Chapter Four, Part One: The New Reality, 900-923
In the year 900 A.D., “Thule”, as it was known to the Christian world, finally fell to the Ostmen. Now, the term “fell” in and of itself needs some explanation in this context. Christian Thule was never very heavily populated beyond the Western coast that served as a stop along the circular route across the Atlantic to Talbeah. Over the course of the 700s and 800s, however, Ostish settlement of the east had begun to spill into the territories traditionally held by Christians. Raids and violence eventually caused the Christian population to dwindle, and in 900 A.D. the last Christian settlement on Thule was abandoned, the few survivors sailing back to Ireland. This left Thule, now known as Askraland, in the hands of the Ostish.
This caused the traditional route to Talbeah to no longer become feasible. Though the Ostish would have probably let ships through if they paid some form of protection money, Christian Irish paranoia of the bearded raiders was at its all time high. After all, the Ostmen had sacked Iona in 898, carrying off the riches of that edifice, as well as taking many slaves. This made the Irish less willing than they already were to try to make the dangerous crossing to the New World, and all but ended contact with Talbeah. [1]
In Talbeah, this had surprisingly little direct material effect. Though the loss of contact was worrying to some, trade with the Old World had dwindled among the permanent inhabitants. Much of the trans-Atlantic trade in the preceding period had been undertaken by independent companies that only came to the New World for the trading season. Those living in Talbeah had adapted, and had begun to trade much more intensely between their own settlements (hence the seeming importance that Owain had placed on the trading communities during the Reconquest). This prevented too much economic chaos from breaking out in the New World.
However, it did have a concrete social effect. As time passed and little-to-no contact with Ireland continued, a more independent identity began to develop among the Irish descendants in Talbeah. Taking the Fanaithe name upon themselves, they were almost two-hundred years removed from Ireland. To them, their world was Talbeah; their world was the great forests and the harsh coasts, the frozen North and the cod-filled sea. Their language was different, having developed an accent all of its own, peppered with words from the long-vanished Skin People or words of their own invention. They also no longer looked fully Irish; though the blood of the Skin People had been heavily diluted over the centuries, their mixed-descendants (which made up the majority of the Fanaithe living in Talbeah) retained a slightly-bronzed cast to the skin, dark hair, and brown eyes. To them, Ireland was a tale of their ancestors; they had all that they needed around them.
To the much more recent Briton arrivals, however, the loss was more heavily felt. There connection to the Old World was less distant, dating back only twenty-years. It compounded the loss of their independence to the Anglo-Saxons, and created a feeling of nostalgia for a golden age that never really existed. As evidenced in their literary works, such as the Owainid, the children and grand-children of the Talbeahan Britons believed that the “Old Country” was a land of eternal splendor and glory, sullied by barbarians.
The Gorfodi Carodoc, son of Owain, handled himself well in this transition period. He would grant gifts to the loyal Company leaders and to the still new Briton nobility, as well as assist with the construction of new buildings at Brendan’s Monastery. His generosity won him many friends, but it also drained his coffers. Frustrated with the low income he was receiving, Carodoc first developed an idea to reestablish trade with the Old World in 908. Support for this expedition was high from his fellow Britons, who helped outfit the trading fleet. However, after it set forth in 909, it was never heard from again.
This made some of Carodoc’s friends a bit put off that they had put their wealth into an expedition that would receive no return on investment. Carodoc was aware of this, as well as the state of his own treasury. He did not want to risk a second potential failed expedition and the political fallout that could result from that. Therefore, he put aside any thought of sailing massed ships to the Old Country, and instead turned to the South.
The territories to the South of general Celtic settlement in Talbeah remained fairly unknown in the beginning of the 10th Century. This may seem odd, as there had been a permanent Celtic presence in the region for over 200 years (in the form of Fanaithe Companies, early Meascthan traders, and the actual settlers themselves). It has certainly seemed suspicious to historians of the modern era that there were no explorations down the Tullaha [2] to try to see what was there, or that no currach made the voyage down the Atlantic seaboard. Some historians have gone so far as to accuse the Briton chroniclers of writing these earlier contacts out of the record to give themselves more glory.
More recent historical thought, however, has absolved the Britons of this particular sin, and instead place a differential between the likely incidental Fanaithe contact and the more permanent Briton expedition. The Fanaithe “visited” these regions, but made no effort to return regularly or to expand settlement in those directions. The Britons, on the other hand, likely based off of reports of potential trading resources, opened permanent contact with the areas in question.
Carodoc’s expedition, which comprised of five currachs, with a mixed Fanaithe-Briton crew, set-off down the Tullaha in 914, with the stated goal of seeing what was down river, to hopefully discover some new resource to exploit. Moving against the current, they found themselves in increasingly virgin wilderness. They would travel for only a short time each day, taking extended breaks to explore the land on either side of the river.
After a few weeks of travel, they would be shocked when they encountered a canoe, carrying an equally shocked looking native. This marked the first time, almost since the 7th century, that a native had been seen. [3] The confused native led the confused Celts to his village, where they met with the elder of his tribe- a woman, of all things. Through improvised sign language, the Celts learned that there were other settlements further along the river. As they continued their way to the massive lake that ended their journey, the expedition confirmed this- there were quite a few settlements, though most were not very populous.
Why was there a “dead zone” between the arc of Celtic settlement and these seemingly thriving, albeit small, native communities? One native myth, which was recorded a few years later after regular contact was established, told of how the North was plagued by what the translator rendered as “Hollows”- creatures that looked like emaciated men, but were really full of evil and brought destruction to those that they came into contact with. The North was believed to be full of them, which the chronicler believed was the reason they hadn’t pushed further up-river and encountered the Celts. Some modern historians doubt the veracity of this tale, while others believe that it came from oral retellings of those stricken with illness stumbling into settlements and spreading devastation.
It was also extremely likely that these natives, or their ancestors, had had some contact with Europeans, as they were not as susceptible to disease as the Skin People on the Insula and further North had been.
At any rate, Carodoc was elated to receive this information. The expedition he had sent lacked much by way of trading goods (as they did not expect to encounter anybody), but he made perpetrations for a second, more trade-oriented expedition, to be launched. Returning back the next year, the traders found most natives were willing to engage in commerce, trading what appeared to be shell money, furs, and, most intriguing to the Celts, something they called “oyangwa”; it was a plant that, when smoked, gave a very pleasant feeling. [4] What most caught the natives eye were the blades carried by the expedition; impressed by their durability and utility, they were willing to pay seemingly outsize prices for them. This struck Carodoc with an idea.
Talbeahan mining had begun by this period in limited numbers, but Carodoc revolutionized that. Meeting with the Company heads and the Briton nobility, Carodoc introduced the concept of “man-tax”- that the proto-feudal tribute that was owed to him could be paid by lending the service of working men for a period of time. Carodoc reasoned to the leadership that through the man-tax, he could increase production at the mines and make cheap blades to then sell South for the shell money (which could be used in future commerce) and the oyangwa (which was becoming a runaway hit among the Fanaithe). The profits from this trade would be shared with the grandees of the Bishopric; seeing how lucrative it could be, his subordinates agreed.
Thus, in 919, the man-tax was introduced; something that would have a massive effect later on in that century. But for now, the rich got richer, and Carodoc’s coffers were replenished (less with gold, more with “Talbeahan equivalents” thereof). The natives, too, would be heavily impacted by this trade, though the effects also were not immediate.
All seemed well for Carodoc, until in 923, sails were spotted on the horizon. Thinking it was contact from the Old World, Carodoc and many others in Peace Town came down to the docks to greet them. Instead, they were met with a hail of arrows- Carodoc was wounded in the volley. To the horror of those gathered, these were not Celts; these were Ostmen.
The alarm was sounded, and the Measctha militias came down alongside the Briton levies. A vicious battle took place at the docks and, much to the relief of the citizens, the Ostish were sent back heavily bloodied, with not a captive taken. They did inflict some heavy casulties though; including Carodoc.
This began a new period of fortification in the West; though subsequent raids would be scattered (as the Ostish seemingly saw the Talbeahan settlers as too far away and too well protected after this failed raid), paranoia grew.
These fortifications would prove to be useful, however, later in the century, as talk of rebellion began to simmer along the Celtic Coast.
[1]- There would be several notable exceptions, especially the five voyages of Ercc, a brave seaman who made the direct crossing more than any other. He would meet his tragic end at the hands of one of his own countrymen, after an argument over a woman. The stories of Ercc visiting Talbeah (which was becoming more and more mythical to greater Christendom) were passed down, and survive in an albeit mutated form as the Tales of Ercc of the Sea.
[2]- OTL St. Lawrence River
[3]- Similar to the discussion of “visited” vs. “explored”, it is extremely likely that there had been incidental contact between Fanaithe and the natives of Talbeah preceding this encounter. A recent burial find contained trinkets of the sort typical of the Fanaithe, alongside more traditional native ephemera. This contact, however, was likely transitory in nature.
[4]- For the Native Americans of this region, I will be using words that are either Algonquin of origin or from some of the six Iriqouian tribes. The distant ancestors of these tribes would have been the ones living in the area. This particular word means “tobacco”
