This is a short history of the Telmarines and their early settlement of Narnia, under Caspian I. It tells of events that set humans against the other races of Narnia. The story contains some violence, but not explicit violence.
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Division in Narnia
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Fresh hope
c. 1999 by Narnian reckoning
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The Telmarines were hugely embarrassed by their piratical ancestors and didn't care to talk about them. Telmarines were no longer seafarers, disassociating themselves from that wine dark realm. The great houses of Telmar kept family trees and other ancient documents safely locked away in the darkest of cellars. Caspian Solecism senior (Lord Stiffrump) was one such. The Solecisms were descended from one Thomas Mustardseed: pirate, Commodore of Transports, settler at Koloni. His distant ancestor felt tainted by association.
Lord Caspian Solecism, second son of Stiffrump, was an amiable young man who had rarely failed to disappoint his father. His habitually cheerful manner and idle lifestyle grated on an old gentleman, irascible by nature. When Caspian joined an expedition to Narnia, Stiffrump had been reluctantly proud, if low in expectations. Times were hard in Telmar due to inflation, a sickness (known as the Foreign Fluence) and a succession of poor harvests. The aged Piet II, known variously as The Snail or The Idle, sat upon the throne. Non-hereditary monarchs were chosen by election from the noble families of Telmar, but nobody jockeyed to be Piet's successor (given the national situation). Lord Stiffrump allowed his son to lead part of his tenantry on the exodus to find new land. It had seemed cheaper and simpler than finding them food and work, but he feared for their future.
To everyone's surprise, young Solecism had excelled. His cheerful manner heartened his followers during the difficult trek. Leaders of the other two hosts, from the houses of Constable and Passarid, wholly failed in that respect. Caspian's innate bravery came out when faced with supernatural guardians barring their entry into Narnia. "Hail Caspian the Great," the hosts sang afterwards, "King Caspian of Narnia."
"Dear Pa," Caspian wrote to 'his old governor' in far off Telmar, "I hope you are well and your gout hasn't flared up. I don't know when you'll actually get this letter but you'll be interested to hear that we've found Narnia and it is indeed a strange and bountiful place. Yours truly has been declared King, which I hope meets with your approval…"
How did Caspian and the Telmarine host walk into Narnia, without a blow being struck, you may well ask? Well, there were no other sons of Adam or daughters of Eve left to oppose them. Twenty five years had passed since Alfreda, last queen of Narnia, died at the ripe old age of 105. She'd done everything she could to maintain Narnia during its irreversible decline. Alfreda foresaw the coming of the Telmarines and welcomed it. The talking beasts and magical creatures rightly had little interest in thrones, crowns, battles or swords. The Dwarfs kept themselves to themselves, as they were prone to do. They had their own strongholds, mostly in the north or the borderlands, preferring to be left alone (unless there was money to be made of course). Bitter experience with kings and queens (most especially queens) made them wary in their dealings with non Dwarfs. Only the centaurs muttered darkly about the advent of the Telmarines. Some few centaurs wanted to take up arms but most were prepared to await events.
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Out of bounds
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Initially, the three hosts settled a swath of land across the country, from the edge of the Lantern Woods, across the Great River, almost to the sea. They hadn't shed their distaste of the gulls' way, preferring to build homes away from the coast. When they discovered the great, abandoned castle of Cair Paravel they were somewhat awed.
"Golly, it's bigger than Castle Sincero," King Caspian marvelled. Sincero was the ancestral home of King Piet II and one of the most impressive buildings in Telmar. Nobody had seen Piet's wife, Queen Maria, for five years and rumour had it that she was imprisoned in the north tower. Piet the Snail would say that she was unwell, if anyone was actually impolitic enough to ask after her.
"How old is it?" Caspian Constable pondered rhetorically, "It must be ancient." The palace was in fact well over nineteen hundred years old and its condition reflected that. Of human commission and dwarfish design, the castle had weathered its first millennium well. Reoccupied during the reign of the Pevensie siblings and their successor, Queen Reposco, during the Golden Age, major renovations had been undertaken. Eventually though neglect and lack of finances caused it to fall into disrepair. A brief, bloody squabble took place after Alfreda's death, leaving no one to seize the crown. In the two subsequent decades the deterioration of the empty castle accelerated. Nature had already returned; weeds and grass filled the courtyard, bushes grew beside the thick, outer walls. Only wild animals heard the occasional tumble of bricks, crashing down from the battlements.
"I'll be frank, Cas', I don't like the place," Constable confessed later as they sat in the sunshine, having explored the castle. He'd decided to throw in his lot with the new, popular ruler, to the disgust of Lord Amid Passarid, of the great house of Passarid.
"It gives me the screaming ad-dabs, Connie," Caspian admitted.
"It's hard to explain, Pater, but we weren't welcome there," the King explained in a further letter to Lord Stiffrump. "It is as if the place lives, breathes and thinks – and its principal thought was that we were damned unwelcome." Caspian had shivered at that point, remembering a hostile atmosphere that had made grown men quail. He'd pressed on with Constable and two guards, allowing the rest of his escort to go back outside. "We came across four ancient thrones but I wasn't inclined to bally well sit on one; I'd probably have been turned to stone. Imagine that, one's son as a garden ornament."
The Telmarines sought somewhere more comfortable for their new king to reside. "This is the spot," Caspian had declared, in agreement with his surveyors. The modest palace – little more than a fortified villa – would be beside a stream, a tributary of a great river that looped about the site in three directions. Quite some way to the south was a peculiar, ancient tumulus, generally referred to as a fairy mound. Over the next two years the villa would rise to be a comfortable, attractive dwelling, with a small hamlet, Hillton, between it and the tumulus. The king's new motto "Better to be lucky than clever" adorned the mantels over the doors. "They should read: You thought I was clever until I opened my mouth," Amid Passarid would chunter to selected companions, privately, of course.
The new King was initially more curious than scared of talking beasts. Interviewing several, he concluded that (whilst outside of his past experience) they were worthy of protection. The insensitively entitled Talking Livestock Liberty Act forbade the 'keeping, farming or slaughter of talking creatures for domestic or commercial purposes'. Except for a few ignorant and wicked people, who regarded such beings as circus freaks, the proclamation was observed, by and large. The magical citizens of Narnia were however an entirely different matter. Early encounters happened in such places as the woods of the Lantern Waste.
"Here we," said the Head Forester to his underlings. They'd tramped several miles to the dense woodland, one mild day in early spring. The newly appointed Western Sherriff and her escort were waiting. They tethered the three horses and entered the woods alongside the tributary of the Great River. "See, there's a path; not well trodden of late, but a definite path," Sherriff Crossland had pointed out. Woods and forests are of course full of such apparent tracks that suddenly peter out inexplicably. That particular one was however an ancient thoroughfare.
The party consisted mainly of experienced woodsmen, yet they didn't feel at ease venturing into that place. A watchful silence hung over it like a pall, rarely broken except by an occasional bird call. Once, they thought they heard musical notes far off but they couldn't determine the direction. Long machete like knives proved essential as a tangle of briars and ivy tried to thwart their progress. They walked for some short time, sticking to the path, their talk naturally turning to logging. "There's some prime timber here," Otto, the Head Forester observed. He slapped an oak tree and rested on it for a moment, perspiring a little, for it was close amidst the trees with no breath of wind. Nobody saw how it happened but everyone heard the crack of wood close about Otto's hand. "Ow, hey, gerroff!" he objected.
"What in the world…" Crossland began, turning to look. "However have you done that, man?"
"Ow, I ain't done naught," Otto replied ungrammatically. "I was just leaning on it and the damned thing grabbed me."
The men clustered around, "He's right" they said, "He's trapped," and, "How did that happen?"
"Leggo," Otto complained, struggling in vain. The trunk neatly surrounded his wrist with neither gap nor crack. One might have thought that Otto had grown from the tree like some bizarre fruit.
"We'll have to chip it away," Peachpit, a forester, suggested.
"No, don't do that," Otto objected, uneasily. "I have a feeling the tree won't like it." He looked at the blank, unheeding Oak and on a whim said, "We ain't going to cut you down, old fellow, we wouldn't do that. I promise." There was a pause and one or two of the men were ready to mock but the wood about Otto's arm undeniably loosened. "Hey," Otto began, "It is letting me go," and with that his hand slid out of the trunk. He darted away from the tree and examined his unscathed hand.
"All that fuss," Mistress Crossland mocked, "you only needed to jiggle it a bit."
"I didn't jiggle it," Otto rebutted the suggestion. "I was stock still and that there tree let me go!"
The party travelled on, doubtfully and perhaps a little in trepidation, for several miles. They made mental notes of the amount, size and quality of the timber that they saw. For all their earlier scepticism, none were eager to discuss such matters out loud. They reached a glade that was less overgrown than everywhere else and sat down gratefully, to sip from their flasks. It was then that they heard music clearly, notes hanging in the air as if they might be plucked like ripe cherries. Every person was rapt, their attention wholly upon the music of pipes. "Why, it's lovely," Otto muttered.
The Sherriff nodded, she found her eyes starting to close, her thoughts turning to his late mother. "So it is," she said dreamily.
Each of them trembled on the edge of sleep when they became aware of a figure in their midst. It was the piper himself. He had two short horns and a goaty beard on a human head. His wiry torso was clad only in a light woollen tunic. Strangest of all to the Telmarines were his legs, those of a goat. A mischievous look crossed the stranger's face and he blew a series of notes in quick succession – high pitched – discordant – alarming.
In a moment sleep left them and the men shot up onto their feet. "Argh," cried one.
"What is it? I don't like it!"
"Run!"
"Come on lads!"
"A goat devil!"
The Telmarines fled back down the same path, plunging headlong into branches and briars. The tangle of undergrowth they'd hacked away seemed to have sprung back and was in vengeful mood. Thorns caught breeches and nettles whipped ankles. Branches slapped at their faces as they ran. "What kind of place is this!" the fearful men wailed.
"We can't get anyone to go in there now," Mistress Crossland subsequently told the King, apologetically. Then, rather more firmly, "I certainly won't."
Caspian, who'd always found Crossland to be an intelligent and practical sort of person, had no reason to doubt her. "Where one can see a talking bear one can doubtless find a goat devil, what?" There was only one answer: another edict.
"No-one shall enter the woods west of the Great River, north of the Telmar River," he wrote regretfully, "except at their own risk with no prospect of redress from the Crown for loss, injury or death."
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Matchday massacre
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Just two weeks later a most distressing incident was to bring further trouble between the old and new inhabitants of Narnia. A rich seam of coal had fallen into the sea elsewhere and kindly tides washed up great quantities of it on the beaches north of Cair Paravel. A number of Dwarfs ventured onto the sands to gather it up, for coal mining is a dirty and arduous business and they had no objection to making life a little easier.
Dwarfs traditionally mine in groups of seven (known as s'engangs) and two such teams had met up during the course of their labours. They were all of the same clan but chaff and good natured banter always led to rivalry. Having filled several carts they followed the river, avoiding both the wood and the marshes further north. They hadn't gone more than a mile or so, tossing a leather ball about, when the inevitable challenge was made. Narnian Dwarfs loved a game of football. Now, it's not like the well regulated games we know, with set rules and marked out pitches. Their games were more like the boisterous ones once played in medieval Britain. If you're familiar with the 'Haxey Hood' contested in Lincolnshire, on Twelfth Night, then you know the sort of thing. Their games involved lots of shoving and pulling. Kicking and elbowing were permissible, if done covertly rather than overtly. The object was always to get the ball from one place to another, by hand or by foot. Games might continue until too many players became insensible.
The Dwarfs, seven aside, were deeply engrossed in their game when they suddenly became aware of onlookers. A group of mounted men (newly appointed soldiers) were just a few score yards away, laughing. Nobody likes to be laughed at and Dwarfs are a proud people. They didn't take kindly to mockery.
Caspian was drinking tea, made to a traditional Narnian recipe, in a temporary wooden hall, beside the construction site of his new villa. Incidentally, Narnian tea was darker and stronger than the beverage many of us drink each day. Perhaps that was a consequence of the climate? Unbeknownst to anyone, it originated in a spill of tealeaves from Queen Helen's pocket, just after the creation of the world. The more affluent Telmarines occasionally drank Kavi (imported from Calormen) but the settlers took to tea with great enthusiasm. Caspian had just reached the bottom of his second cup when his peace was disturbed. "Bad news, Majesty," said the messenger.
Caspian, who always chose to hear bad news before good, nodded expectantly. "Fourteen of those Dwarf folk," said the messenger (still unfamiliar with that race) "have been killed."
"Killed; where?"
"Not far from that old castle. It seems that some of our lads picked a fight."
"They did what?"
"Some of the new guardsmen, out on patrol, saw Dwarfs playing with a ball. They laughed – hard words were exchanged – and it led to a fight."
"What kind of fight?"
"Well," the messenger said hesitantly, "The Dwarfs didn't take kindly to their laughter. They came at them with their fists and the lads over reacted."
Caspian groaned. "How many guardsmen are dead?"
"None of our lot were killed, sire, although a couple were injured. The Dwarfs weren't armed you see and there was… well, a bit of a massacre really."
Caspian stood up, horrified. "This is confirmed?"
"Several of the guardsmen confessed; they were as sickened by it as you… um… you are, Majesty."
"I want the lot of them here, immediately!"
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A further blow
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The vents of spring were fully open and Narnia basked in the warmer, brighter weather. Caspian was just reading of a family of six siblings, found wandering in the west, who told a most curious story. They claimed to have been imprisoned by a fairy king and queen, for an indeterminate period. "They have no idea how long their imprisonment was," the Sherriff's letter read, "and claim to be Narnians not Telmarines. I don't know if they are liars, moon-kissed or bewitched." Caspian reserved judgement; he'd seen too many uncanny things in recent times. He was about to read on when he was disturbed, once again. A messenger brought bad news from the border. To the north, beyond the river, lay some hills (near the site where Aslan and the High King Peter had once done battle with the Witch Queen). To the west of those hills, Telmarine families, totalling forty individuals, had settled. Six plots of land had been marked out and ditches dug. Tents were quickly replaced by simple log cabins. There was better farmland to be found in Narnia, for the ground was a little rocky, but the settlers patiently picked the fields sufficiently clean. All was well until the early hours of one spring morning.
The dogs and geese first alerted them that something was amiss. Then they heard the drums and next came the sound of trumpets. Anyone of fighting age grabbed whatever came to hand – from scythes to breadknives – and dashed outside, some still in their nightshirts. They were dazzled by torchlight and it was impossible to count the two hundred Dwarfs encircling them. There was a long pause until an elderly Dwarf, in iron helm and ancient mail-shirt, screamed "Hrothgar," (the name of his murdered grandson). The Dwarfs then fell upon their prey. Two clans, kinsmen, had united to avenge their dead fellows. They were experienced fighters and pitiless in their desire for revenge. They slaughtered every man, woman and child in the settlement. The cabins were set ablaze, the pens and fencing torn apart in the whirlwind of their fury. The terrified animals were first corralled and then driven back home with the Dwarfs.
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Barred
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News of the second massacre spread surprisingly swiftly. The representative from Caspian Constable stressed his master's concern to the King. "My people, being of course your people, beg that action is taken to prevent further outrages." Caspian's first act was to greatly extend the number of boundary markers, delineating the extent of his territory (as it was at that time). At regular intervals along the boundaries warning notices were hammered in:
"Humans only"
"No sorcery"
"No dwarfs"
"No talking beasts"
"No sprites"
Amid Passarid formally lodged his complaint in no uncertain terms, "I don't need to remind you, that the first duty of a King is to protect his people against all enemies, without hesitation or delay. Without such protection there is no law and - where there is no law - there is no right to rule." Caspian Constable was hastily invested as 'Chief Constable of the Border Watch' and tasked with keeping the land free from 'aliens'. He seemed the obvious choice, as his family had been responsible for law enforcement in Telmar for many generations. The office of Chief Constable there had quickly become hereditary and proven incredibly lucrative. Sadly, the indigenous races of Narnia were unwanted and now considered dangerous. Watch Houses were set up, each manned by four foot guards and two mounted guards. "Dear Pa," wrote the King, "I was glad to receive your first letter and hope this one finds you well. A situation has arisen here that saddens me, but I have been left with no choice. I am writing to you as I am in need of experienced soldiers and constables..."
Caspian received regular deputations from worried settlers along with frequent sightings of suspicious looking parties (most of them were untraceable or proved entirely innocent). Letters began to pour in from fledgling homesteads and settlements throughout the territory, usually written by whoever had the best hand. They were invariably worded along the following lines: "as we chose you for King we have every confidence that you will keep these monsters from us." Caspian would sigh and complain, "this is the last thing that I wanted," but, bending to the will of his people, he acquiesced.
Just two months after the second massacre Caspian signed a document, in his large, looping hand, that would have a devastating effect on 'Old Narnia'; the "Non-Human Exclusion Act." Hot wax was dropped onto the parchment and Caspian applied the royal seal. It had become law and would remain so for a very long time indeed.
"The Narnian territory – irrespective of current and future boundaries – is for the sole occupation and enjoyment of humans. Non-human parties may neither live in or enter the said territory (the excluded parties include Dwarfs, Spirits of wood, field or water, Centaurs, Fauns, Gnomes, Fairies, Non-corporeal sprites and Talking animals. This list is representative not exhaustive.)"
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Non-Human Exclusion Act –Year 2 - Section 1.1.
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The end
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Glossary
Kavi: Coffee (Calormene)
Koloni: for more please see my short story New Calormen
Supernatural guardians: for more please see my short story The Three Lords
Thomas Mustardseed: for more please see my short story The History of Thomas Mustardseed
Tumulus: Aslan's Howe; the mound erected over the Stone Table, the entrance of which had collapsed by that time.
Vents of spring: for more please see my short story Lucy & The Vents of Spring