Lands of Red and Gold #116: Answers for Tjuwagga
“Obedience is the mother of success, and success the parent of salvation.”
- Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.), Greek playwright. The Seven Against Thebes, l. 224.
* * *
16 December 1715
Cankoona [Toowoomba, QLD], the Neeburra [Darling Downs]
Dominion of Harmony
Cankoona seemed more crowded every time Weriyu visited, even compared to the last time he had been here, a little over two months past. The Hunter had designated it an encampment of convenience, a place where the united Horse-Men could assemble. And men were assembling.
Where Cankoona had been a camp, now it began to resemble more of the permanent towns which the elders used to speak of, places where men and women lived in one location rather than following the Ride. Part of the main road they followed into the encampment had been paved with stone. A few tents had been replaced with wooden buildings since he last passed, too.
Weriyu had ordered his men to take his horse with him and go to the general soldiers’ quarters for now, with the captive under guard, until he had made arrangements for both men and captive. So he made his way on foot as quickly as he could to the centre of Cankoona, where wooden buildings had been in place since near the beginning.
Soon enough he found himself standing before Yongalla, former opponent of the Hunter, and now one of his senior Warego [heroes / commanders].
Yongalla said, “How fared your visit to the River-Men?”
“Well enough,” Weriyu said. “We rode into Yigutji’s lands as far as the Gurrnyal [Lachlan River]. We bypassed all of their towns, seeking a suitable prize. We saw none of their soldiers patrolling outside the towns while coming south, though there were a couple on our return.”
“Why did you not cross the Gurrnyal?”
“No need. We captured a wealthy man on this side. Pinjarra, he calls himself. He said he would be worth ransoming, and his adornments confirmed his tale. I thought it best to bring him back immediately, rather than searching for a safe crossing of the Gurrnyal.”
Yongalla looked intrigued. “Is this captive a noble of Yigutji?”
“No. He was not born a River-Man, but he has wealthy friends there. His ransom should be a useful one.”
Weriyu did not bother to explain the rest now, but he had been impressed with Pinjarra, despite himself. Pinjarra was not a man of the Five Rivers – he had made that very plain – but from mountains even further south, beyond the Five Rivers. A highland man, like the Horse-Men of the Neeburra. Pinjarra spoke pleasingly, and could even ride a horse passably well.
“I may meet him myself. Can he speak our language, or Nuttana?”
“No, nor Yigutjian. He does speak Gunnagal and several Raw Men languages, though. The herald we brought with us could speak to him.” The herald, Kullerin, made a useful translator, when he was not too busy reciting old tales.
“Interpreters will be easy enough to find,” Yongalla said.
Weriyu said, “Is the Hunter available to hear my account?” The great leader often liked to hear first-hand tales of raids into Yigutji. The deaths of any people of that land pleased him. And it was always useful to seek any opportunity to speak directly to the supreme commander.
Yongalla said, “He is not, now, but he may ask to see you in coming days. I will see that he is told both of your return and of your captive, this... Pinjarra.”
*
Returning to Cankoona gave Kullerin a sense of relief, after the long month’s ride back from the Five Rivers. They had had a welcome few days’ break at Goonaroi [1], but that had been the only pause in the journey. They had needed to ride around Yigutjian patrols for the first couple of days, and then in a zig-zag route to confuse potential pursuers, until they were well clear of Yigutji-controlled territory. The rest of the ride had been at a more sedate pace, but wearying nonetheless.
After Weriyu left to visit the Hunter’s tents, the rest of the band made their way through the camp, toward the unassigned soldiers’ quarters on the northern side. Kullerin rode near Pinjarra, as he usually did, both so that he could interpret if needed, and because the captive man was so intriguing when he spoke about many subjects.
“Honoured Pinjarra!” someone called in Tjibarri.
Kullerin looked to see a young, bearded man atop a horse, dressed in dark blue finery that was if anything more ornate than Pinjarra had possessed on first meeting. The man had the lighter skin of a River-Man. A couple of Riders accompanied him, both half a horse-length behind him.
Beside him, Pinjarra stirred on his saddle and raised one palm to the newcomer.
“I did not expect to meet you in the Neeburra,” the River-Man said.
Pinjarra said, “This was not my preferred destination, but since my other choice was to make Yigutji my final destination, I deemed the trip to the Neeburra worth making.”
The newcomer grinned. “Well-spoken as always.”
Pinjarra shook his head, noticed Kullerin watching their conversation, then said, “Introductions would be in order. Malligo, this is Kullerin, a man formerly of the Gemlands and now a herald of the Hunter. Kullerin, this is Malligo of the Blues, from Tjibarr.”
Malligo gave a half-bow; Kullerin returned the gesture. He had heard a little of Tjibarri factions, and if he understood properly, someone could not be called “of the Blues” – or any colour – unless they were noble or otherwise notable.
Pinjarra said, “Why have you come as far as the Neeburra?”
Malligo said, “Doing what I must do to bring proper harmony to Tjibarr.”
A corner of Pinjarra’s lips twitched. “Many say that, but they seldom agree on how to bring about harmony.”
“I know better than to enter into a duel of words with you,” Malligo said, grinning openly. “But I act as I judge best, as do all men, even you.” He shrugged. “And you look worse for your journey here.”
Pinjarra said, “These were the only clothes I had with me at the moment of my invitation to Cankoona. I did not have time to bring spares.”
“A man of your insight should not be treated so poorly. Have your hosts make you some more clothes of your style. Tell them I will pay for it.”
Pinjarra said, “Careful, or they may think to charge you for my ransom.”
Malligo said, “As to that, you will need to ask your friends in Yigutji. A set of new clothes for you is within my means, but not a ransom of the size your hosts will demand.”
Gunnagal friendship evaporates quickly, Kullerin thought. Pinjarra was right about that, as he has been right about so much else.
Pinjarra glanced at Kullerin, as if the man could read his thoughts. Belatedly, he realised that Malligo was looking at him in much the same way. Well, the man who had taught him Tjibarri had also told him to beware of their astuteness in judging men’s hearts.
Malligo said, “And you, good herald, are no doubt thinking that it is ungracious of me not to pay the honoured Pinjarra’s ransom, no matter what it costs me.” The Tjibarri man exchanged glances with Pinjarra, and they both laughed.
Pinjarra turned to Kulllerin. “I can explain it best, I think. There is no point in Malligo offering to pay my ransom. If he made such an offer, unprompted, then the ransom demand would raise higher and higher until it took all of the wealth he has with him here. Or perhaps even more, if they demand that he obtains further wealth from his family back in Tjibarr.”
“Astute as always,” Malligo said. “But not quite correct. They would ask for all the wealth I have here, but none from back home.”
Pinjarra raised an eyebrow. “Your status here is not quite what I thought. So you no longer have the option of returning to your lands in Tjibarr, I take it?”
“Quite. I have been stripped of my lands for holding discussions with the Hunter,” Malligo said.
“I am not certain of the wisdom of your course in coming here, but nevertheless, you have my sympathies for your loss.”
Malligo’s face took on what looked like careful blankness. “What has been done cannot be changed. In any event, it was an unexpected pleasure to see you here. If you like, I will arrange for your hosts to permit you to travel to my... tents for a feast.”
“I would enjoy that,” Pinjarra said. “Perhaps Kullerin would be welcome also.”
“If you wish to invite him, so be it.” Malligo bowed deeply to Pinjarra, slightly to Kullerin, then led his horse around them and onward.
Kullerin said, “I did not know that the Tjibarri would strip lands from a noble.”
“Stealing lands from each other is a great passion of their factions,” Pinjarra said. “Second only to football, and some would rank it as first.” He chuckled. “But Malligo is no fool, either. He will have anticipated that. No doubt before he came here he stripped his estates of all wealth which could be carried away, and borrowed as much more as he could from everyone he knows, so that if they barred him, he would not have to repay it.”
“That sounds very... convoluted.”
“Tjibarri politics is seldom anything else,” Pinjarra said.
* * *
23 December 1715
Cankoona, the Neeburra
Dominion of Harmony
The Hunter’s central residence in Cankoona had been built with a small part in stone, a larger part in wood, and some parts still below canvas. That much, Pinjarra had expected before he came here. What he had not expected was to be called to meet the Hunter, or at least not so soon.
He had a permanent escort, of course, two soldiers at a time chosen in rotation from the band which had brought him to Cankoona. None of those soldiers spoke Gunnagal, he had found, which made conversation difficult given the herald Kullerin was rarely around these days.
A young man stood inside the outer, tent-covered part of the Hunter’s residence. The man was clean-shaven as seemed to be the fashion amongst these Horse-Men. He gave a slight bow and spoke in Gunnagal. “I am Waloong kun Jowarra. Waloong son of Jowarra, you would say in the Tjibarri tongue.”
The slight pause before he said the name Jowarra cued Pinjarra as to the meaning. “Let me guess: not the son of the famous General Jowarra, and everyone who hears your patronymic for the first time guesses that you are?”
“Indeed. You are astute,” Waloong said.
“One cannot live amongst the Gunnagal for long without learning some of their skill in reading what is not said,” Pinjarra said, with a slight grin. “And in such a vein, your Gunnagal seems too fluent to have learned it while trading with Five Rivers merchants, as seems to be the most common way for Yalatji and Butjupa to have learned the language.”
“I have a Gunnagal concubine. And we had best go to the Hunter, for he awaits you.”
Waloong led the way through a corridor whose walls changed from canvas to wood to stone, with doorways but no doors, until they were ushered into the presence of a man who could only be the Hunter. He wore only a simple tunic, with none of the ornamentation which the Horse-Men preferred. He let his hair hang loose, where most Yalatji senior commanders used hair-bags. He looked to be thirty, or a little older; plain of face, but of considerable height, and with a smile which would have won him many women’s hearts even if he had not been a warleader and conqueror.
The Hunter spoke first, with Waloong translating. “I bid you welcome, Pinjarra. Weriyu speaks highly of you, and he is one of my commanders who is not easy to impress. Malligo, my guest from Tjibarr, says that you are a man with insight like few others in all of history. I thought it worthwhile to hear your insights first-hand.”
“I am honoured that others speak of me so,” Pinjarra said. “And whatever my insights may be worth – a judgement I leave to others – I am glad to share them with any who asks.”
“Then here is what I would like your views on. My conquests have brought my new lands under my blood-stained banner. But for now, they are many lands. I am striving to make them into one land, where the people think of themselves as part of the same land, and of the one true faith. I have made a good beginning, but I always seek to understand more of what is needed.”
Pinjarra said, “As to that, if you want to understand what it takes to make one state, you must first understand the true source of its government’s authority.”
“A government may derive its power from many sources,” the Hunter said.
“There are many sources of power, but only one ultimate source of authority,” Pinjarra said. He had explained this truth many times before, but never to someone who wielded so much power himself.
“On the first finger, power can be claimed by the Blood. Those who claim to have inherited power, based on who their ancestors were. The Blood is applied in many realms, some large such as Durigal or Tiayal, and many smaller realms, including some which you have recently conquered. Some claim the Blood not just for the greatest ruler, but for many others within the realm, who also inherit their power from their forefathers.”
The Hunter said, “Where a man has talent, his children may inherit it.”
“They may, yes. But there is no assurance that talent follows in generations. Too many descendant rulers are fools for that to be true. And claiming power by the Blood means that many men of talent are denied the best use of power, because they have the wrong forefathers.”
“Some leaders recognise talent, and so promote it.”
“The less talent a leader has, the less they will be able to recognise it in others,” Pinjarra said. “Even that, though, is not the worst flaw in claiming power by Blood. It can be claimed by many descendants of a man, even a man with talent. Too many competing would-be rulers will undermine a realm, miring it in bloodshed, sometimes of rulers, sometimes of the whole realm.”
“A ruler may designate a single heir.”
“So they may. And at times, that may be honoured. There is no assurance that it will, nor that a ruler’s judgement will select the best successor. Take your new realm. It is held together by your power, for now. But you have many men of talent under you, those who are your commanders, and other men of talent which you must use to administer your rule across your realm. Perhaps you may designate an heir by Blood. Do you think that all of those commanders can be guaranteed to accept your choice once you have departed?”
“That is a question I have considered,” the Hunter said. He made no effort to elaborate what answers, if any, he had found.
“These then, are the problems with claiming power by Blood. It may be a source of power, but it cannot be an ultimate source of authority.”
Pinjarra cleared his throat. “On the second finger, power can be claimed by the Blade. Men may rule by conquest, by imposing their rule by force of arms.”
“Conquest is usually a persuasive argument for power.”
“So it is, but it is not an enduring argument. Force of arms is effective for power for a short time, but it is unworkable for power over a longer time. It is fundamentally unstable, or to put it in Tjarrling terms, unbalanced. Force of arms relies on fear. Fear may keep the people quiet for a time, but they will always be looking for an opportunity to act against you. They will overthrow you if they perceive weakness or if they receive support from other realms.”
The Hunter said, “This much at least I will accept: that conquest is merely the beginning of the road to power, and not the end.”
“On the third finger, power can be claimed from the Real. Men may claim power because they control tangible things that men value. Most commonly, they control the land and what can be produced from it. Or it may be that they control the Gold, the money or other forms of wealth which a given realm enjoys. Here in the Neeburra, before your conquests expanded the realm, cattle were the greatest measure of how a man controlled the Real.”
“Doubtless you are now about to explain why the Real, too, is flawed as a source of power.”
Pinjarra said, “Doubtless you already have some insight into its flaws yourself. The Real gives more stable power than the Blade or the Blood, but ultimately it is flawed because wealth can be lost. Not because wealth may be stolen or conquered, though that of course can be a problem. The Gold can be hoarded, but if it is never spent, people will cease to value it, and instead place value on what is spent. The Gold must be used, and if it must be used, then it may be lost. If it is spent wisely, it may yield more Gold in turn, but that is never assured, relying on a man’s talents, and talent does not endure across generations.”
“Land is more stable than gold.”
“Land is valueless without men to work it, both to produce things from the land, and to rework the land’s produce into a form which men desire. Control of land can sometimes persuade men to work it, of course, but that is not assured. So the power resides more with the men than with the land.”
Pinjarra paused then, to see if the Hunter responded. The warleader made no comment, simply waiting to see if Pinjarra would continue. Unlike most men, this was not one who could be induced to talk simply to fill the silence.
“On the fourth finger, power may be claimed by the Rite. Men may rule because they claim power through rites of faith.”
“As do I, for instance,” the Hunter said. “It gives me power.”
“If the men of a realm share the same faith and agree that this faith gives you authority, then yes, the Rite supports power. The problems are twofold. In a realm where men do not share the same faith, then they will not support you, and imposing a new faith on them will fail. So the Yadji have discovered in Durigal, for one. Faith imposed at the point of a blade will amount to naught, for it will be lost as soon as the blade is no longer in sight.”
“And the second problem?”
“Even where men share what is in name the same faith, they seldom agree about all the truths of a faith, and even more rarely agree on how to apply them to government. So it is with Plirism and Tjarrlinghi, which both derive from the teachings of the Good Man, but which are divided into many schools who argue with each other. So it is also with the Raw Men, who argue endlessly about the sects of their Christianity.”
The Hunter’s lip curled. “I have spoken to Raw Men about their faith. I was not impressed.”
“On the thumb, all power ultimately derives from authority, and true authority in a realm comes from the Ordinary. Authority comes from the people as a whole, from every person who is part of the realm, whether free or slave, high-born or low-born, wealthy or pauper. Power comes from authority, and authority only becomes real when the people recognise it as real. Thus it remains the true foundation of all authority.”
“The people are not a collective,” the Hunter said. “They do not act with one purpose, so they do not give one source of authority.”
“The people rarely act as one. They can do, for a short time, if some event or great threat unites them. But they do not stay united.”
“How then do you claim that this power can be harnessed to rule the realm?”
“That is indeed the question,” Pinjarra said. “It is a matter for understanding through careful analysis. One must consider the source of authority, and the means available which can harness it. The search for understanding is the exploration of how best to harness the collective power of the Ordinary. No analysis can be truly complete, my own included, but the analysis must be guided by knowledge of the forms of power and how they derive from the Ordinary.”
“Many words, but not yet an answer.”
“Easier to consider by examples. I was born in Natta [Goornong, VIC], a small town in the mountains to the south of the Five Rivers. In the year I was born, it was part of Gutjanal, and I became a subject of the Julanoons [2]. If I had been born a year earlier, I would have been born in Durigal, a subject of the Yadji. The mountains there are one of many border regions between the states, where rulership shifts between states over time, between the Five Rivers and Durigal. The mountains are contested between Durigal, Gutjanal and Tjibarr. The Copper Coast is contested between Tjibarr and Durigal, and the Channel Country between Tjibarr and Gutjanal. And there are other border regions between these states, with the same impermanence of control.”
“And, doubtless, you have an explanation for why these borders change.”
“I do. The Five Rivers kingdoms and Durigal cannot permanently control these regions because none of them have truly grasped the source of authority of a state. Though some come closer than others. Without this knowledge, their rule has never been truly stable. Or truly balanced, to use your terms.”
“A useful illustration, but still not an answer. You would not speak so much of this unless you have an answer.”
“I do. You do it by harnessing the two contradictory desires of the people. All men have two aspects to their nature, each of which is present to some degree. All men have the drive of self-interest, of pursuing gains for them alone, regardless of whether this costs others. All men also have some measure of collective interest, the recognition that more may be accomplished together than apart, for the benefit of all. Sometimes this desire manifests as collaboration, sometimes as generosity or self-sacrifice, but it springs from the same source.
“These two desires are both part of all men’s nature, and cannot be removed. To pursue self-interest alone, at all times, will leave a man alone and friendless, not part of any realm. To pursue collective interest at all times will leave a man destitute and without identity. They must both operate, and operate together. Yet they drive men to contradictory goals, some of which are of benefit to the stability of a realm, some of which are a detriment. Since they cannot be suppressed, they must be harnessed. To create a stable realm, you must establish a structure which permits both of these desires to operate without unbalancing the realm.”
Pinjarra looked directly to Waloong. “There is a phrase in Gunnagal, which is most difficult to render into other languages; the other peoples of the Five Rivers simply borrow the phrase. Majura namatiji.”
Waloong shook his head. “I have heard the phrase, once, but I am not sure how to translate it.”
“Do the best you can. No other phrase can capture the same meaning precisely, but other phrases that give some of the understanding are contrary interdependence, mutual individualism, together apart, or uncommon purpose.”
The Hunter and interpreter spoke for some time in Yalatji. Eventually Waloong said, “He said to tell you he understands.”
“To create a truly stable realm, you must manage these two desires, and they are best managed by majura namatji. Strength though being together apart. The realm is strongest if men are in both competition and cooperation at the same time.
“Again, an example will illustrate. Take Tjibarr, greatest of the Five Rivers kingdoms. They are divided into factions, which compete at times for their own betterment, but they have also learned to work together when required. On an individual level, men of the same faction can compete with each other too, but they also work together when needed to strengthen the faction. Tjibarr has learned how to harness men’s own self-interest, but balance that against greater interests.”
“Tjibarr also has a king who claims inherited authority. By the Blood, in your terms.”
Pinjarra smiled. “Setting aside your newly-forged realm for the moment, there are five great states in our land: Tiayal, Durigal, Tjibarr, Gutjanal and Yigutji. Each of them claims power from the Blood, in name, but in truth this is not how each of those states is ruled.
“Gutjanal has a ruler of the Blood, but that rule is tempered by the Real, for their greatest landholders elect the king. Tjibarr has a king, but his rule is not absolute, and in truth the factions govern the state. The king’s power is fettered by the Ordinary, as expressed via the factions.
“Compare this to Durigal. The Yadji Emperor is absolute in name, claiming power both by the Blood and the Rite. One man alone can never rule an entire state, of course, and relies on others to implement his will. Durigal is ruled in practice by the priests, and the priests of each region are meant to work together to ensure the best outcomes for all the people of their region.
“If that worked properly, it would be a valuable mechanism for harnessing the power of the Ordinary. Alas, the priests often impose practices not in favour of the Ordinary, but based on dogma from their Rite, their language or their rulers of the Blood. That is why they have faced revolts aplenty, and why the Kurnawal succeeded in creating their own realm, because their interests were never harnessed, merely subdued.”
“I have heard of this rebellion of Tiyanjara. Division amongst my enemies is to my advantage.”
“So it may well be, over a short time. I speak of how to stabilise a realm over a longer time. Consider Tiayal, where the Atjuntja derived their rule solely from the Blood, and were most unstable for it, with rebellions commonplace and succession wars regular.
“So, there were five great states, but consider most of all Tjibarr. When the Raw Men came, Tjibarr was third amongst the states, behind Durigal and Tiayal. Now, it is unquestionably first. Durigal has not fallen, but it is weakened, dependent on the Inglidj, and it continues to strive against itself. I have seen the tensions there, as the Ordinary continues to be disregarded, and soon Durigal will return to fighting against itself. Tiayal is broken; the Atjuntja Emperor now rules in name only.”
“Yet Tjibarr has endured. It has subdued those who were once its enemies. Gutjanal and Yigutji are now subservient to Tjibarri ambitions. The Tjibarri did not try to conquer those kingdoms outright, for that would only impose conquest on a people who are not yet prepared to accept it, without the true authority of the Ordinary. But they have harnessed their foes’ competing self-interest to a collective goal, one which Tjibarr steers. Tjibarr understands, better than others, the significance of majura namatji.”
The Hunter frowned. “So Tjibarr is my greatest enemy, then, would you say?”
“No. Your greatest enemy is setting up rule which derives from a flawed source of authority. You may defeat Tjibarr by the Blade, perhaps. Such things are always possible. But the people will remain. The Ordinary will still be there, the foundational source of authority. Conquest by force is possible, but it is temporary. You will not truly hold Tjibarr unless you impose a rule there which derives from greater understanding of the Ordinary and how to harness its multitudinous interests. And the same principle holds, in similar form, for each of the other lands which you have recently added to your realm.”
The Hunter was silent for a long time, whether considering Pinjarra’s words or not was hard to say. When he wanted, he could be as hard to read as a skilled Gunnagal.
At length, he said, “I would hear more of your views on matters of faith.”
Pinjarra smiled. “All religions are but efforts to gain understanding. Most hold some truth, but none are truly complete.”
“You are courageous, to say these words to the one declared to spread the True Path, the path of the True Heir, the faith of Tjarrlinghi.”
Pinjarra shrugged. “You are a man whose very name proclaims that you are seeking after truth. You will listen to those who express their views, of that I am sure. You may not agree with them, but you will not punish them for expressing what they understand.”
Tjuwagga chuckled. “You do have insight, this is true. Speak, then, of what you perceive truth to be in matters of faith.”
“All faith is a search for understanding, for insight, and an effort to create lessons to apply to the world. In so far as the Rite applies to government, it is an effort to create authority, or to use understanding to support other authority, or sometimes both. But no faith has full understanding.”
“The Good Man understood the truth, and he has passed it to his disciple, the True Heir, who has in turn passed it on to their successors, including me.”
“The Good Man possessed great insight and understanding, of that I am sure. His legacy demonstrates as much. But his message is not the one which you have been taught today. Much of what your Tjarrling beliefs hold does not derive from what the Good Man taught; much of what he taught was not passed on to your current Tjarrling beliefs.”
The Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”
“No-one can doubt that the Good Man possessed exceptional insight and understanding. The flaw, though, is that transmitting true understanding requires not just an insightful teacher, but a truly insightful listener. The Good Man tried to teach his full insights to his disciples, but none of his disciples were truly capable of grasping the full extent of his message. They each grasped only part, and in turn added some of their own beliefs to the messages which they passed on to their students. And the same process has followed since, in every generation of the faith, with the message being changed along the way.”
“The True Disciple grasped the message.”
“Think you that? We have many records of what the Good Man taught, of his words as those who heard them remembered them and passed them on. Perhaps some of those are spurious, added by others; it is hard to say after so many centuries. But never mind that; think for now only of the Good Man’s words as recorded by his disciples.
“I have read all of the Good Man’s words which I can find, including your Tjarrling writings. Nowhere, in any of them, in a single word, is it recorded how the Good Man viewed time. He taught of actions and consequences, of harmony and disharmony, of balance and unbalanced. But he never placed these in time.
“Yet all of the subsequent sects of his followers – every last one of them, including those in the Five Rivers, from the Islanders, the Yadilli, your Yalatji and Butjupa sects, and others – have adopted the view that time is not fixed in its forward passage, that reincarnation can happen across time. Why have they added this, when none of the Good Man’s words taught this?”
The Hunter opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally said, “A good question.”
“It is because the Good Man’s first listeners were versed in the Five Rivers beliefs which came before him, beliefs which remain in much of Tjibarr and Gutjanal. They already believed in this view of time, of rebirth in past, present and future without constraint. So when they in turn came to teach others, after the Good Man had passed, they added this to the Good Man’s teachings, and sought to reconcile this in a variety of ways.
“This is just one part, one which we can reason out. How many more examples of this are there, of elements which were added to the Good Man’s teachings? How much of what he taught was left out by those who did not grasp it or whose own views led them to reject parts of his teachings?
“That is why I respect the Good Man and all others who have understanding, but do not hold that any faith represents the full truth. Finding truth and understanding is a journey without end; too many faiths represent themselves as having reached the end of understanding.”
“An intriguing perspective,” the Hunter said. Again, he managed as well as a Gunnagal to conceal his views on whether he accepted it. “I believe I have enough to consider, for now. In a few days, I will send to speak to you again. Then, I would like to speak more about how you would stabilise a realm, whether through this majura namatji or otherwise.”
“I am, of course, at your service,” Pinjarra said.
In fact, it was two days later before the Hunter sent for Pinjarra again. They had not just one more conversation but several, over the weeks, as the Hunter asked more about governance, about consolidation of realms, and about how government worked in the Five Rivers and Durigal. Pinjarra offered his thoughts, as he always did, on every subject offered. Often, the Hunter did not agree, or did not show his views, but he always remained polite in listening.
Finally, after yet another conversation about how best to identify the interests of conquered peoples, the Hunter said, “I have reached a decision. Your friends in Yigutji need send no ransom. I will pay Weriyu and his men myself. The insight you have given me is worth more than any ransom which they could match. Not that I agree with all of what you say, but it gives me excellent perspective in my own striving.”
Pinjarra bowed and expressed his thanks.
“No thanks are necessary,” the Hunter said. “Each of us is, in our way, trying to leave a legacy which will outlast us.”
“That is plain truth,” Pinjarra said. “Men come and go, leaving only echoes in the minds of those who live on. One can hope that one can leave an insight that endures, that those who come after will be better for it.”
“Which of us do you think will leave the greater legacy?” the Hunter asked.
Pinjarra said, “Good question.”
The Hunter said, “Your insight will shape the world, I think. Your understanding is not the sort which will be ended by conquest.”
“And yours will shape the world, too. Conquest is a part, but you have reshaped the faith, both of the Tjarrlinghi and the Plirites. That legacy will endure long after you.”
The Hunter smiled. “It could be so. I do know that if your legacy surpasses mine, it would not be the worst thing in the world.”
* * *
[1] Goonaroi is located near the historical town of Moree, NSW. It is another semi-permanent encampment established by the Hunter, in this case in former Butjupa territory, as a gathering point for the semi-nomadic herders. It also serves as a way-station for Dominion forces going to or from the Five Rivers.
[2] The kingdom of Gutjanal is ruled by monarchs of the Julanoon dynasty, with each successive monarch coming from the same family, and chosen by the Council of Elders, a group of approximately twenty of the greatest landholders. Elder, as a title in Gutjanal, carries about the same significance and role as the title of Elector did in the Holy Roman Empire.
* * *
Thoughts?
P.S. Pinjarra is sometimes considered the progenitor of panollidism, and sometimes just as part of the intellectual tradition which led to it.
