In a land where there were “us” and “them”. Where in every “us”, there were some who were “not really us”. May be not them-“them“, but definitely not part of us-“us“.
In this land of divisions within divisions, there was a war. A war between “us” and “them”.
We find ourselves in a razed landscape, witness to the aftermath of not one but two battles. Two kings – “demons” – came to stop the inexorable progress of an army, of “gods“, “men“, “apes”, and “bears”.
The kings led well. In subsequent, rather than concurrent campaigns. Their armies fought valiantly. Though their numbers were small and inexperienced. Long accustomed to an almost-peace, nay truce, brought to their land based on mutual dependence and trade. Part of a strong confederation – more commercial than martial.
If the kings had led together, would they have won? We may never know.
If the armies had been trained better, could they have prevailed? We may never know.
The blights wreaked upon powerful “demons”,
– Were not achieved just by godly might;
But they while their allies slept,
– Were being slaughtered in “fair” fight.Fought between gods and demons, wars of men;
– Thrown in for good measure some apes, few bears;
Squarely defeated armies not one, but two of the Ten;
– Only remains of the proud host, lots of blood, a few tears.Every time, audience grumbles, after an inane piece of verse;
The Broken Ladder of the August Month – By a Short Fellow
– We find gratuitous drinking by blokes of the winning side;
Let me warn you, oh pious ones, it could have been much worse;
– For this time the imbibers are losers in the crimson tide.
FADE IN
A dimly lit shanty with a few groups sitting with earthen pitchers. There is a multitude of dressing styles, suggesting that quite a few are travellers, rather than locals.
One group of three individuals – each of a slightly different dermal pigmentation and sartorial choices.
First, strongly built and medium height, wearing a slightly tattered white piece of cloth reaching knee length, tied at the waist with a knot and supported by a slightly cleaner white cloth serving as waist-band. He is what we can call “wheatish”, neither too fair nor too dark. He has a half healed wound on his right forearm, bound by a dirty looking bandage. His name is not important, just like him. Let’s call him Thomas, or Tom for short.
Second, wearing a less decrepit yet equally dirty green single piece of cloth almost to his ankles. He is large and he is dark. He has amulets made of wood and bone on his arms and around his neck. He wears a simple dark-green turban, sitting slightly askew on his balding head. He too isn’t important enough that we know his real name. Let’s refer to him as Richard, or Dick if we may.
The Third, of a slightly fairer persuasion than his co-imbibers, wears an orange dyed cloth, tightly wound around his hips and thighs. He looks the healthiest and least impoverished. We may safely assume that he is the one footing the bill for this evening’s liquid diet. We may or may not meet him again, and so for the time being let’s call him Harry.
So we have Tom, Dick and Harry sharing drinks and tales.
Tom and Dick, drinking on empty stomachs, have become quite light headed and seem to be vociferously discussing something they both feel strongly about. Harry seems comfortable to let his companions do all the talking. More interested in listening to their tales than actual drinking, if you ask me. We tuck our suspicions for future reference, order our drinks (nothing too strong, ok!) and sit close enough to hear them but not exactly be part of the conversation (remember we are just the audience, not participants).
We have missed the start of the conversation (largely due to the preternaturally long introduction we just concluded, I believe). But now we are here, so let’s catch the drifting tale.
TOM:
[to DICK]… and I believe you people are the worst that happened to our kingdom, besides obviously Harry and his comrades, [to HARRY] no disrespect meant, kind sir.
HARRY:
None taken. Let me order a few more pitchers for us, should I? [speaks to the innkeeper] Three more pitchers of your fragrant concoction and put it on my tab.
DICK:
[to HARRY] You are way too generous my friend. But the same may be lost to ingrates like Tom here and his people. They have this habit of bitching about the good people who come to their assistance.
T:
[to HARRY] Our people were the proud subjects of Lord Storm-Sound. We recognise generosity when offered, timely assistance when extended… (looking at Dick with anger) and stupid, cruelly delayed and demeaning offers of inadequate support, when thrust in our faces and land.
D:
[still to HARRY] Yes, the proud subjects of the Great Loud-Mouth of South. Who couldn’t suppress his mistaken pride and request support. And after, the last time our king, the Lord Who-Hears-All, asked for free passage for his army – and that too to extend assistance to the kingdom of the Prince of Youth.
T:
[Do I have to keep repeating that TOM and DICK are talking about each other, in the presence of each other, but not to each other?] Which would have been late, as is usual for the Lord Who-Hears-But-Never-Listens. And who would allow an army to cross their land? Especially when the same army continually conducts cowardly raids in spite of the Accord of Ten being in force for close to three decades now?
D:
Aah, when the Empty-Sound people try to challenge the sanctity of our borders, what would our army do, but reclaim what is rightfully ours. And trying to divert the river waters, with never a thought for our lands, that have equal rights over it. They should thank their stars, for had it not been for the Accord of Ten, my Lord Of-Patient-Audience would have long ago lost his famed patience, and razed the whole kingdom to ground for the impudence.
H:
Friends, your drinks remain almost untouched. What were the terms of this Accord of Ten you guys keep talking about?
D:
You people were never part of this, though a few small kings from the North did reach out to the Council. The Accord had two basic tenets. First, no member state would attempt all-out war of annexation on another member state. Small skirmishes were not counted, though in case of repeated misdemeanours, the aggrieved party could submit a formal complaint, which if found well-founded would result in award of punitive reparations.
T:
And if found untruthful, would result in even more punitive reverse penalties.
D:
Yes, yes that too. The Second tenet was that no member state would interfere in the regional trade, with no taxation for trade between the members. The tax on trade with non-member states had two components – one for the member state and one for the overall confederation. First went to the treasury of the member and the second to the joint treasury, held in trust by the High King of South, the Priest King.
T:
In principle, to be used for the upkeep of roads, common warehouses and ports. Though one of my trade official friends said, it mostly went in gilding the towers of the Priest King’s capital city, the Golden City.
D:
That’s one thing we can agree upon. The Golden City took the lion’s share, as if by being the first to propose this Accord made them our overlords.
T:
Yes, and and the meatiest of the appointments to the Trade Courts and the major ports – all seemed to go to the citizens of the Golden City. While we, the true frontiers with the rest of the continent were like second grade supplicants to their bounty. In fact, the high road between our two kingdoms had fallen in major disrepair.
D:
One of the reasons our army reached late was that the chariots could not run at their best speeds. Our stable master believed it may have been exacerbated by the removal of all the stand-by beasts from the way-stations, by the Lord Sound-of-Storm.
H:
May be my friends. Drink up I say, let me order another round [gestures to the inn-keep].
D:
Thank you kind sir. I do not understand though your interest with the Accord tenets. Your armies have already defeated nine of the Ten Kingdoms. The Accord, as is, seems dead now.
T:
May be your lords would want to replicate the Accord, with themselves as the chief proponents and arbitrator instead of the Golden City.
H:
It is just my own curiosity. I am mightily impressed personally with this Accord of South. You may not know but I am son to a father who respected the commercial acumen of the Ten Heads of South. In fact, he was one of the kings who had reached out to the Priest King to be allowed to be part of the Accord
T:
We didn’t know we were in presence of royalty. That explains the consummate nonchalance at the cost the dastardly inn-keep is charging for these pitchers of drink. Who was your father, oh strong-bodied Prince? And why didn’t he come to our aid in this fight? In fact if I understand correctly, if you are here, you must have fought for the Far Northerners against us.
H:
I did, my friends. My father did not. He is dead now. He was killed more than two years back. If your Council of Ten had accepted his proposal and made him the Eleventh Head of the Accord, he may have been alive – supported in his fight with the Far Northerners by the Lord Sound-Of-Storm and Lord Hearer-Of-All. And may be, may be the Accord would have expanded and included the Far Northerners as well. Then instead of each of the Kingdoms of Traders being picked off one by one by the armies of the Kingdom of Warriors, we all could have existed as a single confederation. Where each state kept its individuality, yet was part of a bigger whole. Separated by skin color and dialects, but united by the Common Good. By Common Laws. May be a written Constitution – instead of just two tenets – that ensured fair and equal rights to all.
D:
It could have been my friend. But now with the Accord finished, there is no hope. May be some day the many divided Kingdoms of Warriors is defeated one by one by a Kingdom of Traders. Picked off one after the other. As our books say, the world is cyclical, and all that.
HARRY [who is actually PETER we have met drinking almost at the beginning (end?). And once more before the final fight. again drinking. I think he has a drinking problem!]
There is hope. There is always hope. The Accord brought common ground and common prosperity. However much you guys bickered earlier, however much your Lords disliked each other personally. Overall, you followed the Accord. And if you had added another tenet that there would be a common army, financed by common taxation. An Army that would be bigger than what each of the kingdoms could afford alone. An Army which flew not the White flag of Thomas’ nation, nor the Green flag of Richard’s nation or not even the Saffron flag of my nation, but a flag with all the three colours. That army would have saved every Tom, Dick and Harry.
HARRY (Or is it Peter?) looks hopefully into the distance while TOM and DICK look at him.
While we travellers from the future, eavesdroppers to this conversation of past destruction and future hope, think… was Harry talking of us?
But no! We are not “demons”, we are not “apes“ or “bears“. We are “human“.
He cannot be talking about us. Could he?
FADE OUT
Random Mythoscopy 