The barbaric attack struck the pilgrims.
Or rather those who hadn’t accepted the prohibition.
Our own couldn’t kneel.
No one had the right to prohibit the Cross.
For centuries now our own honored it.
And the lands had been sanctified.
The continuity had not ceased.
Until the prohibition.
The barbarity wanted to break the continuity.
It didn’t want for the path of light to exist.
Even in the night when God lit his house.
So they struck the innocents who were unarmed.
And killed all those who resisted.
Rare were those who made it.
And Peter was one of them.
That was what the Master of the arms.
He hadn’t been distressed.
But he could feel the wound.
And each innocent was a wound.
He remembered older battles.