This short work about Calormene political intrigue can be read as a stand-alone story or as PART 3 of the ANCIENT CALORMEN SEQUENCE. It explains how the worship of Tash, exclusively, spread in Calormen. It contains no graphic violence (but includes murder) and no bad language.
BY TASH ALONE
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Foreword
"Another of these desert-loving English" (1)
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My great grandfather was Solomon Jeeve Waterhouse, the renowned 'Arabist'. He was most famous for his maps and books on present day Jordan and Syria. A four year disappearance sparked a number of searches and premature obituaries in the press. His reappearance - and subsequent failure to account for his absence - cast something of a cloud over his remaining career.
As a 'Narnian' enthusiast I was delighted to inherit his 'Calormen' papers. Academics dismiss me as a fraud or fantasist. Frankly, I don't care. I am proud to present the following complete account drawn from various documents. I hope it will be the first of many, shedding more light on the Calormene Empire.
Finally, I must mention 'Narnian Reckoning': a time-line generally accepted by Narnian researchers. My ancestor had a revisionist theory about the accepted first millennium. He concluded that the events took considerably longer than usually thought; another 470-510 years in total. This is based on:-
exceptionally long lifespans enjoyed by the 'Good Kings Frank' and,
Calormene documentary evidence
For the purposes of this narrative I have used the traditional reckoning. Anyway, without further ado, let's begin.
T E Jeeve
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"Youngsters, sit at the feet of the Elders and listen"
Year 343 by Narnian Reckoning
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Let me introduce you to Saf Yargi, a hopeful young sprig of an influential Calormene family. He was aide to Omer Kal Ashakoy – the mayor of Tashbaan. Saf's uncle was the Korkunc Yargi (note the emphasis). Korkunc survived the disaster at Koloni, known as the 'Great Retribution' (2). He'd been the young civil servant whose impassioned petition persuaded Calormen to abandon the territory of 'New Calormen' entirely. In later life Korkunc became head of the 'Observances Bureau' and, by clever politicking, made it one of the most powerful offices in the fledgling empire. At the age of fifty he was made 'Vizier', which was a kind of cabinet-minister. His descendants would also hold the rank of Vizier (and even Grand Vizier) for centuries.
Tashbaan was enjoying something of an age of innocence, back then. The civil service machine hadn't atrophied or become oppressive. Judges presided over courts that tried to establish facts and were not easily be swayed by other factors. Doubtless we'd find their judgements harsh but they tried to be proportionate to the offences committed. Music and tale-telling flourished, as did a love of learning. The (second century) poems of Flaima Khal-am (3) were rightly treasured and publically recited even though not yet committed to writing. Public works were important to the authorities and they took great pride in their capital. Tashbaan had street lighting when Narnian homes were still lit by rush-lights. Public repugnance had, temporarily at least, outlawed slavery except in some outlying settlements. In that, too, Korkunc Yargi had a hand.
It would be wise at this point to explain a little about the government of Calormen. The Beldi-Baskni was mayor of Tashbaan, the capital. It was an elected office chosen from a council known as the Orvam (4). Three elected Tisrocs were chosen from the Orvam to govern the empire itself. No man (for, sadly, the office-holders were always male) could hold office for more than one unbroken term and that not exceeding five years. No Tisroc could be re-elected without an interval of at least five years. A strong group of Viziers would always rein in the triumvirate. It would be some centuries before a single Tisroc assumed supreme power and claimed descent from Tash himself.
Naturally Omer Kal Ashakoy had never heard of the renowned Caliph Harun-Al-Raschid (5) of our world. They had two things in common though. First, they were considered upright men. Second, they both liked to walk and observe their respective cities at night, out of genuine concern for the populace. One such night found Omer and Saf Yargi by the riverside. Tashbaan was built on an island and would gradually spread along both banks. Its two original bridges were simple affairs and the city was not walled at that time. The two officials, cloaked and with their heads covered, studied the waterfront. Their attention was drawn to an old man, trying to quietly watch the water, but being harassed by a younger man. "Drunk," muttered Omer.
"Intoxicated on Canban (6)I expect," agreed Saf. "Somebody ought to ban it."
The mayor considered the matter for a moment. "What we need to do is give the watermen something else in their lives except work and drink."
Saf nodded. "Shall we help him?" he said (meaning the old chap).
"I suspect that there will be no need," Omer replied, "watch." Sure enough, a moment later the young man had gone too far, laying hands on the elder. A shout went up and a dozen watermen, from the barges, ran to his rescue. The drunk was unceremoniously dunked in the river, which no doubt sobered him up considerably. "Rough justice," Omer commented, with a shrug. "I expected it. They look after their own around here. Let's move on".
The 'Street of the Dyers' was still busy, purple cloth hung on lines and flapped in the warm breeze. The purple dye, made from crushed shells, was expensive and greatly desired by the upper classes. "What hours they work," Omer sighed.
'Ropewalk' was equally busy, with men twisting great lengths of cord together to make rope. "What a curious thing rope is," the mayor mused. "It helps our ships sail the world-disc yet criminals dangle from the end of it."
When they had left the trading district they emerged into the 'Ahtapot' (meaning 'Octopus' in English). Quite why this most impoverished of districts was called the 'Ahtapot' is forgotten. Some suggest that it was blackened by crime and filth until it was as dark as Octopus ink. Saf Yargi felt uneasy being there, especially at night. He dipped his hands into a bowl at a small shrine then dabbed the water on his forehead in a superstitious (rather than religious) gesture. "Courage, young man," said the mayor with an indulgent smile.
"What a grim place," said Saf with a shudder.
"You'd be surprised at who owns these slums," the mayor answered.
"Who?"
The Beldi-Baskni put a finger to his lips, "Who indeed? You know that I want a public register of ownership?"
"Yes."
"Why do you think I'm having trouble getting it passed by the Orvam? Some rich men own these hovels and would be embarrassed to have it known." They paused for a moment and Omer pointed to a cluster of three houses. "See those? How wide are they? No more than three or four yards in breadth. I'd use better to stable a donkey. I'll wager they don't even have foundations". (7)
"Well…They're just for the flotsam and jetsam of the empire I suppose."
The mayor winced. "Don't say that; it dehumanises them. They're people, just like you and I. Treat them as whipped curs and don't be surprised when they bite your hand."
"You are doubtless right, Authentez (8), but I'd not like to be here without my sword."
The pair walked through the impoverished quarter hoping to remain inconspicuous. On hearing a raised voice the mayor insisted they see what was afoot. "A street preacher!" said Omer, intrigued. "Let us join these good people and listen to what he has to say." There was a cluster of ragged citizens of all ages, gathered about an elderly man. It was not often that preachers ventured into their district and they accorded him due respect for so doing.
"In the beginning," said the speaker, "we dwelt by a river. There was an abundance of fruit from the Bereketli trees. Lezzetli and Tatli grew wild without need of cultivation. We kept fat kids, plump lambs and life was good." Many in the crowd nodded in appreciation at the thought of such luxury. A plump lamb was a rare treat in Ahtapot. The storyteller let his listeners savour the thought of such abundance then resumed. "Then came a terrible famine; husbands starved to feed their wives. Wives starved to feed their children. Three disastrous harvests brought our people to the brink of extinction. They beat their breasts, tore their clothes and begged for divine help or a quick death. They nearly got the latter." Most of the audience knew the rest of the story but many of the youngsters were ignorant of it. "Night after night there came a ravening lion; it was the most horrible beast imaginable. It was huge and cunning, with teeth like great daggers. Only the blessed pigeons of Falimar ever saw it arrive and, in their panic, would alert the village."
I have to say that Saf Yargi wasn't in the least devout and he always took such stories 'with a pinch of salt'. Nonetheless, he liked the old preacher's rendering. "Every able-bodied man, woman and child was needed to drive it away. Most ghastly of all was when it talked and tried to wheedle its way into the settlement. One night a village elder, Falimar, organised a counter attack and drove the demon far away from their homes. It was out there, in the dark, that Tash appeared to Falimar and the young men of the village. His mighty form was clothed in light lest his true, divine presence be too much for mortals. He offered them protection from the lion and victory over the brigands that lived in the wilderness: A mighty people you shalt be and all of the world will learn to fear you. Your swords will bring you the destiny you deserve. I will put my mark upon you". There was a smattering of applause from the townsfolk and the teacher smiled. "Our people, from the highest to the lowest, bear the unseen mark of Tash. Take heart, good people. We are all chosen."
"I wonder if the mark can be washed off," whispered Yargi, seemingly flippant (although there was a deeper meaning too).
"Do not blaspheme, my young friend," Omer warned him. "It is getting less and less safe to express such thoughts."
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"The desert bleaches all bones alike"
Year 345 – by Narnian Reckoning
Korkunc Yargi frowned and glanced at his immaculate fingernails. "This is, of course, some sort of joke?" Even in the dim light of the oil lamps they could see how stern his expression was.
"It is no joke, my lord Vizier," said the Rihap-cal-Tash [literally 'the servant of Tash']. He was chief priest of the temple in Tashbaan and not a man given to levity.
Yargi sprang to his feet and the Kapud (Captain) of the Guard tensed, as if expecting a blow. Instead, Yargi turned to the windows which were now un-shuttered, night having fallen. He looked across the gardens at the tables below, being readied for the dawn breakfast. It was the eve of the Feast of the apparition of Tash (9). "These witnesses; they are reliable?"
"That must be tested, Authentez," said the Captain.
"Four…two servants and two men of good standing," the Vizier muttered to himself. For a moment he watched a moth helplessly drawn towards a guttering lamp and death. He turned around decisively. "You realise that I must sign this warrant, immediately?" The two men bowed but made no other reply. It was a terrible thing that he must do: authorise the arrest of his own nephew, on charges of apostasy. What else could he do? He must not show favouritism nor must he delay. If the young man evaded capture, accusations would be levied at his uncle. Korkunc picked up his pen. "What a damnable instrument this is," he sighed. "A simple quill may ruin a man's life".
The Beldi-Baskni watched his servant exit through the garden gate before entering the courtyard himself. It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear and the lonely star, Aster, sparkled overhead. The heavy scent of the Koku bushes hung in the air. The Guzelkoku blooms were in full flower and their more delicate perfume just teased his nostrils. Omer Kal Ashakoy liked to walk the gardens at night and use the time fruitfully for thinking. He intended to be in bed early however because there was a civic breakfast next morning.
The mayor had two things on his mind, one more pressing than the other. His aide, Saf Yargi, was in trouble: serious trouble. The other was a matter of business. The three Tisrocs had agreed to a public register of the ownership of all property. There had however been a backlash amongst the unscrupulous slum landlords who preferred to remain anonymous. Important people were amongst their number. Perhaps he should also have anticipated the precautionary slum clearances to avoid exposure. His well-meant scheme was making the very poorest homeless. Omer sighed to himself; he would have understood our aphorism 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'.
As he walked along the gravel paths, admiring the low hedges and well-tended rosebushes, Omer Kal Ashakoy didn't hear the quiet scraunch of soft-soled shoes landing on pebbles. The perimeter wall was fairly low and he'd never had need of exceptional security measures. The mayor continued to tread slowly as he turned his problems over in his mind. He passed two tall Kader trees that his predecessor had planted, without noticing a figure crouched behind them. The stranger straightened. He was robed in black and wore dark wrappings about his head and face. His cloak had been discarded by the wall, where he'd entered. In one quick motion he flung himself forwards and his hands went over the mayor's head. He pulled a bowstring taut about Omer's neck without uttering a single sound himself. (10) His victim slumped to the ground, dead.
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"Correct the errant but do not berate, for kindness shines like a beacon on a hill"
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The disaster at Koloni influenced the Calormene people for centuries. It left them with a dislike of the supernatural, except for state-sanctioned astrology. It also convinced them that loose-living would bring about a bad end. Rather than consider the nature of morality they came up with a code of conduct to placate Tash (who they thought would save them). The Observances Bureau was very much involved in the changing face of Calormene society.
Korkunc Yargi implemented the 'purification of Tashbaan' whereby all shrines, except those to Tash, were forbidden. Only small villages and out of the way places could house them. No 'heathen' religious paraphernalia could be kept, even privately, in the capital. Heathen worship was permitted elsewhere in the land but not in public. All civil servants and soldiers had to swear an oath of allegiance to Tash. Non-conformists were dismissed. Anyone that broke their oath was liable for a period of imprisonment. In his defence, I would say that Korkunc was neither a zealot nor bigot by nature. He'd seen disaster but had imperfectly understood why it occurred. The day when all foreign gods would be declared djinn and devils was not too distant.
It was because of such laws that Saf Yargi was now in trouble. Two bribed servants and two frightened, erstwhile friends had accused him of apostasy. The Beldi-Baskni and his capable aide had made some bad enemies whilst trying to help the slum-dwellers. Powerful men stood to lose a steady source of income and would have their revenge. The mayor was already dead; Saf Yargi would be discredited. If that cast a cloud over Korkunc Yargi too, well, so be it.
Saf lived in a modest, white-washed house not too far from the river. It was already a sought after area and would, one day, be well out of the reach of a minor civil servant. He was affianced to a distant cousin who lived across the Hal Hallim. She was but eighteen and, frankly, he was in no rush to marry somebody he barely knew. He had two servants; an ageing maid to cook and clean, plus her aged husband to maintain the place. It was they who'd taken money to give evidence against him.
The Captain of the Guard and three troopers trotted along the road. "8 Harvest Moon Street," said their leader. "This is it; halt". Several people watched them from the windows of neighbouring houses, curious. A loafer, a little the worse for drinking Canban, decided it was wise to move on.
"Coo; look at them, proud as peacocks. The old one has a camel's hump for a stomach," a ragged boy mocked. The captain took a stride towards them, raising his fist, and the urchin and his friend ran off.
"Little devils," said the Cavus (the sergeant) indulgently.
"Never mind them, sergeant," said the Captain, "We've work to do". They tethered their horses and the officer hammered on the front door. A frightened, but not surprised, woman answered it. "We are here to search the property; where is your master?"
"Upstairs, in his chamber, Authentez," said the maid. Shame at her complicity was writ large across her face.
"Let us through," said the Captain, sweeping past her. The four men rushed up the narrow staircase, one after the other. Already briefed on the layout, they went straight into the master bedroom overlooking a small, rear garden. Two lamps burned brightly, having only recently been filled with oil. Every drawer in a chest was wide open and but half full. On a dressing table were four small clay statues. Saf Yargi kept them for 'good luck' having once bought them in a bazaar. The witness testimonies described them as his 'household gods' – for possession of which he would be imprisoned (11). The sergeant strode over to the open window and grasped a length of knotted sheets. "He has flown like the pedlar of Al-Albas, Captain!"
"Damn him," the officer cursed. "What's this?" He picked up a letter from the bed. "Urgent - by hand" he read. Turning it over, he scanned the lines. "Somebody has tipped him off! No signature and no seal. The writing seems disguised too. Get the maid up here; I need to know who delivered this."
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"Better to go where the wind takes you than to dwell with the wicked"
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The barque (in the archaic sense, meaning a small sailing boat) was about eighty feet long and single-masted. It was well built of oak and was large for its type. The dragon prow was a handsome, painted thing that leered ferociously to scare away sea-monsters. The crew of northern barbarians had swaggered about the port for some days, trying to catch the attention of the local women. Their wiser, more cautious, captain managed to keep them together and out of trouble until the wind changed. The 'Aster' then slipped out of harbour with its cargo of scented budrazzi (similar to talcum powder), silk and wine. It was bound for all ports north and Narnia. It was not until the shoreline disappeared completely from view that Saf Yargi emerged from the hold. A scrap of paper, signed with a shaky cross, alleged that he had signed on in port for the voyage as a deckhand (under a false name).
The captain of the 'Aster' was the most famous mariner of the ancient world, Aethelwold. Even the infamous Calormene corsair Conrad couldn't hold him. Aethelwold was a flaxen haired barbarian of 6' 4" with an unusually guttural accent. Even at forty-five and with hints of grey in his mane he still cut an impressive figure. His crew was bound to him by love and respect in equal measure. They claimed that he slept but briefly and then with both eyes open. Men would lie drowsily in their hammocks as his songs, from above, mingled with their dreams. (12)
Saf Yargi set foot on the Narnian shore four months - and several stops - later. He was thoroughly fed up of ships and the sea. He was inclined to kiss the ground and vowed never to voluntarily leave it again. His journal continues his adventures but, as this work relates to Calormene history, I must leave it here (for now at least). There is much more to say about the consolidation of Tash-worship in Calormen and that, I think, will be my next task.
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THE END
Notes:-
1 Quote from the movie "Lawrence of Arabia". All other section heading quotes are from a 7th century (Narnian Reckoning) copy of the "Wisdom of Flaima Khal-am" (probably pseudo graphical)
2 Year 312 by Narnian Reckoning; for more information see my short story "New Calormen"
3 For more information see my short story "The First Temple of Tash"
4 A name also applied in Calormen to a council of village elders
5 The 1001 Nights or The Arabian Nights paints an admirable picture of the Caliph
6 A strong Calormene spirit
7 Reminiscent of a scandal in Victorian London involving the slums of the Old Nichol district
8 Authentez translates as 'sir' or 'master': similar to the Turkish word 'effendi'
9 When Tash had appeared in the form of a figure of light to Falimar and his companions
10 Reminiscent of the 'mute with the bowstring' recorded in Ottoman history
11 Many cultures have had 'household gods' including the Romans
12 For more information on the legend of Aethelwold see my short story "the star bride Aster and Aethelwold"