Lands of Ice and Mice: An Alternate History of the Thule
- Thread starter DirtyCommie
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Wouldn't the Sea Thule remaining in regular contact with the Blessings & Burdens of the Sea be likely to hang on to their beliefs of Sedna, the Spirits, Rituals etc due to using what is proven to work? Their Rituals are integrated into their methods so wouldnt continued positive results create a kind of self perpetuating adherance to the Shamanistic methods?
I know Catholicism & Christianity et al have a long history of amalgamating exisisting practices, festivals like the solstice & existing religious figures like Rahab etc but can the Big religions even gain the sufficient understanding/comprehension of Arctican methods & mindset to do so adequately in this case?
I'd think it would be fairly easy for Sea Thule to make a pretense of adopting the faith of whichever Europeans they are most apt to trade with--it would be trickier when they are acting as traders between two rival blocs of course! The question is, whether the doctrines the missionaries teach them would have an appeal to sincere belief that would outweigh retaining their old beliefs too.
Christianity does not rule out the mere existence of other supernatural beings than God--angels and devils are canonical after all, and saints as beings capable of actively intervening in the worldly order (or appealing to God to do so) are pretty common though some more rigorous reformed orders frown on such indirect forms of prayer (and deny that the Roman Catholic Church has authority to declare which deceased people are actually among the saints, let alone give credence to Catholic and other more credulous creeds' alleged "proofs" of sainthood). And then too medieval Europeans and other Christians coexisted with the idea of yet other orders of beings--elves, sidhe, trolls, leshy, and other faerie type creatures--existing side by side. The tendency surely was to either debunk them or declare them to be basically demons (or anyway allies of demons, damned creatures) so that dealing with them would be foolish superstition at best or witchcraft at worst.
I don't see how the particular sea spirit (I presume--do you have links to the lore of Sedna as you understand it?) you mention could be canonized, though stranger things have happened--there probably would not be time for that kind of syncretism. A pre-existing Catholic patron saint of seafarers, perhaps carried over by Lutheran sailors, might substitute--and if there aren't any coincidental correspondences between the practices Christians used to invoke this saint and Sea Thule, Sedna, some amazing theological "discoveries" might ensue that build them up!
None of this would pass muster with a bishop or well-trained missionary of course, but it might be tolerated tacitly, if the Thule have the right tact. And I suspect most Christian sailors would be right there with them, with plenty of superstitions of their own they don't choose to mention to their landlubber pastors back home.I do think DValdron has sketched out a Thule intellectual development of shamanistic world view and philosophy that would not accept being disguised as some old European saint nor dismissed; I think it would be possible for Sea Thule, like European sailors, to become devout and serious in some Christian creed and yet hold to the belief that there are real powers in the world--less than God and subject to God, yet God's creations that have a place--that they would simply be foolish to ignore. Adoption of Christianity might give them more confidence they can manage these powers--but they'd still be smart to go about it with the proper diplomacy and respect. Such beliefs would be called worse than superstition, heresy in fact--but communities of Sea Thule who don't answer to the secular powers that back particular sects could afford to risk the charge, and let the bishops or Inquisition or king's law try and come hold them accountable on the high Arctic sea!
Where they might learn a bit more respect for Sedna or whatever word they have for the spirit of the natural ocean...One of the things I've been hoping to witness in this timeline someday is the confluence of a refined and evolved Thule philosophy, perhaps recast somewhat in Christian terms, with the skeptical spirit of the Enlightenment. It might get pretty New Agey, but then again if you look into such pillars of the Enlightenment as Isaac Newton you find he had quite a lot of odd sectarian beliefs himself. The question is whether anything of the pragmatically creative Thule shamanistic spirit can survive contact with European dogmatism. Again I have refuge to the notion of the Arctic fastness, that however far aggressive Europeans reach into the Arctic, there will always be Thule communities beyond their grasp, who will be free (bearing in mind their backs are rather against a wall) to pick and choose what they want to adopt from Europe. I believe this cultural reservoir will enable many Thule, even some deeply assimilated into European systems, to bring in their own perspective, no matter what learned doctors of theology or natural philosophy in Rome, Paris, Copenhagen or Oxford might assert.
And sooner or later some of it will react back on Europe; some scholars, whether they recognize the source or not, will adopt some different perspectives than OTL and frame them in some kind of Enlightenment or post-Enlightenment Romantic terms. I'm assuming here that sooner or later the Thule mentality will prove its worth in some context, and this will open the door for more of it to be debated by philosophy.
The sooner this happens, the sooner a distinctly Thule Christian sect can take its place among the uneasy sectarian dialogue of Europe. And who knows, maybe someday a version of unbaptized Thule shamanism as well?
Good points.
A lot of Angels origins link back to Gods & Spirits that were co-opted. very true.
Sedna is to the OTL Inuits the Central Goddess/Spirit.
She has dominion over the Sea & all life in it & controls the success or failure of fishermen etc.
There is also tales of Shamans journeying to the Underworld to reason with her or Placate her via ritual eg: Combing her hair etc.
She is also credited as the ruler of the Inuit Afterlife/Underworld.
In this ATL her influence is likely to wane for the new Agricultural & Herding groups but her Portfolio seems likely to remain strong for those that work or travel in the Sea & those in mourning or facing death etc.
links.
http://www.polarlife.ca/traditional/myth/sedna.htm
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sedna_(mythology)
A lot of Angels origins link back to Gods & Spirits that were co-opted. very true.
Sedna is to the OTL Inuits the Central Goddess/Spirit.
She has dominion over the Sea & all life in it & controls the success or failure of fishermen etc.
There is also tales of Shamans journeying to the Underworld to reason with her or Placate her via ritual eg: Combing her hair etc.
She is also credited as the ruler of the Inuit Afterlife/Underworld.
In this ATL her influence is likely to wane for the new Agricultural & Herding groups but her Portfolio seems likely to remain strong for those that work or travel in the Sea & those in mourning or facing death etc.
links.
http://www.polarlife.ca/traditional/myth/sedna.htm
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sedna_(mythology)
Winter 1611
All along the shorelines, there is the steady creaking of ice, mostly squeals, as currents and waves pile floating sea ice up high, before its own weight pushes it down.
Iquntaq is watching the sea ice pile up along the shores of what is called Hudson Bay. Further to the north, he knows, there are places where the ice is stable enough you can drive Caribou across. And beyond, there are places where open water persists for kayaks and umiaks.
But here? This is a bay, surrounded by high stone. Currents drive the ice in. The people call it the torture bay.
The foreign ship docked here. An immense ship, like a village set in the water, built with a fortune in wood, and an imaginable expanse of woven cloth, like clouds brought down from the sky and harnessed with rope.
People, even farmers, had travelled from all over to see this ship and these moss faced strangers. Even Iquntaq, three times a king, and still a great man, had bent his pride to come and look.
They had stayed a short time, the broken man among them had helped them converse, and then they had sailed south, stopping again and again. Of course, even in their absence, the news of them travelled and travelled. It had been a marvellous year, it seemed like everyone at some point had travelled somewhere to the coast, had seen these wonderful men in their ships, and everyone had an opinion. Everyone had several opinions.
Even in their absence, gossip raged back and forth, theories and ideas, now without even the casual limitation of fact.
Iquntak had himself noted two things he marked as significant about these strangers.
First, they were traders. He understood that very very well. As a king of the travelling people, he knew the inns and outs of trading back and forth. Pipestone here, and flint there, and if you had a bit of iron or bronze, well everyone wanted that. The inland wanted ivory and hide. The coast wanted for meat. The north wanted wood, and so it went.
Being a Traveller folk was not just about driving a herd of caribou from pasture to pasture, hoping for the good grace of jealous farmers. It was about knowing what particular farmers needed or feared and making sure that you had the measure of both in your hand.
So the theory of trade was entirely familiar to him. Of course, these strangers were so bizarre and alien in their trade, many could not fathom it. The goods they offered were beyond extravagant, metal utensils unlike anything anyone had seen, woven cloths into entire garments. It spoke of a people of unimaginable wealth. And yet, what they desired and traded for was a hodgepodge of the utterly ordinary and casually obscure. They expressed no real concept of value.
The stammering pidgin efforts of the broken man to explain his masters wants had only confused people.
But not Iquntak. Trade was trade, the view of the horizon was always simple. He saw no confusion, he saw novelty. These traders had little grasp of value, true. But they might learn. Mostly, he saw them as exploring - they did not know what they were looking for from the people, clearly they were seeking something else, the broken man had said as much. They had stumbled upon the people, with little clue as to what might be offered on either side.
That told Iquntak that there were opportunities here. Opportunities waiting to be seized.
Three times a king. Did he have it in him to try for a fourth? He chewed contemplatively. He was well past the middle age. Try a fourth, and win or lose, there would be no further chance.
The other significant thing that Iquntak had paid attention to, was that they had travelled... south. Sailed south, and stayed south over the winter.
In the land of his enemies...
All along the shorelines, there is the steady creaking of ice, mostly squeals, as currents and waves pile floating sea ice up high, before its own weight pushes it down.
Iquntaq is watching the sea ice pile up along the shores of what is called Hudson Bay. Further to the north, he knows, there are places where the ice is stable enough you can drive Caribou across. And beyond, there are places where open water persists for kayaks and umiaks.
But here? This is a bay, surrounded by high stone. Currents drive the ice in. The people call it the torture bay.
The foreign ship docked here. An immense ship, like a village set in the water, built with a fortune in wood, and an imaginable expanse of woven cloth, like clouds brought down from the sky and harnessed with rope.
People, even farmers, had travelled from all over to see this ship and these moss faced strangers. Even Iquntaq, three times a king, and still a great man, had bent his pride to come and look.
They had stayed a short time, the broken man among them had helped them converse, and then they had sailed south, stopping again and again. Of course, even in their absence, the news of them travelled and travelled. It had been a marvellous year, it seemed like everyone at some point had travelled somewhere to the coast, had seen these wonderful men in their ships, and everyone had an opinion. Everyone had several opinions.
Even in their absence, gossip raged back and forth, theories and ideas, now without even the casual limitation of fact.
Iquntak had himself noted two things he marked as significant about these strangers.
First, they were traders. He understood that very very well. As a king of the travelling people, he knew the inns and outs of trading back and forth. Pipestone here, and flint there, and if you had a bit of iron or bronze, well everyone wanted that. The inland wanted ivory and hide. The coast wanted for meat. The north wanted wood, and so it went.
Being a Traveller folk was not just about driving a herd of caribou from pasture to pasture, hoping for the good grace of jealous farmers. It was about knowing what particular farmers needed or feared and making sure that you had the measure of both in your hand.
So the theory of trade was entirely familiar to him. Of course, these strangers were so bizarre and alien in their trade, many could not fathom it. The goods they offered were beyond extravagant, metal utensils unlike anything anyone had seen, woven cloths into entire garments. It spoke of a people of unimaginable wealth. And yet, what they desired and traded for was a hodgepodge of the utterly ordinary and casually obscure. They expressed no real concept of value.
The stammering pidgin efforts of the broken man to explain his masters wants had only confused people.
But not Iquntak. Trade was trade, the view of the horizon was always simple. He saw no confusion, he saw novelty. These traders had little grasp of value, true. But they might learn. Mostly, he saw them as exploring - they did not know what they were looking for from the people, clearly they were seeking something else, the broken man had said as much. They had stumbled upon the people, with little clue as to what might be offered on either side.
That told Iquntak that there were opportunities here. Opportunities waiting to be seized.
Three times a king. Did he have it in him to try for a fourth? He chewed contemplatively. He was well past the middle age. Try a fourth, and win or lose, there would be no further chance.
The other significant thing that Iquntak had paid attention to, was that they had travelled... south. Sailed south, and stayed south over the winter.
In the land of his enemies...
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katchen
Banned
The Norse would identify Sedna closely with Hel. In fact I suspect long before the Innuit encounter Christianity, the Innuit would encounter (and give and take with ) the Asatru faith. And on the other side of the Arctic, with Tengriism and Buddhism.
There is a book, a PH.D. Thesis from Syracuse University you might want to order if you can, D'Valdron, about Innuit religion. It's called "Becoming Half Hidden" by Charles Winquist. Maybe you can get a copy on interlibrary loan.
There is a book, a PH.D. Thesis from Syracuse University you might want to order if you can, D'Valdron, about Innuit religion. It's called "Becoming Half Hidden" by Charles Winquist. Maybe you can get a copy on interlibrary loan.
I'm not so sure about that that. The Greenland settlement was a Christian settlement. There's churches, monasteries and nunneries all over the place. One of the major ruins of the Greenland settlements is the shell of an old church building.
The underlying Aesir or Asatru faith might have still been around as a kind of parallel folklore/folk religion. You probably had some persistence of 'magical traditions' and folk ritual, that the Thule would have encountered in Greenland and Iceland through the Norse Interchange, but I'm skeptical about the impact.
In Greenland, there was a lot of selectivity in picking and choosing elements of Norse culture and technology to incorporate. It's likely that some Asutru folktales and rituals might have been incorporated, but mediated through Thule language and cultural symbols, the Aesir renamed or relabelled. But I wouldn't look for a lot of significant impact.
twovultures
Donor
Well, I think Iquntaq is going to be biting off a bit more than he can chew if he allies with the "moss-faces". He may find his new "kingdom" much bigger than he originally contemplated, and the position of king much less comfortable than he remembered.
We'll see more of him. Allying with the Moss-faces? Not quite what he has in mind.
Iquntaq suppressed a yawn, concealing it with a gesture of rubbing his lips, so that none of the elders of the village would note it and take offence.
It was late in the day. Spring was coming, and the days were growing steadily longer. Warm winds sometimes blew, and on the rivers and lakes, along the sea shores, there was a steady crackle and rumble of winters ice breaking up. He was tired, he had travelled hard to reach this village, and having arrived, the Elders council had dragged on forever.
He forced himself to pay attention. The Shaman Nathuthuk was here, a wanderer met in the village gathering. Nathuthuk was a traveller, seeking wisdom. A young man, untried as many of the wanderers were, his face was marked with a layer of smallpox scars, a testament to wrestling and defeating profound supernatural forces.
There were disciples of Manupatak present. Nathuthuk was not one of them. Yet the disciples held him in awe. Their faces were unmarked, to them, the plagues of Christian spirits were stories, a gospel fervently held. But it was something different to see the proof of your beliefs marked upon the face of another, and to be in the presence of a man who had lain delirious, struggling with supernatural evil’s assault upon his body, and triumphing.
It wasn’t only the late hour that brought Iquntaq’s yawn. He was bored. He wanted to hear, Nathuthuk, but that had meant sitting through an endless succession of boring old farts, of listening to stories he’d already heard a hundred times, to speculations now so familiar they felt like they had worn grooves. He sat, once again, in other gathering, another village circle of elders and shaman’s listening much more than speaking, sitting through the endless talk, recollections of the old days, stories of this and that.
The talk, as it had been everywhere, all winter long had been of the Moss faced men and their great ship. Under other circumstances, it might have been dismissed as fable and exageration. But tens of thousands of people had made the journey, to stand on shores and look upon the great ship, imposing and impossible in the water. Thousands had seen or met the Moss faces who had crewed it, hundreds had communicated awkwardly through crude sign language or the intersession of the broken man’s pidgin dialect, several dozens had traded with it.
Even after the ship had departed people could talk about nothing else. A century of rumoured and distance contacts, centuries of marvels at great distances, all had combined to make this a wonder that people could not let go. Instead of tales of miracles far away, finally the miracle had come literally to the people’s doorstep, had sailed up and down blithely.
You could not meet a stranger on the Caribou trails and share a chew of roseroot, but that the stranger would sooner or later broach the subject of the Moss Faces and their wonderous ship.
And of course, where the basic facts had been pored over, dissected, considered, described, repeated and elaborated... There was still an insatiable hunger for more. Stories made their way, directly and indirectly of prior encounters in Baffin Island, strange corpses and stranger wrecks Even as far as Greenland came tales, painstakingly carried down through Ellesmere, of the ancient moss faces and the dying race that had inhabited that land, of the encounters with new people. Of encounters on the Eastern coast of the Labrador land.
"Ships," Nathuthuk was saying, "ships much of the nature as the one you describe, we see them many times off the shore of the east coast, to the south."
"Great ships of wood, with vast woven sails?" an Elder asked.
Weaving was a known art. But these Moss faces practiced it on a scale that defied imagination.
Nathuthuk averred. "I cannot say woven."
Irrelevant thought Iquntaq. He’d seen the sails with his own eyes, had been on the ship and examined the cloth with his own hands. He was beginning to suspect that Nathuthuk had very little in the way of direct knowledge. What he knew, was what he had been told, perhaps by people who had seen things themselves, perhaps by people simply relating the tales.
"But these ships, in the season they are almost common. Sometimes, we see three or four together."
This provoked a stirr. Iqunataq nodded. There would be more.
"What do these ships do?"
"They fish. They are vast fishing ships, with a single harvest, they catch enough to feed a village. They are like the whales, passing back and forth, filling their bellies."
Iquntaq frowned. A different sort than the one that had visited then? The visitor had been more of a trader, not a fisher at all. How many kinds of these ships were there? Were there different tribes of moss-face?
"It has always been so. My father told me of seeing them off in the waters, when he was a boy."
"Sometimes, they would come in to land, seeking shelter along the shore."
"To what purpose?"
"To dry or smoke their fish. They would make camps. Often families would come after they departed, picking the abandoned camps. They would find all manner of things there."
Iquntaq could barely hold himself back. "For any other purpose do they come to land? Do they settle or stay? Do they hunt? Do they take up water?"
Nathuthuk shrugged.
"I cannot say, the stories of my relatives are of all kinds," the pock faced shaman replied. "Many times when they landed, we avoided them. Sometimes, when we met, they attacked us."
.... Interesting.
"And sometimes, we met, and it was peaceable, and they made trade. Always, they sought to lie with our women. But they would give gifts for gifts."
"What sort of gifts?"
"Medicine root," Nathuthuk shrugged, "tea leaves. For their part, they had Iron and bronze, beads and well wrought wood, woven blankets light as a feather."
This interested Iquntaq, and he probed deeply as the young shaman would tolerate, until he satisfied himself that whatever these other moss faces offered, it was not too different from the traveller they who had come into the bay. And as for what they wanted... that was identical in nature. He felt a vindication from this.
The stories were adulterated of course, added or subtracted, embroidered, revised, manipulated. A single incident could give rise to a hundred stories, describing the same event in a multitude of ways. Nathuthuk’s words he pondered. His stories were not his own. But he described many encounters with the Moss faces, different circumstances and events, the sheer amount of contact had winnowed a core of recurring truths.
The tale shifted to the plague that had come through devastating the people and near to felling Nathuthuk. In this part of the story, the disciples of Manupatak were both elated and disappointed.
Nathuthuk had never met a moss face directly, at best had seen their ships from a distance, had handled their artifacts, had known people who had met them. But it was not as if a Christian man had coughed directly upon him and cast evil spirits into his form. The disciples argued fervently that the Moss faces were responsible for the plague, a conclusion that Nathuthuk seemed to agree with, but lacking any great force. Still, there was enough in Nathuthuk’s evidence that the disciples could make their case.
"It seems," said a village elder, "that these christian spirits are dangerous, yes. But not so dangerous as the disciples say. The Shaman Nathuthuk describes many encounters with the Moss faces, but the christian spirits did not leap out on the first encounter, or the second. Nor did they kill all they aflicted."
Iquntaq perked up. There was a remarkable insight. The old Fart had stumbled upon something. Not the part about killing, clearly the elder did not appreciate how vicious these plagues were. Iquntaq had only distant stories from Greenland and Labrador, but even if exagerated, the plagues had managed to wipe out whole villages and devastate clans.
But no, not every encounter. Even listening to Manupatak’s gospels, that was a truth, if you had the wit to note it. Assuming that Manupatak was correct and the Christian men carried evil spirits as part of their baggage.
So much unknown!
Could their evil spirits be controlled? Contained with medicine? Caged within the Christian men?
A thought occurred to him. The fear of evil spirits within the moss faces, the christian spirits... Could that be used to control access? To keep others away from the Moss face, to restrict contact only to the select?
That could be very persuasive...
Always, there were stories. Beyond the stories, there had been the speculations, the theories, the guesses, some wild, some canny.
Iquntaq and his famiy, his wife, his children, his lieutenants, had heard all the stories, had listened patiently over and over again in a hundred villages, at hundred meeting places.
For Iquntac, it had become something more than a casual gossip. He listened over and over, noting the stories, scrounging for observations and insights, sifting the ideas and epiphanies. By the end of the winter, Iquntac could claim, with foundation, to know more of the lore of the Moss faces than any man in civilized lands.
And he was acutely aware of how much of it must be thoroughly wrong. Improbable, impossible, ridiculous. But what parts? Iquntac was acutely conscious of the fact that when the Moss faces returned, much of the lore would be discarded as ridiculous and disproven. He hoped that despite this, most of his guesses, the important ones, would prove right. Having guessed right would make him a King greater than any before him, a King over Kings. Having guessed wrong...
Iquntaq and his wife and his circle had made their own guesses.
Finally, the conversations wore down to plans and planning, what mounds to build, where to plant, the health of crops, the needs of the community. Iquntaq straightened up. Time to bargain. Time to make promises and bargains to build an empire... If the moss faces came back.
He would bargain for medicine root, for all that they could or would harvest, for the pledge of men, for promises and condtions of all sorts.... In return, he offered a share of the Moss faces largesse, whatever they could be parted from. How many councils had he sat in and made these bargains, dozens of villages now, dozens of clans, all sorts of bargains and arrangements, all before solemn shaman witnesses.
He risked all upon the guess that the Moss faces would return. That they would return to trade. That was his gamble. If they did not, he would be ruined. A man of broken promises and unfilled bargains, a man of mockery and failure.
But if they did... He planned to see to it that they would not leave Torture Cove.
It was late in the day. Spring was coming, and the days were growing steadily longer. Warm winds sometimes blew, and on the rivers and lakes, along the sea shores, there was a steady crackle and rumble of winters ice breaking up. He was tired, he had travelled hard to reach this village, and having arrived, the Elders council had dragged on forever.
He forced himself to pay attention. The Shaman Nathuthuk was here, a wanderer met in the village gathering. Nathuthuk was a traveller, seeking wisdom. A young man, untried as many of the wanderers were, his face was marked with a layer of smallpox scars, a testament to wrestling and defeating profound supernatural forces.
There were disciples of Manupatak present. Nathuthuk was not one of them. Yet the disciples held him in awe. Their faces were unmarked, to them, the plagues of Christian spirits were stories, a gospel fervently held. But it was something different to see the proof of your beliefs marked upon the face of another, and to be in the presence of a man who had lain delirious, struggling with supernatural evil’s assault upon his body, and triumphing.
It wasn’t only the late hour that brought Iquntaq’s yawn. He was bored. He wanted to hear, Nathuthuk, but that had meant sitting through an endless succession of boring old farts, of listening to stories he’d already heard a hundred times, to speculations now so familiar they felt like they had worn grooves. He sat, once again, in other gathering, another village circle of elders and shaman’s listening much more than speaking, sitting through the endless talk, recollections of the old days, stories of this and that.
The talk, as it had been everywhere, all winter long had been of the Moss faced men and their great ship. Under other circumstances, it might have been dismissed as fable and exageration. But tens of thousands of people had made the journey, to stand on shores and look upon the great ship, imposing and impossible in the water. Thousands had seen or met the Moss faces who had crewed it, hundreds had communicated awkwardly through crude sign language or the intersession of the broken man’s pidgin dialect, several dozens had traded with it.
Even after the ship had departed people could talk about nothing else. A century of rumoured and distance contacts, centuries of marvels at great distances, all had combined to make this a wonder that people could not let go. Instead of tales of miracles far away, finally the miracle had come literally to the people’s doorstep, had sailed up and down blithely.
You could not meet a stranger on the Caribou trails and share a chew of roseroot, but that the stranger would sooner or later broach the subject of the Moss Faces and their wonderous ship.
And of course, where the basic facts had been pored over, dissected, considered, described, repeated and elaborated... There was still an insatiable hunger for more. Stories made their way, directly and indirectly of prior encounters in Baffin Island, strange corpses and stranger wrecks Even as far as Greenland came tales, painstakingly carried down through Ellesmere, of the ancient moss faces and the dying race that had inhabited that land, of the encounters with new people. Of encounters on the Eastern coast of the Labrador land.
"Ships," Nathuthuk was saying, "ships much of the nature as the one you describe, we see them many times off the shore of the east coast, to the south."
"Great ships of wood, with vast woven sails?" an Elder asked.
Weaving was a known art. But these Moss faces practiced it on a scale that defied imagination.
Nathuthuk averred. "I cannot say woven."
Irrelevant thought Iquntaq. He’d seen the sails with his own eyes, had been on the ship and examined the cloth with his own hands. He was beginning to suspect that Nathuthuk had very little in the way of direct knowledge. What he knew, was what he had been told, perhaps by people who had seen things themselves, perhaps by people simply relating the tales.
"But these ships, in the season they are almost common. Sometimes, we see three or four together."
This provoked a stirr. Iqunataq nodded. There would be more.
"What do these ships do?"
"They fish. They are vast fishing ships, with a single harvest, they catch enough to feed a village. They are like the whales, passing back and forth, filling their bellies."
Iquntaq frowned. A different sort than the one that had visited then? The visitor had been more of a trader, not a fisher at all. How many kinds of these ships were there? Were there different tribes of moss-face?
"It has always been so. My father told me of seeing them off in the waters, when he was a boy."
"Sometimes, they would come in to land, seeking shelter along the shore."
"To what purpose?"
"To dry or smoke their fish. They would make camps. Often families would come after they departed, picking the abandoned camps. They would find all manner of things there."
Iquntaq could barely hold himself back. "For any other purpose do they come to land? Do they settle or stay? Do they hunt? Do they take up water?"
Nathuthuk shrugged.
"I cannot say, the stories of my relatives are of all kinds," the pock faced shaman replied. "Many times when they landed, we avoided them. Sometimes, when we met, they attacked us."
.... Interesting.
"And sometimes, we met, and it was peaceable, and they made trade. Always, they sought to lie with our women. But they would give gifts for gifts."
"What sort of gifts?"
"Medicine root," Nathuthuk shrugged, "tea leaves. For their part, they had Iron and bronze, beads and well wrought wood, woven blankets light as a feather."
This interested Iquntaq, and he probed deeply as the young shaman would tolerate, until he satisfied himself that whatever these other moss faces offered, it was not too different from the traveller they who had come into the bay. And as for what they wanted... that was identical in nature. He felt a vindication from this.
The stories were adulterated of course, added or subtracted, embroidered, revised, manipulated. A single incident could give rise to a hundred stories, describing the same event in a multitude of ways. Nathuthuk’s words he pondered. His stories were not his own. But he described many encounters with the Moss faces, different circumstances and events, the sheer amount of contact had winnowed a core of recurring truths.
The tale shifted to the plague that had come through devastating the people and near to felling Nathuthuk. In this part of the story, the disciples of Manupatak were both elated and disappointed.
Nathuthuk had never met a moss face directly, at best had seen their ships from a distance, had handled their artifacts, had known people who had met them. But it was not as if a Christian man had coughed directly upon him and cast evil spirits into his form. The disciples argued fervently that the Moss faces were responsible for the plague, a conclusion that Nathuthuk seemed to agree with, but lacking any great force. Still, there was enough in Nathuthuk’s evidence that the disciples could make their case.
"It seems," said a village elder, "that these christian spirits are dangerous, yes. But not so dangerous as the disciples say. The Shaman Nathuthuk describes many encounters with the Moss faces, but the christian spirits did not leap out on the first encounter, or the second. Nor did they kill all they aflicted."
Iquntaq perked up. There was a remarkable insight. The old Fart had stumbled upon something. Not the part about killing, clearly the elder did not appreciate how vicious these plagues were. Iquntaq had only distant stories from Greenland and Labrador, but even if exagerated, the plagues had managed to wipe out whole villages and devastate clans.
But no, not every encounter. Even listening to Manupatak’s gospels, that was a truth, if you had the wit to note it. Assuming that Manupatak was correct and the Christian men carried evil spirits as part of their baggage.
So much unknown!
Could their evil spirits be controlled? Contained with medicine? Caged within the Christian men?
A thought occurred to him. The fear of evil spirits within the moss faces, the christian spirits... Could that be used to control access? To keep others away from the Moss face, to restrict contact only to the select?
That could be very persuasive...
Always, there were stories. Beyond the stories, there had been the speculations, the theories, the guesses, some wild, some canny.
Iquntaq and his famiy, his wife, his children, his lieutenants, had heard all the stories, had listened patiently over and over again in a hundred villages, at hundred meeting places.
For Iquntac, it had become something more than a casual gossip. He listened over and over, noting the stories, scrounging for observations and insights, sifting the ideas and epiphanies. By the end of the winter, Iquntac could claim, with foundation, to know more of the lore of the Moss faces than any man in civilized lands.
And he was acutely aware of how much of it must be thoroughly wrong. Improbable, impossible, ridiculous. But what parts? Iquntac was acutely conscious of the fact that when the Moss faces returned, much of the lore would be discarded as ridiculous and disproven. He hoped that despite this, most of his guesses, the important ones, would prove right. Having guessed right would make him a King greater than any before him, a King over Kings. Having guessed wrong...
Iquntaq and his wife and his circle had made their own guesses.
Finally, the conversations wore down to plans and planning, what mounds to build, where to plant, the health of crops, the needs of the community. Iquntaq straightened up. Time to bargain. Time to make promises and bargains to build an empire... If the moss faces came back.
He would bargain for medicine root, for all that they could or would harvest, for the pledge of men, for promises and condtions of all sorts.... In return, he offered a share of the Moss faces largesse, whatever they could be parted from. How many councils had he sat in and made these bargains, dozens of villages now, dozens of clans, all sorts of bargains and arrangements, all before solemn shaman witnesses.
He risked all upon the guess that the Moss faces would return. That they would return to trade. That was his gamble. If they did not, he would be ruined. A man of broken promises and unfilled bargains, a man of mockery and failure.
But if they did... He planned to see to it that they would not leave Torture Cove.
twovultures
Donor
Curiosity killed the cat and if Iquntaq gets his hands on those traders, they'd better satisfy his curiosity or they may end up dead.
I think I know where you're going with the encounter you're setting up from our PM's. Little less 'Dances with Wolves' then I envisioned though
EDIT: Nope, guess I was wrong.
I think I know where you're going with the encounter you're setting up from our PM's. Little less 'Dances with Wolves' then I envisioned though
EDIT: Nope, guess I was wrong.
Last edited:
Iquntaq looked down upon the broken man.
At first glance, he was a wretched specimen. Nose broken, one year nothing more than a mass of cartilage, missing teeth gave his face a lopsided look. He didn't look right, something about the eyes, something about the colour of his hair, the whispy hairs of a faint mustache. There was something of the Moss faces in his blood, Iquntaq reflected.
His face bore the weathered look of a man too long at sea, a more extreme version of the look some of the coastal fishermen had. Everywhere were the signs of hard living, of harsh treatment and starvation. He did not stand quite straight, his legs bent, looking about warily. He'd suffered an accident, a broken leg at one point, one that had not healed properly. It left him with a twisted limb and a limping gait.
But for all that, there was real muscle in that frame, real strength in his body. His pidgin had improved considerably, from when he'd struggled to find his way from his particular Thule dialect to the Hudson Bay speech. And he spoke the language of the Moss faces quite well.
For a second, Iquntaq was seized by curiousity. Who was he? Where had he come from? From the little he could tell, he was one of the far northern Thule, the faint traces of Ellesmere accent telling that he was from beyond that realm, the great Islands accessible only from the northern part. Manupataq's land? Or somewhere even further?
But more than that, he knew the Moss Face's, an invaluable reservoir of knowledge as to their ways, their natures, their obligations and arrangements, their divisions and purposes.
"Have you a wife?" Iquntaq asked, genially, trying to put him at ease. The broken man's attendance was not quite voluntary.
"Yes, lord," the man said "nervously, at home, in Iceland. We are good Christians."
Christians? Iquntaq shuddered involuntarily.
"I have been watching you," Iquntaq said. "Among the moss face, you area low man. But why should this be? Have you not wit, have you not strength? Why do you serve men who do not respect you."
"They are my people," the broken man said, "Lord. I am pledged to their service."
"Your honour serves you well," Iquntaq told him. "But you may serve them, and serve us as well. You must look to your own fortunes, and follow the course that rewards you."
"I hear your wise words," the broken man replied.
Iquntaq clapped his hand. "I am a mighty King. All that I survey I rule, thousands bend their knee to my wishes. My name is on all lips. My caribou are numberless. My enemies prostrate themselves in fear. I am good to have as a lord, and death to have as an enemy."
"All these things are true."
"Then as a mark of my wisdom and affection," Iquntaq clapped his hands, a young woman stepped forward and nodded her head. She was some sort of niece or distant cousin, not the brightest but a beauty and by all accounts gifted with a pleasant nature and a loyal disposition. "I present you one of my own daughter's for a wife. She shall be a boon to your household, and shall treat your present wife with grace and compoassion."
The broken man began to sweat.
"But, Lord, I am already married."
"So?" Iquintaq asked. He had well over a dozen wives himself, political marriages, randy impulses, subordinates. One ruled the roost of course. But nevertheless, it was important for a great man to boast of multiple wives.
"I am a Christian, Lord. We only have one wife..."
"Oh..."
Iquntaq thought.
His face darkened, storm clouds gathered around his brow. He leaned forward in his high seat, even as the broken man went pale.
"So you're telling me ... my favourite daughter isn't good enough?"
At first glance, he was a wretched specimen. Nose broken, one year nothing more than a mass of cartilage, missing teeth gave his face a lopsided look. He didn't look right, something about the eyes, something about the colour of his hair, the whispy hairs of a faint mustache. There was something of the Moss faces in his blood, Iquntaq reflected.
His face bore the weathered look of a man too long at sea, a more extreme version of the look some of the coastal fishermen had. Everywhere were the signs of hard living, of harsh treatment and starvation. He did not stand quite straight, his legs bent, looking about warily. He'd suffered an accident, a broken leg at one point, one that had not healed properly. It left him with a twisted limb and a limping gait.
But for all that, there was real muscle in that frame, real strength in his body. His pidgin had improved considerably, from when he'd struggled to find his way from his particular Thule dialect to the Hudson Bay speech. And he spoke the language of the Moss faces quite well.
For a second, Iquntaq was seized by curiousity. Who was he? Where had he come from? From the little he could tell, he was one of the far northern Thule, the faint traces of Ellesmere accent telling that he was from beyond that realm, the great Islands accessible only from the northern part. Manupataq's land? Or somewhere even further?
But more than that, he knew the Moss Face's, an invaluable reservoir of knowledge as to their ways, their natures, their obligations and arrangements, their divisions and purposes.
"Have you a wife?" Iquntaq asked, genially, trying to put him at ease. The broken man's attendance was not quite voluntary.
"Yes, lord," the man said "nervously, at home, in Iceland. We are good Christians."
Christians? Iquntaq shuddered involuntarily.
"I have been watching you," Iquntaq said. "Among the moss face, you area low man. But why should this be? Have you not wit, have you not strength? Why do you serve men who do not respect you."
"They are my people," the broken man said, "Lord. I am pledged to their service."
"Your honour serves you well," Iquntaq told him. "But you may serve them, and serve us as well. You must look to your own fortunes, and follow the course that rewards you."
"I hear your wise words," the broken man replied.
Iquntaq clapped his hand. "I am a mighty King. All that I survey I rule, thousands bend their knee to my wishes. My name is on all lips. My caribou are numberless. My enemies prostrate themselves in fear. I am good to have as a lord, and death to have as an enemy."
"All these things are true."
"Then as a mark of my wisdom and affection," Iquntaq clapped his hands, a young woman stepped forward and nodded her head. She was some sort of niece or distant cousin, not the brightest but a beauty and by all accounts gifted with a pleasant nature and a loyal disposition. "I present you one of my own daughter's for a wife. She shall be a boon to your household, and shall treat your present wife with grace and compoassion."
The broken man began to sweat.
"But, Lord, I am already married."
"So?" Iquintaq asked. He had well over a dozen wives himself, political marriages, randy impulses, subordinates. One ruled the roost of course. But nevertheless, it was important for a great man to boast of multiple wives.
"I am a Christian, Lord. We only have one wife..."
"Oh..."
Iquntaq thought.
His face darkened, storm clouds gathered around his brow. He leaned forward in his high seat, even as the broken man went pale.
"So you're telling me ... my favourite daughter isn't good enough?"
The Medicine Wars, and the Empire of the North Pole
The period known to the Thule as the Medicine Wars, encompassed a series of conflicts between 1611 and approximately 1635, which revolved around the continuing attempts to monopolise European trade, which involved occasional hostilities and depredations against European traders.
The Medicine Wars began in the summer of 1612, with the return of a fleet of three ships under the command of Henry Hudson as expedition leader, financed by the British Muscovy Company. Hudson, still intent on locating the North West passage retraced his prior route, following the Labrador coast up to Baffin Island, and then sailing the southern coasts of Baffin until turning south at Fox Basin and finding the west coast of Hudson Bay.
There, they were eventually met by Kayaks and Umiaks and diverted to a sheltered inlet with deep waters, under the control of a coalition lead by a local warlord named Iquntaq. The warlord, Iquntaq proved to be an astute trader, having previously organized or made arrangements for trade goods.
Over time, Iquntaq proved difficult to deal with, and Hudson and his captains resolved to travel further south, to find other trading partners. Iquntaq resisted this strongly, using a variety of means to keep the British in the cove and to restrict contact with them. This included sabotage and theft, threats, and recruiting some of the Icelandic Thule intermediaries.
Finally, after several weeks, one of Hudson’s ships left the cove and sailed down the western coast, to the southern reaches of the Thule realm. Iquntaq, through a combination of prior bargains, and local intimidation, managed to prevent any further coastal trade until the ship reached the southern regions. Even there, pickings were relatively thin, and the ship returned to Hudson’s expedition, with only a couple of weeks before the expedition was to return home.
Based on deliberate misinformation from Iquntaq, Hudson was more convinced than ever that he was on the verge of discovering the Northwest passage, through Chesterfield inlet, and argued urgently for further expeditions.
The value of the returned cargo, as well as a variety of stories and rumours fueled a subsequent expedition in the following year. However, during the intervening winter, Iquntaq had successfully used the gains from the previous year’s trading to leverage a series of alliances against his rivals. Driving south, Iquntaq fought a series of battles, driving off or subjugating southern rivals, leaving him in control of the west coast.
Thereafter, Iquntaq’s coalition pursued an aggressive campaign, fueled by the wealth of European trade to expand and consolidate control over coastlines, increase production of roseroot, and monopolize access to Europeans.
Despite this, Iquntaq was reluctant, by policy, to grant any European monopoly. In 1617, he sent expeditions to consolidate control over the more thinly populated Eastern coast of Hudson Bay, and the Labrador territory, opening contact with other European ships. By 1621, not only English ships, but Danish, Basque and even a French trader had come to port in Hudson Bay. In 1623, this lead to armed hostilities between some of the European merchants.
Iquntaq’s ‘Empire’ was structured as something of a house of cards. It was a monopoly empire, on the one hand, struggling to monopolize key Thule trading resources - access ports, roseroot, labrador tea, qviat, ivory, etc, amongst the Thule themselves... And on the other to attempt to control European contact entirely.
Unfortunately, there were powerful factions within Thule society around Hudson Bay which were opposed to Iquntaq. In particular, there was a rival set of power centers in the southern reaches of Hudson Bay, which had previously benefitted from a monopoly on timber production. Iquntaq briefly overwhelmed these, confiscating the timber monopoly, but earning undying enmity.
To the north, Iquntaq faced resistance from both the Ellesmere trading network, and the Baffin Island polities. There, Iquntaq pursued a policy of attempting to build a coalition or consensus, establishing uniform terms and values for dealing with Europeans. In the west, the densely populated interior of the McKenzie Basin chafed at the bottleneck Iquntaq’s empire. These sought trade through Baffin.
In 1624, the house of cards collapsed as the costs of Iquntaq’s bargains and obligations outran the prospective wealth of trade.
The next six years saw a state of warfare among the Hudson Bay and Baffin Island factions, driven by and lead by European powers. During this time, different Europeans nations and companies made direct alliances with different factions, as they jockeyed for power, with a corresponding decline in influence.
This was succeeded in 1630 by an emerging coalition, formed from the remnants of Iquntaq’s empire, some of the timber barons of the south, and key Baffin Island warlords, lead by one of Iquntaq’s most popular lieutenants, a man named Tayat.
By 1635, the new Empire had established complete domination on a more stable footing over the coasts and interior of Hudson Bay, Labrador and Baffin Island, and its tribute payers included the Ellesmere Trading Network, now in eclipse. To Europeans, it was the Empire of the North Pole.
The period known to the Thule as the Medicine Wars, encompassed a series of conflicts between 1611 and approximately 1635, which revolved around the continuing attempts to monopolise European trade, which involved occasional hostilities and depredations against European traders.
The Medicine Wars began in the summer of 1612, with the return of a fleet of three ships under the command of Henry Hudson as expedition leader, financed by the British Muscovy Company. Hudson, still intent on locating the North West passage retraced his prior route, following the Labrador coast up to Baffin Island, and then sailing the southern coasts of Baffin until turning south at Fox Basin and finding the west coast of Hudson Bay.
There, they were eventually met by Kayaks and Umiaks and diverted to a sheltered inlet with deep waters, under the control of a coalition lead by a local warlord named Iquntaq. The warlord, Iquntaq proved to be an astute trader, having previously organized or made arrangements for trade goods.
Over time, Iquntaq proved difficult to deal with, and Hudson and his captains resolved to travel further south, to find other trading partners. Iquntaq resisted this strongly, using a variety of means to keep the British in the cove and to restrict contact with them. This included sabotage and theft, threats, and recruiting some of the Icelandic Thule intermediaries.
Finally, after several weeks, one of Hudson’s ships left the cove and sailed down the western coast, to the southern reaches of the Thule realm. Iquntaq, through a combination of prior bargains, and local intimidation, managed to prevent any further coastal trade until the ship reached the southern regions. Even there, pickings were relatively thin, and the ship returned to Hudson’s expedition, with only a couple of weeks before the expedition was to return home.
Based on deliberate misinformation from Iquntaq, Hudson was more convinced than ever that he was on the verge of discovering the Northwest passage, through Chesterfield inlet, and argued urgently for further expeditions.
The value of the returned cargo, as well as a variety of stories and rumours fueled a subsequent expedition in the following year. However, during the intervening winter, Iquntaq had successfully used the gains from the previous year’s trading to leverage a series of alliances against his rivals. Driving south, Iquntaq fought a series of battles, driving off or subjugating southern rivals, leaving him in control of the west coast.
Thereafter, Iquntaq’s coalition pursued an aggressive campaign, fueled by the wealth of European trade to expand and consolidate control over coastlines, increase production of roseroot, and monopolize access to Europeans.
Despite this, Iquntaq was reluctant, by policy, to grant any European monopoly. In 1617, he sent expeditions to consolidate control over the more thinly populated Eastern coast of Hudson Bay, and the Labrador territory, opening contact with other European ships. By 1621, not only English ships, but Danish, Basque and even a French trader had come to port in Hudson Bay. In 1623, this lead to armed hostilities between some of the European merchants.
Iquntaq’s ‘Empire’ was structured as something of a house of cards. It was a monopoly empire, on the one hand, struggling to monopolize key Thule trading resources - access ports, roseroot, labrador tea, qviat, ivory, etc, amongst the Thule themselves... And on the other to attempt to control European contact entirely.
Unfortunately, there were powerful factions within Thule society around Hudson Bay which were opposed to Iquntaq. In particular, there was a rival set of power centers in the southern reaches of Hudson Bay, which had previously benefitted from a monopoly on timber production. Iquntaq briefly overwhelmed these, confiscating the timber monopoly, but earning undying enmity.
To the north, Iquntaq faced resistance from both the Ellesmere trading network, and the Baffin Island polities. There, Iquntaq pursued a policy of attempting to build a coalition or consensus, establishing uniform terms and values for dealing with Europeans. In the west, the densely populated interior of the McKenzie Basin chafed at the bottleneck Iquntaq’s empire. These sought trade through Baffin.
In 1624, the house of cards collapsed as the costs of Iquntaq’s bargains and obligations outran the prospective wealth of trade.
The next six years saw a state of warfare among the Hudson Bay and Baffin Island factions, driven by and lead by European powers. During this time, different Europeans nations and companies made direct alliances with different factions, as they jockeyed for power, with a corresponding decline in influence.
This was succeeded in 1630 by an emerging coalition, formed from the remnants of Iquntaq’s empire, some of the timber barons of the south, and key Baffin Island warlords, lead by one of Iquntaq’s most popular lieutenants, a man named Tayat.
By 1635, the new Empire had established complete domination on a more stable footing over the coasts and interior of Hudson Bay, Labrador and Baffin Island, and its tribute payers included the Ellesmere Trading Network, now in eclipse. To Europeans, it was the Empire of the North Pole.
- Status