Lands of Red and Gold #97: The First Pearl Shatters
This post continues more or less straight on from
post #85.
* * *
“To the Raw Men, nations are either players or game pieces.”
- Wemba Dalwal (Wemba of the Whites), 1660
* * *
[21 January 1673]
To his exalted majesty the King of Kings, from your servant Mittaba Gabi, Chief Watcher of the North and Fourth Councillor of Star Hill [1]. May the wanderers [planets] grant you fortunate aspect and the honoured stars grant you insight. May you know your path as it stretches out before you in this life, your lives past, and your lives yet to come.
Let your exalted majesty hear and be aware: nine nights previously, a new star has joined the heavens in the River Guardian [2], a new reflection shines in the great water’s eternity. Know this to be true: a great
kuru wields its influence on the mortal lands, the greatest since the daytime
kuru that brought the Raw Men to the Middle Country [3]. Consider and understand: this marks a time of great disturbance, where the Guardian stands aside and the millions of
kuru stir. The newcomer will incite many existing
kuru to create strife in the mortal realms.
The portents are clear. This time of great dying has not yet concluded.
* * *
Summer, 5th Year of King of Kings Walliac Tjaanuc [February 1673]
Milgawee (White City) [Albany, Western Australia]
Tiayal (the Middle Country) [western coast of Australia]
He stands atop the highest level of the Palace of a Thousand Rooms, in front of the elaborately-carved, forty-petals-opening flower that is called the Petal Throne. The Source stands directly overhead, with all of the force of high summer behind it, driving all mischievous or malevolent
kuru to seek refuge from the light. He stands atop the Palace, which stands atop Un Koit [Mount Clarence], which overlooks all of the White City, the beating heart of the Middle Country, the greatest city in the world.
He can see much from here, most of the White City and its environs. Source-light glints off water to east and north-east and south, from the Sea Lake [King Georges Sound] and its two inner harbours; the nearest intrusion of the great liquid harmony that drives the cosmos. Ships are anchored in the inner harbour, Nedlandj ships. Here to trade slaves and steel for sun’s blood [gold] and peppers. Here to mark the authority of the Nedlandj
Councillor who has more power in the Middle Country than any of the thirteen kings who elect the King of Kings. The sight of the Nedlandj ships is an unwelcome one, and so he looks elsewhere.
To the west, he can see the great limestone steps leading down from the Palace and forming the great Walk of Kings that stretches across the White City to Un Bennan [Mount Melville]. Here, the Source’s light shines on the great jarrah trees that shade the Walk, and on the fountains, columns and statues that mark the many triumphs of the Atjuntja over the centuries, before and after they united the Middle Country. Here, he can see the luscious expanse of the Garden of Ten Thousand Steps, halfway along the Walk, where all of nature has been arrayed in its place and season, for all visitors to be amazed with each step. The Garden is a rarity, one place which has been improved by the new plants brought by the Nedlandj [4]. Here, he can see the House of Songs, where musicians learn how to perform properly, and the Mammang, the great place of learning where the sons of the kings and other high men learn how to follow in their fathers’ footsteps.
Here, most of all, he can see the House of Pain at the far end of the Walk, with the great arena dedicated to the Lord, and the private chambers behind built into the rock of Un Bennan. Here, he can see where the Appeasers
should be placating the Lord, drawing His gaze away through proper sacrifice so that the Middle Country can be spared His full attention.
Here, he can see where the Appeasers have failed.
When he looks over the White City, he sees no signs of malevolent
kuru, but he knows that is merely a temporary abeyance delivered by the Source overhead. Malicious
kuru are in the City, as they are in all of the Middle Country, and for now they merely shelter until the light recedes. They have been troubling Tiayal for far too long.
He has no real memories of his grandfather, merely of a distant figure who occupied the Petal Throne or commanded the Palace. Yet every tale recounts that in his grandfather’s time, the Appeasers succeeded in their duty. The pain and blood they inflicted was sufficient to placate the Lord, and He drew the malicious
kuru back to Him, rather than allowing them to roam the mortal realm.
Now, no matter how determined or skillful the Appeaser, no sacrifices worked. The Lord advanced and the Lady retreated, all across the Middle Country. Plague had followed plague: the little death, the pox, the red breath, the blister-rash, the light-fever, and then the Great Death. Where disease came, famine followed, from lack of workers or the rats and mice that were overrunning the land. Proper order was threatened, by rebellion after rebellion, by disturbers of custom who had abandoned the worship of the Lord and Lady to follow foreign cults.
People wait in attendance around him, barely in his awareness, wary of disturbing his contemplation. When he does notice them, it is only to note a change which has occurred within the time of his own recollection, not his grandfather’s. His father said that the White City used to be much fuller, with many more people dwelling here. Now, not only are there fewer people serving in the Palace and the wider city, many of those who do so have the curly hair of Malaga [Malagasy] slaves. He had seen the first Malaga arrive at the White City himself, ten years before, and many more had followed. Maintaining the White City, and indeed the proper operation of the whole Middle Country, would be almost impossible without the Malaga.
He looks out again, over the bulk of the White City, over the people walking its streets, who from this vantage look like ants. The emptier White City, since the Great Death and all the problems that preceded it. The City relies on the wider Middle Country to supply it, and the Country is weakened. Worse, now the Watchers of Star Hill warn of danger to come.
Walliac Tjaanuc, the King of Kings, is afraid, and he does not know what he can do to quell the fear.
* * *
Summer, 5th Year of King of Kings Walliac Tjaanuc [February 1673]
Fog City [Walpole, Western Australia]
Tiayal (the Middle Country)
Fog City lived up to its name; despite the calendar marking the hottest season, early morning mist rose off the Outer Water [5], shrouding the Source and obscuring any glimpse of the far shores. A couple of fishing boats were anchored at the nearby jetty, but any others further out were impossible to see. Even the city walls were difficult to make out, despite being only a few steps behind him.
Nyanderra, third son of Yalambie Kywong, King of Fog City [6], thought the fog a fitting marker for a day such as this. The previous evening had brought bad news and worse. A new plague had broken out in the White City, a plague of grossly swollen throats that made men cough themselves to death [diphtheria]. This was a misfortune. The King of Kings had called for volunteers to be sacrificed to the death to appease the Lord. This was a calamity.
His father Yalambie had acknowledged the message, which naturally had been announced where all of the noble sons present could hear it. Yalambie had not asked for volunteers himself yet, but then he did not need to. Nyanderra knew the curse of the third son; too far from the throne to be likely to inherit, but close enough to the firstborn to make a meaningful sacrifice.
So in the misty morn, Nyanderra had come outside the city to contemplate the future of his existence, and his role in the great cycle driven by the ever-ocean. Or more precisely, whether he would have a future. No word or hint had been delivered to him yet about his own sacrifice, but he knew it would come. In this plague, or the next, or the one after that.
Pestilence had followed pestilence in the Middle Country, and no number of sacrifices had changed it. Instead, the plagues had grown worse, one after another. The Great Death had been harsher than anything before it, so severe that his family had abandoned the comforts of the White City for this backwater village. Now, how much deadlier would this bloat-throat be?
As he stared out across the misty water, the nearest finger of the ever-ocean, Nyanderra could find no answer to that question. But in contemplating the potential for sacrifice, he also realised that sending him to his death in the House of Pain would not change the outcome of this latest plague. If the Lord had not been appeased by so many sacrifices over so many plagues, why would He bestir himself now?
Perhaps the followers of the Seven-fold Path held more truth than the King of Kings wished to acknowledge. The Middle Country faced ruination, and appeasing the Lord did nothing to change that. So it could be that the discord had another source: the rule of the King of Kings, his bureaucrats, and perhaps even the Raw Men who backed him.
Nyanderra could not be sure whether the disciples of the Good Man had the right of it. But one thing he knew for sure. “I will not be sacrificed for no gain. Let the King of Kings order what he wills, but I shall not accept it.”
* * *
Ever since Frederik de Houtman had first brought his ships to Tiayal in 1619, the King of Kings’ rule over the Middle Country had been threatened. The ever-mounting death toll from the plagues, culminating in the Great Death (measles), had severely tested the existing social, religious and economic structures. Contact with Europeans had brought some economic benefits, but also disrupted the old regulated trade networks, and led to the Atjuntja aristocracy reorienting their efforts to resource extraction of spices and dyes. Revolts had become widespread, if rarely coordinated. Severe labour shortages in the post-Great Death era were only partially alleviated by the importation of slaves from Madagascar.
By 1670 the King of Kings, via his network of governors at garrison-cities across the Middle Country, had started to restore some measure of stability, though not prosperity. The religious revolts and labour unrest of the previous decade had been largely quelled. The Great Death had claimed many experienced governors and administrators, but their replacements had begun to learn their crafts or been replaced by those who could perform. The people, while far from happy, were not entirely angered, either.
Tragically, the era of Old World plagues had not yet ended.
Aururians referred to the 1660s, 1670s and early 1680s as the Time of the Great Dying. The era opened with the Great Death (1659-1662), the deadliest individual plague to strike the Third World. The 1670s saw the spread of diphtheria and pertussis (whooping cough), together with several smaller recurrences of older plagues that struck those too young to have immunity to them from previous outbreaks. Smallpox (
Variola minor) spread across Aururia during the early 1680s, and in Tiayal, this period also saw a simultaneous outbreak of influenza.
All in all, the Time of the Great Dying was a bad time to be a ruler anywhere in Aururia, but particularly in the Middle Country.
Diphtheria (bloat-throat, neck-cough) appeared in the Middle Country in February 1673, presumably spread by a visiting Dutch or Nangu ship [7]. The epidemic did not spread quite as rapidly as some previous plagues, but the death toll still mounted quickly. The King of Kings made a (predictable) call for sacrifices to appease the Lord – and this is where events turned against the Atjuntja monarchy.
When the call for sacrifices reached Fog City, Nyanderra Kywong refused to become a volunteer. Refused very publicly, in fact. He announced his refusal to his father in the very public grand chamber of the family residence, where noble sons and indiscreet servants could hear it. And repeat it.
Discontent over the failure of sacrifices to prevent the plagues was not new, of course. It had occurred several times before, particularly during the epidemics of light-fever (typhus) and the Great Death. Rarely had such sentiments been expressed publicly, however, and never by so prominent a figure as a leading son of a king.
Inevitably, Nyanderra’s claims provoked religious unrest. Revolts had broken out over religion before, naturally, but those had attracted little in the way of aristocratic support. The plague of diphtheria changed this. Nyanderra publicly proclaimed his rejection of any call for sacrifices, ever, and thus condemned the religious foundation of the rule of the King of Kings. News of this proclamation spread very quickly.
Such a proclamation could not go unpunished, or Nyanderra’s father would lose all of his own authority. Yalambie Kywong disowned his son very publicly later the same day, only to have Nyanderra plot revolt as soon as he was out of his father’s sight. Soon enough, Nyanderra ruled Fog City. Word of this spread very quickly, too.
Revolts followed over much of the Middle Country. Whether through genuine religious opposition or opportunism – after all, any noble who did not follow the Atjuntja faith could also claim to be exempt from their demands for tribute, too – many other aristocrats took up Nyanderra’s cause. The result was the most serious rebellion which the King of Kings had ever faced, even worse than Nyumbin’s great rebellion which first handed the Dutch influence in the Middle Country [8].
This was a true nightmare for Walliac Tjaanuc, the King of Kings. His family’s rule had only survived the decade after the Great Death because of two great advantages. The first was that their opponents were disorganised, and so the imperial armies could suppress one rebellion at a time. The second was that the imperial government retained exclusive control over trade in slaves; the last true trade monopoly they had, due to previous concessions to the Dutch. Access to slaves was vital both for maintaining support from most aristocrats, and threatening to cut off the supply to potential rebels.
With fresh plague-induced panic, these advantages had both evaporated. For the moment, the aristocrats cared little about slaves and more about survival and opportunity. Even if their revolts were not truly co-ordinated, they had erupted close enough together that the King of Kings could not hope to suppress all of them at once. He did not even dare to send his armies on the relatively short march to Fog City [about 120 km] to suppress the most notorious rebel. Too many had flocked to Nyanderra’s banner; deploying enough force to conquer him would leave the White City exposed to raids from other rebels.
The King of Kings played for time, sending a smaller force to relieve the siege of the nearby garrison-city of Gidjee [Jerramungup], hoping that triumph there would provoke other rebels into negotiation. Gidjee was relieved, at a small but acceptable cost in soldiers. Alas, the other rebels remain defiant, and crushing all of them was impossible. Negotiations were also effectively impossible, since it would mean conceding the religious authority that underpinned the entire rule of the King of Kings.
In desperation, Walliac Tjaanuc turned to the only other source of soldiers he could find: the Dutch. The Dutch government was itself preoccupied trying to win a war against both France and England, but the
Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie was glad to prop up the Atjuntja monarchy. For a substantial price.
The King of Kings was prepared to pay a massive amount of gold, of course. The Dutch Councillor Gerard Pieterszoon Hulft, however, demanded much more. He offered to provide the Atjuntja with as many mercenaries as could be found. This would be a substantial number, for there were plenty of Pakanga [Māori] mercenaries available the endless civil war in Aotearoa, together with smaller numbers of European veterans from the Polish and Baltic wars. The Councillor even generously offered to arm them.
In exchange, the Councillor demanded many concessions. The first and most humiliating was extra-territoriality: any accusations against Company employees or Dutch citizens were to be judged by Dutch courts, with the final right of appeal resting with the resident Councillors, not the King of Kings. Hulft also demanded that the lifting of the slave trade monopoly; the Company should be free to sell as many slaves as it wished to whomever it wished within the Middle Country. The Councillor could appoint a representative to act as a permanent advisor to the King of Kings. Complete freedom of movement for all Company employees throughout the Middle Country. Finally, Hulft required that the King of Kings formally declare that the Company had a complete monopoly on trade with the Middle Country; no other trading partners were to be permitted [9].
The King of Kings did his best to bargain from a very weak position. He succeeded in exacting some concessions of his own. Star Hill, the sacred oracle of the Middle Country, was to be excluded from Dutch access. He granted a monopoly of all trade from European powers to be conducted via the Company, but insisted that the traditional trade with the Nangu and Nuttana must continue.
The Councillor was prepared to make these concessions. Star Hill meant nothing to him, since it was not a centre of trade. The few Nangu who still came to Tiayal mostly traded in goods which the Company cared little about, such as gum cider; prevention of European interlopers mattered much more to him. With that secured, Nulft swore on behalf of the Company to deliver the required soldiers.
In 1673, Aotearoa was in the closing years of the Rīriri Paliri (Harmony Wars); recruiting warriors was cheap. With these mercenaries supporting them, the King of Kings’ armies began a series of campaigns to suppress the rebellions. This turned out to be far bloodier than had been anticipated, to the point where Walliac Tjaanuc deemed it more pragmatic to offer amnesty to some of the rebellious aristocrats rather than conquer everyone. He ordered his soldiers to make some bloody examples of a few more prominent rebels – Nyanderra being prominent among those – but negotiated for some other rebels to be spared. With much greater reluctance, he also permitted quiet toleration of the growing Plirite and pseudo-Calvinist cults that were spreading across the Middle Country; suppressing them risked touching off even more revolts.
By 1676, a measure of peace had been returned to Tiayal. The Middle Country was emptier still, with more victims of diphtheria, warfare, and the famines which followed them. However, many of the more rebellious aristocrats had also been removed from power, leaving more authority for the King of Kings.
If diphtheria had been the last Old World plague, matters might have ended there.
* * *
Second Harvest Season, 9th Year of King of Kings Walliac Tjaanuc [November 1676]
Milgawee (White City)
Tiayal (the Middle Country)
Another season, another plague striking down these heathen Atjuntja. Whooping cough, this time. Councillor Gerard Pieterszoon Hulft wondered, not for the first time, what made them so weak against common maladies. Perhaps God was punishing them for their abhorrent human sacrifices. He had explicit orders from the Governor-General in Batavia not to interfere with the Atjuntja superstitions, unless they tried to inflict them on Company employees, but maybe God had taken matters into His own hands.
No matter. If God or fate had handed him an opportunity, he would seize it. On behalf of the Company, of course. And his own glory, and in time, his own profit.
Now he stood before the Atjuntja Emperor. Alone, naturally. No courtiers present, no-one except two bodyguards. The Emperor would not want anyone else to hear this.
Hulft kept his face as calm as he could, while the Emperor stumbled through a long-winded, circuitous explanation in which he never
quite said that his empire faced collapse unless the Company gave him aid. Again.
At last. Some of his fellow Company officers had suggested making this demand when the last plague blazed through the White City, but he had counselled caution. Heathen he might be, and semi-literate savage he might be too, but the Emperor still had his pride. Better to wait until the Emperor realised himself that he could not survive without the Company’s protection.
When the Emperor finished, Hulft said, “On behalf of the Lords Seventeen, may I extend my sympathies for the difficult times which have struck Teegal.”
“Sympathies are welcome, but I need... something more tangible,” the Emperor said.
“Soldiers?”
The Emperor shook his head. With some lesser Atjuntja, Hulft sometimes struggled to interpret that gesture, since some of the Atjuntja knew that the Dutch interpreted it to mean no, and so adjusted their nods and headshakes accordingly. Other Atjuntja did not bother, which led to many misunderstandings. For this Emperor, though, there was no possible confusion; he would not bother to make any accommodations to foreigners.
“Again?” Hulft said. “Speaking for myself, I would be glad to give you aid, but it would be expensive. The Lords Seventeen would be reluctant if I overstepped my authority. War threatens again back in Europe.” The Republic was again threatened by treacherous Englishmen. Perhaps the war had already broken out, but word had not yet reached the Great South Land.
“If it is a matter of gold, that can be provided.”
“My concern is that aid will be required again, and again. Paying soldiers would be expensive.”
The Emperor muttered something in his own language. By now, Hulft knew enough of the Atjuntja tongue to recognise it. “
What isn’t expensive, with you Raw Men?” Aloud, the Emperor said, “Ongoing payments can be-”
“Two parts in five of all gold mined everywhere in Teegal, to be paid to the Company, now and for all time,” Hulft said.
“That is... a strong demand.”
“It would be required, to pay enough soldiers, to be stationed here permanently,” Hulft said. “Bringing men across half the world, sparing them when needed in other wars, requires suitable encouragement.”
The Emperor said, “Would that be all of your... requests?”
“No. There is more. Teegal needs soldiers stationed here permanently. Such a perpetual commitment on the Company requires acknowledgement. I must ask, as the Lords Seventeen would require, that Teegal accept the protection of the Company. That you place yourself and your Empire under our formal protection, which is provided by our soldiers.”
The Emperor was silent for a very, very long time. Did tears glisten in his eyes, unshed? Perhaps. It was hard to be sure. Hulft believed he had judged his moment well, though. Surely the Emperor could see that it was better to have a throne under the Company’s protection than to have no throne at all.
“So be it,” said the Emperor, and bowed his head.
* * *
“
Seven pearls strung along a necklace of gold
Shining afar in the red land e’er-old
Jewels unknown beyond the girting seas
‘Til pale men sailed in on fallen trees
Name all the pearls, you who have ears to hear
Spinners of words, who argue but ne’er fear
Hoarders of severed heads and brilliant glass
Weavers of gold, obsessed with doom and class
People of the skin, those who look within
Stalwarts true, care for aught but kith and kin
Mavens fickle, who dwell ‘midst fire and flood
Lords of the beard, bringers of knives and blood.
Ruined by plague and war, the necklace burst
Pearls cast asunder, the lords shattered first..."
From Tjanja Concord Pindeera’s epic poem
Euchambie, published 1927
* * *
[1] Star Hill is the Atjuntja name for the region which is historically called Boorabin. The Watchers of Star Hill have built an observatory on a desert plateau there, and have a long history of watching and recording the heavens. Their astrological interpretations are highly valued throughout the Atjuntja realm.
[2] This new star is a nova which appeared from 12-21 January 1673 (historically it was observed by Richer). The River Guardian is a constellation which comprises most of the Western constellation of Puppis, and parts of Carina, particularly Canopus (which they see as the head of the Guardian). The River refers to is the Milky Way, which passes through Puppis. The Atjuntja see the Milky Way as a great river through the heavens and the constant source of rejuvenation of the great water’s eternity (they see water as the driving force of the cycles of eternity, i.e. time). The Guardian is thus an extremely important figure in Star Hill astrology; any new star which appears there is considered extremely ominous.
[3] The daytime star is how the Atjuntja have interpreted Kepler’s Supernova, which appeared in 1604 and was visible in daylight; they view it as the agent which brought the Raw Men to Aururia.
[4] Especially tulips, for some reason.
[5] Fog City (Walpole) sits alongside two inlets. The smaller upstream one which the Atjuntja call the Inner Water (Walpole Inlet) is extremely shallow – less than 1 metre deep – and usable only by the smallest boats. The larger downstream inlet which the Atjuntja call the Outer Water (Nornalup Inlet) is usable by larger vessels – it is up to 5 metres deep – although it is effectively only visited by specialist shore-hugging craft, since the Outer Water is both extremely shallow and difficult to navigate for larger ocean-going ships.
[6] The Atjuntja have thirteen “kings” who in turn confirm (elect) the King of Kings. Each of the kings notionally lives in one city or another scattered across the Middle Country, though in practice they almost all live within the White City. The Kywong family relocated to Fog City in the aftermath of the Great Death in the (forlorn) hope that this would safeguard them from future plagues.
[7] No French or English ship would have dared visit the White City during this period, since this was the time of the Second Anglo-Dutch War.
[8] See
post #31.
[9] The VOC already had such a
de facto monopoly anyway, but the Councillor wanted to make it official.
* * *
Thoughts?
