[FONT=Palatino_Linotype]CHAPTER XIII – O PERIPLO DO HEROE[/FONT]
The mists cleared.
Three men approached, clothed in rags and smelling of fish.
Vasco da Gama had discovered the sea-faring and- to his fears- feminine-rule-approving civilisation of Britannia.
It had been three new civilisations discovered since the first time he’d sailed further than the Big South Rock off his native coasts of Gibraltar, conquering all fear of the dragons said to roam those and all outer waters.
It now troubled him; EVERY SINGLE PEOPLE they discovered followed the same heretical beliefs. Christians, they called themselves, but the Lusitanii thought of themselves, too, as Christians. Clearly a major flaw was at hand, and only one civilisation’s word was right. More and more it seemed to him that it was not Jorge’s, speaking of one true religion, which was right. There was no other way of explaining how people this distanced from Asturias, which when he’d left was under siege, would follow and worship Him in the same manner as these Northerners…
He had sailed into and through the very mouth of the Channel, which separated, it seemed, barbarians (as he’d encountered at Land’s End in Co’yhnw’ahll) from civilisation (our, Catalunhan, Asturian, and now Britannian order and religion).
He would have sailed directly back to Asturias to notify Venerable Jorge of this new discovery (his second civilisation!) but Britannia Queen Anne, who was very young and incredibly beauteous, had twisted his mind with tales of a faraway Emerald Isle… He knew of emeralds by stories descended from Easterner invaders: That they were the greenest and most precious beauties of minerals, and God’s reflection of young exotic maiden’s eyes. He wanted these minerals, now, not for Kingdom, not for Glory, not even for God Himself! For Anne. He’d blow his nose on Jorge’s silk tunic if he could conquer Anne’s heart, but his mind said she would never care for him. (She’s a maaaaneater [omfg Nelly Furtado :rofl: ])
And so Vasco da Gama, ageing man (he was in his fifties already) with not the trace of senility, resigned his mind to the base needs of everyday living, and let his heart do the rest. And he dreamt of Queen Anne. Of her long silky hair, the colour of brown beer, as it remained solidly placed in her Northeners’ hair-supporting contraption… And of her milky white, long and delicate hands as they brushed a breadcrumb from her cheek, and Vasco would dream he were that breadcrumb as it flew over check, hand, and onto her other sleeve. Clearly he was senile, but this made little difference, for Vasco had set himself a life task:
BEFORE HE DIED HE WOULD FIND THESE EMERALD ISLES! HE WOULD LIVE IN THEIR REFLECTION, THEIR EYES REPLACING HIS BELOVED AND DROWNING HIM IN AN ILLUSION OF MOST SUBLIME BEAUTY.
Vasco da Gama, with his three ships fully replenished with victuals of Britannia (mostly fish, salt, and expired crab soup) set sail for the distant Emerald Isles, by description “around Land’s End and Northward”…
Vasco da Gama found no emeralds on the Emerald Isles, only more fish. There was neither a beautiful green-eyed maiden there to drown him in his tears and then resuscitate him with her own love… Only red-haired wretches with a character so arrogant and yet reserved, that they either demanded intrigue or commanded fear. Vasco fell for the later, circumnavigated the isle to make sure no emeralds were there, and promptly returned to Asturias- now Lusitanian- a broken, barely recovering man:
He was be famous once more. And he accepted free drinks everywhere in the civilised world. He was all drinking regions’ kings! And in the mornings he awakened always pale as the churches’ candle wax. And sick as drying crab, he vomited on the Holy Sacristy tiles… unintentionally of course. And dragging his legs slowly to the outside world the women fell upon him, and extracted his seed, and then went on to boast their progeny would someday rule the land…
And he would have died, if God had wished it, a promiscuous, drunk, and sickly old failure of a man, and the ex-bringer of true Glory to the Empire.
God had other plans.
But for now Jorge had already colonised Iberia Interior, and was on his way to the Catalunhan border, with as usual, plans for bloodthirsty and mindless conquest, unplanned and insecure. Navigation, for Jorge, was a matter for the future…
This break from exploration would be needed by Vasco, desperately. A cure for the lovesick by the path of debauchery, by the end of the year Vasco would be redeemed by God.
Mappa Mundi as of 1505. As you can see it has deteriorated over time... (actually this stupid school computer was incapable of making it JPEG so its 256 colours instead )
Needless to say Rafaela, as efficient as most strong women, succeeded in converting the docile nomads of Fez, and by now 4500 natives had securely settled all over the province. Recorded as true believers in Lusitanism they never caught the eye of Jorge, and contributed to the country by providing the most able cavalry-instructors Gibraltar had ever seen. Another proof that women now best… (Argh! :rofl: btw, no I the author am not a woman )
The mists cleared.
Three men approached, clothed in rags and smelling of fish.
Vasco da Gama had discovered the sea-faring and- to his fears- feminine-rule-approving civilisation of Britannia.
It had been three new civilisations discovered since the first time he’d sailed further than the Big South Rock off his native coasts of Gibraltar, conquering all fear of the dragons said to roam those and all outer waters.
It now troubled him; EVERY SINGLE PEOPLE they discovered followed the same heretical beliefs. Christians, they called themselves, but the Lusitanii thought of themselves, too, as Christians. Clearly a major flaw was at hand, and only one civilisation’s word was right. More and more it seemed to him that it was not Jorge’s, speaking of one true religion, which was right. There was no other way of explaining how people this distanced from Asturias, which when he’d left was under siege, would follow and worship Him in the same manner as these Northerners…
He had sailed into and through the very mouth of the Channel, which separated, it seemed, barbarians (as he’d encountered at Land’s End in Co’yhnw’ahll) from civilisation (our, Catalunhan, Asturian, and now Britannian order and religion).
He would have sailed directly back to Asturias to notify Venerable Jorge of this new discovery (his second civilisation!) but Britannia Queen Anne, who was very young and incredibly beauteous, had twisted his mind with tales of a faraway Emerald Isle… He knew of emeralds by stories descended from Easterner invaders: That they were the greenest and most precious beauties of minerals, and God’s reflection of young exotic maiden’s eyes. He wanted these minerals, now, not for Kingdom, not for Glory, not even for God Himself! For Anne. He’d blow his nose on Jorge’s silk tunic if he could conquer Anne’s heart, but his mind said she would never care for him. (She’s a maaaaneater [omfg Nelly Furtado :rofl: ])
And so Vasco da Gama, ageing man (he was in his fifties already) with not the trace of senility, resigned his mind to the base needs of everyday living, and let his heart do the rest. And he dreamt of Queen Anne. Of her long silky hair, the colour of brown beer, as it remained solidly placed in her Northeners’ hair-supporting contraption… And of her milky white, long and delicate hands as they brushed a breadcrumb from her cheek, and Vasco would dream he were that breadcrumb as it flew over check, hand, and onto her other sleeve. Clearly he was senile, but this made little difference, for Vasco had set himself a life task:
BEFORE HE DIED HE WOULD FIND THESE EMERALD ISLES! HE WOULD LIVE IN THEIR REFLECTION, THEIR EYES REPLACING HIS BELOVED AND DROWNING HIM IN AN ILLUSION OF MOST SUBLIME BEAUTY.
***
Vasco da Gama, with his three ships fully replenished with victuals of Britannia (mostly fish, salt, and expired crab soup) set sail for the distant Emerald Isles, by description “around Land’s End and Northward”…
Vasco da Gama found no emeralds on the Emerald Isles, only more fish. There was neither a beautiful green-eyed maiden there to drown him in his tears and then resuscitate him with her own love… Only red-haired wretches with a character so arrogant and yet reserved, that they either demanded intrigue or commanded fear. Vasco fell for the later, circumnavigated the isle to make sure no emeralds were there, and promptly returned to Asturias- now Lusitanian- a broken, barely recovering man:
He was be famous once more. And he accepted free drinks everywhere in the civilised world. He was all drinking regions’ kings! And in the mornings he awakened always pale as the churches’ candle wax. And sick as drying crab, he vomited on the Holy Sacristy tiles… unintentionally of course. And dragging his legs slowly to the outside world the women fell upon him, and extracted his seed, and then went on to boast their progeny would someday rule the land…
And he would have died, if God had wished it, a promiscuous, drunk, and sickly old failure of a man, and the ex-bringer of true Glory to the Empire.
God had other plans.
But for now Jorge had already colonised Iberia Interior, and was on his way to the Catalunhan border, with as usual, plans for bloodthirsty and mindless conquest, unplanned and insecure. Navigation, for Jorge, was a matter for the future…
This break from exploration would be needed by Vasco, desperately. A cure for the lovesick by the path of debauchery, by the end of the year Vasco would be redeemed by God.
Mappa Mundi as of 1505. As you can see it has deteriorated over time... (actually this stupid school computer was incapable of making it JPEG so its 256 colours instead )
Needless to say Rafaela, as efficient as most strong women, succeeded in converting the docile nomads of Fez, and by now 4500 natives had securely settled all over the province. Recorded as true believers in Lusitanism they never caught the eye of Jorge, and contributed to the country by providing the most able cavalry-instructors Gibraltar had ever seen. Another proof that women now best… (Argh! :rofl: btw, no I the author am not a woman )
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