The Conquest of Europe by the Pacific Empire

A little history

A LITTLE HISTORYIN THE DAYS BEFORE TIME, that is before time could be accurately measured, the Pacific Ocean and its islands comprised nearly the whole known world, according to the legends of the first people, the Primesians, to occupy the islands of this ocean. The islands of their empire covered hundreds of thousands of square kilometers. Their tiny lands and the vast seas they crossed from one to another made up a huge empire ruled by a council of elders that, because of the distances between islands, only met once every five years. It was, in size, the biggest empire that the world has ever known.

Beyond the empire, were some islands in the far west, whose inhabitants were not great seafarers. Occasionally one of their strange sailing canoes was blown into the empire’s ocean. From these visits, the empire learned that the western islands were similar to theirs, though much bigger and only a few among their peoples bothered to take to the sea. The islanders of the empire, seeing no harm in them, gave them food and water and allowed them to stay until favorable winds would carry them back. Their islands were too far away to consider any kind of alliance.

In the east, there was said to be a large island beyond the edge of the ocean that stretched far to the north and to the south with mountains rising higher than any in the empire. No one in the empire knew any more than that.

Centuries ago, the elders commissioned Artemi, the greatest navigator in the empire, to find the island in the east to learn whether it posed any future threat to the empire or, if uninhabited, could be made part of the empire.

Artemi was said to have been an unprepossessing islander, neither of grand stature nor a weakling. His hair was long but not very wavy; his skin was the color of honey. He wore a short loin cloth like all the men on his island. What set him apart was the fire behind his dark eyes, the fire that lit up and threw out sparks whenever the prospect of exploration was raised. He was an extraordinary navigator, the founder of the empire’s modern navigation techniques. By observing a single leaf in the water, he could tell how far and from which direction it had come and so could name the island on which it grew. No wonder he was chosen to find the almost mythical island in the east.

The account of Artemi’s voyage became a favorite legend around the empire, related up to this day by travelers from island to island, by citizens from house to house, and by parents to children. It has a bearing on our story so it is worth repeating here.

A date for the voyage, when the winds and currents would be favorable, was chosen by the elders. Artemi set off with a small group of sailors to much fanfare on four well-stocked double canoes, each equipped with several sets of sails and oars. The explorers traveled ever eastward, sometimes following currents, scudding along before a storm, or rowing against a gale.

There are legendary stories of their bravery. They encountered seas bigger and more formidable that any sailors before them; storms that threatened to break apart their canoes; and winds that tore sails from the masts. Different story tellers in different islands have made much of these adventures and of the prowess and endurance of individual sailors and of Artemi, who kept their spirits up as they sailed further and further into the unknown. The history of the empire has always been passed down from generation to generation in story form. Some story tellers can keep an audience enthralled for several days in describing the details of the harrowing crossing of the Pacific Ocean by Artemi and his fellow sailors with the ocean. We will pass over these accounts, because a greater voyage was in store for the empire, one on a far grander scale. Had it failed, this story could not have been written.

So it was that after nearly five moons, the sailors spied the mountainous island, its peaks hidden in clouds that formed a white cap as far as they could see to the north and south.

The sailors hauled their canoes up a deserted beach. Venturing inland, they soon realized it was inhabited. Before them were groups of people working in a field. These people were of much the same appearance as themselves in the color of their skin and hair; their clothing was the small loin cloth that islanders use, and their tools were similarly made of stone and wood.

They made the exhausted sailors welcome; gifts were exchanged and the sailors were led to a large village in the mountains where they were astonished to see massive pyramid-shaped temples built of stone. The temples were a great source of wonder to them because there was nothing like them in the empire and because they saw no purpose in such huge edifices; only a very few people were allowed to enter them. The islanders of the empire lived with nature, encroaching as little as was necessary on the land and always took care to appease any gods of the forests and shores that might be upset by their actions.

As they stood gazing at these massive monuments, the strangers suddenly seized them and dragged them into a clearing in the middle of the village, where they were tied together and displayed to the villagers. Before long, the whole population of the village had gathered to look and jeer at them. Then, in a horrific ceremony at the foot of one of the stone pyramids, some were tortured, killed and eaten; the others were made slaves.

In this condition, the survivors, including Artemi, endured more than three moons of cruel treatment. During their captivity, they carefully watched not only their captors but also the winds. As soon as the winds that had brought them to this land had turned to make the long journey back across the Pacific, Artemi made plans for their escape. This wind, they knew, was a wind that would be willing to carry westward any sailors who asked for its favors during the next four or five moons; and it would take that long to reach the homeland of the captive sailors.

About this time there was a gathering of several tribes in the hostile island to celebrate the change of season. The celebration was to be held in a large square between two of the pyramids. Preparations were being made for an elaborate feast and the captives felt sure they were part of the menu. They noticed that the noise and activities of the villagers as tables and decorations were being set up were distracting their guards who, in any case believed there was nowhere the captives could go where they could not easily be rounded up again.

They were not a seafaring population and did not think an escape by sea was possible. They had no inkling of the endurance and navigation skills of the empire’s warriors. And so the guards did not notice in the noise and confusion that a signal from Artemi had passed from one sailor to another; the remaining 60 sailors crept out of their lodgings and made their way stealthily but swiftly back to the coast undetected.

They found their boats near the shore, washed up by storms into the sand dunes; they were all damaged and one of the four had broken up in the waves.

To their captors, the coast was obviously a hostile area; their spirit leaders had placed stone images on the beaches facing the sea. It was apparent that these were gods whose duty it was to protect the inhabitants from whatever fearsome creatures might emerge from the waves. Thus, they did not destroy the islanders’ boats, they simply ignored them.

The escapee sailors were overjoyed to find water containers intact among the wrecks. Some rushed to fill them from a nearby stream; others quickly explored all the boats and, choosing the one in best condition, dug and lifted, heaved and pushed until it was free of the sand and faced down the beach. Before long, before their guards realized that they had gone, their vessel was repaired and afloat. They loaded it with pieces of rigging, fishing gear and whatever else might be useful from the other boats, took some of the stone gods as proof of their visit, and set sail for their long journey home.

Needless to say, they arrived to a heroes’ welcome. Their report, that the inhabitants of the great island to the east were hostile and built massive temples, but posed no threat to the empire, was received with a mix of relief and satisfaction by the elders, though with disappointment that there was no prospect of trade or taking over the island to become part of the empire.

Some of the empire’s spirit leaders, hearing the sailors’ descriptions of the temples, took them aside and pressed them for more details. “The gods of those people must be very powerful to make the people build such huge temples,” they said secretly among themselves. “Therefore their spirit leaders must be very powerful, more powerful than their elders. We must follow their example to make our empire stronger.”

Thereafter, the empire entered what was later called the ‘stone age,’ for these spirit leaders persuaded the elders that there was much to be gained by adopting the stone gods that the Artemi expedition brought back and emulating the big stone pyramids they had all heard described in wonder.

By trial and error, huge slabs were hewn from mountainsides on the high islands or cut from the old coral beds that formed the low islands. Building the pyramids taxed the engineering skills of the islanders, who persisted only because they knew it was possible—somehow. They were urged on by spirit leaders and as the news spread from island to island, few wanted to be left behind. Most made new stone gods whose appearance was gradually modified according to the fancy of the masons, sometimes becoming more animal-like than the human-shaped images brought back by Artemi.

After completion of a pyramid, the island’s spirit leader took charge of its use, first by selecting a few close friends to become the elite disciples who alone were allowed to enter its grounds. There followed demands for sacrifices, not human, but of a portion of each harvest of fish, fruit, or game in order to satisfy the god or gods within the pyramid.

As they hoped, the spirit leaders became the islanders’ de facto rulers, their authority exceeding that of the elders in all but trivial matters, for surely the gods were responsible for the islanders’ welfare and were not the spirit leaders their voice?

Everyone settled back to await the promised benefits from these temples that the spirit leaders promised. True, an occasional fish catch exceeded their expectations or a yam harvest attained a record level and such phenomena, along with regular feasts prescribed by the gods, kept the religious fervor surrounding the pyramids alive. Yet, sometimes the crops failed or the fish were nowhere to be found; typhoons still ravaged islands. It did not take many years for the more astute elders and villagers to realize that what they were seeing were the same ups and downs of harvests and the same numbers of damaging storms as before the pyramid temples were built. They were no better off than before the great efforts they had made to attract the stone gods.

Gradually, attendance at the temples fell, sacrificial offerings dwindled, feasts were discontinued. The spirit leaders evidently could not be relied on to help the islanders and when they turned their attention back to the elders they remembered the wisdom and care that the elders had always offered. The pyramids fell into disrepair; over decades and centuries, earthquakes and storms finally leveled them, leaving scattered slabs that were soon overgrown and assimilated into the substance of the islands.

~

With the decline of the Stone Age, the empire entered a period of peace that bordered on complacency. With the lands beyond its boundaries being so distant and their inhabitants posing no threat, the empire was secure. There was little reason for the elders to meet more often than once every five years and even then it was a formality, a way of maintaining political cohesion among the islands. Trade among them and the joy of long ocean travel and visiting relatives on other islands kept the islanders themselves in almost constant contact. They navigated, following the methods taught by Artemi, using the sun and moon, the stars, the ocean swells, the birds and migrating whales, the driftwood, and the shape and position of clouds.

All shared the same legends, stories and language, although the islands differed in what they provided. Some islands were high and fertile where many kinds of food could be grown; the trees yielded hardy timber and the ground contained stone not found on the low islands. The high islanders made excellent basketware; the low islands were the source of the best pearl shell that was the only currency in the empire and was also used to make the best fishing lures, while the low islanders were the undisputed craftsmen of boats, from small fishing canoes to ocean-going vessels over 30 meters long, and they made the finest fish nets, traps, and lures.

The empire was thus the combined expression of the different skills developed in different islands. It incorporated the expertise of the most easterly and westerly islanders, for example, in constructing terraces for hillside agriculture and irrigation canals plus a little of the pomp and ceremony in which those islanders excelled. The eastern islanders also brought into the empire a great talent for social organization, which the council of elders modified to create a society that gave equality among all the empire’s peoples.

Throughout the empire, individuals willingly and happily helped one another in house and boat building, households shared tasks like gardening, and communities united over a common cause, such as building a longhouse or clearing land. To the observer, these displays of spontaneous mutual support were evidence of paradise-like living conditions enjoyed by the islanders. Indeed, the islanders led an idyllic existence through these practices, but the giving and receiving of help and goods were not forgotten over time. They were memorized by both giver and receiver because at some time the person, household or community that received help would be expected to pay in kind those who gave their help or goods. It was an efficient barter system that at the same time maintained the equality of the empire’s citizens.

The Pacific barter system was on the surface a simple concept, that of giving something felt to be equivalent in value in exchange for an item or service received. It was, however, a complex business that had acquired a smooth veneer through centuries of use, such that practically anything that was bartered was a known quantity in terms of its value, whether as numbers of pigs or shells, baskets of fruits, acreage of land, or days of service. Thus, each item bartered could be quickly calculated and an exchange offered on the spot, within the limitations of the parties’ possessions, and available time in the case of services rendered. Underlying the system was a complicated pattern of negotiation in which time played a role in addition to current value.

In practice, an item like a fishing net might be given or offered as a way of storing up credit, for instance when the giver needs an amount of labor to build or move a house sometime in the future and the receiver is in need of a new net. Or the exchange may be only partial because the receiver could not give the full value in exchange items at the time of exchange. The giver may then be obliged to offer more than the nominal value of the barter items since the receiver was not able to enjoy them all at once. These nuances had to be carefully worked out in the household to avoid insulting the receiver or embarrassing him or her by giving too much, which could result in another round of barter to equalize the values exchanged to the satisfaction of both parties.

Partial payments as well as the values of all items exchanged were carefully stored in the memories of the giver and receiver—and their households, for receivers were still obliged to honor a debt even if the household head was a warrior killed in battle.

Sea shells were used in barter also, while some were considered valuable in their own right and others had separate ornamental significance in ceremonial gatherings, often worn by chiefs or elders to indicate the importance of the wearer.

Overall, the accumulated long experience of giving and receiving across all aspects of Pacific empire living meant that very rarely was there a dispute. And if a dispute did arise, the elders were quick to restore and maintain harmony.

~

From all its islands, the empire accumulated a great store of medical knowledge. The empire’s medicine cabinet was replete with hundreds of proven herbal remedies, from the leaves of certain bushes and trees that cured wounds, burns and sprains, to coconut oil that cured most seafood poisonings. Other plants had antiseptic, antifungal and anti-inflammatory properties; extracts of yet other plants could anesthetize the site of a pain or the whole patient.

From various islands came knowledge of anatomy and surgery. The empire’s healers were trained in treatment of fractures. They could mend them externally with manipulation and splints, and reinsert pieces of bone or hardwood where existing bones were crushed, so new bone could grow over the site. Even cranial surgery was done reliably. Where part of a head had been broken in battle, a hole was made so that a piece of coconut shell could be inserted for the skull to regrow over it.

In other ways, the health of the empire’s citizens was a reflection on the one hand, of their simple diet, mainly of seafood, vegetables and fruit; and on the other, their active lifestyles—mainly fishing, hunting, gardening, boat and house building and maintenance, and traveling.

The council members were deservedly chosen, most being wise beyond their years and some were over 80 years old. As elders, they alone were entitled to sing the sacred songs and visit the sacred groves and caves. They decided the days when fishing was allowed and the kinds of fish allowed to be caught in each season. They directed the complex pattern of seeding and harvesting crops from month to month, of planting and harvesting fruit trees, of processing and storing tubers, and when stored crops and taboo fishing areas could be opened for a feast. They knew which plants and fruits could not or should not be eaten. They directed the men where to fish, some in the lagoon and others on the reef and to build their canoes using the wood of only certain trees and to fish using certain vines and lures. They directed the youth to clear fallow land and prepare it for planting, the women to plant the tubers and seeds, and the children to weed the fields and home gardens. They organized days of sport and nights of music, dancing and storytelling. In these ways, they kept their people healthy, fit, and knowledgeable.

They had seen floods and fires and famine and not a few conflicts. Always, they guided their people to safety and rallied them to take action when it was needed. They knew the best places to go for shelter from typhoons and relentless rains; they knew the words to prevent panic or restore calm; they knew the limitations of their land and how many persons it could support and the ways to prevent the birth of too many children; their word was law. Unless there was an issue that affected the whole country—the main island and the many outer islands—they alone guided and governed, counseled and directed the people in their allotted islands. And they loved their people.

Although they did not know it at the time, their sailors were the greatest navigators that ever sailed the world’s oceans. Prior to their epic voyages across thousands of kilometers of open sea, there had been notable sailing feats by Vikings and Moors and Phoenicians. But these took place mainly near coasts. Only the Pacific islanders sailed out boldly into the unknown, sometimes weeks away from sight of land.

And, as born navigators, they were constantly finding new islands, many of which proved suitable for them to live on and so their numbers grew and the size of the ocean encompassed by the islands they occupied also grew.

The family groups in the western Pacific gradually became more inclined to visit their own clans, which were mainly in that part of the ocean and the same happened in the east.

Seeing the growing differences between the two groups and the growing distance between the furthest east and the furthest west occupied islands, the elders decided to separate the empire into two regions: that occupied mainly by the Primesians in the east and the Brunesians, as the second group became known, in the west. They tacitly divided their world between them, while maintaining the empire itself.

As time passed, competition and rivalry between the two groups grew and sometimes erupted into minor conflict. Occasionally a boat from one group, laden with treasure like pearl shell from one of its remote dependencies, would be attacked and plundered by hotheads (though at home they were called heroes) from the other. Sometimes disputes about ownership of islands near the unwritten borders between them also led to conflict. These incidents were more noise than action, however, and few were actually killed in battle. After all, the opponents were often relatives; the islanders near the east-west ‘divide’ freely visited each other and not uncommonly intermarried.

Eventually, the opponents began to feel more like each other and less like Primesians or Brunesians. They decided to resolve their differences by moving away to a group of unoccupied islands further north where they became isolated for many years. They called themselves Pallidesians.

All that was long ago. The three groups began to intermingle once again and a permanent peace ensued. The empire was maintained mainly through the council of elders meetings, which, in view of the possibility of misunderstandings and conflicts arising between the groups, began to take place annually. Thus, at the time of this story, the empire was a tripartite and the ruling council was led by the elders of the Primesians.