlodoweg sits with his bodyguard apparently doing nothing, as the cities he swore to protect one by one launch the grey smoke plumage of loot and arson. 

Adricons, Reginum, Severum, Mertze, Forum Illium, Campus Vegesus, the list grows longer by the day. 

'When will this useless good-for-nothing King do something about the Eucians?' is the question on everyone's lips, throughout Austrasia. 

Rumours that some nobles ahd called on Mauralf of Neustria were quickly quashed, however, as Mauralf lies dead, apparently from eating suspect mushrooms...

Not content with hardy blows and flowing blood through the winter, the Britons have brought a second army up to clash with the Angles esconced cheerily in Shrodus. 

Walking through the British army before the battle, I could see many hardened veterans of the first clash (most with begging bowls already in place). 

The valiant Britons, despite being scourged by hunger and dearth throughout the winter, and despite their hideous losses when last fighting the Angles, have apparently gathered the pluck to try one last attack, no matter what odds. 

Even the death of their legendary cheiftain, Arturus, has apparently not dimmed their fervour. 

The devout have already taken his bones to be made into sacred relicts to lead the fight against the pagans. 

Bedievere, leading the reinforcements up from the south, took time to deliver a speech to them: "No matter how old, no matter how young, it is time to do duty to the Fatherland, and to your Faith. Stand firm against the pagans, if you can stand - you old folks, lean firm. No dishonour shall stain our shields, no matter how much milk and porridge may stain your tunics!" 

Talking to one warrior, bent by age, and unable to hold a spear for the arthritis in his hands, he showed a truly unconquerable spirit: "They killed my son! They killed my grandson!! They want to kill my great grandson!!! Well, they shall not pass, not while breathe remains in my mouth and blood in my breast. Bring 'em on, I'll headbutt them to death". 

When closely questioned, it turned out that the grander's son was killed while looting in Lincoln, and his grandson starved to death last winter. But such is the indomitable, solid-headed belief of these people, that mere facts are not enought to stop them. 

The only question is, will the Angles be enough?

The Vizier arrives to see a sight he has never seen before, in fact 2 sights he has never seen before.  The most interesting one is that of Shareena the present favourite doing something very provocative with a pillow. The more dangerous (possibly) is the sight of dear bluff old friendly Yezdigerd, pacing the floor with an expression somewhat like that of a bull elephant at the charge on his face. 

"So! Why didn't you tell me?" screamed Yezdigerd, King of Kings, Chosen of etc etc etc ........ 

" Tell you what your highness?" Said the vizier in his most timid placating manner. 

"I've just been reading through the back issues of the Bishops trumpet. Why didn't you tell me we have lost Azarbaijhan to the Byzantines! Shareena stop doing that with the pillow, your distracting the vizier, go on get out I'll call for you later, in fact all of you get out. Not you Vizier." The room clears. 
"So come on out with it!" 

"Well it was old history your highness I just thought..." 

"Don't you realise at the time this was happening I was just a blunt common soldier, before the departure of my greatly missed predecessor I knew nothing about foreign relations. Oh well better fix the problem. I've just sent Mazaios there to recruit. Send the fastest courier after him begging his forgiveness, admit it was all your fault and ask him to proceed to Fez instead. Go on then man! Move yourself. Oh and on your way out send Shareena back in, we haven't finished breakfast yet." 

"It shall be done oh great one"  Says the vizier bowing and coming close to an Olympic record in the backward 100 metres.

We regret that the recent controversy over birth control has accelerated the schism between our brethren in North Afrika. Whether you feel population should be controlled by massacre or starvation, the shameful breakdown in diocesan dialogue that occurred in Alhajji last winter is a blot on the glory of Christ.