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Lands of Red and Gold #37: The Time of Troubles

“Nothing is stronger than the bond between brothers, except the hatred between brothers who have fallen out.”
- Batjiri of Jurundit [Koroit, Victoria]

* * *

Year of the Twisted Serpent [August 1629]
Kirunmara [Terang, Victoria]
Land of the Five Directions (Yadji Empire)

Around him, the familiar stone of the House of the Dawn [1]. Much less splendid than his own chambers in the great palace, but much safer. Gunya Yadji did not risk setting foot inside the palace these days, unless surrounded by a host of bodyguards.

“I welcome you,” Gunya Yadji said, using the masculine form of the pronoun [2].

“You are generous [3],” said Bidwadjari, his guest, shaking his head [4].

Gunya raised a palm, acknowledging the statement, then picked up a ceramic flagon and filled two goblets with a ganyu [yam wine] spiced with cinnamon myrtle and limes. He raised his goblet and announced, “To the memory of my departed cousin Boringa. Whatever his faults in life, may he find rest after fighting his final battle.”

Bidwadjari held up his goblet in turn, repeated the invocation, and they both drank.

After a moment, Bidwadjari said, “And with your cousin now consigned to memory, you” – he used the masculine form of the pronoun, too – “want to secure his legacy. With my aid.”

“You are direct,” Gunya said, with what he hoped was a convincing imitation of surprise. He knew how Bidwadjari conducted himself; the general’s reputation preceded him. “But largely correct.”

Bidwadjari frowned. “Soldiers have a saying: Safer to step barefoot into a pit of tiger snakes [5] than play in the politics of princes.”

“With what is coming, all men must choose where they stand,” Gunya said.

Bidwadjari said, “I would stand apart. I will lead the Fronds [his army group] wherever the chosen Regent commands, but I would not become involved in the choosing.”

“These are not usual times,” Gunya said. “Omens stir, new plagues come out of the uttermost west, and a Regent has been slain. What would in ordinary times be most proper deference will in this time become impossible, for now there may not be a chosen Regent.”

Bidwadjari stirred in his seat, then. Not standing, exactly, but flexing the heavily-muscled shoulders which had borne armour for longer than most men had lived. His hair – or what was left of it – had gone white, but he remained a most formidable figure of a man. Not to mention the most experienced army commander in the Empire; a man of such reputation that he could speak his mind to anyone he wished, without fear of retribution.

At length, the soldier said, “It is for princes to decide which of them believe they should be the most worthy Regent.” He paused, then added, “Which, in your opinion, would be you.”

“Of course I believe I would make the best Regent, or I would not have invited you here,” Gunya said. “Unfortunately, it is the first of your two statements which is incorrect.”

Bidwadjari raised an eyebrow.

“If it were princes who decided who will be Regent, I would not need to ask where you stand,” Gunya said. “But now priests interfere in the business of princes.”

“Do you doubt their wisdom?”

Gunya felt his lip curl. “Too many of our priests grew used to speaking for the Regent.”

“Someone needed to rule while a mad Regent reigned,” Bidwadjari answered, his tone cool.

“If they had ruled properly, I would not be concerned,” Gunya said. “Look at what happened while Boringa whispered and the priests claimed to interpret his words! Tjibarr seized the Copper Coast, Gutjanal took the gold of Djawrit [Bendigo, Victoria], and the savages grew restless on our eastern frontier [6]. All this happened, and the priests cared not.”

“Our armies were not idle during those defeats, nor lacking in courage,” Bidwadjari said.

“No man could ever doubt your valour, or that of our soldiers,” Gunya said. “What you lacked was support. The priests cared for nothing outside of Kirunmara’s walls, and you did not send you what was needed.”

Bidwadjari had met Gunya’s eyes only briefly during the whole of the conversation, as was proper. Now, he turned his gaze squarely on Gunya. “You believe that if you become Regent, our armies will be victorious?”

The old soldier had a truly penetrating gaze, when he chose to use it. Gunya did not hesitate before it, though. “I cannot promise that. What I do know is that they will not lack the support they need.”

“And you think that your cousin will not do the same?”

Gunya snorted. “Bailgu listens too much to the priests, and cares for naught but pleasure. He will not attend to the defence of the Empire. Oh, he can command armies – do not underestimate him – but he is lazy. A wastrel. He will be happy to sit in Kirunmara eating fish, drinking gum cider, and surrounded by concubines, while the priests rule and the Empire’s glory rots.”

“I will consider this,” Bidwadjari said, his tone as neutral as the form of the pronoun he used. He rose to leave, and Gunya made no move to stop him. The great commander would decide alone which way he moved; no further persuasion would be effective.

*

Silence. Far too much silence.

Immense though the royal palace might be, it had always seemed too small to contain the sounds of the people who filled it. Regents, princes, priests, cooks, soldiers, scribes, cleaners, and an endless stream of others moved in and out as duty demanded, and were rarely silent when doing so.

Now, though, Bailgu Yadji found himself overwhelmed with silence. Many people had abandoned the palace, with no Regent to steer the Empire on its right course. Those who remained trod lightly and carried out their duties as quietly as they could, as if fearing that someone would notice them and order them to depart. When they had to speak, it was usually with lowered voices and brief sentences, as if every surplus word would become a fresh weapon raised against them when they went to fight their final battle.

For himself, Bailgu Yadji cared nothing for the silence. He spoke as loudly as he always did. Louder, if anything. Let the fools and cowards mutter in their meanderings. He had a Regency to win; an Empire to put to rights. He strode the corridors of the palace, speaking to people whenever he could, reminding them of his existence while his foolish cousin had fled under the excuse of conducting a long vigil for the fallen Regent.

This morning, he had one of the more devout priests awaiting him, so he kept his conversations briefer than usual. He did not want to keep one of the Neverborn’s more pious followers waiting too long.

Still, one of the men he passed made him pause longer than usual. A man busily writing at a table hardly made for an unusual sight in the royal palace. Until Bailgu noticed the checked pink and gray pattern on the man’s anjumi [headband] which proclaimed him as a death warrior.

There’s an incongruous sight. Rarely would a literate man be one who embraced the frenzied glory of the death cult. Nor was it common to see a death warrior without the white dye [7].

Intrigued, Bailgu coughed to indicate his presence. The death warrior looked up, and said, “A moment please.”

The death warrior wrote rapidly until the ink on his pen was exhausted, then rose.

Bailgu said, “What is your name, sworn one?” He used the neutral form of the pronoun [8].

“Batjiri of Jurundit,” he said. “Of the Fearless.”

“Did you learn to write before you took the oath?”

“Afterward,” Batjiri said. “So I could read the Nine Classics [9].”

“Oh.” Strange. A man who waited calmly for battle and a frenzied death did not strike him as a man who should trouble himself to know the Nine Classics. Bailgu nodded at the writing table. “Are you preparing a new copy?”

“No, I am writing a new text. I hope that someday it may be considered the Tenth Classic.”

“Ah... Ah, that is... not what I would have expected from a man whose oath means that at any time he may be called to battle to chant his name until he is ready to make the ultimate sacrifice.”

Batjiri shrugged. “Every man will go to fight his Last Battle sooner or later. They know not when it is, but act as if it will be far into the future. For me, the difference is that I accept that I could die at any time, if I am called. Even if my classic is unfinished, what I have written will still be worthy.”

“A commendable ambition,” Bailgu said, carefully keeping his face blank. He understood what drove most death warriors, but this man...? He gestured to the writing desk. “If you want to resume your writing...”

Batjiri’s lips twisted into a smile, one which did not touch his eyes. “If the oath has taught me one thing, it is the value of time.” The death warrior sat back down again, and Bailgu hurried on.

Soon enough, he reached the chamber where Jirandali, Third Watcher of the Dreams [10] awaited him. Polite greetings took up some time, with mutual invocations of good health, long life, and listening to the voice of the Neverborn.

After that, Jirandali said, “It is certain: your cousin met with the Head of the Fronds this morning.”

If he had not been in the presence of a priest, Bailgu would have muttered a curse. Clenching his fists made for a poor compromise. “Bad enough that he meets with other Yadji [ie members of the royal family]. If he is trying to sway soldiers... Do you know if they reached any agreement?”

“No-one is certain. If so, neither of them has said anything about it where our listeners can hear.”

“Do you think that Bidwadjari would side with Gunya?”

The Watcher looked thoughtful. “I think that he would prefer that a Regent is chosen quickly, without bloodshed.”

“Which won’t happen,” Bailgu said. “I will not stand by and let that man lead the Land. He thinks only of this world, and cares nothing for preparing the Land for the world to come.”

“All truth, and truth which you have said before,” Jirandali said. “Yet will it convince enough of your family?”

Bailgu said, “I fear that too many of them share his obsession. Gunya thinks only of recapturing the Copper Coast.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “A folly believed only by those who cannot see clearly. We have fought Tjibarr for centuries, and never defeated them badly enough to hold onto the Coast for more than a generation. The blood and treasure we pay to take it are greater than the province is worth. Better to let Tjibarr have it, and the joy of holding it.”

Alas, despite the self-evident truth, too many princes refused to see it. Gunya and his ilk cared more for glory than for reality. Perhaps the Empire should fight more for Djawrit and its gold, but the Copper Coast was worth nothing. Better secure borders for the Empire than endlessly trying to extend them. Then he could concentrate on holding the peoples already within the Empire, and preparing for the Cleansing [11].

“If so, that means that we must prepare for war,” the Watcher said.

“Perhaps it can still be avoided, but yes, preparations are essential,” Bailgu said. And, my dear cousin Gunya, there you will be defeated.

* * *

Civil war: almost an impossible proposition to consider for the Yadji, a royal family who had prided themselves on their ability to present a united front to their subject peoples. Rebellions against the Yadji were common enough, but rarely was there a Yadji at their head.

Disputed successions were reasonably common, but were usually resolved by politicking or the intervention of the senior priests. Only in a few instances had this led to combat between princes. Even then, on most of those occasions, the conflict had ended quickly when it became clear that one prince had much more support than the other, or was a better general.

When it was clear that one prince was superior in support or in martial skills, the traditional solution was for the other prince to swear the oath of a death warrior. Taking this oath meant that the defeated prince was dead in law, no longer considered part of the Yadji family, and could not inherit the Regency. Depending on the generosity of the new Regent, the new death warrior sometimes found himself fighting in every battle on the Tjibarr frontier until he had fulfilled his oath, or sometimes was allowed to live out his life in reasonably comfortable exile in a distant city.

The Time of Troubles (1629-1638), known to the Yadji of the time as the Year of the Twisted Serpent [12], was an unfortunate exception to the usual practice. Gunya and Bailgu, the two main princes involved in the struggle, were bitterly opposed both in pride and in policy. Both could draw on considerable support from their fellow princes, from the priests, and from the generals. Politicking failed to resolve the impasse, and the outcomes was civil war.

For a war fought at least nominally for ten years, the destruction was not as severe as might have been expected, particularly in comparison to European wars of the time. Wanton destruction was uncommon; both sides exercised restraint since they wanted to have a well-populated, prosperous empire to rule afterward.

Gunya’s forces won the first great battle, near Jerang [Lorne], and after that, Bailgu’s main force retreated into fortified positions. For most of the war, the focus was on sieges of key enemy cities. These typically involved long periods of boredom followed by brief periods of intense interest.

The death toll for sieges was usually low. The Yadji had large food stores available [13] – one reason the sieges lasted so long – and their siege weaponry was not particularly advanced. In a disease environment less hostile than the Old World, great disease outbreaks during sieges were also relatively unknown [14]. Even when sieges were successful, the civilian population of the captured town was usually spared; after a couple of early massacres failed to intimidate other besieged towns into surrender, both Bailgu and Gunya largely abandoned the practice, except on a couple of occasions when attacking troops got out of control.

This practice of restraint during sieges was only consistently violated during another odd example of the conventions of Yadji politics: the response to the Kurnawal uprising early in the Troubles.

In 1631-1632, the Kurnawal [inhabitants of the easternmost Yadji provinces] tried to take advantage of the civil war to assert their independence [15]. Regardless of how much the two imperial pretenders despised each other, there were family dictates to be honoured. The two quarrelling princes negotiated a temporary truce, assumed joint command of their armies, and marched east to subdue the Kurnawal.

Here, they ended sieges with fire and blood, the better to force the rebels back under imperial control. When the Kurnawal were reconquered, as per the terms of the truce, the two princes’ armies returned to their former positions [16] and resumed their civil war with mostly the same restraint as before.

Of course, for all that the two princes tried not to undermine the foundations of the Empire, the effects of so many years of warfare were considerable. A significant portion of the Empire’s soldiery died, and many of the valuable food stores were exhausted. While both sides did not directly interfere with the harvests, and famines were rare except inside besieged cities, disruptions were inevitable with soldiers called to war.

For most of the Time of Troubles, the course of the war still hung in the balance. Gunya’s forces were generally more successful in open battle, but that led in turn to them conducting more of the sieges and losing relatively more men in assaults. The outcome of the war was still in doubt in April 1636, when William Baffin’s ships sailed into the harbour of Gurndjit [Portland, Victoria] and became the first Europeans to make direct contact with the Yadji Empire...

* * *

[1] The House of the Dawn (several exist in most Yadji cities, despite the singularity of the name) is a place where people go to hold vigils for fallen comrades. It is considered the utmost in sacred ground, even more than a temple. Staying there serves Gunya two purposes: implying he is still holding a vigil for his assassinated cousin, and means that not even the most determined of enemies would send someone to assassinate him.

[2] All Junditmara pronouns and personal titles come in six versions: dominant, submissive, masculine, feminine, neutral, and familiar. A complex set of social codes dictates which form should be used in which circumstances. (See post #16 for more information).

[3] Because Gunya used the masculine form to imply informality and near-equality for the purposes of the meeting, rather than the dominant form which would have showed clear superiority.

[4] In most Aururian cultures, including the Yadji, shaking the head is a form of emphasis or agreement, not denial.

[5] The Australian tiger snake (Notechis scutatus), usually considered the fourth most venomous land snake in the world [17]. It is abundant in southern Aururia. Its preferred habitats include wetlands and small creeks, including the extensive Yadji artificial wetlands. Tiger snake bite is a frequent cause of death among the Yadji.

[6] ie the Nguril and Kaoma of the Monaro plateau, who sometimes raid into the *Murray basin, and sometimes into the Yadji’s eastern provinces.

[7] Death warriors who are going into battle dye their face with white dye in a pattern which makes it look like a skull. Most death warriors keep that dye on all the time.

[8] All death warriors are referred to using the neutral form of the pronoun, except among themselves. This is because death warriors are treated as being outside of the social order, with neither dominance nor subordination to others. Those who swear the oath of a death warrior are treated as dead in law for most purposes, with their worldly goods handed over to their kin. The death warriors are then supported by the temples and the royal family.

[9] Nine venerated texts among the Yadji, regarded as the epitome of literature, both for the quality of their written language, and the virtues espoused within them. Most of the Nine Classics date back to the days of the feudal Empire of the Lake, and were written by or about (sometimes both) briyuna, the sworn warriors of the feudal lords.

[10] The rank of Third Watcher of the Dreams originally meant a priest who was charged with interpreting the omens contained in the Regent’s dreams. There were four such priests, each serving for one month in four, in succession. (The priests were equal in rank; the number simply indicates which months each priest would serve). The role of Watcher has gradually evolved into a more general spiritual counsellor and adviser for the Regent. While there are several priests whose formal rank is higher than the Watchers, the direct access to the Regent gives the Watchers significant informal authority.

[11] In Yadji eschatology, the Cleansing is when the Neverborn will break free from the earth, defeat the Lord of Night, and remake the world.

[12] The Yadji traditionally name their years by that of the current Regent. When there is no Regent, another name is used for the period in question. The Year of the Twisted Serpent was thus rather a long year.

[13] The Yadji traditionally store enough food to cope with four years of famine; enough time to wait for a new planting of wattle trees to produce large amounts of seed. Having such large food stores allows them to minimise the effects of long-term droughts or severe bushfires burning out their crops.

[14] The Aururian disease environment is more hostile than that of the New World, but considerably less so than that of Eurasia (or worse yet tropical Africa). There are diseases and waterborne parasites around which can cause problems for besieging armies, such as Marnitja, but the overall effects of these is less than in comparable sieges in the Old World, where the disease toll in sieges could be horrific. The Yadji are also fortunate in that the main sieges in the Time of Troubles were in the central and eastern provinces. This meant that that they were spared a heavy toll from the worst siege-related disease in Aururia, swamp rash [18].

[15] Or, more precisely, to assert their independence from Yadji tribute-collectors, particularly those seeking to pay for the civil war.

[16] More or less. Both sides resumed control of the same ground as before the truce. They still took advantage of the truce to resupply and move troops into better positions within their current territory.

[17] The top ten most venomous land snakes in the world are all Australian. So is the world’s deadliest spider (funnel-web). Australia’s coastal waters are also visited by the world’s deadliest octopus (blue-ringed octopus), deadliest jellyfish (box jellyfish) and deadliest shark (great white shark). Oddly enough, people who know that still visit Australia.

[18] Swamp rash (an allohistorical descendant of Barmah Forest virus) is a mosquito-borne disease which for centuries has been endemic in the artificial wetlands along the *Murray. It has recently spread to the western wetlands of the Yadji Empire, and is slowly expanding east. Swamp rash does not usually cause epidemics, being more of an endemic disease afflicting people who are exposed to mosquito bites. However, it does have the potential to cause epidemics if besieging armies are encamped near wetlands.

Swamp rash is also one Aururian disease where the mortality rates vary considerably between Aururian peoples. The Gunnagal and other peoples who live along the Middle and Upper *Murray have had centuries of exposure to the virus, and have evolved some natural immunity. The Yadji (and other non-*Murray peoples) have no such resistance, and their mortality rates from the disease are roughly twice those of the Gunnagal. The endemic nature of swamp rash also means that most Gunnagal will have been exposed to the disease in their childhood, and thus (if they survived) will be immune to an outbreak as adults. This means that when Tjibarr and Yadji armies fight, an outbreak of swamp rash will take a significant toll of the Yadji armies but have little effect on Tjibarr. (This is one factor which has helped Tjibarr defend its core territories from Yadji invasion.)

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Thoughts?