Angelology(91)

Notes on The First Angelological Expedition of A.D. 925 by The

Venerable Father Clematis of Thrace

Translated from the Latin and Annotated by Dr. Raphael Valko

I 1

Blessed be the servants of His Divine vision on Earth! May the Lord, who planted the seed of

our mission, bring it to fruition!

II

Our mules heavy with provisions and our souls light with expectation, we began our journey

through the provinces of the Hellenes, below the mighty Moesia and into Thracia. The roads,

well-maintained and regular thoroughfares built by Rome, signaled our arrival in

Christendom. Yet, despite the gilding of civilization, the threat of thievery remains. It has been

many years since I last set foot in the mountainous homeland of my father and his father’s

father. My native tongue will surely ring strange, accustomed as I am to the language of Rome.

As we begin our ascent into the mountains, I fear that even my robes and the seals of the

church will do little to protect us once we leave the larger settlements. I pray that we meet

few villagers on our journey to the mountain paths. We have no weapons and will have little

recourse but to depend upon the goodwill of strangers.

III

As we paused by the roadside on our way up the mountain, Brother Francis, a most ardent

scholar, spoke to me of the distress that has come to haunt him regarding our mission. Taking

me aside, he confessed that he believes our mission to be the work of dark spirits, a seduction

of the disobedient angels upon our minds. His unrest is not uncommon. Indeed, many of our

brothers have expressed reservations about the expedition, but Francis’ assertion chilled me

to my very soul. Rather than question him about this sentiment, I listened to his fears,

understanding that his words were another sign of the growing fatigue in the search. In opening

my ear to his cares, I took them upon myself, lightening his heavy spirit. This is the burden and

the responsibility of an elder brother, but my role is even more crucial now, as we prepare for

what will surely be our most difficult journey. Shaking away the temptation to remonstrate

with Brother Francis, I labored through the remaining hours of travel in silence.

Later, in my solitude, I strove to understand Brother Francis’ distress, praying for guidance

and wisdom so that I might help him overcome his doubts. It is well known that scholars have

missed the mark entirely in past expeditions. I am certain that this will soon change. Yet,

Francis’ phrase “brotherhood of dreamers” plagues my thoughts. The faintest breeze of doubt

begins to shake my insuperable faith in our mission. What, I wonder to myself, if we have

been foolhardy in our efforts? How are we to be certain that our mission is one with God’s?

The kernel of disbelief growing in my mind is easily ground down, however, when I think of

the necessity of our work. The battle has been fought for generations before us and will

continue for generations after. We must encourage our young men, despite the recent losses.

Fear is to be expected. It is natural that the incident at Roncesvalles,2 which all have studied,

is on their minds. And still, my faith does not allow me to doubt that God moves behind our

actions, animating our bodies and spirits as we move up the mountain. I will persist in my

belief that hope will soon revive among us. We must have faith that this journey, unlike our

recent miscalculations, will end in success.3

IV

On the fourth night of the journey, as the fire burnt to embers and our humble party sat together

after our meal, discussion turned to the history of our enemy. One of the young brothers asked

how it had come to pass that our land, from the tip of Iberia to the Ural Mountains,4 came to

be so colonized by the dark spawn of angels and women. How did we, humble servants of

God, come to be charged with the cleansing of the Lord’s Earth? Brother Francis, whose

melancholy has so affected my thoughts of late, wondered aloud how God would allow the

evil ones to infest His dominion with their presence. How, he asked, can pure good exist in

the presence of pure evil? And so, as the evening air grew colder and the frozen moon hung in

the night sky, I related to our party how these evil seeds were sowed in holy soil:

In the decades after the Flood ceased, Japheth’s sons and daughters of purely human

provenance separated from the false Japheth’s sons and daughters of angelic provenance,

forming two branches of one tree, one pure and the other poisoned, one weak and the other

strong. Along the great north and south sea lanes they scattered, taking root in the rich alluvial

gulfs. They swept over the alpine mountains in tremendous flocks, settling like bats at the

highest reaches of Europa. Along the rocky coasts and the vast fertile plains they moored,