AKuz
Been Better
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- A Rising Tide of Horrors
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- She/Her
Is Amazon the only place to acquire a copy?
As I've sworn off using it because Jeffy B's employee torture and low pay depot is bascially an evil dystopian cyberpunk megacorp.
Lands of Red and Gold
- Thread starter Jared
- Start date
- Timeline
Is Amazon the only place to acquire a copy?
As I've sworn off using it because Jeffy B's employee torture and low pay depot is bascially an evil dystopian cyberpunk megacorp.
Unfortunately, at this stage it's only available through Amazon. That's the only distributor that the publisher generally uses. I'll advise in this thread if it ever becomes available elsewhere.
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This will be explored in more detail later in the Hunter sequence, but one of the things here is that the Hunter is the first to really expound the doctrine that conquest works within the Plirite/Tjarrlinghi framework. Tjarrlinghi had made raids in the past, but not really explicitly conquered in the name of harmony. The Plirite view was that it was impossible to conquer someone into harmony. (That didn't stop Plirite rulers from trying to conquer, of course, just not doing it in the name of harmony). The Hunter has changed that doctrine, and regardless of how well or how poorly his conquests fare, he's established the long-term view that religiously-justified conquests are possible.
That certainly sounds like something first-half Freud would have come up with. (Second-half Freud gets largely ignored these days, since later in life he rewrote most of his theories by adding the death drive (aka Thanatos), a concept which most subsequent psychoanalysts have just disregarded).
Lands of Red and Gold #102: Under the Blood-Stained Banner
Lands of Red and Gold #102: Under the Blood-Stained Banner
"Be of one people and one vision, that you may conquer your enemies and bring them to harmony."
- Attributed to the Hunter
--
August 1699
Cankoona [Toowoomba, QLD], the Neeburra [Darling Downs]
Jakandanda, son of Mutjigonga, priest, father and sometimes war-leader, sat on his priest's chair where it had been placed atop the ridge. Such had been his habit for the last few winters. Let the younger men see to the cattle, horses and ducks that needed to be grazed and watered. Here, amidst the heights, he could pray and contemplate, if he chose, or just watch the land, which he often preferred.
Much of the land around was pasture dotted by occasional trees, kept as open country by regular burning during the spring and autumn fire seasons. To the north-west, below the ridge, was a great expanse of swamp, dotted with reeds. He always found that sight soothing; a reminder that not all water needed to be drilled for beneath the ground, as was so common nowadays. The swamp teemed with birds – he saw several in flight as he glanced over – watered the horses and cattle when needed, and in dire times the women could harvest the reeds for food [1].
From his vantage, Jakandanda was naturally the first to see the riders approaching. Twenty or so men on horseback, with a greater number of riderless horses trailing behind. Good news, then; twenty-two riders had set out to raid the far south, and most had returned. With both North-Men [Yalatji] and South-Men [Butjupa] growing fewer every year, losing any rider was a setback. A raid where even five riders died was a tragedy, no matter how much plunder it brought back; good men were all but impossible to replace. With true fortune, all raiders would be returning, and the missing two men were merely guarding the rear.
As the riders drew closer, Jakandanda recognised the figure of Mowarin at their head. Easy enough to spot; no-one else rode quite like that, or had such height and bearing. What he could see of the other horses looked promising, too. The saddle-bags looked fuller than they should be, since the provisions would have been used during the raid. Given how long the raiders had been away, the saddle-bags must be full of plunder, not food. So the raid on Yigutji, on the River-Men, must have been a triumph.
When the riders came closer still, Jakandanda felt a twinge in his stomach. Mowarin appeared bereft of life. Solemn; a word which had never fit him before. Was this the same bold, life-filled youth who set out on this raid, as he had set out on so many others before? Where was the smile that could bring courage to a man's heart and desire to a woman's?
When the first riders dismounted, Jakandanda asked, "Where is Burren? Is he guarding the rear?"
Mowarin bowed his head. "Alas, father of my heart." The life had gone from his voice, as it had gone from his face. "The Horse-Brother, the brother of my spirt, has fallen. The River-Men slew him."
The twinge in Jakandanda's stomach turned into an iron ball. Cold iron. Tears followed, openly, forthrightly. Some priests claimed that men should be dignified even in grief, but Jakandanda had always rejected such nonsense. Holding grief in or adopting some so-called proper image only created greater disharmony later.
Amidst his tears, he eventually saw Mowarin holding forth an urn made from unglazed clay. "Your eldest son's ashes, wirrulee [priest/warrior]."
Even with grief assailing him, Jakandanda could not help but study Mowarin. The youth had always had such a talent; when he was nearby, everyone and everything else seemed to become part of the background.
Solemnity remained in Mowarin. Perhaps quiet resolve, too. No sign of his usual joy or smile. Nor any sign of tears, either. Maybe he had exhausted all of his grief on the journey home, too. Or maybe part of him had forever died along with his soul-brother.
Witnessing Jakandanda's gaze, Mowarin bowed his head again. "My soul-brother has passed, but will not be forgotten." He waved a hand, and one of the other riders approached. The rider unfurled a banner, grey but with irregular patches of dark crimson. Of blood.
"This banner wrapped your son in his passing. It will become his remembrance. Soon, it will become a banner that the Horse-Men fear. All of them. This I vow."
"A bold plan," Jakandanda said, approval in his tone.
--
March 1701
Gundulla [Condamine, QLD], Neeburra
Occasional bursts of smoke wafted up from the blackened ground to the south. Blackened ground, that is, but not completely-burnt vegetation. The upper parts of the trees were still green. A mark of carefully controlled fire; the beaters had done an excellent job of steering it in the right direction. Cold fire, to use the word which his father's father had used, although nowadays Jowarra did not think in such terms.
The land needed to be managed, and small fires were a part of that. Left untended, the land would overgrow; too much greenery, to the point where a fire could be large enough to kill all in its path, with no chance of outrunning it. That would be deadly for men, horses and cattle. Jowarra had enough troubles these days protecting his clan and livestock from human raiders; he did not want to have to fight the land itself, too.
A scout rode in, his horse's flanks heaving from the gallop. "Strange riders to the north, near the river!"
Jowarra shouted quick orders, summoning all of the men –and the couple of fighting women – to their horses. Then he ran for his own horse, pausing only to pick up the musket that rarely left his side.
His clan knew their business; most of them were already on their horses before he reached his. Forty-three men and two women; most of his clan's strength. The others were too far away to help. Jowarra sent two outriders ahead, then led the rest behind them at a quick trot. Soon enough they reached the pasture to the north, where the nearest cattle-herd grazed. Several armed herdsmen should have been here, but they were gone – fled or captured.
The raiders formed a line on the far side of the pasture, just in front of the few trees. Thirty or so of them, waiting on their horses. Odd. Why had they not moved to secure the cattle, at least?
Wait for the charge, or try to scare them off? The decision took only a moment. Jowarra shouted, "Dismount and form line!"
His riders raced to follow his instructions, one in six leading the horses behind while the others formed a line and loaded muskets. This was always one of the more difficult judgements when responding to a raid. Muskets were too difficult to reload reliably while mounted, but a line of men on foot could fire them effectively. At least, effectively enough to inflict more casualties on raiders than they would want to bear. Better to scare them off this way than remain mounted and guarantee a fight which would be bloody regardless of who won.
A horn sounded behind him, blowing long and loud. He turned, involuntarily. Another group of riders had appeared behind them. More than thirty, in his judgement. "How in the name of the Heir...?"
One of the riders unfurled a banner, grey background with a strange pattern of crimson in its centre. That rider and the man next to him took a few steps forward.
"Fight or wait, warego [hero]?" one of his riders asked.
"Wait," Jowarra said. Surrounded and outnumbered, that was not really a choice. But perhaps he could strike a bargain. His men had muskets ready, and striking at them would still cost lives. Perhaps some of the cattle could be offered; a severe blow to his clan, yes, but cows were easier to replace than men.
Jowarra called for his own horse, motioned the nearest rider to accompany him, then rode out to meet the chief raider.
The raider and his bannerman waited about halfway; he was polite, at least.
When they got close enough to see the raiders, Jowarra had to stop himself from staring. The leader looked as if he had not seen twenty winters! This youngling had deftly outmanoeuvred him?
Jowarra halted his horse a couple of paces short.
The youngling inclined his head. "I am Mowarin."
Polite, yes, to introduce himself first rather than make me do so. Jowarra gave his own name, then said, "Impressive, to have brought your horses behind us unawares."
Mowarin grinned. A pleasant sight. "Few men bother to watch burnt ground, thinking that the openness and lingering coals makes passage impossible. In truth, it is just a matter of watching where your horse steps."
"And where did you learn such tricks?" Jowarra said. "I do believe my son is older than you."
Mowarin's grin just widened. "And does that mean you can't learn from him? Young I may be, but I have commanded raids across the Horselands and beyond. And on every raid, on every day, I am always learning."
"Wise to know that you still have much to learn," Jowarra said.
The youngling shrugged. "Better to be a seeker after truth than one convinced he has already found truth."
Jowarra laughed, almost against his will. "That, at least, I cannot dispute. And now, what have we to talk about? My cattle, doubtless."
Mowarin's grin vanished. "I am not here for the cattle. I could have taken them from you already, if I wished."
"What, then?"
"I am here for the men who protect the cattle. I want your clan to join under my banner."
Jowarra could not stop himself from staring. "You think a well-timed raid gives you that right?"
"Better to follow a leader who can command men well than one who cannot, would you not say?" Mowarin said.
"Better still to protect one's own lands with one's own clan."
Mowarin raised an eyebrow. "You think your lands are protected, then? I could destroy your clan, if I wished, but that is not why I am here. So far west, you may not have heard, but already twenty clans follow my banner. I came here because I had heard that you were a man of both honour and good sense, who would look for the best way to protect his clan."
"Since I live so far west of you, what protection can you offer me here?"
"I offer protection in my lands, not here," Mowarin said.
"You cannot expect me to order my clan to abandon our lands."
"Why not?" Mowarin's calm tones sounded out of place on one so young. "So many have died in these hard times that much land lies empty. Now, land is not what brings worth. Land is everywhere. It is men and horses who bring worth, and the protection they provide which lets the herds increase."
"Some truth in that," Jowarra said. Good land was worth much, but in times of so few men, perhaps it was the men who were worth more.
"Good to know that I can sometimes find what I seek." Mowarin's grin returned. "But now I must ask that you decide. You may join me, or oppose me. I would prefer that you join me, but the choice is yours. Which will it be?"
Jowarra said, "I will join you."
--
Taken from: The True History of the Yalatji: Translation and Commentary, Heron Publishing, 2nd edition.
English translation by IM Donne.
Introduction by CWJ Fowler III
The True History of the Yalatji is the oldest surviving literary and historical work written in the Yalatji language. Earlier Yalatji works are solely religious texts, since amongst pre-Hunter Yalatji society, literacy was the exclusive preserve of the priesthood. The True History was composed for the Warego ruling class by an unknown author circa 1740 and describes the life of the Hunter and his successors until 1735. While some sections contain clear bias, overall the True History is considered to be the best primary source of the life and times of the Hunter...
The True History is divided into thirteen books (sometimes called chapters). Book 1, largely considered to be fabricated, contains a description of the largely mythical genealogy of the Hunter, including supposed supernatural ancestors such as Crow and the Man of Bark. Some of the more recent named ancestors are considered possibly genuine. Notably, while most of the Hunter's ancestors are given names, his immediate progenitors are called simply Tjuwagga's father and Tjuwagga's father's father.
Book 2 describes the Hunter's early life (until age 18), including some probably-fabricated anecdotes, and some plausible ones. Many of the details provided in the True History contradict other primary sources such as the Orange Bible and The Chronicle of Tjuwagga the Unbeliever [2].
Books 3-4 depict the Hunter's unification of the Yalatji and Butjupa of the Neeburra in a series of conquests, alliances, and arrow-tip negotiations (1699-1708). These books also describe the first stages of the military and societal reforms which the Hunter enacted, as he deliberately broke down the clan- and family-based social structures. These new arrangements began the process where different clans were deliberately mixed to break down their old loyalties to their immediate leaders, and where military units were likewise composed of mixed groups and headed by leaders chosen for loyalty and ability, not family ties or social status. These two books of the True History are a particularly vital primary source, since they offer by far the most comprehensive account of the unification of the Yalatji and Butjupa...
--
November 1706
Cankoona, the Neeburra
Mowarin. The name had become a talisman among the Horse-Men. Most Horse-Men, that is. Some clans, particularly among the South-Men [Butjupa], used the name as a curse instead. The holdout clans were in the minority, and growing fewer every month, if the tales held truth.
Mowarin had vowed to bring every clan of the Horse-Men under his blood-stained banner, and he had done well, very well, so far. Well enough that word of his name had reached far to the south amongst the Bogolora, to where Kullerin dwelt [3]. Kullerin was a man in need of a talisman, of a leader worthy to be followed; his life had been adrift for far too long.
So far, it looked as if he had found the leader he sought. Mowarin sat on the ground, amidst a cluster of his high-ranking attack leaders and priests. Many more men and women stood further back, listening as best they could to hear Mowarin's words. Kullerin stood among them, closer than most, glad to hear anything.
One of the ranking men, a priest judging from his lack of battle-scars, said, "The Kiyungu League has sent another group of envoys. All priests this time. Plirite priests. They say they bring words of peace."
Mowarin laughed. "But of course. They are weak. Lacking in decisiveness. What else would they do, those who claim to follow the Good Man but have failed in the third path [4]? Only declare peace, peace, always peace, and never know when it is time to conquer."
A white-haired, scar-faced veteran – probably Jowarra, if the tales were right – said, "Plirites always advocate doing nothing."
The priest said, "Not so. They think that each man is his own judge of what is best for him. That each man should be counselled, but never told how to act."
Mowarin spat at a flower, with perfect accuracy, then said, "A belief of nonsense. Not all men are equal in wit and understanding. They need men who can guide and advise them, and instruct them if required. They need leaders, men of better wisdom, who can guide their people, and ensure that what needs to be done, is done."
The priest said, "And yet the Islanders and their followers have brought many peoples to Plirism. Not quite the true faith, yes, but part of the path to understanding."
Mowarin did not show any sign of discontent at the disagreement. Which also fit with what Kullerin had heard in the tales, of what made him a leader worth following. Mowarin did not command obedience or agreement. He let people speak, and then used his own gifts of speech and reason to convince others to follow him.
Mowarin said, "They have brought a few people to the Seven-fold Path. A few people, in centuries of sailing hither and yon, speaking to people, hoping that they will accept. Speaking and hoping! They want people to listen and accept, without ever truly showing them what it is like to live in a land ruled by the true faith. A people cannot be shown the true path to harmony unless they are ruled by those who know about the balance."
The priest said, "You cannot force a person into harmony."
Mowarin's voice grew more confident with every sentence. "Force men into harmony, no. Make them act properly, yes. Show them what it is like to live under a ruler with true harmony... yes."
He paused, looking around in each direction, as if a new thought had come to him. "That is how it must be. The peoples who surround us are out of balance, and their imbalance brings discord even to us. They must be shown the true path. They will not be forced to follow it, but they will be forced to witness it... from their new rulers."
A couple of the attack leaders started to shout in acclamation, then fell to silence as they witnessed Mowarin staring at the ground.
Mowarin looked down for a long time, contemplating. At length he looked up again, and ran his gaze around the circle of those seated with him, then to the broader circle of witnesses beyond. "This much I desire to accomplish in my life: to ride my horse into the sea to north and east and south, and know that I have brought harmony to all the lands through which I have ridden."
--
[1] This swamp is in what historically the centre of downtown Toowoomba, and was drained during the founding of the town so that the land could be used for grazing. This had the unfortunate side-effect that Toowoomba's centre is in the middle of a flood-zone, and is extremely prone to flash-floods. Allohistorically, the Yalatji simply view the swamp as a convenient source of water; they have plenty of other pasture for their needs without having to drain wetlands.
[2] See post #101 for more information about the Orange Bible. The Chronicle is an account by Gorang of Kabeebilla [Caboolture, QLD], a Kiyungu author who was a Yalatji captive for a time, and who as a Plirite viewed the Hunter (a Tjarrlinghi) as an unbeliever.
[3] The Bogolara are a loose confederation of chiefdoms in the western parts of the Northern Pepperlands (northern highlands of New South Wales), based around Toodella [Inverell, NSW.
[4] Plirites and Tjarrlinghi both follow the Seven-fold Path laid down by the Good Man, although they disagree on many aspects of how to follow those paths. The third path is the path of decisiveness, which is often paraphrased as "no half actions". This path is often interpreted to mean that often inaction is the best way of maintaining harmony, but that when action is required, it should be decisive. See post #17 for more information.
--
Thoughts?
"Be of one people and one vision, that you may conquer your enemies and bring them to harmony."
- Attributed to the Hunter
--
August 1699
Cankoona [Toowoomba, QLD], the Neeburra [Darling Downs]
Jakandanda, son of Mutjigonga, priest, father and sometimes war-leader, sat on his priest's chair where it had been placed atop the ridge. Such had been his habit for the last few winters. Let the younger men see to the cattle, horses and ducks that needed to be grazed and watered. Here, amidst the heights, he could pray and contemplate, if he chose, or just watch the land, which he often preferred.
Much of the land around was pasture dotted by occasional trees, kept as open country by regular burning during the spring and autumn fire seasons. To the north-west, below the ridge, was a great expanse of swamp, dotted with reeds. He always found that sight soothing; a reminder that not all water needed to be drilled for beneath the ground, as was so common nowadays. The swamp teemed with birds – he saw several in flight as he glanced over – watered the horses and cattle when needed, and in dire times the women could harvest the reeds for food [1].
From his vantage, Jakandanda was naturally the first to see the riders approaching. Twenty or so men on horseback, with a greater number of riderless horses trailing behind. Good news, then; twenty-two riders had set out to raid the far south, and most had returned. With both North-Men [Yalatji] and South-Men [Butjupa] growing fewer every year, losing any rider was a setback. A raid where even five riders died was a tragedy, no matter how much plunder it brought back; good men were all but impossible to replace. With true fortune, all raiders would be returning, and the missing two men were merely guarding the rear.
As the riders drew closer, Jakandanda recognised the figure of Mowarin at their head. Easy enough to spot; no-one else rode quite like that, or had such height and bearing. What he could see of the other horses looked promising, too. The saddle-bags looked fuller than they should be, since the provisions would have been used during the raid. Given how long the raiders had been away, the saddle-bags must be full of plunder, not food. So the raid on Yigutji, on the River-Men, must have been a triumph.
When the riders came closer still, Jakandanda felt a twinge in his stomach. Mowarin appeared bereft of life. Solemn; a word which had never fit him before. Was this the same bold, life-filled youth who set out on this raid, as he had set out on so many others before? Where was the smile that could bring courage to a man's heart and desire to a woman's?
When the first riders dismounted, Jakandanda asked, "Where is Burren? Is he guarding the rear?"
Mowarin bowed his head. "Alas, father of my heart." The life had gone from his voice, as it had gone from his face. "The Horse-Brother, the brother of my spirt, has fallen. The River-Men slew him."
The twinge in Jakandanda's stomach turned into an iron ball. Cold iron. Tears followed, openly, forthrightly. Some priests claimed that men should be dignified even in grief, but Jakandanda had always rejected such nonsense. Holding grief in or adopting some so-called proper image only created greater disharmony later.
Amidst his tears, he eventually saw Mowarin holding forth an urn made from unglazed clay. "Your eldest son's ashes, wirrulee [priest/warrior]."
Even with grief assailing him, Jakandanda could not help but study Mowarin. The youth had always had such a talent; when he was nearby, everyone and everything else seemed to become part of the background.
Solemnity remained in Mowarin. Perhaps quiet resolve, too. No sign of his usual joy or smile. Nor any sign of tears, either. Maybe he had exhausted all of his grief on the journey home, too. Or maybe part of him had forever died along with his soul-brother.
Witnessing Jakandanda's gaze, Mowarin bowed his head again. "My soul-brother has passed, but will not be forgotten." He waved a hand, and one of the other riders approached. The rider unfurled a banner, grey but with irregular patches of dark crimson. Of blood.
"This banner wrapped your son in his passing. It will become his remembrance. Soon, it will become a banner that the Horse-Men fear. All of them. This I vow."
"A bold plan," Jakandanda said, approval in his tone.
--
March 1701
Gundulla [Condamine, QLD], Neeburra
Occasional bursts of smoke wafted up from the blackened ground to the south. Blackened ground, that is, but not completely-burnt vegetation. The upper parts of the trees were still green. A mark of carefully controlled fire; the beaters had done an excellent job of steering it in the right direction. Cold fire, to use the word which his father's father had used, although nowadays Jowarra did not think in such terms.
The land needed to be managed, and small fires were a part of that. Left untended, the land would overgrow; too much greenery, to the point where a fire could be large enough to kill all in its path, with no chance of outrunning it. That would be deadly for men, horses and cattle. Jowarra had enough troubles these days protecting his clan and livestock from human raiders; he did not want to have to fight the land itself, too.
A scout rode in, his horse's flanks heaving from the gallop. "Strange riders to the north, near the river!"
Jowarra shouted quick orders, summoning all of the men –and the couple of fighting women – to their horses. Then he ran for his own horse, pausing only to pick up the musket that rarely left his side.
His clan knew their business; most of them were already on their horses before he reached his. Forty-three men and two women; most of his clan's strength. The others were too far away to help. Jowarra sent two outriders ahead, then led the rest behind them at a quick trot. Soon enough they reached the pasture to the north, where the nearest cattle-herd grazed. Several armed herdsmen should have been here, but they were gone – fled or captured.
The raiders formed a line on the far side of the pasture, just in front of the few trees. Thirty or so of them, waiting on their horses. Odd. Why had they not moved to secure the cattle, at least?
Wait for the charge, or try to scare them off? The decision took only a moment. Jowarra shouted, "Dismount and form line!"
His riders raced to follow his instructions, one in six leading the horses behind while the others formed a line and loaded muskets. This was always one of the more difficult judgements when responding to a raid. Muskets were too difficult to reload reliably while mounted, but a line of men on foot could fire them effectively. At least, effectively enough to inflict more casualties on raiders than they would want to bear. Better to scare them off this way than remain mounted and guarantee a fight which would be bloody regardless of who won.
A horn sounded behind him, blowing long and loud. He turned, involuntarily. Another group of riders had appeared behind them. More than thirty, in his judgement. "How in the name of the Heir...?"
One of the riders unfurled a banner, grey background with a strange pattern of crimson in its centre. That rider and the man next to him took a few steps forward.
"Fight or wait, warego [hero]?" one of his riders asked.
"Wait," Jowarra said. Surrounded and outnumbered, that was not really a choice. But perhaps he could strike a bargain. His men had muskets ready, and striking at them would still cost lives. Perhaps some of the cattle could be offered; a severe blow to his clan, yes, but cows were easier to replace than men.
Jowarra called for his own horse, motioned the nearest rider to accompany him, then rode out to meet the chief raider.
The raider and his bannerman waited about halfway; he was polite, at least.
When they got close enough to see the raiders, Jowarra had to stop himself from staring. The leader looked as if he had not seen twenty winters! This youngling had deftly outmanoeuvred him?
Jowarra halted his horse a couple of paces short.
The youngling inclined his head. "I am Mowarin."
Polite, yes, to introduce himself first rather than make me do so. Jowarra gave his own name, then said, "Impressive, to have brought your horses behind us unawares."
Mowarin grinned. A pleasant sight. "Few men bother to watch burnt ground, thinking that the openness and lingering coals makes passage impossible. In truth, it is just a matter of watching where your horse steps."
"And where did you learn such tricks?" Jowarra said. "I do believe my son is older than you."
Mowarin's grin just widened. "And does that mean you can't learn from him? Young I may be, but I have commanded raids across the Horselands and beyond. And on every raid, on every day, I am always learning."
"Wise to know that you still have much to learn," Jowarra said.
The youngling shrugged. "Better to be a seeker after truth than one convinced he has already found truth."
Jowarra laughed, almost against his will. "That, at least, I cannot dispute. And now, what have we to talk about? My cattle, doubtless."
Mowarin's grin vanished. "I am not here for the cattle. I could have taken them from you already, if I wished."
"What, then?"
"I am here for the men who protect the cattle. I want your clan to join under my banner."
Jowarra could not stop himself from staring. "You think a well-timed raid gives you that right?"
"Better to follow a leader who can command men well than one who cannot, would you not say?" Mowarin said.
"Better still to protect one's own lands with one's own clan."
Mowarin raised an eyebrow. "You think your lands are protected, then? I could destroy your clan, if I wished, but that is not why I am here. So far west, you may not have heard, but already twenty clans follow my banner. I came here because I had heard that you were a man of both honour and good sense, who would look for the best way to protect his clan."
"Since I live so far west of you, what protection can you offer me here?"
"I offer protection in my lands, not here," Mowarin said.
"You cannot expect me to order my clan to abandon our lands."
"Why not?" Mowarin's calm tones sounded out of place on one so young. "So many have died in these hard times that much land lies empty. Now, land is not what brings worth. Land is everywhere. It is men and horses who bring worth, and the protection they provide which lets the herds increase."
"Some truth in that," Jowarra said. Good land was worth much, but in times of so few men, perhaps it was the men who were worth more.
"Good to know that I can sometimes find what I seek." Mowarin's grin returned. "But now I must ask that you decide. You may join me, or oppose me. I would prefer that you join me, but the choice is yours. Which will it be?"
Jowarra said, "I will join you."
--
Taken from: The True History of the Yalatji: Translation and Commentary, Heron Publishing, 2nd edition.
English translation by IM Donne.
Introduction by CWJ Fowler III
The True History of the Yalatji is the oldest surviving literary and historical work written in the Yalatji language. Earlier Yalatji works are solely religious texts, since amongst pre-Hunter Yalatji society, literacy was the exclusive preserve of the priesthood. The True History was composed for the Warego ruling class by an unknown author circa 1740 and describes the life of the Hunter and his successors until 1735. While some sections contain clear bias, overall the True History is considered to be the best primary source of the life and times of the Hunter...
The True History is divided into thirteen books (sometimes called chapters). Book 1, largely considered to be fabricated, contains a description of the largely mythical genealogy of the Hunter, including supposed supernatural ancestors such as Crow and the Man of Bark. Some of the more recent named ancestors are considered possibly genuine. Notably, while most of the Hunter's ancestors are given names, his immediate progenitors are called simply Tjuwagga's father and Tjuwagga's father's father.
Book 2 describes the Hunter's early life (until age 18), including some probably-fabricated anecdotes, and some plausible ones. Many of the details provided in the True History contradict other primary sources such as the Orange Bible and The Chronicle of Tjuwagga the Unbeliever [2].
Books 3-4 depict the Hunter's unification of the Yalatji and Butjupa of the Neeburra in a series of conquests, alliances, and arrow-tip negotiations (1699-1708). These books also describe the first stages of the military and societal reforms which the Hunter enacted, as he deliberately broke down the clan- and family-based social structures. These new arrangements began the process where different clans were deliberately mixed to break down their old loyalties to their immediate leaders, and where military units were likewise composed of mixed groups and headed by leaders chosen for loyalty and ability, not family ties or social status. These two books of the True History are a particularly vital primary source, since they offer by far the most comprehensive account of the unification of the Yalatji and Butjupa...
--
November 1706
Cankoona, the Neeburra
Mowarin. The name had become a talisman among the Horse-Men. Most Horse-Men, that is. Some clans, particularly among the South-Men [Butjupa], used the name as a curse instead. The holdout clans were in the minority, and growing fewer every month, if the tales held truth.
Mowarin had vowed to bring every clan of the Horse-Men under his blood-stained banner, and he had done well, very well, so far. Well enough that word of his name had reached far to the south amongst the Bogolora, to where Kullerin dwelt [3]. Kullerin was a man in need of a talisman, of a leader worthy to be followed; his life had been adrift for far too long.
So far, it looked as if he had found the leader he sought. Mowarin sat on the ground, amidst a cluster of his high-ranking attack leaders and priests. Many more men and women stood further back, listening as best they could to hear Mowarin's words. Kullerin stood among them, closer than most, glad to hear anything.
One of the ranking men, a priest judging from his lack of battle-scars, said, "The Kiyungu League has sent another group of envoys. All priests this time. Plirite priests. They say they bring words of peace."
Mowarin laughed. "But of course. They are weak. Lacking in decisiveness. What else would they do, those who claim to follow the Good Man but have failed in the third path [4]? Only declare peace, peace, always peace, and never know when it is time to conquer."
A white-haired, scar-faced veteran – probably Jowarra, if the tales were right – said, "Plirites always advocate doing nothing."
The priest said, "Not so. They think that each man is his own judge of what is best for him. That each man should be counselled, but never told how to act."
Mowarin spat at a flower, with perfect accuracy, then said, "A belief of nonsense. Not all men are equal in wit and understanding. They need men who can guide and advise them, and instruct them if required. They need leaders, men of better wisdom, who can guide their people, and ensure that what needs to be done, is done."
The priest said, "And yet the Islanders and their followers have brought many peoples to Plirism. Not quite the true faith, yes, but part of the path to understanding."
Mowarin did not show any sign of discontent at the disagreement. Which also fit with what Kullerin had heard in the tales, of what made him a leader worth following. Mowarin did not command obedience or agreement. He let people speak, and then used his own gifts of speech and reason to convince others to follow him.
Mowarin said, "They have brought a few people to the Seven-fold Path. A few people, in centuries of sailing hither and yon, speaking to people, hoping that they will accept. Speaking and hoping! They want people to listen and accept, without ever truly showing them what it is like to live in a land ruled by the true faith. A people cannot be shown the true path to harmony unless they are ruled by those who know about the balance."
The priest said, "You cannot force a person into harmony."
Mowarin's voice grew more confident with every sentence. "Force men into harmony, no. Make them act properly, yes. Show them what it is like to live under a ruler with true harmony... yes."
He paused, looking around in each direction, as if a new thought had come to him. "That is how it must be. The peoples who surround us are out of balance, and their imbalance brings discord even to us. They must be shown the true path. They will not be forced to follow it, but they will be forced to witness it... from their new rulers."
A couple of the attack leaders started to shout in acclamation, then fell to silence as they witnessed Mowarin staring at the ground.
Mowarin looked down for a long time, contemplating. At length he looked up again, and ran his gaze around the circle of those seated with him, then to the broader circle of witnesses beyond. "This much I desire to accomplish in my life: to ride my horse into the sea to north and east and south, and know that I have brought harmony to all the lands through which I have ridden."
--
[1] This swamp is in what historically the centre of downtown Toowoomba, and was drained during the founding of the town so that the land could be used for grazing. This had the unfortunate side-effect that Toowoomba's centre is in the middle of a flood-zone, and is extremely prone to flash-floods. Allohistorically, the Yalatji simply view the swamp as a convenient source of water; they have plenty of other pasture for their needs without having to drain wetlands.
[2] See post #101 for more information about the Orange Bible. The Chronicle is an account by Gorang of Kabeebilla [Caboolture, QLD], a Kiyungu author who was a Yalatji captive for a time, and who as a Plirite viewed the Hunter (a Tjarrlinghi) as an unbeliever.
[3] The Bogolara are a loose confederation of chiefdoms in the western parts of the Northern Pepperlands (northern highlands of New South Wales), based around Toodella [Inverell, NSW.
[4] Plirites and Tjarrlinghi both follow the Seven-fold Path laid down by the Good Man, although they disagree on many aspects of how to follow those paths. The third path is the path of decisiveness, which is often paraphrased as "no half actions". This path is often interpreted to mean that often inaction is the best way of maintaining harmony, but that when action is required, it should be decisive. See post #17 for more information.
--
Thoughts?
The Sandman
So Zetta Slowpoke
- Location
- Wherever I am, which isn't where I'm not
And thus the last true holy war begins.
How much access does the Hunter have to Old World and perhaps New World histories? He may have the unique advantage of being able to learn from how other people have handled their own Crusades or Jihads and thus improve the chances of his own.
On a different note, I wonder if any Plirite missionaries have reached Japan? Certainly they would be seen as having a more tolerable message than the Christian ones, given that they aren't quite as inherently at odds with the existing Buddhist and Shinto traditions, but unless the Tokugawa court grants them explicit protection out of personal curiosity or amusement they'll still have a tough time not running afoul of the authorities there.
How much access does the Hunter have to Old World and perhaps New World histories? He may have the unique advantage of being able to learn from how other people have handled their own Crusades or Jihads and thus improve the chances of his own.
On a different note, I wonder if any Plirite missionaries have reached Japan? Certainly they would be seen as having a more tolerable message than the Christian ones, given that they aren't quite as inherently at odds with the existing Buddhist and Shinto traditions, but unless the Tokugawa court grants them explicit protection out of personal curiosity or amusement they'll still have a tough time not running afoul of the authorities there.
Oooh a very interesting chapter, well delivered, I liked the way you structured it and I am getting some very Genghis Khan vibes from the Hunter, would that be fair to say? I found the chat at the ending interesting and rather demonstrative of the characters own biases's, and all in all this chapter had a ton of very interesting details, kudos and thanks for sharing!
Best of luck whatever happens
Limited access, since what is relayed is usually through many verbal retellings rather than through written accounts - the Hunter is not fluent enough in any European language to read their accounts. He will have broadly heard of the Crusades and of the European conquest of the Aztecs (or Mexicans as they are called at the time), although the main lesson he draws from the latter is not to trust Europeans unless acting from a position of strength. Admittedly, that one is a very useful lesson.
The topic of Plirism in Japan is one I've been mulling over in a while. My general take on it is similar to yours; not deemed as threatening as Christianity, but not wholly welcomed either. I need to do some more detailed research of Japan before I can give a definitive answer, but I can say that I would expect Okinawa at least to convert to Plirism. That's because Okinawa is the main trade contact with the Nuttana, so Plirite missionaries are active there and there's a very strong trade advantage to being Plirite, since the Nuttana consider that they will be more inclined to honour trade arrangements.
Glad you liked it. And yes, Genghis Khan was one of the inspirations for the Hunter. Only one of several, and as always no parallel should be taken too closely, but definitely one of the historical figures who were considered in coming up with the character. One obvious difference is that he's much more actively religious than Genghis Khan, who while he had his own belief, was less concerned about what other people believed.
Lands of Red and Gold #103: Di Meliora
Lands of Red and Gold #103: Di Meliora
"War is no innate instinct of man. It is a pernicious offspring of ancient education... War is simply the name given to theft when conducted by a sufficiently large robber band."
- Benjamin Maimon, The Dissent of Man
--
26 August 1708
Yigutji [Wagga Wagga], Kingdom of Yigutji
The herald struck a mallet against the gong. The sound of vibrating brass filled the throne chamber.
Puckapunyal, King of Yigutji, Lord of Summer, Eagle of Heaven, Master of the Land, Son of the Sun, waited just out of sight at the monarch's entrance. The sounds of conversation faded as the courtiers heard the gong.
The herald gave the gong a priming strike, deftly keeping it inaudible, then struck the gong again, this time making a much louder boom across the hall. Voices fell silent completely.
Only then did Puckapunyal enter the chamber. Ancient etiquette dictated that no-one could speak in the monarch's presence until the monarch had spoken himself. The royal privilege of first address went back to the long-vanished days of the Empire. He had always insisted on maintaining it, at least for public meetings. If he lost the royal privilege, he would weaken the court's respect, for they would see a man rather than a monarch. If he lost too much of their respect, the loss of his throne would soon follow.
The men of the court wore robes of a range of bright colours, all topped with the decoration that current fashion dictated: a pointed headdress and symbolic wings rising from their shoulders. It resembled an eagle taking flight, as it was meant to; a mark of the royal bird. The women of the court wore elaborate, colourful headdresses and shoulder ornamentation of many sticks spread out in a semicircle, with vivid fabric between them; the mark of the rising sun [1]. The greatest finery by those who could afford even in these troubled times, but then Puckapunyal had always insisted that appropriate clothing should be worn in the monarch's presence.
So it had always been. Yigutji was a realm which preserved proper etiquette and dignity. Even when his ancestor Larrakeya overthrew the last of the decadent Emperors in Garrkimang [Narranderra], he did not remove the proper forms of conduct which had been maintained by the dying imperial realm. Dignity and restraint were the best form of life; something which over-loud, argumentative Tjibarri had never grasped, and something even Wadang [2] often forgot.
After Puckapunyal had settled himself on the throne, he signalled for the Sunbearer [3] to approach. In a loud, clear voice which was designed to carry throughout the throne chamber, the king said, "Tell me how fares the realm."
Karrakatta, the Sunbearer, spoke in a similarly loud voice. All as had been intended. This news was meant to be heard by the nobles, or else Puckapunyal would have organised to be given it privately.
The Sunbearer said, "Twenty years have passed since great-sleep ravaged the Land and killed so many of Your Majesty's subjects. Twenty years since the last great plague. Some have died since then, from smaller plagues and from the last war, but the numbers of Your Majesty's subjects now grow for the first time in living memory."
"No more plagues?"
"The physicians, who have studied the writings of the Raw Men, say that almost all of the bushfire diseases [epidemic diseases] which are described there have now reached the Land. Those which remain are largely maladies of warmer lands, or so I am told. If fortune favours the Land, then no more new maladies will afflict Your Majesty's realm. The plagues remain, but they claim fewer subjects."
"And what of other causes?"
"War and raids remain, as they have always done. But in the last days, they have not cost the lives of so many subjects as in the earlier times of constant struggle, when the Time of the Great Dying consumed both by disease and war."
Of course war has reduced, since we made the pact with the Gunnagal. The triple alliance between Yigutji, Tjibarr and Gutjanal was more than sixty years old, now. No alliance between all three kingdoms had ever lasted for more than half of that time, before. Puckapunyal's predecessors had gladly made that alliance all the same, and kept to it. Recognising the need was simple enough: greater foes now troubled the Five Rivers, powers whose threat meant that the three kingdoms needed to band together out of mutual need.
And, it must be said, because obtaining the new weapons needed Tjibarri goodwill. So it was, and so Puckapunyal had held to the alliance the previous kings had made. For now, he would continue to hold to it, too. The need remained; the Land had much recovering to do before war with Tjibarr or Gutjanal could be contemplated once more. Of course, he did not make the mistake of trusting Tjibarr, even now. Never trust a Gunnagal, or so the maxim went. Princes did not have friends, only ambitions, and if ever the Tjibarri thought that their ambitions would best be served by fighting Yigutji, then war would resume. The kingdom needed to remain ready for that.
"After so long, perhaps the Time of the Great Dying is over," Puckapunyal said. "Perhaps the Land will finally recover."
--
From an article which appeared in the Daily Intrepid, an English-language newspaper published in Tapiwal [Robinvale], 21 September 1996
Today In History
Battle of Bundaroo
Two gross years ago today [4], at the Battle of Bundaroo, the Hunter scored a resounding victory over an alliance of his enemies, and changed the course of Aururian history.
For such a climactic battle, we know surprisingly little about how and where it was fought. In Lawrence Hardy-Wrethe's memorable phrase, the Battle of Bundaroo is "the most significant battle in Aururian history about which we know nothing certain."
Literary sources for the battle are blatantly contradictory, save for a general agreement that the Hunter won by flanking the opposing forces at least twice. The numbers given for each side do not match: the four main accounts of the battle found in the True History of the Yalatji, the Orange Bible, The Chronicle of Tjuwagga the Unbeliever and The Lord of the Ride have no agreement on the quantity of forces on either side. Even the location of the battle is uncertain. Each of the four main sources gives detailed descriptions of the battlefield, and none of those are fully compatible. Four possible sites for the battle remain in serious contention amongst archaeologists and historians.
What is certain is the outcome of the battle. Before Bundaroo, the Hunter led a coalition which controlled perhaps two-fifths of the Yalatji and Butjupa manpower. He was opposed by an alliance of all of the other significant warleaders, under the nominal leadership of one Yongalla. After that battle, the Hunter was the undisputed warleader of both peoples; the Great Hero, as his title can best be translated.
After the battle, with no internal foes remaining, the Hunter turned his attention outward.
--
[1] Puckapunyal is not familiar with the bird, but if he had seen it, the current style for Yigutji noblewomen would remind him of a peacock.
[2] Wadang is the dominant ethnicity in the kingdom of Gutjanal, the third Five Rivers kingdom.
[3] In the Yigutji court, the Sunbearer is the head of the officials responsible for record-keeping, censuses, archives and related matters. In essence, the Sunbearer reports to the king on the status of the realm. Finances and military matters are handled by separate officials. The Clawmaster (a shortened version of Keeper of the Eagle's Claws) coordinates finances while the Lord of Winter is responsible for reporting on military matters, organising defensive fortifications and the like (but not commanding armies, which falls to the king or various nobles).
[4] i.e. 288 years ago. While this newspaper is written in English, Gunnagalic readers would still view that as a significant number of years, since they count in a base-twelve number system and would find two grosses as symbolic as two centuries (or three centuries) would be to native English-speakers.
--
Thoughts?
"War is no innate instinct of man. It is a pernicious offspring of ancient education... War is simply the name given to theft when conducted by a sufficiently large robber band."
- Benjamin Maimon, The Dissent of Man
--
26 August 1708
Yigutji [Wagga Wagga], Kingdom of Yigutji
The herald struck a mallet against the gong. The sound of vibrating brass filled the throne chamber.
Puckapunyal, King of Yigutji, Lord of Summer, Eagle of Heaven, Master of the Land, Son of the Sun, waited just out of sight at the monarch's entrance. The sounds of conversation faded as the courtiers heard the gong.
The herald gave the gong a priming strike, deftly keeping it inaudible, then struck the gong again, this time making a much louder boom across the hall. Voices fell silent completely.
Only then did Puckapunyal enter the chamber. Ancient etiquette dictated that no-one could speak in the monarch's presence until the monarch had spoken himself. The royal privilege of first address went back to the long-vanished days of the Empire. He had always insisted on maintaining it, at least for public meetings. If he lost the royal privilege, he would weaken the court's respect, for they would see a man rather than a monarch. If he lost too much of their respect, the loss of his throne would soon follow.
The men of the court wore robes of a range of bright colours, all topped with the decoration that current fashion dictated: a pointed headdress and symbolic wings rising from their shoulders. It resembled an eagle taking flight, as it was meant to; a mark of the royal bird. The women of the court wore elaborate, colourful headdresses and shoulder ornamentation of many sticks spread out in a semicircle, with vivid fabric between them; the mark of the rising sun [1]. The greatest finery by those who could afford even in these troubled times, but then Puckapunyal had always insisted that appropriate clothing should be worn in the monarch's presence.
So it had always been. Yigutji was a realm which preserved proper etiquette and dignity. Even when his ancestor Larrakeya overthrew the last of the decadent Emperors in Garrkimang [Narranderra], he did not remove the proper forms of conduct which had been maintained by the dying imperial realm. Dignity and restraint were the best form of life; something which over-loud, argumentative Tjibarri had never grasped, and something even Wadang [2] often forgot.
After Puckapunyal had settled himself on the throne, he signalled for the Sunbearer [3] to approach. In a loud, clear voice which was designed to carry throughout the throne chamber, the king said, "Tell me how fares the realm."
Karrakatta, the Sunbearer, spoke in a similarly loud voice. All as had been intended. This news was meant to be heard by the nobles, or else Puckapunyal would have organised to be given it privately.
The Sunbearer said, "Twenty years have passed since great-sleep ravaged the Land and killed so many of Your Majesty's subjects. Twenty years since the last great plague. Some have died since then, from smaller plagues and from the last war, but the numbers of Your Majesty's subjects now grow for the first time in living memory."
"No more plagues?"
"The physicians, who have studied the writings of the Raw Men, say that almost all of the bushfire diseases [epidemic diseases] which are described there have now reached the Land. Those which remain are largely maladies of warmer lands, or so I am told. If fortune favours the Land, then no more new maladies will afflict Your Majesty's realm. The plagues remain, but they claim fewer subjects."
"And what of other causes?"
"War and raids remain, as they have always done. But in the last days, they have not cost the lives of so many subjects as in the earlier times of constant struggle, when the Time of the Great Dying consumed both by disease and war."
Of course war has reduced, since we made the pact with the Gunnagal. The triple alliance between Yigutji, Tjibarr and Gutjanal was more than sixty years old, now. No alliance between all three kingdoms had ever lasted for more than half of that time, before. Puckapunyal's predecessors had gladly made that alliance all the same, and kept to it. Recognising the need was simple enough: greater foes now troubled the Five Rivers, powers whose threat meant that the three kingdoms needed to band together out of mutual need.
And, it must be said, because obtaining the new weapons needed Tjibarri goodwill. So it was, and so Puckapunyal had held to the alliance the previous kings had made. For now, he would continue to hold to it, too. The need remained; the Land had much recovering to do before war with Tjibarr or Gutjanal could be contemplated once more. Of course, he did not make the mistake of trusting Tjibarr, even now. Never trust a Gunnagal, or so the maxim went. Princes did not have friends, only ambitions, and if ever the Tjibarri thought that their ambitions would best be served by fighting Yigutji, then war would resume. The kingdom needed to remain ready for that.
"After so long, perhaps the Time of the Great Dying is over," Puckapunyal said. "Perhaps the Land will finally recover."
--
From an article which appeared in the Daily Intrepid, an English-language newspaper published in Tapiwal [Robinvale], 21 September 1996
Today In History
Battle of Bundaroo
Two gross years ago today [4], at the Battle of Bundaroo, the Hunter scored a resounding victory over an alliance of his enemies, and changed the course of Aururian history.
For such a climactic battle, we know surprisingly little about how and where it was fought. In Lawrence Hardy-Wrethe's memorable phrase, the Battle of Bundaroo is "the most significant battle in Aururian history about which we know nothing certain."
Literary sources for the battle are blatantly contradictory, save for a general agreement that the Hunter won by flanking the opposing forces at least twice. The numbers given for each side do not match: the four main accounts of the battle found in the True History of the Yalatji, the Orange Bible, The Chronicle of Tjuwagga the Unbeliever and The Lord of the Ride have no agreement on the quantity of forces on either side. Even the location of the battle is uncertain. Each of the four main sources gives detailed descriptions of the battlefield, and none of those are fully compatible. Four possible sites for the battle remain in serious contention amongst archaeologists and historians.
What is certain is the outcome of the battle. Before Bundaroo, the Hunter led a coalition which controlled perhaps two-fifths of the Yalatji and Butjupa manpower. He was opposed by an alliance of all of the other significant warleaders, under the nominal leadership of one Yongalla. After that battle, the Hunter was the undisputed warleader of both peoples; the Great Hero, as his title can best be translated.
After the battle, with no internal foes remaining, the Hunter turned his attention outward.
--
[1] Puckapunyal is not familiar with the bird, but if he had seen it, the current style for Yigutji noblewomen would remind him of a peacock.
[2] Wadang is the dominant ethnicity in the kingdom of Gutjanal, the third Five Rivers kingdom.
[3] In the Yigutji court, the Sunbearer is the head of the officials responsible for record-keeping, censuses, archives and related matters. In essence, the Sunbearer reports to the king on the status of the realm. Finances and military matters are handled by separate officials. The Clawmaster (a shortened version of Keeper of the Eagle's Claws) coordinates finances while the Lord of Winter is responsible for reporting on military matters, organising defensive fortifications and the like (but not commanding armies, which falls to the king or various nobles).
[4] i.e. 288 years ago. While this newspaper is written in English, Gunnagalic readers would still view that as a significant number of years, since they count in a base-twelve number system and would find two grosses as symbolic as two centuries (or three centuries) would be to native English-speakers.
--
Thoughts?
That makes sense.
Someone just spilled so much tea the world flooded!
I feel like someone is about to come in and wreck this poor souls whole career XD
Yuuuuup, it is war march time.
Anyway really solid transitional chapter, which gives us a solid update on the world as we are reading it and how it is remembered or not remembered from different perspectives and locations, while setting up the oncoming conflicts very smoothly and giving us some cool cultural and historical details too!
They
Although that said, the Five Rivers is unlikely to be his first target. There are some other areas he would try to consolidate first, although the Five Rivers remains his core long-term goal.
Why, yes. That is a strong possibility.
Glad you liked it. This chapter was a necessary transition, though also gave some worldbuilding along the way.
Lands of Red and Gold #104: A Series of Unfortunate Events
Lands of Red and Gold #104: A Series of Unfortunate Events
"A foe should be given only one opportunity to surrender."
- Attributed to the Hunter
--
The people who called themselves the Kiyungu inhabited the north-easternmost corner of farmable Aururia; the region which another history would call south-eastern Queensland. They called their ancient homeland the Coral Coast [1], and were content largely to fish and farm, dive for coral, and lie in the sun. The peoples of the Coral Coast were divided into city-states that squabbled among themselves, but the twin barriers of distance and mountainous geography meant that they were largely insulated from the wars and other affairs of the far south. As one historian famously remarked, "history mostly passed them by [2]."
Isolation was never complete; the Kiyungu were troubled occasionally by headhunting raids from Daluming to the south, or religiously-motivated raids from the Yalatji and Butjupa to the west. Occasional contact with the Māori was enough for the Kiyungu to learn how to make better ships; not enough to undertake oceanic voyages, but sufficient to sail long distances up and down the coast for coral-diving, exploration or, in time, settlement.
The Kiyungu's ancient homeland was limited in the north by barriers of agriculture; the existing native Aururian crops could not grow reliably past the Tropic of Capricorn. A combination of Māori contact and new indigenous crops changed this. New crops of sweet potato, lesser yams and tropical wattles allowed the Kiyungu to begin a northward expansion after AD 1450. They moved north into desirable ports, establishing new city-states there and gradually pushing the indigenous hunter-gatherers away from the colonised regions. Since the expansion was by sea, there were still coastal hunter-gatherers left in some regions which the Kiyungu deemed unworthy of settlement. This expansion continued even after European contact; at that time, the northernmost major city-state was at Quamba [Mackay].
Politically, the Kiyungu had never been united. For most of their history they were never organised beyond the city-state level. In the late sixteenth century, due to the growing threats of Yalatji missionaries-by-force and Daluming raiders, the southern Kiyungu city-states banded together in a loose alliance which they called the League. This had no central government, but was a council of rulers who acted to ostracise or threaten any city-states which acted too independently. However, the northern Kiyungu city-states remained without any form of supra-metropolitan allegiance.
After European contact, the plagues reduced the rate of northern expansion, but did not stop it entirely. Some displaced southern Kiyungu still found the north more attractive. A greater disincentive to Kiyungu expansion came from the Nuttana, whose pact with the Kiyungu drew away much of the surplus population. (And, in fact, some of the not-so-surplus population). Even this pact did not cease Kiyungu expansion entirely; a new Kiyungu city-state at Menitjing [Bowen, QLD] was founded in 1655.
Only the Time of the Great Dying truly stopped Kiyungu migration. During that time of great plagues and warfare, the surviving Kiyungu were too busy trying to hold on to what they already had to undertake further northern expansion. The only Aururians who could expand much during this time were the Nuttana; with their population boosted by migration and slave labour, they continued to grow even during the worst of the Great Dying. The Nuttana expanded south even when the Kiyungu had stopped moving north, but their southernmost outpost at Nerridella [Townsville] was still comfortably north of any independent Kiyungu territory.
During and since the Time of the Great Dying, the Kiyungu preserved their formal independence. They did not make any further territorial expansion; the Nuttana continued to absorb any immigrants, and indeed continued to develop their more southerly outposts in large part due to continuing Kiyungu migration. In the Coral Coast, the League remained effectively in the Nuttana sphere of influence. Europeans were able to buy some spices and other products, but all attempts to obtain more formal influence – both diplomatic and military – had failed.
Even into the early years of the eighteenth century, the Kiyungu remained part of the Nuttana informal colonial empire. Their population had been much reduced, but the League continued to maintain relative peace amongst the city-states of the Coral Coast.
The Kiyungu of the League did not give much heed to the rise of the man they first knew as Mowarin, and later as the Hunter. Previous warleaders had successfully united some groups amongst the Yalatji and Butjupa. Some had even gathered enough numbers to raid into Kiyungu territory from time to time. Ultimately, all of these warleaders had been defeated by internal divisions, a fact which the Kiyungu had noted.
Right up until the time of the Battle of Bundaroo, the Hunter's forces were outnumbered by rival Tjarrlinghi groups. The emergence of an alliance against him was what the Kiyungu had expected. The Hunter's smashing victory at Bundaroo caused some concern, but even then most Kiyungu assumed that his alliance would fall apart, as others had done before.
Unfortunately, as the Kiyungu would soon discover, this would be one time when history did not pass them by.
--
After the turmoil of the Great Dying and the worst of the plague era, the League continued to rule the southern Kiyungu. The League consisted of eleven major city-states, not counting a variety of satellite towns and their surrounding rural inhabitants [3]. The position of most populous and influential city-state changed regularly, due to the usual low-level squabbles and vagaries of plagues. As the first decade of the eighteenth century neared its end, Kabeebilla [Caboolture, QLD] was the most influential city-state, although no single city-state could be considered predominant.
Reliable population figures for seventeenth and early eighteenth century Aururia do not exist, outside of the few large states: Durigal, Tiayal, Tjibarr, Gutjanal and Yigutji. Even the Nuttana, so organised in other ways, did not bother to conduct formal censuses.
So historians and anthropologists have only educated guesses for the population of the post-Great Dying southern Kiyungu. Most population estimates range between two hundred thousand and three hundred thousand people, with lower figures being preferred within that range. Certainly, however many inhabitants the League had, it still outnumbered the combined Yalatji and Butjupa forces by a significant margin, probably at least double their population.
Unfortunately, the Tjarrlinghi cavalry would prove to be a devastating force multiplier.
--
From The Man From The Neeburra, a celebrated epic by the Kiyungu poet Yukoo Laylee, describing the Great Ride that the Hunter led through the lands of the Kiyungu League
There was movement in the Nation, for the word had passed around
That the Hunter had declared to ride their way,
And would bring the wild Horse-Men—their fury had no bound,
When all the bolds would gather to the fray.
All the feared and fabled riders from the daunting Neeburra
Had mustered to ride for his grand delight;
For the Horse-Men love hard riding whether to land near or far,
And the warhorse snuffs the battle with delight. [4]
--
27 August 1709
Kabeebilla [Caboolture, QLD]
Gorang had attended the royal court for most of his adult life. As one of the most senior scribes, he had been privy to many secrets, to many things which should have surprised him. He had thought that he was a man not easily shocked. Yet never until now had he found it so hard to maintain his composure in front of his Younger Brother, Prince Muggawurun.
Kabeebilla had been considered the paramount city in the League for most of his life. Yet nothing which Kabeebilla could deploy, not even if every man was levied and given a spear, could match the display of might now being provided before him.
Gorang had seen horses before. The Nuttana and Inglidj had traded a few to Kabeebilla over the years. He had heard, too, of raids against other League cities by Tjarrlinghi unbelievers, carried on horseback.
But never, in all of his days, had he imagined that there were so many horses in the world.
Gorang stood on the walls of Kabeebilla, the prince by his side. The walls were crowded with townsfolk and those who had fled ahead of the rumours of oncoming Tjarrlinghi raiders. Now they came, but they were not raiders. Or not precisely raiders.
A great column of Tjarrlinghi rode around the city walls. Rode. On horseback, at a steady pace. Four abreast they marched, in a great loop around Kabeebilla, keeping carefully out of range of bowshot or musket fire. The head of the column had already passed halfway around the city, and the last horsemen had yet to reach the city. Thousands, to be sure, although Gorang knew no way to estimate their true numbers.
They had done this at Mullumba [Petrie] and other cities further south, if the rumours had told true. Never bringing battle unless they were attacked, but riding deep into the lands of the League. Much further than raiders usually came.
"What brings these Horse-Men this far? And what shall we do about it?" Prince Muggawurun asked.
Unfortunately, Gorang had no idea how to answer either question.
--
From Bareena Uranj, a Tjarrling religious tract which is usually though inaccurately known in English as the Orange Bible:
Chapter 9:
1. And it came to pass that the Men of the North [Yalatji] and Men of the South [Butjupa] were united under Tjuwagga and followed the blood-stained banner.
2. His companions asked him if the coming together of North and South meant that this would now be a time of peace, a time when there was no need for Warego [heroes/visionaries].
3. Tjuwagga said, "A land cannot be brought to harmony alone, for no land is truly in isolation. No ruler, even be he most astute and insightful, can prevent discord from spreading beyond his borders."
4. Tjuwagga said, "This, then, is the need for Warego: the Neeburra has been set on the path to harmony, but those lands outside know not the true path. They must be shown this, in a form they cannot mistake."
5. North and South had been divided of old into families [5], whereby each man fought for the leader of his blood and kin.
6. Tjuwagga said, "The Warego are men of vision, and they will lead those who show the heathens the true path."
7. It pleased Tjuwagga to arrange the men of North and South into new armies commanded by the most renowned of the Warego.
8. Tjuwagga said, "Let men of many families follow one Warego, that they may learn from his vision." [6]
9. It pleased Tjuwagga to move the Warego regularly to new armies, so that the men of North and South could learn of many visions and thus gain greater understanding [7].
10. Tjuwagga told his Warego, "Choose your leaders from those who show skill or vision, not men of family."
11. And this was done.
12. Tjuwagga said, "All that can be done to reduce discord to the lands within has been done. Now the time has come to bring harmony to the lands without."
13. Tjuwagga told his Warego, "Now we ride."
--
Had the Hunter been to the lands of the League in his youth? How much did he know about the lands which he intended to conquer?
That is a matter for much disputation amongst surviving sources. The Bareena Uranj (Orange Bible) reports that the Hunter had raided into the Coral Coast in his youth. The True History of the Yalatji claims that the youthful Hunter was part of a peaceful religious mission where he argued with Plirite priests about the best ways to bring harmony to the chaotic world of the Time of the Great Dying. Gorang's Chronicle of Tjuwagga the Unbeliever explicitly denies that the Hunter had ever been to the lands of the League before leading the Great Ride. The Lord of the Ride does not mention any raids into Kiyungu territory, despite giving detailed descriptions of many other raids which the Hunter undertook during his youth.
Regardless of what he may have done personally, though, the Hunter certainly had access to other Yalatji and Butjupa raiders who were familiar with the general geography and divisions of the lands of the League. He put them into good account when planning the first great accomplishment which brought him to the attention of the wider world: the Great Ride.
In so far as it can be gleaned from the surviving sources, the Hunter's intention for the Great Ride was to intimidate the League into submission, or at least to create enough fear to make it easier to obtain submission later. Certainly it was consistent with his previous actions to first attempt a manoeuvre which would conserve the lives of his own men; always a consideration for a person who intended to launch a broader campaign of conquest. He may also have believed that it would create less discord if he could subdue some or all of the League cities without direct conquest.
The Hunter ordered the Great Ride to begin in the winter of AD 1709. He assembled several thousand Yalatji and Butjupa riders to take part in the non-raid, although again sources conflict about the exact numbers. His instructions to his followers were simple: demand food and water as you wish, but fight only if attacked.
The Great Ride entered nominal League territory when it crossed the pass which the Yalatji called Coral Gap [8]. From there, they proceeded roughly east to the League city-state of Butjira [Nerang]. The shock of their appearance caused the Kiyungu to flee inside their city walls, as they usually did when faced with raids. This left the Horse-men free to ride once around Butjira's walls, then ride north to the next League city, Gunowa [Upper Coomera]. They performed a similar manoeuvre at Gunowa, and proceeded north through most of the League cities as far as Munyiratta [Nambour]. After Munyiratta, the Hunter led the Great Ride to return home through an inland route, rather than risk ambush by angered Kiyungu.
For such a large-scale military manoeuvre, the Great Ride produced relatively little bloodshed. In most cases the Kiyungu followed their usual practice of withdrawing within city walls, and the Hunter's orders were to leave them there rather than settling into siege. A few clashes occurred where Kiyungu refused to hand over provisions or allow watering rights; a few more occurred where overeager Horse-men treated disobedience as attack and struck down those responsible. Yet on the whole casualties were light.
Of course, just as the Great Ride did not cost the lives of many Kiyungu, it also did not produce much communication. On the few occasions when heralds from one Kiyungu king or another reached the Hunter, his message was simple: submit to my rule and adopt the true path. Unsurprisingly, the Kiyungu monarchs rejected such demands.
Unfortunately, the Great Ride was not the end of the Hunter's ambitions.
--
These two letters are translated from surviving copies preserved in the literary collection of Henry Theophilus Clinton, 12th Earl of Lincoln. They were discovered there after his death in 1874. No surviving records describe how Lord Lincoln obtained them. However, his grandfather Alexander Clinton, 10th Earl of Lincoln, was a noted orientalist (as the term was then used) and participant in the Magna Meliora, a late eighteenth and early nineteenth century European intellectual movement which studied comparative religion and philosophy, and in the process translated many Hindu, Buddhist and Plirite texts into European languages. These letters may have been obtained as part of that study. Considerable scholarly analysis has been conducted on the letter attributed to the Hunter, since if it is genuine it represents one of only three surviving documents composed directly by him. There has been no definitive consensus, although the majority of scholars have concluded that it is authentic.
1st Letter
To Tjuwagga Tjarrlinghi, Lord of the Horse-Men
I, Kallangur, king of Kabeebilla, champion of the League, write to you in the name of all of my allies: the kings of the League cities of Mundarrona, Munyiratta, Kutjigerra, Kabigara, Mullumba, Nyandra, Mungaree, Gunowa, Woginee and Butjira; the kings of the Coral cities of Quamba, Gularee, Yilangu, Tjeeladi, Nguwanna, Tukka Nyukka, Beyral, Mambu Gama, Ooneerraba, Kunnamara, Menitjing and Mandankaiyal [9]; and the Six Lords [Nuttana] of Dangelong [Cairns], Nerridella [Townsville] and Wujal [Cooktown].
All the League has seen the ride which your followers made around our cities. We commend you for your boldness, for only a man of decisiveness would venture to send his followers so far so fast. While you and I differ in much of our understanding, we still both know the Seven-fold Path and how it guides every man's life.
Yet for all of your courage, we counsel you not to bring war upon the lands of the League. Your riders are determined, but they are few. Our people are far more numerous, and our soldiers are well-armed. Our friends of the Nuttana have supplied us with muskets and cannon from their own forges and from their traders across the far seas in Yurrup and Nhippon.
We hope for peace, but are prepared to make you pay the price if you declare war.
Kallangur, king of Kabeebilla.
2nd Letter
To Kallangur, king of Kabeebilla
You name your allies in this city and that city as if such a long list will bring me fear. But I thank you for this, for now you have chosen my targets for me.
My land is vast, far larger than you who are cramped between the mountains and the sea. The rolling hills of the Neeburra are home to the finest horses and the finest men. If we do not name this city or this town as our homes, it is because our land yields what we need, where we need, and does not bind us to the one place. So I need sign only one name for my people's land, and you can know that the one name Neeburra is worth more than your two dozen and two names.
No man worthy to lead the Warego could bow to any demands, let alone your insignificant mewling. I shall do as seems best to me, for the betterment of the North-men and South-men and the greater harmony of the world.
Tjuwagga of the Neeburra
--
The Great Ride made a strong impression in Kiyungu lands, and not just the impression of millions of hoofprints. The display of Tjarrlinghi might certainly made many of the Kiyungu people, and several monarchs, uneasy. Yet it was unsuccessful in forcing immediate submission.
As such, the Hunter proclaimed what he called the Yaluma. This was a Yalatji word which could variously be translated as search or struggle, with connotations of being a religious endeavour. English speakers, though, would apply a word with which they were more familiar: crusade.
The Hunter assembled an army larger than that which had taken part in the Great Ride, and sent the first elements east from his current semi-permanent capital at Cankoona [Toowoomba], down the nearest river valley [Lockyer Valley] into League territory. Skirting the north side of the Riversea [Brisbane River], they arrived to besiege the first chosen target: Nyandra [Indooroopilly].
The Tjarrlinghi did not have much experience of siege or knowledge of siege equipment. But they were experienced fighting both on horseback or using horses to arrive at the battlefield (dragoons, in effect). So they established siege forces around Nyandra.
The League amounted to nothing if it failed in its pact for mutual defence. So, naturally, the king of Nyandra called for aid, and most of the other League cities responded. Woginee pleaded the need for defence against troubles from further south, while the most northerly city of Kabigara experienced a great many inconvenient delays in assembling its forces. The remaining cities established combined forces which marched to relieve Nyandra, coming from both north and south to attack the besiegers.
Unfortunately, that was their greatest mistake.
--
[1] The Coral Coast includes approximately the regions which would historically be called the Gold Coast, Moreton Bay and Sunshine Coast. Its major cities stretch from Woginee [Tweed Heads] in the south to Kabigara [Noosa Heads] in the north.
[2] For more details about the Kiyungu, see post #45.
[3] The major city-states were: Kabigara [Noosa Heads], Kutjigerra [Maroochydore], Munyiratta [Nambour], Mundaroona [Caloundra], Kabeebilla [Caboolture], Mullumba [Petrie], Nyandra [Indooroopilly], Mungaree [Meadowbrook / Daisy Hill], Gunowa [Upper Coomera], Butjira [Nerang], and Woginee [Tweed Heads].
[4] Any similarities to the most famous poem of Andrew Barton Paterson are purely intentional.
[5] The Yalatji word which is translated here as family refers to extended family, since the Horse-men were divided into social groups of extended family (or those adopted into their family). Depending on the size of the group, this could be a genuine extended family, or people who followed a particular warleader out of personal loyalty. The latter could also be referred to as clan, but the Yalatji language at the time did not distinguish between the two.
[6] And also, incidentally, mean that now Horse-men warleaders could not rely on family/ clan loyalty for their warbands, which made it much harder for any of them to rebel against the Hunter.
[7] And which had the convenient benefit of limiting other commanders' ability to build up personal loyalty from their soldiers, against the Hunter.
[8] Known historically as Cunningham's Gap. It is one of the major passes across the continental divide between the well-watered coastal fringe occupied by the Kiyungu, and the drier highlands of the Neeburra (Darling Downs).
[9] The Coral cities are the cities of the northern Kiyungu. There is no geographic or status order to Kallangur's list of these cities; apparently he simply added them in the order he received confirmation of their support. In geographical order (south-north, the northern Kiyungu cities are: Tukka Nyukka [Maryborough], Ooneerraba [Dundowran / Hervey Bay], Beyral [Buxton], Kunnamara [Elliott Heads], Gularee [Bundaberg], Mambu Gama [Tannum Sands], Yilangu [Gladstone], Nguwanna [Rockhampton], Mandankaiyal [Yeppon], Quamba [Mackay], Tjeeladi [Cannonvale], and Menitjing [Bowen].
--
Thoughts?
"A foe should be given only one opportunity to surrender."
- Attributed to the Hunter
--
The people who called themselves the Kiyungu inhabited the north-easternmost corner of farmable Aururia; the region which another history would call south-eastern Queensland. They called their ancient homeland the Coral Coast [1], and were content largely to fish and farm, dive for coral, and lie in the sun. The peoples of the Coral Coast were divided into city-states that squabbled among themselves, but the twin barriers of distance and mountainous geography meant that they were largely insulated from the wars and other affairs of the far south. As one historian famously remarked, "history mostly passed them by [2]."
Isolation was never complete; the Kiyungu were troubled occasionally by headhunting raids from Daluming to the south, or religiously-motivated raids from the Yalatji and Butjupa to the west. Occasional contact with the Māori was enough for the Kiyungu to learn how to make better ships; not enough to undertake oceanic voyages, but sufficient to sail long distances up and down the coast for coral-diving, exploration or, in time, settlement.
The Kiyungu's ancient homeland was limited in the north by barriers of agriculture; the existing native Aururian crops could not grow reliably past the Tropic of Capricorn. A combination of Māori contact and new indigenous crops changed this. New crops of sweet potato, lesser yams and tropical wattles allowed the Kiyungu to begin a northward expansion after AD 1450. They moved north into desirable ports, establishing new city-states there and gradually pushing the indigenous hunter-gatherers away from the colonised regions. Since the expansion was by sea, there were still coastal hunter-gatherers left in some regions which the Kiyungu deemed unworthy of settlement. This expansion continued even after European contact; at that time, the northernmost major city-state was at Quamba [Mackay].
Politically, the Kiyungu had never been united. For most of their history they were never organised beyond the city-state level. In the late sixteenth century, due to the growing threats of Yalatji missionaries-by-force and Daluming raiders, the southern Kiyungu city-states banded together in a loose alliance which they called the League. This had no central government, but was a council of rulers who acted to ostracise or threaten any city-states which acted too independently. However, the northern Kiyungu city-states remained without any form of supra-metropolitan allegiance.
After European contact, the plagues reduced the rate of northern expansion, but did not stop it entirely. Some displaced southern Kiyungu still found the north more attractive. A greater disincentive to Kiyungu expansion came from the Nuttana, whose pact with the Kiyungu drew away much of the surplus population. (And, in fact, some of the not-so-surplus population). Even this pact did not cease Kiyungu expansion entirely; a new Kiyungu city-state at Menitjing [Bowen, QLD] was founded in 1655.
Only the Time of the Great Dying truly stopped Kiyungu migration. During that time of great plagues and warfare, the surviving Kiyungu were too busy trying to hold on to what they already had to undertake further northern expansion. The only Aururians who could expand much during this time were the Nuttana; with their population boosted by migration and slave labour, they continued to grow even during the worst of the Great Dying. The Nuttana expanded south even when the Kiyungu had stopped moving north, but their southernmost outpost at Nerridella [Townsville] was still comfortably north of any independent Kiyungu territory.
During and since the Time of the Great Dying, the Kiyungu preserved their formal independence. They did not make any further territorial expansion; the Nuttana continued to absorb any immigrants, and indeed continued to develop their more southerly outposts in large part due to continuing Kiyungu migration. In the Coral Coast, the League remained effectively in the Nuttana sphere of influence. Europeans were able to buy some spices and other products, but all attempts to obtain more formal influence – both diplomatic and military – had failed.
Even into the early years of the eighteenth century, the Kiyungu remained part of the Nuttana informal colonial empire. Their population had been much reduced, but the League continued to maintain relative peace amongst the city-states of the Coral Coast.
The Kiyungu of the League did not give much heed to the rise of the man they first knew as Mowarin, and later as the Hunter. Previous warleaders had successfully united some groups amongst the Yalatji and Butjupa. Some had even gathered enough numbers to raid into Kiyungu territory from time to time. Ultimately, all of these warleaders had been defeated by internal divisions, a fact which the Kiyungu had noted.
Right up until the time of the Battle of Bundaroo, the Hunter's forces were outnumbered by rival Tjarrlinghi groups. The emergence of an alliance against him was what the Kiyungu had expected. The Hunter's smashing victory at Bundaroo caused some concern, but even then most Kiyungu assumed that his alliance would fall apart, as others had done before.
Unfortunately, as the Kiyungu would soon discover, this would be one time when history did not pass them by.
--
After the turmoil of the Great Dying and the worst of the plague era, the League continued to rule the southern Kiyungu. The League consisted of eleven major city-states, not counting a variety of satellite towns and their surrounding rural inhabitants [3]. The position of most populous and influential city-state changed regularly, due to the usual low-level squabbles and vagaries of plagues. As the first decade of the eighteenth century neared its end, Kabeebilla [Caboolture, QLD] was the most influential city-state, although no single city-state could be considered predominant.
Reliable population figures for seventeenth and early eighteenth century Aururia do not exist, outside of the few large states: Durigal, Tiayal, Tjibarr, Gutjanal and Yigutji. Even the Nuttana, so organised in other ways, did not bother to conduct formal censuses.
So historians and anthropologists have only educated guesses for the population of the post-Great Dying southern Kiyungu. Most population estimates range between two hundred thousand and three hundred thousand people, with lower figures being preferred within that range. Certainly, however many inhabitants the League had, it still outnumbered the combined Yalatji and Butjupa forces by a significant margin, probably at least double their population.
Unfortunately, the Tjarrlinghi cavalry would prove to be a devastating force multiplier.
--
From The Man From The Neeburra, a celebrated epic by the Kiyungu poet Yukoo Laylee, describing the Great Ride that the Hunter led through the lands of the Kiyungu League
There was movement in the Nation, for the word had passed around
That the Hunter had declared to ride their way,
And would bring the wild Horse-Men—their fury had no bound,
When all the bolds would gather to the fray.
All the feared and fabled riders from the daunting Neeburra
Had mustered to ride for his grand delight;
For the Horse-Men love hard riding whether to land near or far,
And the warhorse snuffs the battle with delight. [4]
--
27 August 1709
Kabeebilla [Caboolture, QLD]
Gorang had attended the royal court for most of his adult life. As one of the most senior scribes, he had been privy to many secrets, to many things which should have surprised him. He had thought that he was a man not easily shocked. Yet never until now had he found it so hard to maintain his composure in front of his Younger Brother, Prince Muggawurun.
Kabeebilla had been considered the paramount city in the League for most of his life. Yet nothing which Kabeebilla could deploy, not even if every man was levied and given a spear, could match the display of might now being provided before him.
Gorang had seen horses before. The Nuttana and Inglidj had traded a few to Kabeebilla over the years. He had heard, too, of raids against other League cities by Tjarrlinghi unbelievers, carried on horseback.
But never, in all of his days, had he imagined that there were so many horses in the world.
Gorang stood on the walls of Kabeebilla, the prince by his side. The walls were crowded with townsfolk and those who had fled ahead of the rumours of oncoming Tjarrlinghi raiders. Now they came, but they were not raiders. Or not precisely raiders.
A great column of Tjarrlinghi rode around the city walls. Rode. On horseback, at a steady pace. Four abreast they marched, in a great loop around Kabeebilla, keeping carefully out of range of bowshot or musket fire. The head of the column had already passed halfway around the city, and the last horsemen had yet to reach the city. Thousands, to be sure, although Gorang knew no way to estimate their true numbers.
They had done this at Mullumba [Petrie] and other cities further south, if the rumours had told true. Never bringing battle unless they were attacked, but riding deep into the lands of the League. Much further than raiders usually came.
"What brings these Horse-Men this far? And what shall we do about it?" Prince Muggawurun asked.
Unfortunately, Gorang had no idea how to answer either question.
--
From Bareena Uranj, a Tjarrling religious tract which is usually though inaccurately known in English as the Orange Bible:
Chapter 9:
1. And it came to pass that the Men of the North [Yalatji] and Men of the South [Butjupa] were united under Tjuwagga and followed the blood-stained banner.
2. His companions asked him if the coming together of North and South meant that this would now be a time of peace, a time when there was no need for Warego [heroes/visionaries].
3. Tjuwagga said, "A land cannot be brought to harmony alone, for no land is truly in isolation. No ruler, even be he most astute and insightful, can prevent discord from spreading beyond his borders."
4. Tjuwagga said, "This, then, is the need for Warego: the Neeburra has been set on the path to harmony, but those lands outside know not the true path. They must be shown this, in a form they cannot mistake."
5. North and South had been divided of old into families [5], whereby each man fought for the leader of his blood and kin.
6. Tjuwagga said, "The Warego are men of vision, and they will lead those who show the heathens the true path."
7. It pleased Tjuwagga to arrange the men of North and South into new armies commanded by the most renowned of the Warego.
8. Tjuwagga said, "Let men of many families follow one Warego, that they may learn from his vision." [6]
9. It pleased Tjuwagga to move the Warego regularly to new armies, so that the men of North and South could learn of many visions and thus gain greater understanding [7].
10. Tjuwagga told his Warego, "Choose your leaders from those who show skill or vision, not men of family."
11. And this was done.
12. Tjuwagga said, "All that can be done to reduce discord to the lands within has been done. Now the time has come to bring harmony to the lands without."
13. Tjuwagga told his Warego, "Now we ride."
--
Had the Hunter been to the lands of the League in his youth? How much did he know about the lands which he intended to conquer?
That is a matter for much disputation amongst surviving sources. The Bareena Uranj (Orange Bible) reports that the Hunter had raided into the Coral Coast in his youth. The True History of the Yalatji claims that the youthful Hunter was part of a peaceful religious mission where he argued with Plirite priests about the best ways to bring harmony to the chaotic world of the Time of the Great Dying. Gorang's Chronicle of Tjuwagga the Unbeliever explicitly denies that the Hunter had ever been to the lands of the League before leading the Great Ride. The Lord of the Ride does not mention any raids into Kiyungu territory, despite giving detailed descriptions of many other raids which the Hunter undertook during his youth.
Regardless of what he may have done personally, though, the Hunter certainly had access to other Yalatji and Butjupa raiders who were familiar with the general geography and divisions of the lands of the League. He put them into good account when planning the first great accomplishment which brought him to the attention of the wider world: the Great Ride.
In so far as it can be gleaned from the surviving sources, the Hunter's intention for the Great Ride was to intimidate the League into submission, or at least to create enough fear to make it easier to obtain submission later. Certainly it was consistent with his previous actions to first attempt a manoeuvre which would conserve the lives of his own men; always a consideration for a person who intended to launch a broader campaign of conquest. He may also have believed that it would create less discord if he could subdue some or all of the League cities without direct conquest.
The Hunter ordered the Great Ride to begin in the winter of AD 1709. He assembled several thousand Yalatji and Butjupa riders to take part in the non-raid, although again sources conflict about the exact numbers. His instructions to his followers were simple: demand food and water as you wish, but fight only if attacked.
The Great Ride entered nominal League territory when it crossed the pass which the Yalatji called Coral Gap [8]. From there, they proceeded roughly east to the League city-state of Butjira [Nerang]. The shock of their appearance caused the Kiyungu to flee inside their city walls, as they usually did when faced with raids. This left the Horse-men free to ride once around Butjira's walls, then ride north to the next League city, Gunowa [Upper Coomera]. They performed a similar manoeuvre at Gunowa, and proceeded north through most of the League cities as far as Munyiratta [Nambour]. After Munyiratta, the Hunter led the Great Ride to return home through an inland route, rather than risk ambush by angered Kiyungu.
For such a large-scale military manoeuvre, the Great Ride produced relatively little bloodshed. In most cases the Kiyungu followed their usual practice of withdrawing within city walls, and the Hunter's orders were to leave them there rather than settling into siege. A few clashes occurred where Kiyungu refused to hand over provisions or allow watering rights; a few more occurred where overeager Horse-men treated disobedience as attack and struck down those responsible. Yet on the whole casualties were light.
Of course, just as the Great Ride did not cost the lives of many Kiyungu, it also did not produce much communication. On the few occasions when heralds from one Kiyungu king or another reached the Hunter, his message was simple: submit to my rule and adopt the true path. Unsurprisingly, the Kiyungu monarchs rejected such demands.
Unfortunately, the Great Ride was not the end of the Hunter's ambitions.
--
These two letters are translated from surviving copies preserved in the literary collection of Henry Theophilus Clinton, 12th Earl of Lincoln. They were discovered there after his death in 1874. No surviving records describe how Lord Lincoln obtained them. However, his grandfather Alexander Clinton, 10th Earl of Lincoln, was a noted orientalist (as the term was then used) and participant in the Magna Meliora, a late eighteenth and early nineteenth century European intellectual movement which studied comparative religion and philosophy, and in the process translated many Hindu, Buddhist and Plirite texts into European languages. These letters may have been obtained as part of that study. Considerable scholarly analysis has been conducted on the letter attributed to the Hunter, since if it is genuine it represents one of only three surviving documents composed directly by him. There has been no definitive consensus, although the majority of scholars have concluded that it is authentic.
1st Letter
To Tjuwagga Tjarrlinghi, Lord of the Horse-Men
I, Kallangur, king of Kabeebilla, champion of the League, write to you in the name of all of my allies: the kings of the League cities of Mundarrona, Munyiratta, Kutjigerra, Kabigara, Mullumba, Nyandra, Mungaree, Gunowa, Woginee and Butjira; the kings of the Coral cities of Quamba, Gularee, Yilangu, Tjeeladi, Nguwanna, Tukka Nyukka, Beyral, Mambu Gama, Ooneerraba, Kunnamara, Menitjing and Mandankaiyal [9]; and the Six Lords [Nuttana] of Dangelong [Cairns], Nerridella [Townsville] and Wujal [Cooktown].
All the League has seen the ride which your followers made around our cities. We commend you for your boldness, for only a man of decisiveness would venture to send his followers so far so fast. While you and I differ in much of our understanding, we still both know the Seven-fold Path and how it guides every man's life.
Yet for all of your courage, we counsel you not to bring war upon the lands of the League. Your riders are determined, but they are few. Our people are far more numerous, and our soldiers are well-armed. Our friends of the Nuttana have supplied us with muskets and cannon from their own forges and from their traders across the far seas in Yurrup and Nhippon.
We hope for peace, but are prepared to make you pay the price if you declare war.
Kallangur, king of Kabeebilla.
2nd Letter
To Kallangur, king of Kabeebilla
You name your allies in this city and that city as if such a long list will bring me fear. But I thank you for this, for now you have chosen my targets for me.
My land is vast, far larger than you who are cramped between the mountains and the sea. The rolling hills of the Neeburra are home to the finest horses and the finest men. If we do not name this city or this town as our homes, it is because our land yields what we need, where we need, and does not bind us to the one place. So I need sign only one name for my people's land, and you can know that the one name Neeburra is worth more than your two dozen and two names.
No man worthy to lead the Warego could bow to any demands, let alone your insignificant mewling. I shall do as seems best to me, for the betterment of the North-men and South-men and the greater harmony of the world.
Tjuwagga of the Neeburra
--
The Great Ride made a strong impression in Kiyungu lands, and not just the impression of millions of hoofprints. The display of Tjarrlinghi might certainly made many of the Kiyungu people, and several monarchs, uneasy. Yet it was unsuccessful in forcing immediate submission.
As such, the Hunter proclaimed what he called the Yaluma. This was a Yalatji word which could variously be translated as search or struggle, with connotations of being a religious endeavour. English speakers, though, would apply a word with which they were more familiar: crusade.
The Hunter assembled an army larger than that which had taken part in the Great Ride, and sent the first elements east from his current semi-permanent capital at Cankoona [Toowoomba], down the nearest river valley [Lockyer Valley] into League territory. Skirting the north side of the Riversea [Brisbane River], they arrived to besiege the first chosen target: Nyandra [Indooroopilly].
The Tjarrlinghi did not have much experience of siege or knowledge of siege equipment. But they were experienced fighting both on horseback or using horses to arrive at the battlefield (dragoons, in effect). So they established siege forces around Nyandra.
The League amounted to nothing if it failed in its pact for mutual defence. So, naturally, the king of Nyandra called for aid, and most of the other League cities responded. Woginee pleaded the need for defence against troubles from further south, while the most northerly city of Kabigara experienced a great many inconvenient delays in assembling its forces. The remaining cities established combined forces which marched to relieve Nyandra, coming from both north and south to attack the besiegers.
Unfortunately, that was their greatest mistake.
--
[1] The Coral Coast includes approximately the regions which would historically be called the Gold Coast, Moreton Bay and Sunshine Coast. Its major cities stretch from Woginee [Tweed Heads] in the south to Kabigara [Noosa Heads] in the north.
[2] For more details about the Kiyungu, see post #45.
[3] The major city-states were: Kabigara [Noosa Heads], Kutjigerra [Maroochydore], Munyiratta [Nambour], Mundaroona [Caloundra], Kabeebilla [Caboolture], Mullumba [Petrie], Nyandra [Indooroopilly], Mungaree [Meadowbrook / Daisy Hill], Gunowa [Upper Coomera], Butjira [Nerang], and Woginee [Tweed Heads].
[4] Any similarities to the most famous poem of Andrew Barton Paterson are purely intentional.
[5] The Yalatji word which is translated here as family refers to extended family, since the Horse-men were divided into social groups of extended family (or those adopted into their family). Depending on the size of the group, this could be a genuine extended family, or people who followed a particular warleader out of personal loyalty. The latter could also be referred to as clan, but the Yalatji language at the time did not distinguish between the two.
[6] And also, incidentally, mean that now Horse-men warleaders could not rely on family/ clan loyalty for their warbands, which made it much harder for any of them to rebel against the Hunter.
[7] And which had the convenient benefit of limiting other commanders' ability to build up personal loyalty from their soldiers, against the Hunter.
[8] Known historically as Cunningham's Gap. It is one of the major passes across the continental divide between the well-watered coastal fringe occupied by the Kiyungu, and the drier highlands of the Neeburra (Darling Downs).
[9] The Coral cities are the cities of the northern Kiyungu. There is no geographic or status order to Kallangur's list of these cities; apparently he simply added them in the order he received confirmation of their support. In geographical order (south-north, the northern Kiyungu cities are: Tukka Nyukka [Maryborough], Ooneerraba [Dundowran / Hervey Bay], Beyral [Buxton], Kunnamara [Elliott Heads], Gularee [Bundaberg], Mambu Gama [Tannum Sands], Yilangu [Gladstone], Nguwanna [Rockhampton], Mandankaiyal [Yeppon], Quamba [Mackay], Tjeeladi [Cannonvale], and Menitjing [Bowen].
--
Thoughts?
Baron Steakpuncher
Hopeful Idealist
- Location
- Australia
They appear to be the Song dynasty to the Hunters Ghengis Khan
That was amazing!
Seriously you did a great job with the world building, really crafting a believable, isolated but wholly developed 'world' so to speak that was connected enough not to get totally left behind but isolated enough to not be a major player till someone dragged them into the game.
What's more you did a great bit of narrative pressure point work with always capping it off with a reminder of he Hunters approach and future success.
It is neat you keep some mystery around his background and the letter exchange was wow, honestly I do feel bad for them, but whatever the case dang this built up amazingly, the image of the riders marching around the city is utterly spellbinding and so powerful, kudos!
Seriously you did a great job with the world building, really crafting a believable, isolated but wholly developed 'world' so to speak that was connected enough not to get totally left behind but isolated enough to not be a major player till someone dragged them into the game.
What's more you did a great bit of narrative pressure point work with always capping it off with a reminder of he Hunters approach and future success.
It is neat you keep some mystery around his background and the letter exchange was wow, honestly I do feel bad for them, but whatever the case dang this built up amazingly, the image of the riders marching around the city is utterly spellbinding and so powerful, kudos!
Sorry this just reminded me of how much damage cloven hooves did to Australia.
"Ah you have saved me the trouble of finding and crushing you elsewhere, thank you," Said by the Hunter, probably.
Can't be conquerors without someone to conquer.
Glad you liked it. This is part of what makes the Hunter a circuit-breaker - connected enough to be part, but isolated enough to be outside the usual order.
That does sound like the sort of thing he'd say.
Lands of Red and Gold #105: How To Tame Your Dragon
Lands of Red and Gold #105: How To Tame Your Dragon
Thanks go to Thesaurus Rex and DValdron for the inspiration and many of the ideas for this post.
--
"The avaricious man seeks gold. The astute man knows that information can be worth more than gold."
- Maliba son of Lopitja, Green faction leader in Tjibarr
--
11 March 1710
Nookoonoo [Port Broughton], Kingdom of Tjibarr
"A poor port, indeed," Captain Max Belcher muttered, mostly to himself.
The town which the natives called Nookoonoo was built where the harbour narrowed to an inlet, and they had built a jetty out to the narrow deep channel. The harbour widened considerably downstream, but that expanse was shallow, consisting of mudflats and mangroves. Only one narrow channel was navigable, and it turned several times before it reached the waters of the main gulf [Spencer Gulf].
With such a hazardous path, Belcher had not dared to bring the Doddington into port under sail. He had called for a native pilot, and even then put sailors in a boat in front to tow the ship into the dock.
"Why choose here, of all the Tjibarri ports?" he asked, again to himself. One drawback of this voyage is that he had not had any passengers of suitable status travelling with him, depriving him of decent conversation. So now he had fallen into what was probably a dangerous habit.
But whether bad habit or not, the question remained. Jugara [Victor Harbor] was by far the best Tjibarri port, and Taparee [Port Pirie] a reasonable alternative if war threatened Jugara, as happened often. Nookoonoo was a minor port, one he had never even visited before, despite four voyages to Jugara and one to Taparee [1]. Why had that accursed Gunnagal merchant-king insisted on this trade happening here?
Belcher left his officers to supervise unloading the cargo, and ambled down the jetty toward the town, such as it was. His officers knew what they were doing. His task was to find the more unorthodox part of the trading; the reason why he had agreed to bring the shipment of saltpetre and cotton cloth to this backward port rather than Jugara.
Fortunately, finding the native representative was easy in such a small town. A medium-sized man with an over-sized square-cut beard that well-to-do Tjibarri wore nowadays, with ear-rings, nose-rings and finger-rings of gold. Not all Tjibarri were ostentatious, but those who were tended to make kings look poor.
Two bodyguards accompanied the representative. Both carried large, obvious steel swords with the bent shape typical of Aururian blades. Presumably the weapons were symbolic, since any serious Tjibarri warrior carried a carbine or musket.
Belcher and the native aristocrat went through a round of polite introductions and enquiries after each other's well-being. The representative named himself "Mariba Tjapung; Mariba of the Greens." From one of the strange religious parties that vied for rule of Tjibarr. The bodyguards were left unnamed.
Belcher said, "The cargo is intact. Saltpetre and cloth are being unloaded as we speak. Have your men brought the goods?"
Mariba nodded, proof that he understood proper English customs. "Indigo dye and kunduri, as negotiated with your English company. Your new company, I mean."
The Oriental Company, the native meant. The new company formed since King James [2] had broken the East India Company's monopoly through a bid to sell shares in the rival company. Good for the king's finances, no doubt, but particularly good for Belcher. His expertise in oriental voyages made it easy for him to earn more while serving the new company. While also gaining the opportunity to make a private trade as part of the main voyage.
"The goods are as agreed. The price remains to be set."
Mariba waved a hand. "My merchants will negotiate that with your ship's officers. With you, I wish to discuss the other cargo."
Belcher nodded. "Twenty mulberry seedlings, of the variety that silkworms favour. And a great quantity of seed." Seed was easy enough to transport from India; keeping the seedlings viable had been rather more difficult.
"The young trees are in good health, and of the right type?" Mariba said.
"Of course."
"This must be seen in Wokunga [Snowtown, SA], by two men who know the original trees well," the native aristocrat said.
"In where?"
"A town two days ride inland, on the coach. You will bring the seedlings with you there, for inspection by my knowledgeable men," Mariba said.
"That was no part of the agreement," Belcher said curtly.
"The agreement was for viable trees. Unless I can know that your young trees are healthy, then we have no agreement."
"This is-" Belcher stopped, remembering the native saying. Never trust a Gunnagal. Sometimes said about the Gunnagal, and sometimes by the Gunnagal. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you have no agreement, we will not sell you any indigo or kunduri, and you can explain to your masters in the Oriental Company why you brought a ship to Nookoonoo for no profit." Mariba's tone was pleasant, but his eyes never wavered from staring at the captain.
"This should have been negotiated beforehand," Belcher said.
Mariba shrugged, then produced a large leather pouch and tossed it over. "For your trouble, then."
The captain could feel the kunduri-cigars inside even before he opened them. He sniffed them, and smelt the faint aroma of citrus.
"Lime-cured, of course," Mariba said. "The flavour will not last the voyage back to Europe. Best you smoke them soon… or give them to those of your associates who will too."
He meant bribe the ship's officers, which Belcher had already arranged to do. Silence needed to be maintained. Sailing the ship further cost time and risked damage, so only the private consideration for bringing these seedlings had made it worth the effort. Astute of him to realise it. But then, Gunnagal are rarely stupid.
"Why not simply bring your experts here?"
"They have other pressing tasks which I will not spare them from, even for four days," Mariba said. "But come, you have been offered well, and I doubt you would have your ship unloaded and reloaded in four days… even if you did not want to grant your crew any leave on shore."
Belcher considered all of this, particularly the cigars. It was worth the trouble. "I will do it."
After making arrangements with his crew to manage the unloading and reloading, and packing the seedlings with the utmost care, Belcher found himself on a horse-drawn coach. Six horses pulled it, and they stopped around noon to change for fresh horses.
Mariba proved a pleasant enough travelling companion, talking about things many and varied, and asking many polite questions about India and England. The Green aristocrat – or priest or merchant-king or whatever his role was as a faction leader – skilfully deflected any questions about why he was willing to pay a sizable bribe for such common trees. Although Belcher could guess the reason, at least in general terms. These Gunnagal wanted to breed silkworms, and needed the trees to do it.
Let them try. Many have failed, throwing wealth after silk. Even if they succeeded, it would mean nothing to Belcher.
As evening drew near, Mariba ordered the coach to halt at a small town [Merriton]. Its role as a coach-station was obvious: a sprawling two-storey building which functioned as an inn, larger stables behind, and ample exercise fields for the horses.
One feature puzzled Belcher. A strange, vaguely pyramid-shaped pile of rock, with a great many wooden ledges set at irregular places around the pyramid. The top few ledges were partitioned off, while the lower ledges were open. Most of the ledges – and all of the top ones – held lizards, positioning themselves to catch the last of the afternoon sun.
He walked closer, intrigued. The lizards were good-sized; the largest looked over two feet long. Most of them were red, but a few were white. Each of the lizards had a strange beard-like structure handing beneath their mouths.
"What are those… little dragons?" Belcher asked.
"Travellers' food," Mariba said. "Many coach stations keep them, here along the drier reaches. They are useful for supplying travellers, since they eat very little themselves and in hard times can keep for months with almost no food or water."
"Do they taste good?" The prospect of eating a lizard did not appeal over much. The reptiles looked quite pleasant to the eye, but not to the palate.
"Edible," Mariba said, and shrugged. "I prefer beef or noroon [emu], myself."
"They look more congenial than I would have thought for a lizard."
"They make good pets, I am told," Mariba said. "If you wish, I could obtain one as a gift for you."
"Thank you for the offer, but I would have little use for a pet lizard aboard ship." Belcher had already been reminded today of the manoeuvring of Gunnagal. Who could say what strings would come with this gift? If Belcher had accepted a pet little dragon from Mariba, he would have to name it Ruthless.
"As you wish. Let us go inside to warmth and food and ganyu [yam wine]."
Inside the inn, once Mariba gave his name, they were ushered into a private dining room rather than the louder main room. After a discussion in Gunnagal – spoken too fast for Belcher's limited understanding of the language – the servant handed over two goblets and a small sheet of paper.
Mariba passed one of the goblets to Belcher, while reading the paper. The Green leader made no effort to hide the message, but then Belcher knew nothing of the strange Gunnagal script. Whatever the news was, Mariba received it poorly; he looked rather distressed by the time he had finished.
"Poor news?" Belcher asked.
"Word from the northeast. The far northeast, beyond even the end of the spice roads, at the other end of the world."
"What word did the message bring?"
"News that will change the world," Mariba said, but he refused to be drawn further.
--
To understand the tale of the little dragons and how they were tamed for human needs, one must step back in time nearly three thousand years. This is a time known to archaeologists as the Interregnum, a period of approximately three centuries when the society they called the Formative Gunnagal collapsed. The Formative Gunnagal was a flourishing civilization along the Nyalananga [River Murray] whose agricultural prehistory went back more than fifteen hundred years prior.
The Interregnum marked an abrupt end to the prosperity of the Formative Gunnagal: war, drought and ecological collapse saw populations crash and economies ruined. The earliest city to fall was one which later inhabitants called Goolrin [Murray Bridge]; its original name does not survive.
Goolrin sat on the lower reaches of the Nyalananga, and was one of the six ancient Wisdom Cities of the Formative Gunnagal. While in an area of low rainfall by Aururian agricultural standards (350 mm), it was located close to rich sources of copper ore, including some with impurities which allowed the creation of arsenical bronze. The destruction of Goolrin was one of the major triggers of the Interregnum.
Many of the survivors of Goolrin's fall moved away in part of what became the Great Migrations, but some stayed in the area. Urban living proved to be difficult as the climate grew ever more arid, but farmers still survived by using drought-tolerant crops.
As the droughts of the Interregnum persisted, the ecology changed. Much of the existing flora and fauna retreated south-east, toward the cooler, wetter climes, while more arid-adapted species became established around former Goolrin and its environs.
One of the desert-dwelling species which moved into vacated Goolrin was a medium-sized lizard with a peculiar "beard" under its chin. This was the lizard which another history would call the inland bearded dragon (Pogona vitticeps). To the local inhabitants, the beard was similar to the traditional depictions of the Rainbow Serpent, so they named the lizards little serpents. When rendering this name into European languages, it would usually be translated as little dragons.
The little dragons were among the species to benefit most from the climate change and the effects of human agriculture. Farming cleared much of the land and eliminated many species, but created opportunities for those animals – such as little dragons – that had a flexible diet and low food requirements (as cold-blooded reptiles). The little dragons bred quickly in these conditions, and became a familiar sight around Goolrin farms.
With such frequent contact, many of the little dragons habituated to human presence. Sometimes humans kept them as pets [3], and in other cases occasionally fed them, or just tolerated them. Naturally, while people sometimes fed the little dragons, they also let the dragons feed the people [4].
Some people decided to use the dragons more consistently for food. The early form of this was a haphazard process, with few people deliberately farming the little dragons. Instead, early management of little dragons consisted mostly of throwing occasional vegetable matter, insects or miscellaneous food scraps to dragons kept in enclosures, or even those which just lived around settlements.
With little dragons being kept around, often in enclosures, occasional breeding was inevitable. Usually this was incidental, with males and females being kept together and sometimes provided with enough soil to bury their eggs. A few farmers became more systematic about it, pairing males with females and allowing them enough suitable places for the females to bury their eggs.
With these practices, little dragons were effectively tamed, but not domesticated. Two further innovations were required for effective domestication: understanding the social nature of little dragons, and learning to control egg incubation.
The key social fact about little dragons was that the males are territorial. Keeping adult males close together was unviable; they would fight if kept confined in too small an enclosure. Females, too, established a social hierarchy if kept in close quarters, although they were much less aggressive than the males.
Several little dragon farmers independently recognised solutions to this problem. One solution was to keep adult males in separate enclosures. A second was simply to keep very few adult males, by eating or releasing the smaller ones. A third, related solution was to create enclosures with sufficient space and sunning spots at different levels and locations, to allow the little dragons to establish a social hierarchy amongst themselves. Together, these solutions allowed considerable numbers of little dragons to be kept in suitable enclosures.
The key biological fact about little dragons was that they laid eggs where their viability and sex depended on natural factors. Like almost all lizards, little dragons did not incubate their eggs, and relied upon soil depth and type, and the amount of sunlight, to incubate for them. The temperature at which the eggs were incubated also affected whether they were mostly males or mostly females.
Farmers figured out how to manage egg incubation by a process of mostly trial and error, with a few innovative leaps. The earliest form of little dragon farming did not manage egg incubation at all, simply leaving the eggs where the females laid them. This often produced unviable eggs, since the confined little dragons were unable to select their optimum laying site, only choosing the best spot within a small enclosure.
The first deliberate egg incubation efforts were made for reasons of convenience, when farmers tried to bury the eggs of several females in a single location. They discovered that sometimes this worked, but often the eggs were unviable. They quickly learned the general characteristics of soil which were needed: slight moisture with neither too wet nor too dry, and reasonably aerated. Soils which were overly dry or too aerated could dry out the eggs, while overly moist or waterlogged soils would ruin the eggs. Figuring out the right depth and level of insolation took longer, but gradually farmers realised that the time of year, level of sunlight, surrounding vegetation or other natural barriers that might block the light, and depth of the eggs, affected their viability. In time, the best-informed farmers were capable of choosing locations which not only allowed most eggs to survive, but at a temperature which ensured that most (although not all) hatchlings were of the desired gender.
During the Interregnum, and shortly afterwards, little dragons thus became domesticated. The dragon farmers did not consciously practice much selective breeding, but unconscious selection led to dragons bred for docility, larger size, faster growth and (in females) greater egg-laying. Docility came about both because of the initial self-selection – those dragons which did not habituate to human presence were not tamed – and because any aggressive dragons were likely to find themselves roasted. Selection for faster growth happened because the earliest-maturing dragons tended to be the ones picked to breed; the slower growers were given a new career atop baked wattleseed flatbread. Larger size was selected because farmers kept only a few males to breed, and so kept only those they deemed prime breeding stock. Females, too, were limited in numbers, since farmers only had so many enclosures. So smaller females, together those who produced unviable or insufficient numbers of eggs, joined the surplus males as dragonsteak.
--
One of allohistory's odder questions to arise is: once you have tamed your dragon, what do you want to do with it?
During the Interregnum, Aururian farmers searched for as many answers as possible to that question. In practice, though, little dragons were useful largely for meat production. They were very good at that purpose, particularly in comparison to the main other livestock available, the domesticated duck. In a time of persistent droughts, little dragons much lower nutritional requirements and ability to survive long periods without food was a considerable advantage. Increasing numbers of farmers used little dragons as an alternative or supplement to duck farming.
The principal disadvantage of little dragons was that there was not much to do with them other than harvest them for meat. They were not useful for egg production, where ducks were more reliable and regular in producing eggs. Leather could be made from little dragons' skin, but in the era of the Interregnum, hunting was much more convenient as a source of leather.
Dragon farming was widespread during the later half of the Interregnum (750-600 BC), and for some time thereafter, even as wetter conditions returned to Aururia. Duck farming experienced something of a resurgence, which reduced some of the use of dragons.
However, the real significant change came with the domestication of the emu and its spread across Aururian agricultural societies. The emu also had a flexible diet, and while it did not have the same low food requirements as dragons, it produced much more meat in a convenient form, together with egg production at a greater rate than the little dragons. The spread of emu farming also curtailed a small-scale shift to little dragons for leather production. Emus also had a status advantage for farmers: owning a large herd of emus was deemed more socially high-status than a few big enclosures of small lizards.
Dragon farming did not disappear, but it rarely formed a mass-scale endeavour. Instead, farming of little dragon occupied two main niches: low-intensity, small scale farming; and as a suitable microlivestock for drier areas where emu or duck farming was marginal. Prosperous, large-scale farmers rarely bothered farming little dragons, but smaller farmers might find it worthwhile to have a few enclosures of little dragons to feed with crop waste and occasional insects. (In wealthier farms, much of the crop waste went to the emus). Farmers in the more marginal lands relied on little dragons for much of their meat production, since the dragons made more efficient use of limited water and food resources. Where food and water were more abundant, though, it was a more effective use of farmers' time to herd emus or raise ducks.
Little dragons were bred for some more specialised purposes. A common one was that many urban households would buy dragon hatchlings that they could efficiently feed with household scraps (and which would find their own household insects) before later turning them into food. Little dragons were popular pets in urban centres even when not being raised for food. Some dragon breeders chose to breed dragons for display purposes, such as different colours or finer textured skin; the latter of these was even used occasionally for specialist leather production.
And, of course, when the spread of horses allowed Tjibarri faction leaders to implement stage coaches, little dragons were one of the most cost- and land-effective ways of providing meat to travellers along the stage routes.
--
"I have crossed the Rubicon with stout heart, beating drums and flapping banners; my soldiers are full of courage and their officers ripe with aspiration; and our commanders hunger for triumph, and will proceed according to plan. I shall not return to Dresden until I have proven myself worthy of my crown and my blood."
- Christian Albert I, Elector of Saxony, in a letter to his wife, 15 December 1742. Written shortly after Saxon troops had crossed the border to seize the much-disputed territory of Bohemia, following the death of the Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II. This invasion marked the beginning of the European theatre of the Nine Years' War.
--
[1] Jugara [Victor Harbor] is by far the best Tjibarri port in normal circumstances, being closest by land to usable inland ports on the Nyalananga [River Murray] and thus to water transportation to the core of Tjibarr. It is, however, close to Yadji territory, and sometimes conquered by the Yadji. So after the introduction of European horses and cattle as beasts of burden, Tjibarr built a great road to Taparee [Port Pirie], with a secondary road to Nookoonoo [Port Broughton]. Nookoonoo is very much a second-rate port, even when Jugara is unavailable.
[2] That is, King James II of England & Ireland and James VII of Scotland. This is not the historical James II who was the younger son of Charles I, since allohistorically Charles I died before that James was born. This is the allohistorical son of Charles II of England, born in 1652 and ruler since 19 January 1685, after his father died of kidney failure (much as Charles II did historically, but slightly earlier).
[3] Historically, inland bearded dragons are the third most popular pet in Australia.
[4] Which leads to the really important question: what do little dragons taste like? I am reliably informed both that bearded dragons taste like chicken, and that they do not taste like chicken, but rather like peanut. As a compromise, little dragons taste like satay chicken.
--
Thoughts?
Thanks go to Thesaurus Rex and DValdron for the inspiration and many of the ideas for this post.
--
"The avaricious man seeks gold. The astute man knows that information can be worth more than gold."
- Maliba son of Lopitja, Green faction leader in Tjibarr
--
11 March 1710
Nookoonoo [Port Broughton], Kingdom of Tjibarr
"A poor port, indeed," Captain Max Belcher muttered, mostly to himself.
The town which the natives called Nookoonoo was built where the harbour narrowed to an inlet, and they had built a jetty out to the narrow deep channel. The harbour widened considerably downstream, but that expanse was shallow, consisting of mudflats and mangroves. Only one narrow channel was navigable, and it turned several times before it reached the waters of the main gulf [Spencer Gulf].
With such a hazardous path, Belcher had not dared to bring the Doddington into port under sail. He had called for a native pilot, and even then put sailors in a boat in front to tow the ship into the dock.
"Why choose here, of all the Tjibarri ports?" he asked, again to himself. One drawback of this voyage is that he had not had any passengers of suitable status travelling with him, depriving him of decent conversation. So now he had fallen into what was probably a dangerous habit.
But whether bad habit or not, the question remained. Jugara [Victor Harbor] was by far the best Tjibarri port, and Taparee [Port Pirie] a reasonable alternative if war threatened Jugara, as happened often. Nookoonoo was a minor port, one he had never even visited before, despite four voyages to Jugara and one to Taparee [1]. Why had that accursed Gunnagal merchant-king insisted on this trade happening here?
Belcher left his officers to supervise unloading the cargo, and ambled down the jetty toward the town, such as it was. His officers knew what they were doing. His task was to find the more unorthodox part of the trading; the reason why he had agreed to bring the shipment of saltpetre and cotton cloth to this backward port rather than Jugara.
Fortunately, finding the native representative was easy in such a small town. A medium-sized man with an over-sized square-cut beard that well-to-do Tjibarri wore nowadays, with ear-rings, nose-rings and finger-rings of gold. Not all Tjibarri were ostentatious, but those who were tended to make kings look poor.
Two bodyguards accompanied the representative. Both carried large, obvious steel swords with the bent shape typical of Aururian blades. Presumably the weapons were symbolic, since any serious Tjibarri warrior carried a carbine or musket.
Belcher and the native aristocrat went through a round of polite introductions and enquiries after each other's well-being. The representative named himself "Mariba Tjapung; Mariba of the Greens." From one of the strange religious parties that vied for rule of Tjibarr. The bodyguards were left unnamed.
Belcher said, "The cargo is intact. Saltpetre and cloth are being unloaded as we speak. Have your men brought the goods?"
Mariba nodded, proof that he understood proper English customs. "Indigo dye and kunduri, as negotiated with your English company. Your new company, I mean."
The Oriental Company, the native meant. The new company formed since King James [2] had broken the East India Company's monopoly through a bid to sell shares in the rival company. Good for the king's finances, no doubt, but particularly good for Belcher. His expertise in oriental voyages made it easy for him to earn more while serving the new company. While also gaining the opportunity to make a private trade as part of the main voyage.
"The goods are as agreed. The price remains to be set."
Mariba waved a hand. "My merchants will negotiate that with your ship's officers. With you, I wish to discuss the other cargo."
Belcher nodded. "Twenty mulberry seedlings, of the variety that silkworms favour. And a great quantity of seed." Seed was easy enough to transport from India; keeping the seedlings viable had been rather more difficult.
"The young trees are in good health, and of the right type?" Mariba said.
"Of course."
"This must be seen in Wokunga [Snowtown, SA], by two men who know the original trees well," the native aristocrat said.
"In where?"
"A town two days ride inland, on the coach. You will bring the seedlings with you there, for inspection by my knowledgeable men," Mariba said.
"That was no part of the agreement," Belcher said curtly.
"The agreement was for viable trees. Unless I can know that your young trees are healthy, then we have no agreement."
"This is-" Belcher stopped, remembering the native saying. Never trust a Gunnagal. Sometimes said about the Gunnagal, and sometimes by the Gunnagal. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you have no agreement, we will not sell you any indigo or kunduri, and you can explain to your masters in the Oriental Company why you brought a ship to Nookoonoo for no profit." Mariba's tone was pleasant, but his eyes never wavered from staring at the captain.
"This should have been negotiated beforehand," Belcher said.
Mariba shrugged, then produced a large leather pouch and tossed it over. "For your trouble, then."
The captain could feel the kunduri-cigars inside even before he opened them. He sniffed them, and smelt the faint aroma of citrus.
"Lime-cured, of course," Mariba said. "The flavour will not last the voyage back to Europe. Best you smoke them soon… or give them to those of your associates who will too."
He meant bribe the ship's officers, which Belcher had already arranged to do. Silence needed to be maintained. Sailing the ship further cost time and risked damage, so only the private consideration for bringing these seedlings had made it worth the effort. Astute of him to realise it. But then, Gunnagal are rarely stupid.
"Why not simply bring your experts here?"
"They have other pressing tasks which I will not spare them from, even for four days," Mariba said. "But come, you have been offered well, and I doubt you would have your ship unloaded and reloaded in four days… even if you did not want to grant your crew any leave on shore."
Belcher considered all of this, particularly the cigars. It was worth the trouble. "I will do it."
After making arrangements with his crew to manage the unloading and reloading, and packing the seedlings with the utmost care, Belcher found himself on a horse-drawn coach. Six horses pulled it, and they stopped around noon to change for fresh horses.
Mariba proved a pleasant enough travelling companion, talking about things many and varied, and asking many polite questions about India and England. The Green aristocrat – or priest or merchant-king or whatever his role was as a faction leader – skilfully deflected any questions about why he was willing to pay a sizable bribe for such common trees. Although Belcher could guess the reason, at least in general terms. These Gunnagal wanted to breed silkworms, and needed the trees to do it.
Let them try. Many have failed, throwing wealth after silk. Even if they succeeded, it would mean nothing to Belcher.
As evening drew near, Mariba ordered the coach to halt at a small town [Merriton]. Its role as a coach-station was obvious: a sprawling two-storey building which functioned as an inn, larger stables behind, and ample exercise fields for the horses.
One feature puzzled Belcher. A strange, vaguely pyramid-shaped pile of rock, with a great many wooden ledges set at irregular places around the pyramid. The top few ledges were partitioned off, while the lower ledges were open. Most of the ledges – and all of the top ones – held lizards, positioning themselves to catch the last of the afternoon sun.
He walked closer, intrigued. The lizards were good-sized; the largest looked over two feet long. Most of them were red, but a few were white. Each of the lizards had a strange beard-like structure handing beneath their mouths.
"What are those… little dragons?" Belcher asked.
"Travellers' food," Mariba said. "Many coach stations keep them, here along the drier reaches. They are useful for supplying travellers, since they eat very little themselves and in hard times can keep for months with almost no food or water."
"Do they taste good?" The prospect of eating a lizard did not appeal over much. The reptiles looked quite pleasant to the eye, but not to the palate.
"Edible," Mariba said, and shrugged. "I prefer beef or noroon [emu], myself."
"They look more congenial than I would have thought for a lizard."
"They make good pets, I am told," Mariba said. "If you wish, I could obtain one as a gift for you."
"Thank you for the offer, but I would have little use for a pet lizard aboard ship." Belcher had already been reminded today of the manoeuvring of Gunnagal. Who could say what strings would come with this gift? If Belcher had accepted a pet little dragon from Mariba, he would have to name it Ruthless.
"As you wish. Let us go inside to warmth and food and ganyu [yam wine]."
Inside the inn, once Mariba gave his name, they were ushered into a private dining room rather than the louder main room. After a discussion in Gunnagal – spoken too fast for Belcher's limited understanding of the language – the servant handed over two goblets and a small sheet of paper.
Mariba passed one of the goblets to Belcher, while reading the paper. The Green leader made no effort to hide the message, but then Belcher knew nothing of the strange Gunnagal script. Whatever the news was, Mariba received it poorly; he looked rather distressed by the time he had finished.
"Poor news?" Belcher asked.
"Word from the northeast. The far northeast, beyond even the end of the spice roads, at the other end of the world."
"What word did the message bring?"
"News that will change the world," Mariba said, but he refused to be drawn further.
--
To understand the tale of the little dragons and how they were tamed for human needs, one must step back in time nearly three thousand years. This is a time known to archaeologists as the Interregnum, a period of approximately three centuries when the society they called the Formative Gunnagal collapsed. The Formative Gunnagal was a flourishing civilization along the Nyalananga [River Murray] whose agricultural prehistory went back more than fifteen hundred years prior.
The Interregnum marked an abrupt end to the prosperity of the Formative Gunnagal: war, drought and ecological collapse saw populations crash and economies ruined. The earliest city to fall was one which later inhabitants called Goolrin [Murray Bridge]; its original name does not survive.
Goolrin sat on the lower reaches of the Nyalananga, and was one of the six ancient Wisdom Cities of the Formative Gunnagal. While in an area of low rainfall by Aururian agricultural standards (350 mm), it was located close to rich sources of copper ore, including some with impurities which allowed the creation of arsenical bronze. The destruction of Goolrin was one of the major triggers of the Interregnum.
Many of the survivors of Goolrin's fall moved away in part of what became the Great Migrations, but some stayed in the area. Urban living proved to be difficult as the climate grew ever more arid, but farmers still survived by using drought-tolerant crops.
As the droughts of the Interregnum persisted, the ecology changed. Much of the existing flora and fauna retreated south-east, toward the cooler, wetter climes, while more arid-adapted species became established around former Goolrin and its environs.
One of the desert-dwelling species which moved into vacated Goolrin was a medium-sized lizard with a peculiar "beard" under its chin. This was the lizard which another history would call the inland bearded dragon (Pogona vitticeps). To the local inhabitants, the beard was similar to the traditional depictions of the Rainbow Serpent, so they named the lizards little serpents. When rendering this name into European languages, it would usually be translated as little dragons.
The little dragons were among the species to benefit most from the climate change and the effects of human agriculture. Farming cleared much of the land and eliminated many species, but created opportunities for those animals – such as little dragons – that had a flexible diet and low food requirements (as cold-blooded reptiles). The little dragons bred quickly in these conditions, and became a familiar sight around Goolrin farms.
With such frequent contact, many of the little dragons habituated to human presence. Sometimes humans kept them as pets [3], and in other cases occasionally fed them, or just tolerated them. Naturally, while people sometimes fed the little dragons, they also let the dragons feed the people [4].
Some people decided to use the dragons more consistently for food. The early form of this was a haphazard process, with few people deliberately farming the little dragons. Instead, early management of little dragons consisted mostly of throwing occasional vegetable matter, insects or miscellaneous food scraps to dragons kept in enclosures, or even those which just lived around settlements.
With little dragons being kept around, often in enclosures, occasional breeding was inevitable. Usually this was incidental, with males and females being kept together and sometimes provided with enough soil to bury their eggs. A few farmers became more systematic about it, pairing males with females and allowing them enough suitable places for the females to bury their eggs.
With these practices, little dragons were effectively tamed, but not domesticated. Two further innovations were required for effective domestication: understanding the social nature of little dragons, and learning to control egg incubation.
The key social fact about little dragons was that the males are territorial. Keeping adult males close together was unviable; they would fight if kept confined in too small an enclosure. Females, too, established a social hierarchy if kept in close quarters, although they were much less aggressive than the males.
Several little dragon farmers independently recognised solutions to this problem. One solution was to keep adult males in separate enclosures. A second was simply to keep very few adult males, by eating or releasing the smaller ones. A third, related solution was to create enclosures with sufficient space and sunning spots at different levels and locations, to allow the little dragons to establish a social hierarchy amongst themselves. Together, these solutions allowed considerable numbers of little dragons to be kept in suitable enclosures.
The key biological fact about little dragons was that they laid eggs where their viability and sex depended on natural factors. Like almost all lizards, little dragons did not incubate their eggs, and relied upon soil depth and type, and the amount of sunlight, to incubate for them. The temperature at which the eggs were incubated also affected whether they were mostly males or mostly females.
Farmers figured out how to manage egg incubation by a process of mostly trial and error, with a few innovative leaps. The earliest form of little dragon farming did not manage egg incubation at all, simply leaving the eggs where the females laid them. This often produced unviable eggs, since the confined little dragons were unable to select their optimum laying site, only choosing the best spot within a small enclosure.
The first deliberate egg incubation efforts were made for reasons of convenience, when farmers tried to bury the eggs of several females in a single location. They discovered that sometimes this worked, but often the eggs were unviable. They quickly learned the general characteristics of soil which were needed: slight moisture with neither too wet nor too dry, and reasonably aerated. Soils which were overly dry or too aerated could dry out the eggs, while overly moist or waterlogged soils would ruin the eggs. Figuring out the right depth and level of insolation took longer, but gradually farmers realised that the time of year, level of sunlight, surrounding vegetation or other natural barriers that might block the light, and depth of the eggs, affected their viability. In time, the best-informed farmers were capable of choosing locations which not only allowed most eggs to survive, but at a temperature which ensured that most (although not all) hatchlings were of the desired gender.
During the Interregnum, and shortly afterwards, little dragons thus became domesticated. The dragon farmers did not consciously practice much selective breeding, but unconscious selection led to dragons bred for docility, larger size, faster growth and (in females) greater egg-laying. Docility came about both because of the initial self-selection – those dragons which did not habituate to human presence were not tamed – and because any aggressive dragons were likely to find themselves roasted. Selection for faster growth happened because the earliest-maturing dragons tended to be the ones picked to breed; the slower growers were given a new career atop baked wattleseed flatbread. Larger size was selected because farmers kept only a few males to breed, and so kept only those they deemed prime breeding stock. Females, too, were limited in numbers, since farmers only had so many enclosures. So smaller females, together those who produced unviable or insufficient numbers of eggs, joined the surplus males as dragonsteak.
--
One of allohistory's odder questions to arise is: once you have tamed your dragon, what do you want to do with it?
During the Interregnum, Aururian farmers searched for as many answers as possible to that question. In practice, though, little dragons were useful largely for meat production. They were very good at that purpose, particularly in comparison to the main other livestock available, the domesticated duck. In a time of persistent droughts, little dragons much lower nutritional requirements and ability to survive long periods without food was a considerable advantage. Increasing numbers of farmers used little dragons as an alternative or supplement to duck farming.
The principal disadvantage of little dragons was that there was not much to do with them other than harvest them for meat. They were not useful for egg production, where ducks were more reliable and regular in producing eggs. Leather could be made from little dragons' skin, but in the era of the Interregnum, hunting was much more convenient as a source of leather.
Dragon farming was widespread during the later half of the Interregnum (750-600 BC), and for some time thereafter, even as wetter conditions returned to Aururia. Duck farming experienced something of a resurgence, which reduced some of the use of dragons.
However, the real significant change came with the domestication of the emu and its spread across Aururian agricultural societies. The emu also had a flexible diet, and while it did not have the same low food requirements as dragons, it produced much more meat in a convenient form, together with egg production at a greater rate than the little dragons. The spread of emu farming also curtailed a small-scale shift to little dragons for leather production. Emus also had a status advantage for farmers: owning a large herd of emus was deemed more socially high-status than a few big enclosures of small lizards.
Dragon farming did not disappear, but it rarely formed a mass-scale endeavour. Instead, farming of little dragon occupied two main niches: low-intensity, small scale farming; and as a suitable microlivestock for drier areas where emu or duck farming was marginal. Prosperous, large-scale farmers rarely bothered farming little dragons, but smaller farmers might find it worthwhile to have a few enclosures of little dragons to feed with crop waste and occasional insects. (In wealthier farms, much of the crop waste went to the emus). Farmers in the more marginal lands relied on little dragons for much of their meat production, since the dragons made more efficient use of limited water and food resources. Where food and water were more abundant, though, it was a more effective use of farmers' time to herd emus or raise ducks.
Little dragons were bred for some more specialised purposes. A common one was that many urban households would buy dragon hatchlings that they could efficiently feed with household scraps (and which would find their own household insects) before later turning them into food. Little dragons were popular pets in urban centres even when not being raised for food. Some dragon breeders chose to breed dragons for display purposes, such as different colours or finer textured skin; the latter of these was even used occasionally for specialist leather production.
And, of course, when the spread of horses allowed Tjibarri faction leaders to implement stage coaches, little dragons were one of the most cost- and land-effective ways of providing meat to travellers along the stage routes.
--
"I have crossed the Rubicon with stout heart, beating drums and flapping banners; my soldiers are full of courage and their officers ripe with aspiration; and our commanders hunger for triumph, and will proceed according to plan. I shall not return to Dresden until I have proven myself worthy of my crown and my blood."
- Christian Albert I, Elector of Saxony, in a letter to his wife, 15 December 1742. Written shortly after Saxon troops had crossed the border to seize the much-disputed territory of Bohemia, following the death of the Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II. This invasion marked the beginning of the European theatre of the Nine Years' War.
--
[1] Jugara [Victor Harbor] is by far the best Tjibarri port in normal circumstances, being closest by land to usable inland ports on the Nyalananga [River Murray] and thus to water transportation to the core of Tjibarr. It is, however, close to Yadji territory, and sometimes conquered by the Yadji. So after the introduction of European horses and cattle as beasts of burden, Tjibarr built a great road to Taparee [Port Pirie], with a secondary road to Nookoonoo [Port Broughton]. Nookoonoo is very much a second-rate port, even when Jugara is unavailable.
[2] That is, King James II of England & Ireland and James VII of Scotland. This is not the historical James II who was the younger son of Charles I, since allohistorically Charles I died before that James was born. This is the allohistorical son of Charles II of England, born in 1652 and ruler since 19 January 1685, after his father died of kidney failure (much as Charles II did historically, but slightly earlier).
[3] Historically, inland bearded dragons are the third most popular pet in Australia.
[4] Which leads to the really important question: what do little dragons taste like? I am reliably informed both that bearded dragons taste like chicken, and that they do not taste like chicken, but rather like peanut. As a compromise, little dragons taste like satay chicken.
--
Thoughts?
I officially demand bearded dragons the size of cats, minimum!
But anyway yeah this was really interesting, I liked the back door dealings and negotiations where everyone seems pretty smart but by no means coming off like a precog and how it seems only a facade of rule abiding even maintains the fragile illusion of order XD
The history of the development of the bearded dragons was well thought out, not a clear path by any means which makes sense and it is also just a really neat and clever idea,, being led into very naturally with the characters talk and I liked the offer of a lizard as a pet, how nice!
But anyway yeah this was really interesting, I liked the back door dealings and negotiations where everyone seems pretty smart but by no means coming off like a precog and how it seems only a facade of rule abiding even maintains the fragile illusion of order XD
The history of the development of the bearded dragons was well thought out, not a clear path by any means which makes sense and it is also just a really neat and clever idea,, being led into very naturally with the characters talk and I liked the offer of a lizard as a pet, how nice!
- Location
- Illinois
Domesticating Komodo dragons and Goannas when??
- Location
- Minnesota
Still working my way through this tale, but my that is an interesting turn of phrase describing European events happening in 1632 in an alt history story.
Nervos Belli
Don't think this means you've won!
- Location
- Murica
I was at a used bookstore near my house and I discovered a book called Dark Emu, which from the description is an account of how Aboriginal people were significantly more advanced than the common account suggests. I then did a little research and saw that the book has been the subject of some controversy recently, with a number of people pushing back against the claims (though many of their arguments seemed more than a little racist). Have you read the book and would you recommend it?
I've looked into this having read the book myself and I've never encountered a counter claim to its evidence that weren't steeped in racism or just plain ignorance.
Everything in Dark Emu is painstakingly researched and heavily based on/around the records of the colonizers as a base & framework in order to counter the usual degree of dismissal and bigotry the author got when trying to present his evidence in the past but even then people people still argue against it :/
As another point in its favor, my brother works in both archaeology and native title in Australia and the company he works for had adopted the book as a form of required reading.
Glad you liked it. The world needs more dragons.
Give it enough generations of selective breeding, and who knows what's possible?
Thanks. This was one of those things which was just seemed both fun and still might have happened.
Tempting, but those are larger and more aggressive which makes them harder to control and of less use for food.
It's a not entirely coincidental choice of words.Still working my way through this tale, but my that is an interesting turn of phrase describing European events happening in 1632 in an alt history story.
Dark Emu is on my to read list, but I haven't finished it yet.
After seeing this, I did a quick browse for what criticisms were being listed re Dark Emu. The results were... interesting.
(1) Claims that Pascoe selectively quoted from his primary sources (Europeans' diaries) and that these gave a more complex/different picture of what they found.
(2) Claims re whether Pascoe has Aboriginal heritage or not
(3) Claims of some errors (eg listing a Torres Strait Islander house as an Aboriginal house)
(4) Claims that Aboriginal peoples were not "really" famring, but were just managing the land
(5) Claims that the ideas he referenced were not actually unknown, but were referred to in academic sources rather than popular sources.
My take on these:
(1) Would have to read the primary sources to be sure, but the online comments were very vague about what the actual picture was in European sources, which is suspicious.
(2) Who cares one way or the other? His arguments stand or fall on their own merits.
(3) Possibly some errors in research; that's hardly unknown. A few errors does not undermine the gist of the argument.
(4) Seems to be playing with semantics more than anything else, but at the very least Pascoe has helped to illustrate how complex Aboriginal peoples' land management practices actually were.
(5) Even if true (not sure), Pascoe deserves credit for bringing these discoveries to popular attention.