Lands of Red and Gold

[Jared]

Awesome work as always, I love the opening and ending, that last line was ominous while the opening tone was genial and enjoyable, the historic feuds, treaties, industry and shifts were also of course, brilliantly done, Rupert finally learning some diplomacy was amusing and stuff like the High Landers getting guns, the roads and disease were all just, well incredible excellent as always, thanks for sharing!

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Glad you liked it. I enjoyed writing this chapter as the interweaving of previous threads, and showing that while Prince Rupert was still an arrogant shit, he was also capable of learning eventually (something he did historically).

I have finally, finally managed to catch up to this. This has thus far been one of the best AH works I ever read and I look forward for more

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Thanks! There is of course more coming; the next chapter should be out in the next day or so.

 

[AKuz]

I'm still amused by Rupert going on about discipline when OTL he all but lost wars by being an undisciplined shit who ran off the field of battle to pursue fleeing opponents.

 

[Jared]

I'm still amused by Rupert going on about discipline when OTL he all but lost wars by being an undisciplined shit who ran off the field of battle to pursue fleeing opponents.

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In Rupert's world, discipline was something which applied to other people, not to himself.

 

[Zam]

Glad you liked it. I enjoyed writing this chapter as the interweaving of previous threads, and showing that while Prince Rupert was still an arrogant shit, he was also capable of learning eventually (something he did historically).

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You did an excellent job on that front, kudos!

 

[Jared]

Lands of Red and Gold Interlude #7: A Chef's Guide to Christmas

This instalment gives a flavour of how the changed circumstances of this timeline have altered Christmas cuisine styles and celebrations around the globe. As per usual practice, this instalment should not be taken in an overly serious manner.

--

Seen on the sign outside a church in Henrysburgh [Petersburg], Virginia, Alleghania, on 24 December:
"To our Christian friends: Merry Christmas
To our Jewish friends: Happy Hanukkah
To our Plirite friends: Good luck!"

--

From: "The Great Christmas Cookbook: Yuletide Recipes From Around The Globe"

Four-Pepper Chicken

Four-pepper chicken is a mouth-watering (literally) Cathayan and Indian influenced chicken recipe. Fried chicken is cooked in a combination of the three hot kinds of peppers, blended with bell peppers, Indian vegetables and Cathayan flavours to produce an intensely hot and flavoursome main meal.

Predecessors of this dish as a Christmas tradition go back to the seventeenth century, when sweet peppers [Aururian peppers] were first introduced to India. Since they were so rare and treasured, the Nasrani [Saint Thomas Christians / Syrian Christians] who lived in Cochin created special recipes for sweet peppers which were only served at Christmas. Even when sweet peppers became more freely available, the connection to Christmas remained.

Ingredients:

500 grams chicken (de-skinned and de-boned)
1 large or 2 medium red or yellow bell peppers
3 eggs
3 tbsp corn starch
2 tbsp soy sauce
4 green chilli peppers (thinly sliced)
4-5 cloves garlic (minced)
1 tsp minced ginger paste
1-6 whole sweet peppers (as per taste) [1]
1/2 tsp black peppercorns
2 tbsp white spring onions (chopped)
2 tbsp green spring onions (chopped)
1/4 tsp umami powder [MSG]
1/2 tsp castor sugar
2 cups chicken stock
1 tsp vinegar
Sunflower oil
Salt to taste
Steamed basmati rice, to serve

Method:

1. Beat eggs in a bowl. Set aside.
2. Chop chicken into medium-sized chunks. Set aside.
3. De-seed bell peppers and chop into medium-sized cubes. Set aside.
4. Combine beaten egg, corn starch, salt and soy sauce. Crack sweet peppers and black peppercorns into mixture.
5. Mix well and add chicken chunks.
6. Coat the chicken thoroughly in the mixture. Set aside for 20 minutes.
7. Heat adequate oil in a pan. Deep-fry the chicken until golden brown.
8. Remove chicken on oil-absorbent paper. Set aside. Keep remnant oil in pan warm.
9. In another pan, heat 1 tbsp oil. Add green chilli peppers, minced garlic and minced ginger.
10. Sauté for several seconds. Add white spring onion.
11. Stir with chicken stock and vinegar.
12. Add sugar, salt and umami.
13. Mix thoroughly until starts boiling.
14. Add fried chicken pieces and cook for 4-5 minutes.
15. In remnant oil, add bell peppers. Fry for 2-3 minutes without letting it become too soft.
16. Add fried bell peppers to boiling chicken.
17. Lastly add green spring onions.
18. Serve hot with steamed basmati rice.

Chef Notes:

1. If gravy is too watery, dissolve 1 tsp corn flour in 2 tbsp water, mix well and add to the gravy to ensure thick consistency.
2. For variants, add chopped carrot and celery to provide additional flavour.

*

Christmas Pudding

Christmas pudding, or plum pudding, is a boiled pudding made from many dried fruits and nuts, flavoured with spices. Despite the name, plums are not among the fruits contained in a plum pudding; that name came from the older use of the word "plum" to mean raisins.

Christmas pudding is first known from medieval England, and it has spread to become a traditional highlight for Christmas dinners throughout the English-speaking world. Many families have their own recipes handed down from generation to generation: this one is a simplified recipe which should appeal to everyone.


Ingredients:

200 grams raisins
60 grams mixed peel
200 grams sultanas
200 grams currants
200 grams dried muntries [2]
125 grams chopped blanched almonds
125 grams shredded blanched peachnuts [3]
1/4 cup rum, brandy or rremma [double-distilled duranj (Tasmanian gum cider)], plus extra, for flaming
250 grams unsalted butter
1 1/4 cups light brown sugar
Zest of 1 orange (grated)
4 eggs
1/2 plain wheat flour
1/2 cup cornnart flour [wattle seed flour]
1 tsp cinnamon verbena [cinnamon myrtle] [4]
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1 tsp ground white ginger berry [5]
1/2 tsp ground aniseed verbena [aniseed myrtle]
2 tbsp cornnart honey [6]
125 grams soft white breadcrumbs
Vanilla egg custard or heavy cream, to serve

Method:

1. Sprinkle the fruit (raisins, sultanas, currants, dried muntries) and nuts (almonds and peachnuts) with the brandy, rum or rremma into a large bowl. Cover and leave overnight.
2. Cream the butter until soft. Add the sugar and orange zest. Beat until light and fluffy.
3. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each egg has been added.
4. Sift the flour (wheat and cornnart) and spices (cinnamon, cloves, white ginger berry and aniseed verbena) into a bowl. Fold into the sugar and butter mixture.
5. Stir in the breadcrumbs, honey and the marinated fruit and nut mixture until well-combined.
6. Place the mixture into a well-greased budding basin, lined with a circle of greased baking paper cut to fit the base. Cover with another circle of greased baking paper to fit the top of the pudding basin. Cover the pudding with a large sheet of baking paper with a pleat in the centre, to allow for any rising.
7. Tie firmly with string. Use a plate on top of the bowl to keep the paper in place while tying it. Make a handle of string from side to side of the bowl, latching it onto the string around the bowl. Use the string to lower the pudding slowly into boiling water.
8. Steam the pudding, covered, for 6 hours. The water should be deep enough to come halfway up the side of the bowl. If possible, sit the pudding on a metal ring or upturned saucer.
9. Top up the water with boiling water as needed.
10. Remove from the water, cover with fresh baking paper and string. Store until needed.
11. To serve, put the pudding into a saucepan of boiling water to come halfway up the sides of the bowl. Steam for 2.5 hours.
12. Invert the pudding into a heated plate. To flame, warm a tablespoon of rum, brandy or rremma, light, and pour over the pudding at the table. (Best enjoyed with the lights turned low first).
13. Serve accompanied by vanilla egg custard or heavy cream.

*

Chirriburri [Chimichurri]

Chirriburri is a flavoursome sauce used to accompany or marinate grilled meat. It was originally invented in Argentina, probably by Basque settlers; the original name for the sauce was tximitxurri, which refers to a combination of several things where the order is not important.

Argentine Christmases, like most of their social gatherings, involve an asado [7] where the national dish of Argentina [i.e. grilled beef] is served along with other grilled meats. Chirriburri is usually the chosen accompaniment to the grilled meats.


Ingredients:

1/4 packed cup coriander (chopped)
1 small or 1/2 medium red chilli pepper (de-seeded and very finely chopped)
1tbsp white onion (diced)
4 cloves garlic (minced)
2 white ginger berries (de-skinned and minced)
1/4 tsp oregano
1/4 cup red wine vinegar
2 tbsp water
1/2 medium tomato (finely diced)
1/4 cup olive oil
Salt, 1/2 tsp or to taste
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp pepperleaf [sweet pepper leaf]


Method:

1. Combine coriander, chilli, onion, garlic, white ginger, oregano, vinegar, water, and tomato in a bowl. Slowly whisk in the oil. Add salt, black pepper and pepperleaf.
2. Let sauce sit for 30 minutes so flavours will meld.

Chef Notes:

1. As an alternative, use parsley instead of coriander.

*

Carne de Vinha D'Alhos (Portuguese Pork with Wine and Garlic)

Carne de vinha d'alhos is a traditional Portuguese Christmas dish, made from meat braised with wine and garlic. Pork is the most common meat used today, although rabbit was also traditionally popular.

Ingredients:

1 large picnic pork shoulder (cut into 5cm chunks)
Cider vinegar, 2 parts
White wine, 1 part
1/2 cup salt
6 garlic cloves (peeled and crushed)
1/2 tsp dried marjoram
1/2 tsp dried rotunda [8]
7 whole red chilli peppers (torn apart)
1-2 loaf Portuguese bread [9], sliced 2.5cm thick

Method:

1. Using a sharp knife, de-bone and remove the rind from the meat, leaving the white fat, and discarding the rind. Cut into chunks.
2. Combine the pork, vinegar, wine, garlic, marjoram, rotunda, salt and chilli peppers in a non-reactive bowl. Marinate in the refrigerator for 5-6 days.
3. Put the meat and a little of the marinade in a large, non-reactive pot. Simmer over low heat until meat is browned. Keep adding more marinade as needed to keep from drying out or burning.
4. Transfer the meat to a platter.
5. Moisten the slices of bread by dipping each side quickly in the hot marinade. Add more marinade, if necessary. Brown the bread in the marinade until semi-crispy.
6. Arrange the bread on a serving platter with the meat. Serve hot.

*

Eggnog

Eggnog is a sweetened milk-based drink, which is traditionally made with milk and cream, sugar, whipped eggs, and a combination of spices. Liquor is usually added (except for children), with rum, whiskey, brandy, vodka or rremma popular choices. Eggnog came from the British Isles originally, and became popular in North America, where it gained its traditional connection to Christmas.

Ready-made versions of eggnog can be found in stores around Christmas, but I personally have yet to find a pre-made eggnog worth drinking, especially the Cali-fornications produced in my homeland. Most families have their own recipes for home-made eggnog: the recipe below is just one simple version which everyone should enjoy.


Ingredients:

6 eggs, with 2 extra egg yolks
1/2 cup sugar, with extra 2 tbsp
1/4 tsp salt
4 cups whole milk
1/2 cup brandy, dark rum, or rremma
1 tbsp vanilla essence
1/2 tsp grated nutmeg, plus extra for garnish
1/4 tsp cinnamon verbena
1/4 tsp lemon verbena [lemon myrtle] [10]
1/4 cup heavy cream, whipped to soft peaks

Method:

1. Combine eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and salt in a large heavy pan. Whisk until well-combined. Continue whisking while pouring milk slowly and steadily, until completely included.
2. Turn on burner to lowest heat setting. Place pan on burner and stir mixture continuously until an instant thermometer shows 70 degrees C and the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon. (Patience is required. This will take 25-30 minutes.)
3. Strain mixture through a fine sieve into a large bowl. Add brandy, dark rum or rremma, vanilla essence, nutmeg, cinnamon verbena and lemon verbena. Stir to combine.
4. Pour into a glass pitcher, decanter or container and cover. Refrigerate the mixture to chill for minimum four hours, or maximum 3 days before finishing.
5. When ready to serve, whip heavy cream in a bowl until it forms soft peaks. Fold whipped cream into mixture until combined.
6. Serve in chilled glasses. Garnish with nutmeg.

Chef Notes:

1. If you want to fortify the eggnog with more Christmas cheer, you will need to tweak the recipe to ensure consistency. The liquor content should be increased to 1 cup and the cream content to 3/4 cup.

--

Note: In some of the cases below, the names of countries listed are non-canonical. They should be taken as shorthand for "this is what allohistorical Christmas cuisine is like in the region which historically is called X", rather than "country X exists under that name in the Lands of Red and Gold modern era". However, Portugal has the best Christmas cuisine in the world [citation needed].

Taken from Intellipedia.

Christmas Dinner

Christmas dinner is the main meal traditionally eaten on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. Christmas traditions around the world may differ, even within countries. The traditions listed below represent the culture of the respectful country ware the festivities are being celebrated. Christmas traditions may very, even within countries, and the descriptions blow should not be assumed to be universal in any given country.

India

In India, people cook a wide variety of foods, including biryani with chicken or lamb, chicken and mutton curry, or sweet pepper chicken curry. This is followed by cake or sweets like kheer, or other sweet foods flavoured with jaggery. Some cook roast stuffed noroon [emu], but this is more common in cities and almost unknown in villages [citation needed].

Lebanon

The people of Lebanon, mainly Christians but also Muslims and Druze, celebreat Christmas with a traditional large feast. The celebreation begins on the knight of the 24th and continues until lunch on the 25th. Some [who?] have leftovers from the dinner before at the lunch the next day. Families get together at both meals. Roast noroon [citation needed] is the most common choice of meal. Roasted duck, tabouleh (Lebanese salad), and pastries such as honey cake, are the traditional fair. Most of the Christians in Lebanon observe a fast for forty (40) days before Christmas, and so the feast is particularly enjoyed. Who wouldn't enjoy a fast after that long without food? [This sentence has been flagged as offensive – discuss].

Denmark

The traditional Danish Christmas meal is served on 24 December. It consists of roast pork with crackling or goose or duck or noroon [citation needed]. The meat is served along with boiled murnong (some of which is caramelised, some roasted), red cabbage, and plenty of gravy. It is followed with a desert of risalamande: rice pudding served with cherry sauce or strawberry sauce, often with a whole almond inside. The lucky finder of the almond receives an extra present, the "almond gift". Christmas drinks are gløgg (mulled, spiced wine) and traditional duranj, specially brewed for the season. These usually have a high alcohol concentration.

France

In France, a réveillon is a long dinner-cum-party, depending on the stamina of the attendees, held on Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. This dinner is named for the word réveil, "waking", because participants are expected to stay awake until midnight. Falling asleep before midnight is considered bad luck.

The food consumed at a réveillon is traditionally luxurious and of the highest quality. Fur example, appetisers may include foie gras, oyster, lobster or escargot. One traditional dish is turkey with chestnuts. Although examples of traditional dishes vary across the different regions and regional specialties of France. Won increasingly popular dish is roast noroon [citation needed].

Desserts are extravagant and varied. Perhaps the most common [weasel words] is the bûche de Noël (Yule log).

Réveillon is marked by consumption of high-quality wines, of French origin, concluding with champagne or other sparkling wine as a finish. Where the réveillon involves withdrawing from the dining table to another room such as sitting room, brandy or other distilled spirits will usually be served [citation needed].

Ireland

In Ireland, preparations for Christmas dinner begin the knight before. The ham will be boiled and people may start to prepare the vegetables. The traditional Irish Christmas dinner consists of noroon [citation needed], ham, Brussels sprouts, roast murnong, stuffing, and various vegetables. The old version would have been a goose or a duck, and many Irish still follow this tradition.

The dinner usually consists of roast poultry such as noroon [citation needed], goose, turkey, chicken, duck, capon or pheasant, some times with roast beef or ham, or occasionally pork. In some regions of Ireland, particularly Cork, they will also eat spiced beef. A cured and salted rump of beef, cured with saltpetre and spices. Varieties of spices used include cherry pepper [pimento], cinnamon, ground cloves, white ginger root, and purple pepper. (Purple sweet pepper, note purple bell pepper). Which is broiled or semi-steamed in stout, and then roasted.

Served with stuffing and gravy; pigs in blankets; cranberry sauce or muntrie jelly; bread sauce; roast murnong, sometimes also boiled or mashed; vegetables (usually boiled or steamed), especially Brussels sprouts and carrots. With dessert of Christmas pudding, sometimes mince pies, with brandy butter or cream. Or both.

Portugal

Portugal is the land of dried and salted cod. Traditional Christmas dinner could not escape the standard. A people who eat well every day will eat well on Christmas Day. The traditional Portuguese standard is a get-together of families on Christmas Eve, around the table. To eat boiled dried-salted codfish. Accompanied with boiled cabbage, roasted [red] yams, boiled eggs, chickpeas, onions, fresh rotunda, etc. Served with Portuguese black pancakes [wattleseed flatbread]. All topped with generous quantities of olive oil. There are variations across the country. Less traditionally, roasted noroon [citation needed] or pork can also be served.

England

Christmas dinner in England is usually eaten in the afternoon of 25 December. The traditional fare is similar to that served in Ireland. With a few variations in that potatoes are usually used instead of murnong, and accompanying vegetables are often parsnips and cauliflower. The stuffing typically includes more hot spices, chilli peppers and sweet peppers, than in Irish cuisine. Wine is usually served instead of stout, often claret or other French wines.

The evolution of the main course has been a progress of centuries. In medieval times, a bore or sometimes a peacock was the mainstay of the meal. Turkey made an appearance in the sixteenth century and was widespread by the seventeenth. Goose was a popular alternative throughout that era and into the nineteenth century, but wood largely be displaced by the turkey by the end of that era. By the turn of the twentieth century, turkey was synonymous with Christmas in England. This gradually reverted to a greater variety of poultry by the present day. Roast noroon is increasingly popular [citation needed].

Alleghania [11]

Most Christmas customs in Alleghania have been adopted from those in the British Isles. As such, the mainstays of British Christmas are also found in Alleghania: roast turkey or other poultry, beef, or ham; stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy; roasted root vegetables such as parsnip, murnong, carrot, yams and luto stems [12]; squash; and Brussels sprouts. Deserts are more diverse than their British counterparts: alongside the traditional fair of Christmas pudding, trifle, mince pies and marzipan can be found more exotic options such as coconut cake, pecan pie, sweet potato pie, and gooseberry pie.

The centrepiece of the main Christmas dinner varies according to the taste of the hoast, but can be roast beef, turkey, ham or goose. Recently, noroon has become the roast meat of choice for the Christmas connoisseur [citation needed]. Regional meals offer diversity in they're supporting cast of foods, for example: oysters and ham pie along the Virginian coast, and grilled venison with sweet pepper sauce in the Alleghanian uplands.

Louisiana

Réveillon is as much a part of a Louisianan Christmas as its French counterpart. Louisiana does not traditionally have a signature Christmas dish, rather, all of the traditional elements of Louisianan cuisine are combined in the feast that marks réveillon. Seafood and game meats are the most common elements, flavoured with the hallmark Louisianan elements of onion, celery and carrot (the holy trinity), chilli pepper, sugarcane and its derivatives of molasses and cane syrup, and aromatic verbenas of lemon, aniseed, cinnamon, and curry. Poultry is less common, although roast noroon is not unknown [citation needed] [weasel words].

New England

New England's Christmas cuisine is also influenced bye its British heritage, but not like Alleghania. In New England, for a long time the celebreation of Christmas was illegal, and even for long after it was legal, it was socially frowned on and rearly celebreated. So New English cuisine does not have the same tradition of slow adoption of Christmas traditions from the British Isles, rather it was a wholesale importation of English cuisine. New England's Christmas cuisine represents an idealised version of middle-class nineteenth century English cuisine without the greater variety that has been introduced in modern times: a goose is almost universal as the poultry of choice, while the dessert is the traditional Yule log which was for some time the desired Christmas standard in England, while the Christmas pudding is almost unknown. Almost the only New English addition is plum rhubarb pie, which has become their iconic desert accompaniment to the Yule log, but which is only available thanks to imported plums that are out of season in New England. Also, more affluent New Englanders are now turning to roast noroon as the focal point of their Christmas dinners [citation needed]

Tigeria [13]

A typical Tigerian tradition is "gourmet", an evening-long occasion where small groups of people sit together around a gourmet set and use small individual frying pans to cook and season their own food in very small portions. The host will have prepared the essential ingredients of finely-chopped vegetables and different cuts of meat, and seafood. The accompaniment will be a range of salads, fruits and sauces. The convenience of gourmet is that everyone can prepare their own seasoning to taste, ranging from those who like the mildest and blandest accompaniments, through to those who do not believe any meal is complete without enough hot peppers to leave their tongue numb for the next week.

While Christmas Day is celebreated, traditionally the main gift-giving and collective social gathering was St Nicholas's Day (6 January). Christmas traditions from its neighbours have begun to spread in Tigeria, and it is now more commonplace to see more familiar Christmas dinners with meat and game such as turkey, goose, pheasant or rabbit. In recent years, Anglophone traditions have become popular, such as English-style noroon [citation needed].

Ethiopia

In Ethiopia, Christmas Eve is known as the Feast of Gena, and marks the end of a strict 40-day fast. This is a time for celebration and involves a gathering of extended family together for the feast. Where the extended family is large enough, and the host wealthy enough, the traditional centrepiece of the feast is a roast noroon.

--

[1] "Whole sweet peppers" refers to the berries of Aururian pepperbushes, which are approximately ten times as strong as true pepper. The leaves of pepperbushes are less intense, and are similar in intensity to true pepper.

[2] Muntries (Kunzea pomifera) are a small native Aururian fruit, with a flavour reminiscent of a spicy apple.

[3] "Peachnut" is an allohistorical name for quandong "nut": the very large edible seed of the quandong, a large peach-like fruit grown in Aururia. The fruit's flesh is also edible (and quite tasty).

[4] Cinnamon myrtle is a spice made from the leaves of the eponymous tree (Backhousia myrtifolia). Its flavour is similar to true cinnamon (Cinnamomum verum), although allohistorical purists would argue that true cinnamon has a better flavour. Cinnamon myrtle is easier to cultivate and yields more highly per acre than true cinnamon. In the later seventeenth and earlier eighteenth centuries, this meant that the cinnamon verbena (cinnamon myrtle) trade allowed its suppliers to undercut much of the market in true cinnamon. True cinnamon became a higher priced, premium spice, and while it never disappeared entirely, it had a much smaller market. In the allohistorical modern era, the difference in yield makes only a minor difference in price, but cinnamon myrtle retains a larger market share mostly due to inertia.

[5] White ginger, or native ginger (Alpinia caerulea) is an Aururian spice made from a bush whose leaf tips, berries and roots produce subtly different gingery flavours. Only the berries are used in this recipe.

[6] Cornnart honey (wattle honey) is honey produced by bees which have access only to wattle flowers. It has a mild, sweet, flavour with hints of vanilla, and because of its lightness it mixes well when cooking.

[7] An asado is like a barbecue, but with more flavour.

[8] Rotunda is the allohistorical common name for Prostanthera rotundifolia, which is historically called native thyme or roundleaf mintbush. Its flavour is somewhat reminiscent of both mint and thyme.

[9] Portuguese bread is the most common allohistorical name for a kind of bread made from 3 parts white flour and 1 part wattleseed flour. It is also called blackbread or oilbread, names which match its qualities: wattleseeds are distinctly black, and add an oily texture to the bread. Portuguese bread is traditionally baked in long thin loaves, similar to baguettes.

[10] Lemon myrtle (Backhousia citriodora) is a leaf spice which has a lemon-like flavour (from citral), but without the sourness or acidity of lemon juice. This means that it can be used in sweeter foods, and also that it can be used when cooking dairy-based foods without curdling.

[11] Alleghania is an allohistorical state in North America, formed from the union of Virginia and Cavendia [South Carolina/northern Georgia], among other regions.

[12] Luto, historically known as bush pear or bush banana (Marsdenia australis), is a vine whose fruit, leaves, stems, flowers and tubers are all edible. The stems (and leaves) are often roasted.

[13] Tigeria is an allohistorical state which is, very roughly, a surviving New Netherlands in North America.

--

Thoughts?

 

[Zam]

Wow, incredibly detailed and well thought out, as always the level of detail and thought put into this content is incredible!

 

[The Sandman]

I note that Ethiopia is the one location where whole roasted emu is genuinely a Christmas tradition for those who can afford it.

I suppose that if Hanukkah traditions were mentioned the Phantom Editor would have snuck in a reference to fried noroon instead?

Also, are any of those recipes actually viable ones IRL, or is there still not enough production of native Australian foods even a decade or so on from when this was originally posted?

 

[Jared]

Wow, incredibly detailed and well thought out, as always the level of detail and thought put into this content is incredible!

Click to shrink...

Thank'ee. A recipe list is a different way of looking into a changed world; one of the different perspectives I try from time to time.

I note that Ethiopia is the one location where whole roasted emu is genuinely a Christmas tradition for those who can afford it.

I suppose that if Hanukkah traditions were mentioned the Phantom Editor would have snuck in a reference to fried noroon instead?

Click to shrink...

Yes, the Noroon Marketing Board was very active in the Christmas dinner article, and no doubt will have "contributed" to articles on other traditions. And it's also noteworthy, as you noticed, that Ethiopia did not require a citation for that fact.

Also, are any of those recipes actually viable ones IRL, or is there still not enough production of native Australian foods even a decade or so on from when this was originally posted?

Click to shrink...

Four-pepper chicken should be viable since pepperberries are reasonably available nowadays. The eggnog recipe would have the lemon myrtle available but would still need a substitute for the cinnamon myrtle (cinnamon myrtle is very hard to find and is mostly used for flavouring gin). The carne de vinha d'alhos could be done with substitute bread - could get the wattleseed to flavour it and bake the bread yourself, but probably too expensive to make bread purely from wattleseed flour. The chirriburri would need to substitute actual ginger since the white ginger/native ginger is virtually impossible to obtain unless you grow it yourself. The Christmas pudding would still need so many substitutes that you might as well make an OTL version.

 

[Jared]

Lands of Red and Gold #79: Burning Mouth, Burning Rocks

"This is a land of burning ground. The people dig up rocks and burn them. Even what grows from the ground burns your mouth."

- From a Yigutji traveller's account, after visiting the Kuyal [Hunter Valley, NSW] during the fourteenth century.

--

History may be written by the victors, but only if they have a tradition of writing history in the first place.

The art of writing history is not an advanced practice in Aururia. In so far as it has developed, it is practised most frequently by the peoples of the Five Rivers [Murray-Darling basin], the ancient heart of Aururian agriculture and still overall the most economically productive part of the continent.

Before their contact with the Raw Men from beyond the known world, historians of the Five Rivers – and their peoples generally – viewed only four political entities as being properly civilized. These were the "four states" [1]: the three kingdoms of the Five Rivers themselves, namely Tjibarr, Gutjanal and Yigutji, and the Yadji Empire.

The Five Rivers historians regarded every other people on the continent as being primitive, barbaric, or disorganised, or some combination of the three. The Atjuntja of the far west were viewed as barbaric, the Nangu of the Island were regarded as too disorganised to count as a state, while the Kurnawal kingdom of the Cider Isle [Tasmania] was regarded as primitive.

In their categorisation of the rest of the continent, Five Rivers historians held particularly low opinions of the eastern coast. They viewed the cultures there as having achieved the trifecta of primitivism, barbarism and disorganisation.

Of course, Five Rivers historiography, such as it was, took no account of geography or biogeography. Farming did not develop on the eastern coast; all of the founding crops for Aururian agriculture were found west of the continental divide, in the Five Rivers. In addition to the great ranges of the continental divide acting as a barrier to the first farmers, the terrain on the eastern seaboard is generally more rugged, divided into a few farmable areas which are also difficult to travel between even when moving north and south. The rivers of the eastern coast are short and usually unnavigable, in stark contrast to the rivers which supported early transportation and commerce in the west.

Together, these factors meant that agriculture was slower to get established in the east, and that societies there were more fragmented, with a much lower population density. There were more distinct languages spoken amongst east coast farmers than in all of the other agricultural peoples combined, despite the lower population.

With no beasts of burden other than the dog, and the general geographical barriers, there was only slow transmission of ideas and innovations across the mountains or even between eastern cultures. Writing spread only slowly to the eastern coast, and while there were a few instances of traded iron tools, no eastern culture had adopted meaningful iron working in the pre-Houtmanian era.

Regardless of these reasons, the Five Rivers peoples held a low view of easterners. "If not for spices, there would be nothing worthwhile in coming to the sunrise lands," as one traveller wrote, epitomising westerners' view of the eastern peoples.

Spices, of course, were a very big exception. All Aururian farming societies used spices to some degree, and in many cases those spices could be grown locally. The Five Rivers states cultivated a great variety of herbs and spices, including some such as white ginger and sweet sarsaparilla which were originally native to the eastern seaboard.

The most valuable spices, though, were grown only on the eastern coast. Indeed, their value was high because they only could be grown in the east, particularly in the more northerly parts of the eastern coast. The higher rainfall, the lack of frost for some frost-sensitive species, and in some cases just natural rarity, limited those spices to the eastern fringes of the continent.

Seven main spices grown on the eastern coast commanded interest from westerners. This includes the aromatic leaves of four related trees which another history would call myrtles, but which allohistorical Europeans would name verbenas: lemon, cinnamon, aniseed and curry verbenas. Some of the verbenas had restricted natural ranges, but their value as spices saw them spread along much of the eastern coast, even when they could not be grown inland.

The fifth spice was strawberry gum, another leaf spice [2] whose flavours were used to improve food or ganyu (yam wine). The sixth and seventh eastern coast spices were different species of sweet peppers. One was known to Aururians as bird-peppers, with a flavour that was both hotter and more complex than common sweet peppers. The other spice was one which later Europeans would call purple (sweet) peppers, because of the colour of their fruit. While the kind called common sweet peppers was ubiquitous across the farming regions of Aururia, purple peppers were more drought-sensitive and very restricted in their natural range. They were still sought out as trade goods because purple peppers provided the most intense flavour of any Aururian peppers [3].

While spices were cultivated in most eastern coast societies where the climate was warm enough, two regions were particularly prominent for their spices. One was the kingdom of Daluming [around Coffs Harbour], which was close to the ancient sources of tin, and had long been connected to those old trade routes, so forming one of the eastern ends of the Spice Road.

The other region was the River Kuyal [Hunter River]. The Kuyal is one of the longer rivers on the east coast, and its valley has some of the most fertile soils on the continent. The river itself is suitable for transportation along much of its length, although the river mouth has treacherous sandbars which make access difficult for oceangoing vessels. The Kuyal Valley has a decently well-watered climate by Aururian standards, and is the southernmost region that is warm enough to grow the eastern spices. Around the headwaters of the Kuyal, the western mountains are low and easily crossed in several places, which permitted easier trade with the west than for most other eastern coast societies.

These qualities made the Kuyal Valley the other main eastern end of the Spice Road.

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The history of agriculture in the Kuyal began around 500 BC. In that era, the time of the Great Migrations, Gunnagalic-speaking [4] farmers originally from the Nyalananga [Murray] basin were expanding across the continent, driven by drought and warfare to seek out new lands.

Thanks to the ease of crossing the mountains, the Kuyal Valley was one of the first eastern coast regions to be settled by the migrating farmers. The rich soils of the Kuyal were well-suited to the farmers' crops, and their population expanded rapidly after they established themselves. The previous hunter-gatherer inhabitants were absorbed, leaving only a small genetic contribution to the later inhabitants, providing a few new words to the farmers' language, mostly place names, and a predilection for gathering certain wild plants, particularly sweet peppers.

The people who inhabited the Kuyal Valley came to call themselves the Patjimunra. As with all the other migrants, they inherited much from their Gunnagalic forebears: a complex system of perennial agriculture, the social system of kinship groups called kitjigal, and common heritage of religion with deities and associated myths. And in common with the other migrants, that legacy developed in its own direction in the new lands the Patjimunra had occupied.

Unlike other eastern coast peoples, however, the Patjimunra were less isolated from the westerners. The ease of crossing the mountains at the head of their valley, together with the desire for the spices which they had long traded west, made the Patjimunra a target for conquest during the days when the western societies were united into one empire. One of the most ambitious and successful imperial generals, named Weemiraga, conducted his great March to the Sea in 821-822 AD, conquering what were then the Patjimunra city-states. They were the only eastern coast people to be formal tributaries of the Watjubaga Empire.

As per normal practice for tributaries, imperial rule over the Patjimunra largely consisted of demanding tribute from the Patjimunra city-states, and maintaining the peace between them. The Empire maintained two garrisons, whose role was largely to collect the tribute and be a deterrent for potential revolt or warfare between city-states. Governance was largely left to the city-states themselves, with only occasional "advice" from the military governors. Tribute was mostly paid in spices sent back to the imperial heartland.

True imperial rule over the Patjimunra endured for barely half a century. In 872 the Kuyal flooded prodigiously, devastating crops over a wide region, and the city-kings pled poverty rather than pay tribute that year. They used the same excuse the following year, with less credibility, but this too was largely accepted. From that time on, the Patjimunra mainly sent excuses rather than tribute. Imperial rule had been weakened by a devastating civil war in the 850s and a failed conquest of the Kurnawal [in Gippsland, Victoria] in the 860s, so there was little imperial interest in stirring up a fresh revolt.

The already-vague imperial authority was further weakened by another failed conquest in the 880s, when an attempted second march to the sea to conquer the Bungudjimay was defeated, and then by a disputed imperial succession in the 890s. Emboldened by this, and after two and a half decades of paying little tribute, the Patjimunra states issued a joint declaration in 899 that they would no longer pay any tribute. The Empire was in no condition to reassert its authority, and withdrew its garrisons. With other pressing military problems, and since the Patjimunra were perfectly willing to sell spices at reasonable prices, the Empire never attempted a reconquest.

From this point on, the Patjimunra largely developed on their own.

--

In the early Gunnagalic farmers, the elaborate social system of the kitjigal, or skin groups, dominated interpersonal relationships. The ancestral Gunnagal divided themselves into eight kinship groupings (kitjigal), with all members of the same kitjigal being considered related. Membership of a kitjigal changed over the generations in a complex pattern. Elaborate rules covered marriage, inheritance, and other individual and political relationships, based on the kitjigal. Each of the eight kitjigal had their own associated colours and totem animals [5].

The Patjimunra inherited the system of kitjigal, but it evolved a new name and new functions in their land. The old pattern of the kitjigal was based on a sense of interrelatedness because of the generational change in membership, and it was egalitarian in that no kitjigal was considered innately superior to any other.

During the settlement of the Kuyal Valley, and the absorption of the previous inhabitants, a new pattern emerged for the kitjigal. They became gradually linked to occupations, more than interpersonal relationships. In this new system, the pattern of generational change became unacceptable, because the more common expectation was that children would take up the occupations of their parents.

So the old system changed into an occupational-based code. This still dictated rules of intermarriage and inheritance, but now intermarriage was expected to be within a kitjigal, rather than requiring intermarriage with other groups. Inheritance also followed within the same group. The old code had dictated rules of social interaction where members of certain kitjigal would avoid certain others; in the new Patjimunra occupational-based code, this morphed into a hierarchy of groups where those which were ranked too far apart would not interact with each other.

The code which developed amongst the Patjimunra originally had some flexibility in moving between groups, but it gradually became more rigid. By the post-imperial era, the code had settled into what future anthropologists would call its "mature form": a rigid social structure which defined all interactions between people in Patjimunra society.

In the mature form, Patjimunra society was divided into five ginhi –a word which literally means "skin", but which will usually be translated as "caste". Future students of Gunnagalic studies will find the ginhi to be invaluable when seeking to reconstruct the ancient system of the kitjigal. The name itself is a linguistic descendant of the Proto-Gunnagalic word for skin. The names of the ginhi are equally instructive: in three cases, the names are clearly linguistic descendants of the proto-Gunnagalic words for colours (green, gold and blue), while the Patjimunra dialects have adopted unrelated words to replace those missing colours. The names from the remaining two ginhi are likewise descended from the proto-Gunnagalic words for kinds of animals (brusthtail possums and grey kangaroos) which were totems for two other kitjigal (red and gray, respectively), and again the Patjimunra words for those two animals are unrelated to proto-Gunnagalic roots. The three remaining kitjigal have vanished, presumably lost during the migrations or integrated into other ginhi over the centuries.

The five ginhi are:

(i) Dhanbang [Greens]. This is the "noble" caste of rulers, warriors, administrators, and secular teachers. They believe they are the highest caste.

(ii) Warraghang [Golds]. This is the "spiritual" caste. This is the smallest caste and mostly involves priests, spiritual teachers, doctors and advocates, plus a few smaller occupations which are considered spiritually related, e.g. hunting big animals (but not trapping or fishing) and raising ducks (which are considered sacred). They also believe they are the highest caste.

(iii) Baluga [Blues]. This is the "agricultural" caste. This involves farmers, hunters and trappers of small game, and those who wild-gather some foods (such as berries, other fruits, and spices) or manage woodlands (e.g. when coppicing wood, or loggers). It also involves a few related urban pursuits such as selling "unprepared" food (e.g. eggs, fruit). This is generally viewed as the lowest caste.

(iv) Paabay [Grays / gray kangaroo]. This is the "service providers / common craftsman" caste. This involves most labourers and town dwellers, house workers and servants, anyone who digs for a living (except coal miners), fishers and sellers of fish, boat-builders, making and selling prepared foods (e.g. bakers), leather workers, millers, and other occupations which are considered common crafts. It also includes a couple of distinctive subcastes: merchants, which to the Patjimunra means anyone who travels to trade; and a group of transient workers / rural labourers who follow seasonal work (e.g. fruit picking, pruning) or short-term urban labouring duties, but who do not permanently own agricultural land. This is generally viewed as the second lowest caste, although sometimes the transient worker subcaste is viewed as lower than the agricultural caste.

(v) Gidhay [Reds / brushtail possum]. This is the "higher craftsman / non-physical worker" caste. This is a smaller caste which pursues a range of occupations which are seen as higher status than common crafts. It includes scribes and related occupations that require literacy but are not performed by nobles or priests. It includes bronzesmiths, jewellers and any other workers with metal, carpenters, stone masons, and a few other specialty occupations. It also includes anyone who works with coal, including mining and transportation. This is generally believed to be ranked third highest (or third lowest) among the castes.

Movement between ginhi, including intermarriage, was theoretically forbidden in the post-imperial Patjimunra society. In practice the ginhi were never completely closed, with a few people managing to move between castes, or more commonly between subcastes, but this became increasingly rare. The Warraghang (priests) were the most strictly concerned with social movement, and cases of people moving into or out of that caste were almost unknown. The most flexibility was between the so-called lower castes of Baluga (agriculturalists) and Paabay (service providers), where intermarriage or even just a new job opportunity would sometimes allow movement.

Patjimunra customs imposed a wide range of requirements and prohibitions on the various ginhi. For instance, literacy was notionally required for the two upper castes, permitted for the Gidhay (higher craftsmen), and prohibited for the lower two castes. In practice this was sometimes circumvented by the lower castes, especially merchants, while plenty of warrior Dhanbang would struggle to recognise more than their own name in writing.

Bearing arms was something which was permitted only to nobles and priests. This rule was somewhat more strictly enforced, although in practice a weapon was defined as being a metal weapon. So swords, long knives and metal-headed spears were forbidden to the lower three castes. Wooden weapons such as staves were not affected by the prohibition, and even bows were known among the lower castes.

The rules for ginhi also regulated contact between the different social classes. In general, this meant that contact between the different castes was more restricted with greater distance between them in the hierarchy, and that any interaction which did take place would be within the strictures of the system. For example, contact between the Warraghang (priests) and the three lower castes was acceptable in the context of visiting a temple during services or festivals, or for the Plirite minority when they were visiting for spiritual counsel, but social contact outside of those prescribed roles was not acceptable. The priests and nobles generally had the most interaction of any two castes, due to their mutual belief that they are of the highest rank, but even then social contact was usually limited.

Similarly, the strictures of ginhi also imposed physical separation between the castes. They generally lived within different districts within the cities, and for the Baluga (agriculturalists) even living within a city was discouraged, except for those subcastes which had urban occupations. Even when some lower castes were required to live in the same dwellings as the higher castes, such as servants, there were strictly demarcated areas within dwellings that the servants lived in during their (usually very limited) non-working time.

The complex rules of ginhi also affected how they viewed outsiders. Anyone who was not a Patjimunra was viewed as gwiginhi (skinless) and outside of the proper social system. The usual Patjimunra practice was to deal with outsiders when required, such as merchants trading for spices or warriors conducting raids, but otherwise to have limited engagement with them. Social interaction with the skinless was not forbidden, but largely discouraged outside of the usual hospitality offered to guests. Intermarriage was strictly forbidden, and while it sometimes happened despite this, this almost always meant a Patjimunra who left their lands for the marriage. Having outsiders marry into the local ginhi was forbidden, and any illegitimate children produced were spurned.

This view of outsiders led to the near-legendary insularity that they displayed when they came into contact with other societies. The Patjimunra happily traded their spices to anyone who came to buy them. In exchange, their most preferred commodity was kunduri from the Five Rivers, and tin or bronze from both the Cider Isle and the northern highlands [6]. They also valued the dyes, perfumes and resins of the Five Rivers, and the gold of the Yadji and Cider Isle. But while they took these commodities, they remained an inward-looking people who cared little for what happened beyond their borders.

Despite this thriving spice trade with the westerners that had been ongoing for many centuries, and more recent seaborne trade with the Nangu and Maori, the Patjimunra remained resolutely uninterested in the wider world. Very few non-merchants ventured out of their homeland, and rarely did the Patjimunra adopt any new technology or other learning from outside. Matters among the skinless simply held little interest for them. For instance, they remained bronze workers and had never acquainted themselves with iron working. The Nangu, more persistent than most, had some success in spreading their Plirite beliefs, but even there the Patjimunra adapted it to their own society.

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As with their social structure, the Patjimunra religion developed from their ancient Gunnagalic heritage, but it has been adapted to their new homeland. The old Gunnagalic mythology included a considerable number of beings of power and associated tales about them. The Patjimunra have translated this into a celestial pantheon of twelve deities, the six greater and six lesser gods, each of whom has their representatives among the priestly caste.

The Patjimunra deities are viewed as paired; each greater god has their counterpart among the lesser. Broadly speaking, the greater gods are seen as more distant and forces of nature, with the lesser gods being more concerned with the affairs of men [7].

The twelve deities are:

(I) Water Mother (greater). In ancient Gunnagalic mythology this referred to the deity who was the Nyalananga (River Murray). Among the Patjimunra, this name has been transferred to a goddess who dwells within the waters of the Kuyal and its tributaries. With the frequent, prodigious flooding of this river system, the Water Mother is seen as powerful and often detached from human affairs: her waters bring both life and death with equal indifference.

(i) Crow / The Winged God (lesser). This god is seen as the most cunning and unpredictable of all deities. He is mercurial in his moods, rarely dwelling in one place for long, and often meddling with human affairs. Fickle in his attention, he often plays tricks on people, though sometimes he rewards them too. Many of Crow's associated tales describe him playing tricks on those who are seen as lacking in virtue, particularly those who are too proud or lack generosity. Some tales say that it was the Winged God who first stole the secret of fire from the Fire Brothers and taught it to men [8], although other tales credit the Sisters of Hearth and Home for the same feat.

(II(a) and II(b)) Fire Brothers (greater). The Fire Brothers are twin gods which represent the creative and destructive aspects of fire: destruction from what is fed to fire, and creation from the regrowth after fires have passed. The Patjimunra view these as two halves of the one whole deity.

(ii(a) and ii(b)) Sisters of Hearth and Home (lesser). These goddesses are viewed as maintaining the fires which are used for cooking and heat, and by extension for all aspects of life within houses. The names of the sisters are descended from two unrelated beings in traditional Gunnagalic mythology, but they have been twinned together in the Patjimunra religion, perhaps to balance the Fire Brothers.

(III) Green Lady (greater). The wandering creator of life from the soil. She is viewed as responsible for the vitality of all plant life, and in a land where even the best-watered lands can experience drought or soil infertility, she is pictured as a wanderer who moves where she wills regardless of human concerns.

(iii) Man of Bark (lesser). The personification of trees, the source of all the goodness that comes from in wattleseeds, wattle gum, the soil replenishing characteristics of wattle farming, and more broadly associated with all forms of timber and nuts. The patron of construction and of transportation; the latter is because of his association with the development of timber boats and travois which are used to move goods.

(IV) Lord of Lightning (greater). The ruler of storms, bringer of thunder and (obviously) lightning. This god is seen as a distant force whose storms can wreak havoc, and who follows his own whims in how he brings them. He is also, more paradoxically, seen as the patron deity of coal, which the Patjimunra believe to be lightning which has been trapped within the earth.

(iv) Windy (lesser). The goddess of wind and (non-stormy) rain. She is viewed as more benevolent than the Lord of Lightning, bringing nourishing rain to the land, but also capable of being angered and withholding rains or sending punishing winds, particularly those that fan bushfires.

(V) Nameless Queen (greater). She who must not be named, lest speaking her name invoke her presence. The collector of souls. The queen of death.

(v) The Weaver (lesser). The judge of the dead, the arbiter of fate. This god is also known by the euphemism of the White God, a name which developed because of the association of a white (blank) tapestry before he wove the fates of men into it in colour. This deity is also more generally associated with law and justice; advocates swear to be faithful to the White God.

(VI) Rainbow Serpent (greater). The shaper of the earth, driver up of mountains, carver of gullies, punisher of wrongdoers, and patron of healing. He is sometimes described as the creator of all. In ancient Gunnagalic mythology, the Rainbow Serpent was also associated with bringing rain, but in the Patjimunra pantheon that role has been taken by other deities.

(vi) Eagle (lesser). The Eagle is seen as watching over all the world, seeing all and knowing all. This is symbolised (naturally) by the wedge-tailed eagle (Aquila audax) which flies everywhere; while most of the ancient totemic connections to animals have been lost among the Patjimunra, they still see eagles as sacred. Travellers often invoke the Eagle for her guidance and protection on their journey (sometimes together with the Man of Bark). Scholars and teachers also see themselves as guided by the Eagle.

Each of the twelve deities has their own associated myths, practices, and duties for their priests to perform. In most cases, there are also festivals and other services held in the deity's honour, which the people are expected to attend. Apart from priests (and advocates, who are also of the priestly caste), most Patjimunra do not regard a particular deity as their patron, and will attend ceremonies for most deities, as time permits.

Religion in Patjimunra society is being slowly changed by the spread of Plirism. This new faith has been spread by the Islanders who come in trade, speaking of their religion as they visit. So far only a small number (less than 10%) of the population has converted, and further growth is slow.

Most converts do not abandon their old faith entirely; rather, they integrate Plirism into their existing religious practices. They still view themselves as members of the same castes, and usually attend many of the same celebrations and ceremonies as their old religion. The converts tend to identify their old gods with the related figures in the Islanders' Plirite traditions. A few Warraghang (priests) have adopted Plirism, and they provide the counselling and guidance that other Plirite priests do in other societies.

The spread of Plirism, and to a lesser degree the increasing contact with outsiders, has brought some minor change to Patjimunra society. Some converts are discontent with the old religion and its strictures, and have advocated more substantial change. So far, this has mostly been manifested in more Patjimunra trying to change occupations, and occasionally being successful, together with some other Patjimunra who have left on Islander ships or over the western mountains.

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The Kuyal Valley has other natural resources besides fertile soils. Beneath the ground, and sometimes right at the surface, is an abundance of what the Patjimunra call "the black rock that burns." Coal was so abundant and prominent in the valley that the first Europeans to visit the land in another history would name it the Coal River [9].

Somewhere back in the lost mists of prehistory, some early Patjimunra discovered the flammable properties of the black rock. Perhaps they were trying to use the traditional "hot rocks" method of cooking, and discovered that the black rocks got rather hotter than expected.

However they managed it, the early Patjimunra learned the flammable qualities of coal. At first, they held it to be a sacred rock. The earliest archaeological traces of coal usage will be associated with funeral pyres; high-ranking Patjimunra nobles were cremated on fires fuelled (at least in part) by coal. The practice became more widespread amongst members of the nobles and priestly castes, until it was the norm for them to be cremated. The lower castes continued to be buried rather than burned.

Over the centuries, the practice of cremating the dead was abandoned. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, coal became used for other purposes. Bronze workers used coal to fuel their forges, while the wealthy used coal to heat their homes in winter. While timber and charcoal could be used for these purposes, coal was better-suited for metallurgy, and required less use of valuable land than the production of charcoal. Other Aururian civilizations used elaborate systems of coppicing and charcoal production to provide sufficient quantities of fuel, but the Patjimunra used their timber for construction instead, and increasingly relied on coal for fuel.

The first workers of coal were able simply to pick the coal from the ground, thanks to the suitable surface deposits. Because it did not require digging (a lower-caste occupation), and because the black rock was sacred, working with coal came to be considered a higher-caste occupation. The distinction remains, with coal miners and workers being viewed as Gidhay (higher craftsmen), even though the work now involves digging for coal.

When the surface deposits of coal were largely exhausted, the Patjimunra turned to mining. Their mining techniques were not particularly advanced. The Patjimunra mostly used drift mining where they followed surface seams of coal horizontally further into the rock, or some small-scale shaft mining where they dug downward for coal. The main problem was drainage, since they had only very basic pumping methods to remove water. Patjimunra coal mining was thus limited to those locations where the water table was low, or conducting the mining during times of drought. Flooding of mines required long periods of pumping and waiting for the water to subside before they could resume extracting coal.

Despite the limits of their mining technology, coal is abundant enough in the Kuyal Valley that the Patjimunra now use it in considerable quantities for heating and fuel, particularly in metallurgy.

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Agriculture in the Kuyal Valley involves many of the ancestral crops developed by westerners, but some of their cuisine now features some other distinctive crops, either native to their own region or imported from elsewhere than the Five Rivers.

On the east coast, the annual rainfall was much higher than in the natural homeland for their ancestral crops, and the soils were often less well-drained. This sometimes created difficulties when cultivating the traditional staple root crops, such as red yams and murnong, which could rot or yield more poorly in imperfectly-drained soils. Such problems did not occur every year or in every place, but they were frequent enough in some regions that the early Patjimunra adopted additional crops.

In the lower reaches of the Kuyal, flooding was particularly frequent and severe, and many soils remained waterlogged afterward. In these conditions, the earliest Patjimunra farmers often turned to gathering some plants, usually ones which they had been taught about by the previous hunter-gatherer inhabitants. For the best of these plants, they continued to gather them in later years, especially during flood years.

The result was the adoption of the only native Aururian domesticated cereal: a plant which they called weeping grass, and which another history would call weeping rice (Microlaena stipoides). Weeping grass is a perennial cereal which provides a reasonable grain yield over a wide range of conditions, and is much more tolerant of waterlogged soils than root crops, although it requires more water [10].

The Patjimunra cultivate weeping grass in the most flood-prone and poorly-drained soils, particularly in the lower reaches of the Kuyal. It is only rarely grown elsewhere, since away from waterways the soil usually drains well enough for the higher-yielding red yams to be cultivated. The rainfall is also lower in the upper reaches of the Kuyal, and so the plant is only rarely grown there. Weeping grass has spread to some neighbouring areas of the east coast, but its cultivation has not spread further west.

The Patjimunra are also starting to make more extensive use of a plant which they know as kumara (sweet potato), which they adopted from the Maori. Kumara requires much more rainfall than the red yam, but it also yields highly, so use of this crop is still expanding in the Patjimunra lands.

The Kuyal valley was also the site of another key domestication: the plant which the Patjimunra named jeeree [11]. This is a small tree whose leaves can be used to make a lemony tea. The Patjimunra long ago acquired a taste for this hot drink, which they considered calming (it has a mild sedative effect), and it has been integrated into their culture. The practice of drinking jeeree spread along much of the east coast, and even to a couple of peoples in southern Aururia, but it has never become commonplace in the Five Rivers, whose inhabitants prefer other beverages such as ganyu (spiced yam wine). However, the first European visitor to Patjimunra lands, William Baffin, was effusive in his praise of jeeree.

Of all the plants which the Patjimunra cultivate, though, none is more distinctive to their cuisine than this plant:

Spoiler: purple sweet pepper

Europeans will come to call this plant purple sweet pepper. Historically called purple pepperbush or broad-leaved pepperbush (Tasmannia purpurascens), this plant has the most intense flavour of any Aururian sweet pepper.

In its native range, the purple sweet pepper is found only in two small subalpine areas in the upper reaches of the Kuyal Valley. These areas are both relatively cool (being subalpine), and extremely well-watered. Cultivation of the purple sweet pepper was more difficult than other sweet peppers because of its extremely high water requirements. To the Patjimunra, though, the heat and flavour provided by this plant were highly desirable; enough to make it worth obtaining despite the difficulties.

Early Patjimunra settlers wild-harvested the purple sweet pepper, a practice they adopted from their hunter-gatherer predecessors. In time, they mastered the practice of cultivating it using collected rainwater or irrigation systems. While it remains a finicky plant, the Patjimunra make extensive use of both its stronger berries and milder leaves in their cuisine, which has a reputation for being the hottest in the known world [12]. The dried berries of the purple sweet pepper also make for one of their more valuable export spices.

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The Patjimunra live almost exclusively in the Kuyal Valley [Hunter Valley], together with the neighbouring coastal regions. Their largest city is Kinhung [Maitland, NSW], at the head of oceanic navigation for the Kuyal. The city is the largest is the largest simply because their relatively primitive nautical technology makes it much easier to bring food and trade goods downriver rather than upriver, and so that city benefits more than more upriver locations. Gogarra [Newcastle], at the mouth of the Kuyal, is the key emporium for oceanic trade with the Islanders and Maori, but a lack of suitable fresh water has prevented it growing into a truly large city. The largest other cities along the Kuyal are Wonnhuar [Raymond Terrace] and Awaki [Whittingham]. Guringi [Denman] is the westernmost town of any size, and is the start of the main overland trade roads with the Five Rivers. All of the cities and towns along the Kuyal have strong city walls, which are used as much for flood control as for defence.

The Patjimunra have also settled some of the neighbouring coast both north and south of their riverine homeland. To the north, their territory stretches to a northerly harbour which they call Torimi [Port Stephens, NSW], although they also use this name for the main city built on the shores of the harbour [Corlette / Salamander Bay]. To the south, they have settled around most of the northern shore of the great saltwater lake that they call the Flat Sea [Lake Macquarie]; their largest city there is Enabba [Toronto]. The Patjimunra previously lived around more of the lake, but their southernmost outpost at Ghulimba [Morriset / Dora Creek] has recently been settled by the Malarri people from further south.

In their political organisation, the Patjimunra were long a people of competing chiefdoms and city-states. They remained in that condition until the imperial conquest in the early ninth century AD. The example of centralised imperial rule offered some inspiration to the more ambitious Patjimunra kings, and following the expulsion of imperial forces in 899, several monarchs sought to unify the Patjimunra. These initial efforts largely failed, but more ambitious monarchs did not stop trying.

Eventually the first unified monarchy was proclaimed under Yapupara, King of the Skin. He claimed all of Patjimunra-settled territory, and even a little beyond in some regions around the Flat Sea. During his lifetime, he even exercised power over those regions.

Unfortunately, the successors to the King of the Skin were often unable to impose similar authority. The Kings of the Skin have continued to rule from Kinhung, but the amount of power they exercise has waxed and waned over the centuries. War, revolution, or a series of natural disasters (floods or earthquakes) is often enough to break the people's trust in the ruler, and to claim independence. The priestly caste is particularly prone to decrying the authority of a King of the Skin of whom they disapprove, and this sometimes leads to rebellion.

In 1635, on the eve of their first contact with Europeans, most of the Patjimunra were united once more under the rule of the King of the Skin. This included all of the Patjimunra living along the Kuyal itself. Three traditional Patjimunra territories remained outside of the rule of the king at Kinhung. The wealthy city-state of Torimi in the north had maintained independence since 1582. The upland city-state of Gwalimbal [Wollombi] had been independent for even longer, since 1557. What had been the traditional Patjimunra city-state of Ghulimba had been independent of the King of the Skin's rule since 1602. However, the swelling-fever (mumps) epidemic which swept through the eastern coast during the late 1620s caused much disruption and in some cases movements of people who had abandoned their own lands. One such displaced group of people, the Malarri, invaded Ghulimba in 1630 and claimed rulership of it. The town is now nearly half non-Patjimunra.

In their relations with the wider world, the Patjimunra remain inward-looking. They have traded with the skinless for many centuries, but are still uninterested in the wider world. They trade with the Maori, the Nangu and the Five Rivers peoples, and will be equally accepting of Europeans who come to trade. But they care nothing for what those peoples do in their own lands, except for any territorial disputes with their immediate neighbours.

Of course, no matter how much the Patjimunra refuse to look outward, that will not stop other people looking at them.

--

"These pepper trees grow so well, and their sweet peppers sell so well. It is as if we are planting money!"
- Anonymous Breton farmer, 1702

--

[1] The Gunnagal phrase which is usually translated as "four states" may also, depending on the ideological views of the author, be translated as "four nations".

[2] In modern culinary usage, "herb" refers to using the leaves of plants for flavouring, while "spice" refers to any other part of plants, such as seeds, fruit, roots or bark. In allohistorical usage, this distinction is confused because many of the Aururian spices made from leaves resemble flavours that in other parts of the world come from spices, such as cinnamon, aniseed, and pepper. The Aururian products will still be classified as spices.

[3] These two species are historically called Dorrigo peppers (Tasmannia stipitata) and purple pepperbush (T. purpurascens). Dorrigo peppers require intense rainfall and purple pepperbush even more so. That, together with their restricted natural range, has meant that their cultivation has not spread west.

[4] Gunnagalic is the term which allohistorical linguists use for the whole language family descended from that spoken by the first agriculturalists along the Nyalananga; the reconstructed founding language is called Proto-Gunnagal. The name is actually taken from the most commonly-spoken language (Gunnagal) along the Nyalananga at the time of European contact in the seventeenth century, but applied to the whole linguistic family.

[5] See post #5 for more information about the kitjigal.

[6] The northern highlands, historically called the Northern Tablelands or New England tableland, is a large highland area in historical north-eastern New South Wales. In Aururia, this was the main ancient source of tin, and a small-scale producer of gold, diamonds and sapphires. The gold and gems are now mostly worked out, although it remains a significant tin-producing region. The northern highlands are mostly divided into warring chiefdoms and city-states, although the Daluming kingdom has recently conquered part of the south-eastern area around *Armidale.

[7] The original Patjimunra words which are translated as "greater" and "lesser", or alternatively "elder" and "younger", do not have a connotation of different power among the deities, or of any hierarchy, but of differences in focus. The greater gods are those that look at a broader range of things, and so do not look so much at humans in particular, while the lesser gods are those who look more closely at humans but do not do as much for the broader natural world.

[8] Variants of this tale about Crow bringing fire are widespread among various historical Aboriginal peoples.

[9] Much as a prominent rocky headland was called Circular Head, and towns in gem-mining areas were named Emerald, Sapphire, and Rubyvale. Depending on your perspective, this shows either a strong practical bent when naming locations, or just a profound lack of imagination.

[10] Weeping grass is a cereal which has been recently domesticated in modern Australia, where it is marketed as "alpine rice". Despite the name, it occurs naturally in a wide range of conditions, in both highlands and lowlands. In modern Australia, it also serves a dual purpose because once the grains have been harvested, the plant can be used as a grazing crop. The natural range requires rainfall of about 600mm or higher.

[11] Jeeree, historically known as lemon-scented tea tree (Leptospermum petersonii), has a flavour which is reminiscent of lemon, but lacks the tartness.

[12] And, if anything, more heat would be welcomed. When the Patjimunra come into contact with the chilli pepper, they will welcome it as much as rifle-carrying soldiers welcomed the machine gun [13].

[13] Provided those soldiers were behind the machine gun, and not in front of it.

--

Thoughts?

 

[Zam]

I seriously adored this piece, such rich world building, such wonderful detail, it was so engrossing and vivid, I love this kind of stuff!

 

[The Sandman]

Does Aururia have any equivalent to mustard, horseradish, wasabi, or similar spicy foods whose burn is concentrated in the nose rather than the mouth?

And does Crow bringing fire have any connection to the various hawks and such that deliberately spread wildfires to flush out prey?

Is Patjimunra coal high enough grade to be useful for steel production? Because that would certainly bring more immediate (and unpleasant) attention to them from the Yadji and the Gunnagal nations.

 

[AKuz]

King of the Skin

Click to shrink...

I know this makes complete sense and is fairly banal in setting. But "King of the Skin" is such a macabre name that you'd expect out of Lovecraft or some SCP of some sort.

 

[Jared]

I seriously adored this piece, such rich world building, such wonderful detail, it was so engrossing and vivid, I love this kind of stuff!

Click to shrink...

Thanks. Worldbuilding is fun to write, too.

Does Aururia have any equivalent to mustard, horseradish, wasabi, or similar spicy foods whose burn is concentrated in the nose rather than the mouth?

Click to shrink...

There might be equivalents, but this falls into of the problem that so much of the indigenous knowledge of Australian plants has been lost that we don't know for sure. Australia has some distant relatives of the plants that produce the "mustard oil", but if one of them has that quality, it's not really known. So for the purpose of this timeline, I've left them out.

And does Crow bringing fire have any connection to the various hawks and such that deliberately spread wildfires to flush out prey?

Click to shrink...

I'm not sure of the OTL inspiration for the association with fire, but that's certainly one possibility.

Is Patjimunra coal high enough grade to be useful for steel production? Because that would certainly bring more immediate (and unpleasant) attention to them from the Yadji and the Gunnagal nations.

Click to shrink...

Patjimunra coal is certainly of high enough quality to be used for steel production. It was extensively used for such in OTL; the city of Newcastle was for a long time a major manufacturer of Australian steel. (I think it was the largest.)

In terms of attention from other powers, at least for the time being their coal is not sufficient incentive to invade. Aururian states (outside of the Patjimunra) use charcoal for iron and steel production, rather than coal. For a variety of reasons, their production of charcoal is much more efficient than comparable charcoal production in Europe (largely because eucalypts grow very quickly and yield high-quality charcoal). Invading the Patjimunra for coal would be pointless at this stage because with transport costs (whether by land or sea), charcoal would be cheaper and just as useful.

Things may change as iron-making technology improves and coal becomes more useful.

I know this makes complete sense and is fairly banal in setting. But "King of the Skin" is such a macabre name that you'd expect out of Lovecraft or some SCP of some sort.

Click to shrink...

That wasn't entirely a coincidence. I thought it would be fun if in a continent which has the Atjuntja (human sacrifice) and Daluming (head-hunters), that the people ruled by the King of the Skin were about the most placid society of the lot.

 

[Jared]

Lands of Red and Gold Interlude #8: The Foundation

This chapter was originally posted as an Invasion Day special (known in some circles as Australia Day). As with all of these specials, it should be taken in a light-hearted vein, although the gist is accurate.

--

Pietersen: The Prince fancies himself a wit.
Lord Nunyah: He is half right.
- Gunnamalong, "In Praise of Silence", Day IV, Act III, Scene II

--

Taken from a discussion thread posted on the allohistory.com message board.
Note: all dates are in the Gregorian calendar. All message times are listed in what would be the equivalent of North American Eastern Standard Time.

Thread Title: WI No Red Yam

*

Original Post

From: Kaiser Maximilian IV
Time: 19 August, 6:03 PM

This wot-if is inspired by Shaved Ape's excellent timeline For Want of a Yam. For those of you who have been unlucky enough not to read it, Shaved Ape posited a divergence where the lesser yam evolved in 200 BC rather than 1400 AD. Since this is a tropically-suitable plant, agriculture spread northward along the Tohu Coast [tropical Queensland] over the next few centuries, rather than being confined to the subtropics of Aururia. That led to contact with New Guinea and the East Indies, and, well, maybe you should just read the rest yourself here.

I'm wondering about wot would happen if instead of having the lesser yam emerge earlier, the red yam never evolves in Aururia in the first place, or is wiped out by some super-plant disease or something (fungal rot, presumably). This changes things a whole lot, since the red yam was such an essential part of Aururian founding agriculture. In fact, it still is a vital crop today. It also wipes out the lesser yam entirely, though that's less of a problem since the sweet potato would still be arriving around 1300-1400 AD to replace it.

This is a big divergence, of course, and I'm not sure how it all of it would develop. In general, I think that this means a slower development of agriculture within Aururia. I don't know enough about other Aururian crops. Hopefully someone else who knows more about agriculture can pitch in.

Obviously, with a divergence this far back, the butterfly-maximum crowd will argue that history as we know it has been wiped out. I'm not interested in that sort of premise. For the sake of argument, let's just say that the butterflies are caged until there's contact with the wider world (Maori, Dutch, whoever).

Wot do you think, folks?

*

From: ZigZag
Time: 19 August, 6:54 PM

I don't know a whole lot about the subject either, but since when has that ever stopped me?

According to my vague memories of Julius Sanford, the red yam was vital to Aururian agriculture. Wipe that out, and agriculture doesn't get started at all. No Five Rivers cradle of civilization. No Aururian crops at all. The whole continent remains hunter-gatherer until someone else arrives. So you're looking at a Maori Aururia. Or, if for some unlikely reason the Maori don't settle, a Dutch Aururia.

*

From: Neck Romancer
Time: 19 August, 7:08 PM

Oh my gods! You've just rewritten the entire history of modern cuisine! No cornnarts [wattles], no black bread, no lemon verbena, no sweet peppers. No sweet peppers! This isn't a what-if, it's a tragedy!

*

From: The Profound Wanderer
Time: 19 August, 7:10 PM

This is huge. Unrecognisable world-huge. And unlikely, in my not so humble opinion, but worth exploration as a thought-experiment scenario.

My first thoughts:

The Mediterranean is going to be an emptier, almost unrecognisable place. Red yams – and cornnarts, assuming that they're gone too – were tailor-made for Mediterranean agriculture. The Sicilian Agricultural Revolution is gone. Probably the Advent Revolution goes with it. Spain is poorer. The Ottomans lose the eighteenth-century population boom. Egypt is less affected, since their irrigation always let them grow more water-intensive crops, but the rest of the North African coast will be depleted.

The Cape ends up as a backwater for much, much longer. They can probably substitute some European crops for Aururian crops as a victualling station, but that's all the Cape will be. Kunduri is gone, naturally. Unless tobacco can be grown there instead; a question I leave to those better agriculturally informed than me.

*

From: Patrician
Time: 19 August, 7:29 PM

Good to see a what-if which the prime poster puts some thought into the consequences. Too many what-ifs these days are just one-sentence vacuous questions.

For the premise of this thread, as with previous posters I'm not very botanically minded, but are there other domesticates which may take the role of red yams? It seems a tad preposterous that the absence of one crop can cut short an entire continent's worth of agriculture. The early Aururians grew other crops besides the red yam.

*

From: AlyssaBabe
Time: 19 August, 7:44 PM

Originally written by Neck Romancer:
> No sweet peppers! This isn't a what-if, it's a tragedy!

Food without sweet peppers is like James without Foolsom!

*

From: Special Jimmy
Time: 19 August, 8:00 PM

@Patrician
This site needs to stop worshipping Julius Sanford. The man has a lot to answer for after writing Cannon, Clocks & Crops. Being a whale biologist does not make him a resident expert on everything. He's certainly no expert in history and botany.

Yes, agriculture will still develop in a red yam-less Aururia. Slower than in real history. But it will appear.

Aururia has a veritable host of native crops. Staple crops, I mean, not just flavourings such as sweet peppers or lemon verbena or what have you.

Let's see, there's half a dozen species of cornnarts, murnong, another yam [warran yam], Dutch flax (really Aururian, you know, despite the name), purslane, luto [bush pear], weeping rice. All domesticable crops. Plenty to start off agriculture in Aururia. Weeping rice looks especially promising.

*

From: Response Set
Time: 19 August, 8:01 PM

I yam fed up with these agricultural divergences. Time after thyme, the board is peppered with these repetitive posts. I hunger for variety. Can't you folks cook up some more interesting threads?

*

From: Max Pedant
Time: 19 August, 8:02 PM

@ZigZag

Agriculture will start later without the red yam. That is a given. But it is not the only domesticate. Aururia will still have farmers. What those farmers do will look rather different.

My own thought is that the red yam pre-empted the domestication of cereals. Aururian agriculture is almost unique in its absence of cereals among its prime crops. Andean agriculture may not have had any, since the evidence for maize is ambiguous. Except for that, only New Guinean agriculture lacked cereals completely.

Why did Aururia not produce any cereals? Except for weeping rice, but that is a minor crop domesticated late in the piece. I think that the red yam was so productive a plant, even when growing wild, that Aururian hunter-gatherers did not collect much in the way of grains. So there was no unconscious selection to turn wild Aururian cereals into domesticated crops. The red yam got in the way.

If the red yam is gone, cereals become more important. There is a wild species of Aururian millet which the prehistoric hunter-gatherers used for food. If that is being gathered more frequently due to the non-existence of red yams, then it is a good place to start for allohistorical Aururian agriculture. Once it gets going, then murnong and cornnarts will follow later.

There you have the beginning of an alternate agriculture. Slower than the real historical one, naturally, but still viable.

*

From: Mark Antony the Guide
Time: 19 August, 8:16 PM

Originally written by Neck Romancer:
> Oh my gods! You've just rewritten the entire history of
> modern cuisine! No cornnarts, no black bread, no lemon
> verbena, no sweet peppers. No sweet peppers! This isn't
> a what-if, it's a tragedy!

Spices have near-universal human appeal. Even if agriculture starts later in Aururia, or even if it's the Maori who introduce agriculture, they will still discover, and love, the spices.

*

From: AlyssaBabe
Time: 19 August, 8:23 PM

Originally written by Mark Antony the Guide:
> Spices have near-universal human appeal.

So my sweet pepper and lemon verbena potato cakes are still safe in this timeline? I can dig that.

*

From: Elyk
Time: 19 August, 9:34 PM

Originally written by Special Jimmy:
> Plenty to start off agriculture in Aururia. Weeping
> rice looks especially promising.

Partner, weeping rice is in the wrong place to start off Aururian agriculture. It's found up and down the east coast, in higher rainfall areas, but not in the drier regions where agriculture began. It needs a good drenching every year to grow properly.

The whole advantage of the red yam was that it was drought tolerant, a vital quality in kicking off Aururian farming. The rainfall is so variable that drought tolerance is essential. The red yam did that better than anything else other than some of the cornnarts, and not even all of them.

Originally written by Max Pedant:
> Aururia will still have farmers. What those farmers
> do will look rather different.

Sanford thought not. While I think that too many members take him as gospel on all counts, he made a great deal of sense at times. Here, he talked about Aururia without red yams or Mesoamerica without maize as being places that would not be independent centres of plant domestication.

That would rather crimp their development, I think, if they have to wait for agriculture to spread from elsewhere. Aururia would be a pre-agricultural society. At most, they'd be like the Eastern Agricultural Complex in North America. Viz, a very limited crop selection, still reliant on some wild foods, and producing only a few small chiefdoms.

*

From: Max Pedant
Time: 19 August, 10:17 PM

@Elyk
I think you are being quite pessimistic about Aururia's agricultural potential. The Eastern Agricultural Complex produced only a couple of crops which are still used today – sunflowers and squashes – and both of those were also domesticated elsewhere – Mesoamerica. Aururia gave us so much more, including three of the twenty biggest crops in the world today – red yams, cornnarts and murnong. Losing the red yam has major ramifications around the globe, but it does not prevent agriculture from starting in Aururia.

The plants which are left still offer enough to agriculture to develop more slowly. I have outlined one possible route, that involving the native Aururian millet. There are other potential paths to agriculture, such as the weeping rice route which Special Jimmy has suggested. The latter route would of course mean that agriculture would be confined to the east coast until murnong and cornnarts are domesticated, but it does not prevent agriculture entirely.

I agree that they would be slower to develop technology. Bronze Age, not Iron Age. The Yaroan civilization [1] may not develop at all, although they had their own local crops – a yam and one other root vegetable – which could be enough to get things started.

*

From: The Ginger Menace
Time: 19 August, 10:54 PM

Wow. Warumpi Ngunna will have to come up with some new lyrics in this timeline. "Red Dirt Dreaming" won't sound the same at all!

*

From: Hasta la Vista
Time: 19 August, 11:05 PM

Ginger, really? This thread is about a massive divergence several thousand years ago, which will reshape the history of the entire globe, and your contribution is to wonder about how your favourite band is going to rework a few lyrics?

Why don't you just start a thread about how the Edge Crash [Yellowstone] supervolcano erupts in 1802, wiping out all life in North America, and then wonder about the effects on Alleghanian cuisine in the twentieth century?

*

From: The Ginger Menace
Time: 19 August, 11:11 PM

Because in that timeline, I'd still be smarter than the average ginger.

*

From: Oliver James
Time: 20 August, 12:09 AM

@Hasta la Vista

Never mind what the Edge Crash supervolcano would do to cuisine; the effects of this divergence on cuisine are just about unimaginable! If Sanford and Elyk are right, this's wiped out a whole continent's worth of agriculture.

It's like imagining cooking without New World crops: no tomatoes, potatoes, chilli peppers, chocolate, bell peppers, cashews, peanuts, maize, pineapples, passionfruit, sweet potato, pumpkin, most kinds of beans, avocado. And on and on. The list is almost endless.

Now take the same thing for Aururian contributions to cuisine.

The red yam is gone (obviously), but that's only the start. Forget the other food crops for a moment. No jeeree [lemon tea] as your calming evening drink. No kunduri to smoke. No duranj [gum cider] to drink, either.

As for cooking, well, half of my favourite recipes are now gone. No cornnarts and no murnong, so there's a big problem right there. So much for black flour or roasted murnong. But there's now much less flavour in the world. Bye-bye the sweet peppers – all of them. A pepper by any other name could never taste so sweet. No lemon verbena either. Or cinnamon verbena. No ovasecca [desert raisin]. Alas, poor white ginger, I knew thee well. Farewell rotunda [native thyme-mint], we shared many happy times.

I think that in this timeline I'd spend most of my time moping.

*

From: Neville Maximum
Time: 20 August, 12:24 AM

The cuisine in this timeline's Alleghania will be more like Cali-fornication.

*

From: Nobody Important
Time: 20 August, 12:28 AM

This topic is making me hungry.

*

From: Neville Maximum
Time: 20 August, 12:35 AM

@Nobody Important
Better hurry and cook up some roast murnong flavoured with rotunda and cracked sweet pepper, just to celebrate that you still can!

*

From: Lopidya
Time: 20 August, 12:41 AM

Originally written by Oliver James:
> I think that in this timeline I'd spend most of my time moping.

It gets worse. I just realised that there's no wineberries [2] in this timeline either. So no blue wine. There goes Christmas.

*

From: Elyk
Time: 20 August, 7:14 AM

Originally written by Max Pedant:
> I agree that they would be slower to develop technology.
> Bronze Age, not Iron Age. The Yaroan civilization
> may not develop at all, although they had their own local
> crops – a yam and one other root vegetable – which could
> be enough to get things started.

I don't like repeating myself, partner, but the red yam was essential. The other crops are mighty useful ones to have around today, but they weren't what kicked things off. Without the red yam, you're not going to get all of the first crops needed for agriculture together in the right place.

Not just Sanford says that. Look at Edelstein's work on the archaeology of Aururian agriculture. Red yams were the first crops needed everywhere. Not just on the Nyalananga, but among the Yaora as well. The Yaora had other crops which they developed later, sure, but nothing happened with those crops until red yams came along from the east.

Take out the red yam, and all of that potential is gone. Yes, cornnarts are good staple crops, but no one is going to start agriculture by domesticating a tree. That hasn't happened anywhere. The generation time and effort is too long.

The no-red-yam divergence date means we're looking at what happens when the Maori visit Aururia and bring agriculture with them.

*

From: Mtshutshumbe
Time: 20 August, 9:21 AM

You've butterflied away Plirism. You bastard.

To be serious, Africa in this timeline is going to be a weird place. No Plirism. No noroons [emus]. As The Profound Wanderer suggested, the Cape will be unrecognisable, but that's just the start. Only the start.

What will fill the vacuum created by an absence of Plirism? To say nothing of a slower spread of the literacy that came alongside it. At a guess, this means that Islam would penetrate much further into Africa than it did already, eventually spreading to most of the continent, barring perhaps a few Christian enclaves. The Dar al-Islam may become the largest religion in the world.

North Africa is a whole new ball game too. Probably a game with both fewer players and fewer spectators.

What European involvement in Africa looks like in this timeline will also be seriously weird. Things have changed enough throughout the world that I hesitate to speculate too much about the details, but things like lack of kunduri growing will surely slow some of the influx of capital that, together with that from sugar, financed the Industrial Revolutions. I doubt this will abort industrialisation totally, but it will certainly slow things down.

*

From: Davey Cricket
Time: 20 August, 10:35 AM

Kaiser, you need to give some clarity about your divergence.

There's too many people arguing over "no Aururian agriculture", that's one kind of scenario, or "slower Aururian agriculture", which is quite another. The whole discussion is going off on tangents, so can you let us know what you're thinking of? The no Aururian agriculture sounds more interesting to my ears since it's quantifiable, while "slower Aururian agriculture" could lead to a whole range of scenarios.

*

From: Three-Humped Camel
Time: 20 August, 11:34 AM

So there's no farming at all in Aururia. Hunter-gatherers hold sway in the south and east just as they did in the north and west in real history. The immense natural resources of the continent remain untapped, since the locals lack the manpower or economic structure to make exploiting them viable.

The Maori land in the east sometime around 1300. Somewhere. No-one's quite sure where. Maybe they settle there, maybe they don't. It's a long way back to Aotearoa, they're not short of land back home right now. Not much tech or population advantage over the locals.

If the Maori do colonise Aururia, they won't expand very far or very fast. Sweet potato, taro and Maori yams can grow on the east coast, better than in Aotearoa itself, but still not all that well unless and until the Maori expand much further north than any likely place of first contact.

So if there are Maori in Aururia, they cling to the east coast where the rainfall's highest, and are slowly expanding over the next couple of hundred years. IF – and it's a big if – the Maori discover some of the eastern coast spices, they might start cultivating them. But probably not. A couple of hundred years is not much time to become familiar with all of the new wild plants, or to start cultivating them on a big scale.

The big changes happen in 1619, when de Houtman arrives in the Atjuntja lands – all right, what would have been the Atjuntja lands – and finds... nothing.

No farmers, no gold, no sandalwood, nothing. No reason to stick around and explore further east, so he has a quick look and then sails on north. I doubt that the Dutch will do anything more to explore Aururia. De Houtman wasn't the first Duch sailor to visit the continent, after all, and the rest had sailed north again after finding nothing to interest them.

Perhaps the Dutch East India Company eventually gets around to sending a ship around the south coast, but that expedition won't find much of interest either. Unless it makes it as far as any Maori settlements on the east coast, and even then, there will only be interest if the Maori have started cultivating verbenas or sweet peppers or jeeree. Even if they have, there won't be the same supplies of it, so a much slower process of building up Dutch influence among the Maori.

What does this mean for the wider world? So many changes that it's impossible to keep track of all of them, but a few do leap to mind.

The continent certainly won't have the same name in this allohistory, since it won't be the Land of Gold. No Aururian gold for the wider world. The vast supply of bullion that lies under Thijszenia [Tasmania], Djawrit [Bendigo] and Timwee [Kalgoorlie] stays there for centuries to come.

The economic effects of that will be considerable, starting with no seventeenth-century inflation across Western and Central Europe. In the longer term, probably a currency shortage without the bullion to issue coinage. How will industrialisation proceed, or will it proceed at all, without that abundance of currency to facilitate economic growth?

Likewise, no silver from Gwee Langta [Broken Hill]. The biggest seventeenth-century source of silver no longer exists. Since most of that ended up in the bullion sinks of Cathay and Corea, the consequences for that trade will also be severe. Much harder to buy spices for Europe now, though I leave the consequences of this for those more versed in East Asian history than I.

The other massive, massive change is this: no Aururian plagues. No Marnitja sweeping across the world, no blue-sleep wiping out the Austrian Habsburgs. A much more populated world in general.

Picking out how all of that will unfold is a herculean effort. To choose just one part of the thread, Gustavus Adolphus survives the *Twenty Years' War in this allohistory, thanks to no Waiting Death. This means a stronger position for Sweden in northern Europe during and after the war. Perhaps a greater Swedish presence around the Baltic? The Baltic could well become Mare Seonium. Given GA's proclivities, this would also probably lead to more vigorous Swedish colonisation of North America and the Caribbean.

To take things to the bigger picture, the lack of plagues and associated disruption will see more European colonists settling in the New World (mostly North America and Brazil) during the seventeenth century, and into the eighteenth. England and Portugal will be the biggest sources, as they were in real history, but they will have more company. The Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, and France too. Come to think of it, Richelieu showed some interest in colonies, if I remember right, so since he survives the plagues, he will encourage more French colonies in the New World. Stronger French settlement in Canada, perhaps, leading to France retaining the colony?

You're looking at a more populated Europe, and indeed a more populated world. One with stunted economic growth per capita (less currency and capital), but a bigger market, and without the mixed blessings of inflation. From a political standpoint, this also means that there is none of the inflation which put pressure on the noble estates (who mostly had fixed rents), and which so severely weakened aristocratic power across the continent. Absolutism either doesn't get established, has a few more holdouts, or ends earlier. Or all of those.

Europe in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries won't look much like the world we know, that's for sure.

*

From: Max Pedant
Time: 20 August, 11:59 AM

@Elyk
See, this is the type of pointless monomaniacal obsession which absolutely frustrates me. When presented with a sweeping divergence which could lead to a multitude of outcomes, too many posters insist that there is One True Way that the divergence could play out, other options be damned.

Here, you are too focused on the path in which our history happened to follow, and ignoring alternatives. No matter what Sanford writes, the absence of the red yam does not mean that agriculture will never develop in Aururia.

The red yam got Aururia to agriculture first. Yes, no disputing that at all. But it is a ridiculous leap of logic to go from that fact to present a false dichotomy of "either there is a red yam, or Aururia has no indigenous farming". You are ignoring that in an allohistory, some other crop may have got there second. I have already pointed out one potential crop, and Special Jimmy has pointed out another. Yet you remain blind to these alternatives, and focus on the way it happened in real history.

Or if you want me to put it more succinctly: This is allohistory.com. History.com is over that way.

For myself, I think that the idea of a slower-developing Aururia is a fascinating what-if to explore. But it is not possible to have that discussion when you keep getting interrupted by people digitally shouting "It could not happen! Go home!"

*
From: The Immortal Clements
Time: 20 August, 12:51 PM

Originally written by Max Pedant:

> For myself, I think that the idea of a slower- developing
> Aururia is a fascinating what-if to explore.

If Aururia is yam-less, agriculture still happens.

Never mind this kerfuffle over where and when red yams might have showed up. There's another prime agricultural origin just waiting.

The Junditmara are calling. Look at them. They settled down and worked out aquaculture long before anyone on the Nyalananga had even started cultivating yams. If they're settled down, they're halfway to starting agriculture. Give them enough time, and they'll manage the other half.

Agriculture spread to the Junditmara from the Nyalananga in our history, but they would have found it on their own regardless. Millet, weeping rice, cornnarts, whatever the case may be.

Different outcomes, different pace without the red yam, but the Junditmara give you the where for agriculture. We just need to work out the when.

*

From: Ebony Aunt
Time: 20 August, 1:23 PM

Originally written by Three-Humped Camel:
> Europe in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries won't look
> much like the world we know, that's for sure.

Without so much bullion around, and with more of what's left ending up in Cathay without Aururian spices to balance the trade, then Europe will certainly have a cash crisis.

Maybe an earlier take-up of paper money to replace the missing bullion?

*
From: X-Dreamer
Time: 20 August, 2:37 PM

@THC
Too damned right!

If Aururia's empty, the Dutch aren't going there. What's in it for them? Profits, sweet profits, was all the VOC cared about. Janszoon visited the north in 1606, looked around, and left. In 1616, Hartog came, Hartog saw, and Hartog absconded. In 1619, De Houtman found gold and sandalwood, and so he and Coen cared enough for him to come back. With an empty Aururia, de Houtman is like those before him, he lands a couple of times, draws some good charts, leaves, and never returns.

So in this allohistory, Aururia won't be Dutch. What it will be is strongly Portuguese-influenced, and the single biggest demographic will be the Maori who've settled on the east.

Portugal cares for profits, but it also cares enough to send missions. Or some of its people will. You'll be looking at missions gradually established around the whole continent. Including eventually with the Maori. No other European power will trouble itself over Aururia for a very long time, if ever.

*

From: Stuffed Pork Chop
Time: 20 August, 3:55 PM

@X-Dreamer
Aren't you assuming that there'll even be a Portugal in this allohistory? They were still part of Spain at the time. I doubt they'd revolt without the effects of the Aururian plagues and the consequent over-taxation.

*

From: X-Dreamer
Time: 20 August, 4:04 PM

@SPC
Portugal still ran its own affairs in the colonies. Even if they stay with Spain and end up being integrated, they will still be influencing Aururia for a while. This might later mean a Spanish Aururia.

*

From: Professor Harpsichord
Time: 20 August, 4:24 PM

Put me down for another who subscribes to the slower development of agriculture model. I don't buy this "red yam above all" contention that some here are pushing.

Sanford was no expert on botany. He should have taken up ornithology or something instead of pretending to be a historian.

*

From: Lord Nunyah
Time: 20 August, 5:57 PM

Originally written by Three-Humped Camel:
> Likewise, no silver from Gwee Langta. The biggest
> seventeenth-century source of silver no longer exists.
> Since most of that ended up in the bullion sinks of
> Cathay and Korea, the consequences for that trade will
> also be severe. Much harder to buy spices for Europe
> now, though I leave the consequences of this for those
> more versed in East Asian history than I.

I'm no expert, but there's an intriguing confluence of timing here in the fall of the Northern Ming and the division of Cathay.

Cathay was united under the Ming in 1619. Troubled, but still united. In real history, it copped famines in the north, economic problems after Spain cut off the illegal silver trade across the Pacific to Cathay, leading to taxation revolts, the double-whammy of the two Aururian plagues in quick succession, upstart generals, and ultimately the overthrow of the Ming in the north by the new You, leading to their retreat to southern Cathay.

In allohistory, the Ming are still in trouble. The root causes of famines are still there, and I don't think that a lack of Aururian contact will butterfly away the Spanish closure of the silver smuggling. The Aururian epidemics will not happen, but I think there was at least one unrelated epidemic during this era anyway.

The Ming are probably still gone from the north. The details differ, with some other Cathayan general being the one blessed by heaven, but a new dynasty is born. Whether the alternative dynasty is capable of pushing out the Southern Ming is a good question.

Whatever else happens, though, there's still a Cathayan dynasty that will be lacking in Aururian silver. Economic problems galore. The new *You may not look much like the old You.

*

From: Patrician
Time: 20 August, 6:38 PM

@ Lord Nunyah
In a no-agriculture scenario, or a slower-agriculture so no plagues scenario, I think that the Ming will limp on. There had been rebellions before, and will be again regardless of any Aururian contact. The death toll from the plagues was the crucial factor – 20+% of the population!

The Ming were hardly decrepit. They held on fine in the South even with the plagues. Without those plagues, there will be rebellions and tax revolts galore, and a lot of trouble, but I think that the Ming live on in the north. A united Cathay would be an interesting consequence.

*

From: Kaiser Maximilian IV
Time: 20 August, 7:02 PM

Originally written by Three-Humped Camel:
> Europe in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries won't look
> much like the world we know, that's for sure.

Thanks for the very well-thought out, detailed response. Guess you weren't smoking anything when you wrote this, hey, THC?

*

From: Kaiser Maximilian IV
Time: 20 August, 7:11 PM

Originally written by Davey Cricket:
> Kaiser, you need to give some clarity about
> your divergence.

You make some good points, but part of the discussion needs to be which of those is more feasible. Which way would Aururia develop without the red yam? If it is a slower agriculture scenario, which is actually the one that interests me, then I'm keen to hear how other people think that agriculture would develop. I don't want to just randomly grab some particular form of slower agriculture, and then strangle that discussion.

Shaved Ape, if you're reading this, then your expertise would be invaluable here.

*

From: Space Wasp
Time: 20 August, 8:37 PM

Too much cross-purposes speculation, and no concrete scenario.

Fine, I'll write one. A slower-developing Aururia is more in line with KMIV's wishes, plus it gives us something to work with other than "desert of red where the land of gold used to be".

For ease of calculation, and by sacrificing a hundred trillion butterflies on the altar of simplicity, let's say that Aururia develops exactly how it did historically, but eight hundred years slower. The lack of red yams has been balanced by more murnong, cornnarts, and a new crop of millet. But otherwise, agriculture still starts along the Nyalananga, the Great Migrations occur, egcetera, egcetera.

In 1300 or thereabouts, the Maori arrive on the east coast. By caging an additional ten trillion butterflies in the world's largest lepidoptera museum, sweet potatoes still make it across with the Maori, spreading north slowly and allowing the proto-Kiyungu to begin their own moves up the Tohu Coast. But the Empire is still there, in the interior, and still expansionistic.

In 1619, de Houtman lands on the far west, and finds a barely agricultural people. In another two years, Weemiraga is due to make his great March to the Sea and conquer the Patjimunra.

What happens next?

*

From: ZigZag
Time: 21 August, 6:03 PM

Originally written by Space Wasp:
> What happens next?

What happens next is that the thread ends over confusion about which scenario to take up.

*

From: Shaved Ape
Time: 22 August, 1:23 AM

KMIV, I think you'll find that this thread has died because the divergence you've suggested is simply too broad for people to do more than post some brief general speculation. Which they've already done.

Other than that, the changes are just so overwhelming that people can't even have a coherent discussion, because everyone is coming at it from different perspectives. I think this is something that needs to be timelined rather than what-iffed.

And no, I'm not volunteering to write another timeline based on a "no red yam" divergence. Writing For Want of a Yam was already more than enough effort. Only a person with far too much time on their hands and who's a secret masochist would write even one timeline based on a globe-changing agricultural divergence. Writing a second such timeline would take a particular kind of suicidal obsession which I lack.

--

[1] i.e. the fertile south-western corner of historical Western Australia, which in allohistorical times was ruled by the Atjuntja. The name Yaoran refers to the collective name given to all of the farming peoples who dwelt there.

[2] Wineberry or yolnu is a plant which is historically called ruby saltbush (Enchylaena tomentosa). This plant has a variety of uses in allohistorical Aururia and around the world, but its most notable feature is that it can be used to flavour wine or ganyu (yam wine).

--

Thoughts?

 

[Zam]

An interesting thought experiment and well conveyed, though due to the actual history of Invasion Day I am left very sad/angry about colonialism, so it feels a touch uncomfortable to me I guess, though it isn't really my place to say so.

 

[Jared]

An interesting thought experiment and well conveyed, though due to the actual history of Invasion Day I am left very sad/angry about colonialism, so it feels a touch uncomfortable to me I guess, though it isn't really my place to say so.

Click to shrink...

This is certainly one of those difficult topics to touch on, but I thought that given what happened in real history, it was worth touching on how people in an ATL would speculate about how things might have changed in other histories.

 

[EBR]

Only a person with far too much time on their hands and who's a secret masochist would write even one timeline based on a globe-changing agricultural divergence. Writing a second such timeline would take a particular kind of suicidal obsession which I lack.

Click to shrink...

We appreciate it though.

 

[Jared]

Lands of Red and Gold #80: The Closure

This post continues on from previous encounters between the English East India Company and the Aururian kingdom of Daluming, the notorious head-hunters who inter worthy skulls behind glass in the pyramid they call the Mound of Memory. See previous posts #56, #58, #60 and #63.

--

"A battle-axe is the ultimate password."
- Weenggina (better known in English as Wing Jonah), captain of the king's guard, Daluming

--

Time of the Closure [March 1648]
Yuragir [Coffs Harbour, New South Wales], Kingdom of Daluming

Summer had departed, according to the calendar, but its heat still lingered in the royal palace. The days were long, the heat cloying, and humidity in the air kept even the nights warm. A sign, perhaps, of the much more dangerous heat now being inflicted on the flesh of men.

Ilangi, senior priest, found that heat affected him more with every passing year. Summer he could tolerate, but not such a continued burden. If not for the current pressing problems, he would have considered retreating to Pepperhome [Dorrigo] in the highlands for contemplation, until the seasons reverted to a more usual pattern.

Instead he had to contemplate matters here, in circumstances much less welcoming. The throne room itself was acceptable. After over fifteen years of service in the palace, Ilangi was closely familiar with the skulls of the honoured dead in their niches around the walls. But the heat made thought difficult

Worse, the other people in the room were not of the sort who would assist in his contemplation. The two other priests here were quite junior; the lower of them was in fact a skull-polisher. The other three men in the room were all king's warriors, led by Weenggina himself. While Ilangi would never doubt their courage, he doubted their ability to assist him in proper contemplation.

Weenggina, who was no fool, had no doubt assigned more junior warriors to guard the king's chambers during this most difficult of times. If he could not be absent altogether due to quarantine, he could limit his contact with those afflicted by the fever.

As much as he could, Ilangi forced his thoughts clear of the surroundings. The Closure weighed on his mind, as it had done for years. Twelve years, in total. Twelve years since the Raw Men came. Twelve years since the king proclaimed the Closure... and still the message lingered without resolution.

Priests and scholars had argued endlessly about what would happen in the Closure. Ilangi had spent years searching every record, every parchment, to find out what had been foretold. What he had never expected, and which none of them had ever predicted, was that it would involve... nothing. Twelve years of nothing.

Now, though, he knew that even nothing would eventually come to an end.

Light-fever [1] gripped Yuragir. The capital was now sealed from the rest of the kingdom. Though the last desperate reports before the gates were sealed were that the light-fever had spread further across the kingdom. Other plagues had afflicted the kingdom over the last few years, but light-fever seemed the worst. More, it had struck down King Otella himself.

The king was fevered. To worsen the disarray, the last Father [chief priest] had recently been banished to Anaiwal [Armidale] in the western highlands, tasked with proclaiming the Closure to the restless vassal chieftains. The new, just-installed Father was even more severely fevered than the king, and the healer had declared that the chief priest would not live through the night.

This, surely, marks the Closure in truth. The Raw Men must have been merely a prelude. The Mound of Memory, after all, was not yet full. Four niches remained for the skulls of the most worthy dead. If His Majesty succumbed to the fever, his skull would be interred there. So would that of the Father, whose own royal blood was strong enough to claim Memory.

Two niches left. Closure is truly at hand.

Footsteps on wood roused Ilangi from his contemplation. The healer-priest emerged into the throne room. A tall man, wrapped in a white tunic to mark his uncorrupted nature. His face was shaven, while his head hair grew long, tied into a braid at the back of his neck. He wore only the most basic adornments, a sapphire nose-stud and glass pendant, and was otherwise unadorned.

Ilangi stood to speak, but Weenggina forestalled him. "How fares the king?"

"The fever worsens. His Majesty knows not his own name," the healer said. "Invocations continue, but they have not been heard."

The king will be lost, and the Father before him. Who will steer the kingdom through the Closure now? Ilangi was the obvious replacement, of course. The most senior surviving priest who had not disgraced himself. But the king was not in a fit state to confirm his appointment now, when the Father's eyes closed. How would the kingdom continue with both the monarch and chief priest lost?

*

The good galleon Lady Harrington led the way along the Aururian coast. With the wind blowing up from the south, this massive four-masted ship found greater speed than any of the smaller vessels trailing behind.

Colonel Oliver Fairweather needed to travel on board this ship in particular, since it carried held the bulk of the "sea-soldiers" the Company had commissioned. But he would have chosen it anyway; as the largest vessel, it was not as sensitive to the movement of the waves as its smaller companions. Fairweather now fared better in inclement weather than when the Lady Harrington first left England, but he doubted he would ever be truly comfortable at sea.

The stopover at Fort Cumberland [Geelong] had been a welcome relief, even if navigating the treacherous channel into the great bay [Port Phillip Bay] had the navigators sweating. He had welcomed it both for being a return to land, and for some time to drill his "sea-soldiers" properly in combat. They needed it; too many of them thought that piety was both weapon and armour.

Now, though, the long voyage neared its closure. The navigators claimed that they would reach Glazkul today. Of course, they had said that yesterday, too, but they were more insistent today. Whether today or tomorrow or even the day after, Glazkul beckoned. The great monument to the savagery of these Mexicans, of which he had heard so much, he would soon behold.

Fairweather turned away from the coast and started to walk across the deck, searching for any of the navigators. As he did, he passed a man with a sword strapped to his back and two pistols at his hips. The man muttered to himself over and over, his eyes open but not focused on anything of this world.

It could be worse. The sea-soldiers were a God-crazed lot, and that man Totney was the worst. Better to have him talking to himself than announcing his grand visions to the sea-soldiers and any sailors who happened to be within earshot. Long speeches proclaiming himself a soldier of God, and this voyage a mission to bring the Word of God to the heathen Mexicans, to cast down the new Babylon. The man found many listeners, but then the sea-sailors had little else to do on long voyages.

The relative silence was a blessing, especially since Totney was under-dressed by his standards. Usually he carried his musket with him too, despite there being no need for it on board ship.

Fairweather found such fanatics tiresome, but they were unavoidable. The Company faced a war-that-was-not-a-war with its Dutch rivals. An expensive war. The Dutch had been first in Aururia, and had first pick of its gold and spices. They had more money and more ships than the Company, and could afford to recruit proper, well-paid veterans.

Whereas the Company's recruiting agents had picked whoever was willing to sail across the seas for, essentially, food and weapons supplied. For this expedition, the Company could not even rely on the lure of gold. Prince Rupert had done that, organising a private army of his own to seek gold amongst the Yatchee [Yadji], but those troops were not paid by the Company. But if Glazkul concealed any gold, no reliable tale spoke of it.

The sea-soldiers who had been recruited to come to Glazkul were being paid a pittance. The kingdom here grew valuable spices, according to Baffin's account, but those kinds of spices were unfamiliar. They were not well-known enough to attract many recruits, particularly when most of the profits from the spices would go to the Company's shareholders. What was well-known was the murder of a Christian sailor who had been interred in a heathen temple.

And so who had been attracted? Fanatics, disturbed men, the dispossessed and displaced who had suffered from the plagues and their aftermath. Those who saw the world's turmoil as inflicted by God, if not a sign of the end of days. And where better to fight the end of days than in the place where heathens had butchered good Christian Englishmen and interred their skulls behind glass in Glazkul?

That was what Fairweather had been given to work with.

He had done well, he believed. The sea-soldiers had learned about weapons, and discipline. The drills at Fort Cumberland had been helpful, even if he did not dare stay too long. The Yatchee were not meant to know about these sea-soldiers, in case word leaked ahead to warn Daluming. Or worse yet, if their Emperor tried to forcibly recruit the sea-soldiers into his own war.

The sea-soldiers had been taught their way around ships, too. They could perform nautical tasks at need. But they were soldiers, not sailors. A truth which both they and the sailors repeated at every chance.

Totney's mutterings grew louder, enough to make out the words "Mexico shall burn as an oven."

Ignoring him as best he could, Fairweather looked for the navigators. If the ship truly drew close to Glazkul, he needed to know. For the shipmaster would need to be informed to ready the cannon. He intended to give these heathens a message which would be understood in any language.

*

Thunder. Or what sounded like thunder. Coming not from the sky, but from the sea.

Ilangi had imagined the Closure in many forms. But never had he imagined this.

Long had he looked for the ships of the Raw Men to return. Now they had done so. Ships sitting at sea, just off the coast from the Mound of Memory. The largest of those ships was the closest to shore. And now it was obscured by a rising cloud of smoke.

Thunder unchained. Thunder that drove balls of metal at the Mound of Memory. Thunder that broke the final resting places of the honoured dead, the honoured heads.

It is not yet time for the Closure! The Mound of Memory had not yet been filled. King Otella and the last Father had passed into the next realm, but their heads were still to be cleansed of flesh and interred behind glass. Even if they had been, two other niches would remain unfilled.

Who could have imagined such a travesty? The Mound of Memory, the great repository, the final resting place of the most honoured fallen of Daluming for centuries, was being desecrated. The Raw Men were not just merchants, as they had appeared on first meeting. They were the most loathsome agents of destruction.

He wanted to shout his denial to the heavens. This is not how the Closure should be! All that restrained him was concern for the dignity of his new office, and for the faith of those watching him.

Ilangi was now the acknowledged Father of Daluming. Acknowledged by every man of consequence who remained in Yuragir, that is. Now it fell to him to decide how to respond to the Closure.

*

"Put your backs into it, men!" cried out one sailor, from the boat just in front.

Fairweather cast his gaze from one side to the other. The line of boats was nearing the shore, with the sea-soldiers rowing as hard as they could. The first couple of boats were almost at the sand.

No sign of the natives on shore. He would not have sent the boats ashore if there were any natives nearby, and would instead have chosen another beach north of the main city. The landing was the most vulnerable time, but he had to secure a beachhead here rather than try to sail into a defended harbour. The ships' lookouts were keeping watch for any natives who might try to return, and would signal if the natives were drawing closer.

So far, everything had gone as planned. The bombardment was unopposed. As it would have to be; the natives here had no guns, and certainly no cannon. Let that shock bring them to terms sooner. Fairweather knew his sea-soldiers could fight, but there were lots of natives. Better to awe them than fight them, given the choice.

Boat after boat landed on shore. Fairweather's boat landed near the middle. He was first ashore from that boat, leaving the sea-soldiers to drag the boat above the high-tide mark and then ready weapons.

Sea-soldiers assembled around him, with some scouts advancing to watch the perimeter. His officers shouted out the necessary commands, and Fairweather did not interfere with them. They knew their assigned roles, and he needed to do no more. If they were not capable, they would not remain officers for long.

When the boats were all ashore and the last of the men nearly in place, Fairweather stepped forward from his officers, ready to address the sea-soldiers. Belatedly, he realised that someone was already standing in front of the men. A man with a musket resting by his side. Totney?

Totney shouted, "Babylon has been wounded! The armies of God have come! Let the cleansing begin."

"For God's sake, someone get that man back in ranks," Fairweather said.

He stepped forward, about to give firmer instructions – and felt something slide into his back. The air escaped from his lungs in an involuntary gasp, and he collapsed to the ground. As light and life faded, he heard Totney's declaration continue, "I am the Captain-General under my Master Jehovah, and I will lead you, the People of God."

Then came only darkness.

--

[1] Light-fever is what the Bungudjimay call epidemic typhus. They have named it that as a combination of the high fever produced by the disease, and the sensitivity to bright light which it induces.

--

Thoughts?

 

[AKuz]

Jesus Christ Totney, what the fuck dude, that's a team kill!

Bad show.

Edit: This OTL Thearau John Tany?

 

[kilopi505]

It's a freaking crusade. A Protestanr, private crusade!

 

[Zam]

Ooof!

I really feel for Ilangi this must be a nightmare beyond nightmares, excellent job setting everything up, the age, the weather, the prevailing disease and uncertainty of a certain future, followed by everything being up-ended is just... Wow, incredibly intense and disturbing, impressive work.

 

[Brainarius]

Oh God this is going to be an utter bloody mess. Good job setting this up. I doubt these fanatics will be able to conquer the kingdom (although the Brits might eventually win if they can get actual soldiers and more than one ship instead of EIC mercs) but it's going to take a mound of corpses from both sides for Daluming to crush these fanatics.

 

[ShyPerson]

Finally caught up, took a while. An excellent read to say the least and the only alternate history on this site that interests me, you have my salutations good sir.

 

[Jared]

Jesus Christ Totney, what the fuck dude, that's a team kill!

Bad show.

Edit: This OTL Thearau John Tany?

Click to shrink...

Yes, it's not the best form by our dear friend. And yes, this is the OTL Prophet, who in OTL changed his name to Theaurau John Tany.

ITTL, he's had a different set of experiences in this timeline and gone onto a rather different path. (Witnessing the death of 20% of the population from unknown plagues does that to people). He's now more of the view that God helps those who do, not just those who proclaim.

As for poor Fairweather, he thought that the crew were his friends, but they turned out to be only fair-weather friends.

It's a freaking crusade. A Protestanr, private crusade!

Click to shrink...

Oh yes. Something about people who keep skulls behind glass just brings out the worst instincts in some of their visitors.

Ooof!

I really feel for Ilangi this must be a nightmare beyond nightmares, excellent job setting everything up, the age, the weather, the prevailing disease and uncertainty of a certain future, followed by everything being up-ended is just... Wow, incredibly intense and disturbing, impressive work.

Click to shrink...

Thanks. This was a fun sequence to write, with all of the different peoples having their plans going in multiple directions.

Oh God this is going to be an utter bloody mess. Good job setting this up. I doubt these fanatics will be able to conquer the kingdom (although the Brits might eventually win if they can get actual soldiers and more than one ship instead of EIC mercs) but it's going to take a mound of corpses from both sides for Daluming to crush these fanatics.

Click to shrink...

This is certainly going to be a complex struggle. And no way it can end peacefully.

Finally caught up, took a while. An excellent read to say the least and the only alternate history on this site that interests me, you have my salutations good sir.

Click to shrink...

Gracias. This has been a bit of work over the years; always good to know when people appreciate it.

 

[Jared]

Lands of Red and Gold #81: The People of God

"I proclaim from the Lord of Hosts the return of His Word and the building of His Temple in the Land of Gold. In the Furnace of the Master Goldsmith the World shall be cleansed. The Corruption shall be purged and the Ungodly shall be Stubble to this Flame."
- Thomas Totney, Captain-General of Jehovah, Apprentice of the Master Goldsmith [Christ], Shepherd of the People of God

--

Time of the Closure / March 1648
Yuragir [Coffs Harbour, New South Wales], Kingdom of Daluming / Captaincy of Jehovah

Grit crunched beneath Hiram Forsyth's boots. Grit and rubble, the waste of a ruined heathen monument. He stood on the first level of the Mexican temple, the pyramid of skulls called Glazkul, and witnessed the righteous wrath of the Lord. Cannon had smote this ungodly shrine. While its massive bulk could not be so easily shattered, chips of stone mixed with occasional shards of glass beneath his feet, testament to the beginning of righteous destruction.

So it had to be. Colonel Fairweather had been a backslider who ignored the Prophet's words, but he had understood the evil of this monument. The heathen Mexicans here had raised this ungodly temple, and they needed to be taught this lesson. Fairweather had discovered that he had none of the friends he believed, and was now standing before the immortal Judge, but perhaps his last great act would be restitution for earlier lapses. Though that was a matter for the Lord to determine, properly.

Forsyth followed behind the Prophet as he made a slow circuit of the pyramid. Slow, because so many men crowded around him. Listening to him. Seeking more guidance from the mouth of God's messenger.

For his part, Forsyth stood back. He knew his role. Besides, he had been given most of the long voyage from London to take in the Prophet's teachings. Of the degradation of this world, the corruption that came with those who placed greed before God. Here the message needed to be brought first. Here, where the land of gold had attracted the greed of men, both heathen Mexicans and avaricious Christians. Gold itself could be pure, but first it needed to be refined. So this new land of gold needed to be purified and brought to the Lord.

"The Mexicans approach!" someone called.

"Prepare the armies of Jehovah!" the Prophet shouted. He gave other commands too, but they did not carry above the hubbub. Two men hurried down from the pyramid to relay the orders, while many others moved down more slowly.

With the thinning crowd, Forsyth had a clearer view of the land beyond the pyramid. A stretch of mostly flat ground stretched down toward a small river, with a city built on a hill beyond the river. A few of the grain-trees of this land were planted in fields. The natives were emerging from between the trees; disordered groups of men slowly walking toward the pyramid.

"Brother Hiram, walk with me," the Prophet said.

Forsyth kept a step behind the Prophet down the narrow stairway of the pyramid, then walked alongside as God's messenger commanded. A cluster of other men trailed them, but kept a few steps apart. The soldiers forming up on the field opened up to allow the Prophet to stride between them; the space they left for Forsyth was more of an afterthought.

Forsyth said nothing, but he knew his role here. During the long voyage from London, he had learned more than just the Prophet's wisdom. He had been one of the five sailors assigned to learn the language of the Land of Gold. Not the language of these Mexicans, but a traders' language. The Island speech, it was called, for some reason no-one had bothered to explain to him. Forsyth had not mastered it, but he could make himself understood, according to the woman who had taught them; a naval officer's native mistress.

The Prophet stood at the front of the assembling warriors of the Lord. Forsyth stood beside him, ready to interpret the Prophet's words for the heathens. If the Mexicans sent out an emissary to listen, that is. Forsyth did not know whether the heathens would listen to the truth, or fight with the faithlessness of the ungodly.

The Prophet said, "A banner should have been made ready. A banner of the Lord."

Making such a banner would have warned Fairweather and his few true loyal supporters of what was planned when they landed. Forsyth knew better than to question the Prophet, though; his mind had been on weightier matters during the long voyage.

"A banner must be made. Gold and red, to mark the time of our coming. Gold for the land, and red for the flames of our purification."

"I will see it done, after we have met the natives," Forsyth said.

"Your task is to stand beside me," the Prophet said. "But the banner will be made."

The natives had been drawing nearer as they spoke. Close enough, now, for Forsyth to make out some details. Hundreds of the black-skinned men. Not in a true line, but advancing slowly, irregularly. Though... yes, in the centre of the line, a group of men striding with the confidence of those born to command. Even heathens must have leaders, he supposed.

The natives were dark-skinned, but as they approached, he saw that they had little else in common. Each man seemed to be dressed in his own style, whether clothes or armour or both. None had any uniform, any commonality to say whether they belonged together. No true combination of colour or symbols to mark them as a group. When they came close enough, he saw that many of them bore representations of skulls, on armour or helm or elsewhere, but even with those depictions of skulls, it seemed there were never two alike.

The natives stopped short of the Christians' line. Here, at last, they formed something resembling a line of their own. They appeared watchful, but as far as Forsyth could judge, not immediately ready for battle. While plenty of them carried weapons, none of them seemed to be preparing to charge.

Three of the natives, in the centre of the line, took three steps forward. They waved several times at the Christians' line.

The Prophet said, "Brothers Hiram and Isaiah, walk with me." God's messenger strode forth to meet the natives, wearing his piety and confidence as armour. Forsyth was less certain whether that was a wise course, but he stepped forward anyway. On the other side, Isaiah Ashkettle, the slayer of Colonel Fairweather, did the same.

They met the heathens more or less in the middle of the ground between them. Three natives, one clearly a high-ranked warrior, the second a senior, much-adorned but unarmoured man, the third a middle-aged, shaven-headed, plainly dressed man. The warrior had the most impressive bearing; gleaming bronze armour and helm, tunic dyed blue, a large bronze axe, and representation of skulls in the braids of his beard.

Forsyth expected the warrior to be the one to talk, but the older man stepped forward. He spoke in a rhythmic, rapid-fire language which made no sense at all. The shaven-headed man beside him, though, spoke in the Island speech. "This man is Ilangi, Father of the Bunkitchmee. The warrior is the great Wing Jonah, slayer of sixteen, and commander of the king's warriors. Ilangi asks, who are you who have brought calamity to the kingdom?"

After Forsyth translated, the Prophet said, "I am Thomas Totney, Captain-General of Jehovah, head of the Army of God. I have come as witness on behalf of Jehovah, to teach you to end your heathen ways and adopt the service of the Lord."

Forsyth looked to the interpreter, struggling to find the right words in the Island speech. "This is Thomas Totney, the... high commander under god, the true God, the One God. He has come carrying the message of the One God. He has come to teach you of the end of the old... ways, and call you to serve the One God."

The interpreter's eyes went wide. "He has come to close the old world?"

"Yes," Forsyth said.

The interpreter relayed those words to Ilangi, who must be some kind of heathen priest. The old man's shoulders slumped for a moment, halfway through the translation. When it finished, Ilangi and Wing Jonah began a vociferous argument.

The Prophet said, "How do they answer?"

Forsyth relayed the message. The interpreter said, "They are considering your words."

Judging by the shouting and gesticulating between the pair, Forsyth thought it more a fight than due consideration. The priest was louder than the warrior, strangely enough. The interpreter asked them another question, and the priest snapped a reply.

"The Father asks if you have brought the message of the Closure, why have you struck at the Mound of Memory?" The interpreter took in his puzzlement, and added, "The building that your thunder has struck."

The Prophet said, "Glazkul was bombarded in tyranny, by a corrupted man who cared more for gold than God. He rightly abhorred this Mexican pyramid, but wrongly struck at you rather than told you the truth. So the tyrant has been killed. I am here, we are here, to tell you the truth of the Word of God and the error of your old ways. You must abandon the path of ungodliness, cast aside this monument to the devil, and take up the true faith. But this is something that you should have heard through words, not thunder."

Forsyth said, "The Mound was struck at the order of... an unbalanced man [1]. One who desired gold and did not follow the One God. He was right to hate this Mexican building, but wrong to attack you rather than tell you of the One God. So we have killed him. Now the Prophet is here to tell you the truth of the One God, of the wrong path you followed before the Closure. You must abandon your old Godless ways, and follow the One God. But the Prophet says that you should have been told this message from his mouth, not with weapons."

The interpreter said, "What is a Mexican?"

"Your people."

"We know of no Mexicans. The people here – the Father's people – are the Bunkitchmee."

Ah, yes, Baffin wrote that these Mexicans called themselves the Bunditch. Forsyth did remember that, now that he was prompted, but from Baffin's tale, the descriptions of the headhunters and pyramid builders had drawn most of his notice. Who really cared if these Mexicans used a different name for their tribe? "Tell them of the Prophet's words, then, whatever you call that building."

The interpreter translated, although he had to repeat the same words two or three times – it was hard to judge – before the warrior listened properly. The Father and Wing Jonah had another conversation, much shorter and calmer this time.

The Father said, "This is something that we will hear more of. You may enter Yuragir, with never more than two hands of your companions at once."

"Two hands?" Forsyth asked. His teacher had never mentioned the word used like that.

The interpreter tapped his thumb on the joints of his index finger, then the middle finger. A most peculiar gesture. "Twelve and twelve, the Islanders would say."

Before Forsyth could translate that, Wing Jonah spoke. "If you speak in peace, we will listen. If you Inglundirr, any of you, strike any blow against Daluming, you will all be killed."

After Forsyth translated both statements, the Prophet said, "I am the messenger of God, and I will proclaim His Word to everyone in this land."

--

Time of the Closure / April 1648
Yuragir [Coffs Harbour, New South Wales], Kingdom of Daluming / Captaincy of Jehovah

Glass made for a most impressive skull.

Or so Ilangi had to conclude, after seeing this fact demonstrated. Todnee had fashioned a mask for himself. A mask of glass, cast in the shape of a skull, with teeth grinning open and two eyes watching through the glass sockets.

The eyes of a madman, or the eyes of the man who brings the Closure? Todnee wore the skull mask constantly now, but it had been a gift. From the best glassworker in Yuragir, who now proclaimed himself a follower of the Messenger. The Messenger of his "One God"; who proclaimed that none of the other gods truly existed.

Todnee spoke now, as he had done many times during his days in the city. His original followers came and went, and they obeyed the instructions not to bring in more than two hands' worth at any one time. Todnee himself had never left, though, staying in the city to spread his message.

The Messenger spoke now, at great length. He paused from time to time to allow the man beside him – the younger of the two Inglundirr interpreters, whatever his name was – to translate into the Islander's speech, and then the Daluming interpreter, Keajura, rendered them into proper speech. That ponderous process would probably not be needed for much longer: Keajura reported that he was learning more of the Inglundirr tongue each day.

"The old ways must be closed. This is the truth I proclaim to you. It is unbalanced, ungodly, an abomination" – a word that Ilangi now understood without translation, having heard it so frequently – "to severe the head and entomb it. That is despised by the One God, and will curse those so entombed to be denied true rest. From this time on, you must bury the whole body properly in the earth, with the sign of the cross above it. That is what the One God commands, and that alone will secure his blessing for the dead."

The interpreter kept speaking, but Ilangi stopped listening. Todnee had made similar proclamations many times. It appeared at first that few people listened to him, but he continued. In a city gripped by light-fever [typhus], with the king dead and no successor named, and with the Closure at hand, he had found more listeners. How many more would listen to him as he continued?

The Messenger was dangerous, but killing him would be even more dangerous, even if he was a madman. Too many people paid him heed, even if they did not agree with all of what he said. Which was why Ilangi had come to hear what the Messenger said about more serious questions.

After Todnee reached a temporary pause, Ilangi said, "Ask him what is his message about who should hold the blue and white staff [i.e. become king]."

The reply came back, "Djeeyoba [Jehovah] is the Most High, the king of kings. What you should ask is who should rule in his stead."

"If your One God is the king of kings, do you claim to be king?"

"I am the commander of his earthly armies, and his messenger."

Ilangi kept his voice carefully neutral. "So would you seek to take up the staff that King Otella left?"

The Messenger said, "A new king must be chosen. One who will swear to obey Djeeyoba, and to heed his messenger."

"He must be a vassal, you say? Like the chiefs of the highlands?" The western highlands had been divided into three mutually warring confederacies, until King Otella's grandfather had conquered one of those confederacies, the Nyenna Murra, and forced its chiefs into vassalage. Other parts of the highlands had also been made vassal chiefs in the past. "Not a king then, but a vassal chief?"

The interpreters had much argument before they translated. Eventually the Messenger answered, "He would be the king. But even kings are subject to Djeeyoba, the King of Kings, the Most High One God."

That was not a king, to Ilangi's way of thinking. The king was absolute, he had no equal in his own realm. How else could he be called a king? Whatever Todnee had in mind, he did not want Daluming to have a true king.

"And what of your ships? Where have they gone?" The Inglundirr ships had sailed off soon after the desecration of the Mound of Memory. None of them had come back.

"The ships serve the One God's purposes elsewhere. This is a large land, this place of gold, and the Word of God must be spread across it. When the ships are needed, they will return."

An evasive answer. If Todnee really was a madman, had those ships left because they wanted no part of him and his actions? If Todnee truly was a messenger of the One God, were the ships waiting to come back with more of his followers? Ilangi needed to know, and he needed to know quickly.

For so far he had succeeded in delaying decisions, but this could not wait forever. He was the Father now, but those who opposed him had fled Yuragir, and that included members of the royal family. They would continue to oppose him in whatever he did, he was sure.

If Ilangi accepted the words of the Messenger, then his priestly opponents would proclaim one of the princes to be the true king, and Ilangi a servant of an imposter. If Ilangi rejected the words of the Messenger – as he was inclined to do – then his priestly opponents might well use this as an excuse to rally opposition against him and whomever he chose as king.

Even if Ilangi wanted to resist the Messenger, he would have to face down the invaders. Killing all of the Inglundirr was impossible: only a few came into the city at a time, and the rest were encamped across the river with their thunder-weapons. They could flee to the south, to where the rebels reportedly were already gathering. And their ships could return whenever they wished. The Messenger himself could be slain, but he had many followers. Even some Bungudjimay within the city listened to him.

The kingdom balances on the edge of a blade. Which fate should I grasp? Looking at the Messenger, at that glass-skull visage, Ilangi could not decide.

--

[1] "Unbalanced" is Forsyth's best attempt to translate "evil" using the Islander language, which – reflecting their Plirite faith – does not have the same concept.

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Thoughts?