by Caleb Carr
Perhaps the most intriguing clue regarding both of these animals is their classification: like modern lions and tigers, and unlike the smaller wild cats that existed in Europe, they belong to the Panthera genus (the European jaguar is the Panthera gombaszoegensis, the cave lion the Panthera leo spelaea), making the Manuscript’s consistent reference to them as “panthers” not at all far-fetched. —C.C.
the neck and shoulders Two additional facts about the narrator’s description of the “panther” are significant: he has apparently never seen a true “mane,” the male European cave lion having possessed only a short, wispy approximation of the version found on their African cousins (less, even, than the infamous cave lions of Tsavo, Kenya), and he consistently refers to the animal as “he” rather than “it.” This and other clues reveal that, if he was not a Moon worshipper himself, the narrator is for some reason very familiar with the customs of that faith, which included, as we have heard Keera say, deep reverence for the souls of animals, especially the Davon panthers. —C.C.
red velvet Here is an indication of how advanced Broken’s textile production, or its trade with other kingdoms to its south in Europe, or both, must have become: velvet had only just reached that continent from the Islamic empire at the time that the Broken Manuscript was most likely written (the late eighth to early ninth centuries) and was considered an enormously rare and valuable fabric, worn only by the elites of the countries it made its way into. —C.C.
the cavernous Temple Gibbon writes, “This description of the High Temple of Broken is revealing, and further confirms the notion that the city and state were something of a stewpot of cultural and aesthetic influences: while termed a ‘temple,’ the building has the evident design and attributes of a European—and Christian—church or cathedral. We know that, in the Eastern Roman Empire during this same period, rulers beginning with Constantine were devising ways to adapt the Christian faith to the pagan rituals of the various populations contained within the empire’s borders, and vice versa. Is it possible that the royal family of Broken was involved in some similar enterprise, or, even more intriguingly, in a precisely opposite undertaking, that is, in adapting Christian architecture and rites to their own faith of Kafra? Certainly, we cannot exclude the possibility—particularly as we know (and I myself have seen) that the ‘Broken Codex’ used by the Manuscript’s translator consisted of portions of the Bible written in the Broken dialect. It has been heretofore assumed that this was for missionary Christian purposes; but what if the intention was to alter the biblical text, and make it serve the purposes of the priests and priestesses of Broken?”
a distant region of Davon Wood by the Bane Gibbon writes, “The narrator’s consistent references to the quarrying and mining activities of the Bane will not surprise anyone acquainted with the Harz mountain range, as they are rich not only in fine quality stone, but in silver, iron, lead, copper, and zinc; and although the exploitation of these deposits is generally thought to have begun on a systematic scale only in the tenth century, it is by no means overly imaginative to think that a people living in the mountain and forest wildernesses around Brocken during an earlier age should have developed the means to create a primitive series of mines and quarries, all evidence of which would have been overtaken by Nature in the centuries following Broken’s downfall.” What Gibbon could not have known was that, during the early Industrial Revolution (within, ironically, mere decades of the great scholar’s death), the mines of the Harz Mountains would rapidly be worked to complete exhaustion. —C.C.
glittering, durable mortar This was likely either stucco or concrete—both of which were evidently used by Broken builders—mixed with reflective flecks of the many kinds of granite and quartz that were mined from both the Harz and the Tombs (that is, the Harz and the Erz mountains) by the Bane. —C.C.
every society that surrounds Broken As Gibbon writes, “The importance of this seemingly obscure detail of Broken craftsmanship cannot be overstated: the ability to maintain the production of glass windows throughout much of the Barbarian Age, when its secrets were thought to have been lost to all of Europe, was aesthetically, religiously, and governmentally significant.” Modern archaeologists and industrial historians agree that, while many barbarian tribes and nations maintained the skill of manufacturing glass beads and receptacles of various kinds, their ability to fabricate far more complicated window glass, whether clear, opaque, or colored, largely disappeared from Europe in the Dark Ages, confirming the enormous role that the ability to produce such glass played in how the society of Broken “saw” both itself and the world around it. Cf., for instance, Macfarlane and Martin, Glass: A World History. —C.C.
known across the Seksent Straits as “ermine” “For the first time,” says Gibbon, “we are given the impression that the narrator’s journey to our own region may have brought him into contact with persons more majestic than mere scholarly monks.”
Grand Layzin Gibbon writes, “Again, we are forced to suspect a mere phonetic approximation in this word Layzin; for the sound is identical to the German lesen, ‘to read,’ but seems almost certainly to imply, in this more ancient form, a gerundial noun, ‘reader,’ for this appears to have been the Grand Layzin’s responsibility, as well as the source of his power: to read and give practical meaning to the thoughts and pronouncements of the God-King, as well as, presumably, to those of Broken’s god, Kafra. This ability—to translate divine intent into pragmatic action—was the source of authority for many similar pagan holy men (or what German scholars have taken to calling schamanes [shamans]), although few seem to have had the executive authority of Broken’s Layzin.”
brocade mantle Here we get an idea of just how many intrepid foreign traders and raiders ventured to Broken’s ports and borders to sell their goods, and vice versa: brocade originally appeared in Persia during the Sassanid Dynasty (ca. A.D. 225–650), and was evidently quite common in Broken by the time that the Manuscript was written (presumably the eighth century). It is possible that the techniques involved in producing brocade had been mastered by Broken textile craftsmen by this point, or that the city’s merchants were still bringing it up from the river Meloderna. Whatever the case, the fact that it is viewed by the narrator as an item worthy of remark only in reference to an important state figure is important. —C.C.
his raiding sword The names given to weapons, among both the soldiers of Broken and the Bane, seem to have been determined either by the names of the peoples they borrowed their design from, or, more simply, by the names and/or activities by which those foreign peoples were themselves known. Ergo, “short-sword” refers to the Roman gladius, a weapon that the Romans adapted from a Spanish blade, but which was often referred to among even Romans by the more descriptive and informal term—simply “short sword”—that the soldiers of Broken used. “Raiding sword,” meanwhile, seems to link the weapon to a people—in this case, to the early sea- and river-faring raiders that the modern world would come to know as Norsemen and Vikings. The straight blade of the “raiding sword,” along with its length (longer than the late-imperial Roman spatha, a weapon that was a compromise between traditional Roman and barbarian weapons), matches the simple yet devastatingly effective design that the Scandinavian tribes and nations employed for nearly the whole of their history. —C.C.
“Visimar” Another solidly Gothic name, although the man’s assumed name, as we shall see, was not, suggesting that at some time, perhaps in the distant past, the Gothic- and Old High German—speaking peoples who inhabited the area that would become the kingdom of Broken lived in some unidentified (and now unidentifiable) state of animosity. —C.C.
profilic and freilic Gibbon writes, “These words offer us some insight into the development of the Broken dialect in its later period. As at other points in the Manuscript, we find, here, words that are more Germanic than Gothic, and more like modern German than Old High or Middle High German; yet the suffix ‘ic’ may well be a holdover from Gothic, if we accept that the
two terms refer, respectively, to flanking wings of cavalry (profilic) and the free-roaming (freilic). The former were units literally on the flanks, or ‘profiles,’ of the army, the latter those ‘free’ to reinforce weaknesses in lines of battle, as well as exploit openings in the enemy’s lines. Why the translator should not have been able to divine as much, I cannot say, save that his knowledge of things military seems to have suffered from severe limitations, as is often the case with deeply cultured men.” This analysis—and the questions regarding the translator’s apparent limitations—have endured, and time has affirmed Gibbon’s interpretation of the words; although it ought to be said that Gibbon’s notes reveal that he was another “deeply cultured” man who suffered (periodically, at least) from intellectual weaknesses concerning “things military”—especially as far as the military histories and cultures of the barbarian tribes in comparison to the Romans went. —C.C.
Moon worshipper symbols We can reasonably assume that these symbols were more sophisticated variations on those found on the “Sky Disc of Nebra” (see note), probably incorporating runic interpretations, and making up what little written language certain members of the Bane tribe employed. —C.C.
the Ayerzess-werten Gibbon wrote of this term, “Both the names assigned by the Bane to particularly dangerous waterfalls in the Cat’s Paw River—Hafften Falls and the Ayerzess-werten—are as yet, for reasons which I have explained elsewhere, undecipherable to scholars of this region and period: an irritating fact, as they seem to have imparted some definite sense of Bane irony.” The statement is almost certainly an honest expression of true ignorance, since experts only began to gain anything like a detailed knowledge of Gothic toward the very end of Gibbon’s life, while any systematic understanding of Old High German was out of the question, given how few documents were available to serve the purpose that the Broken Codex served for that kingdom’s dialect. The discoveries of modern scholars, however, in addition to consultation with them, reveal first that the word Hafften is likely an early forerunner of the modern German verb anhaften, “to cling to”—which could be taken simply as a literal indication of what travelers were forced to do when they met with mishap while trying to cross the first of the named waterfalls. But examination of the second name, Ayerzess-werten, shows that Gibbon’s suspicions about Bane irony were well founded: both terms were, almost certainly, intended (in accordance with the narrator’s description) as a sort of black humor. Ayerzess-werten derives from a known Gothic phrase, airzeis-wairthan, which translates as the fairly pedestrian term “fall into error.” The double entendre created by the Bane when they applied the phrase to a sudden and steep gorge leading down to a deadly series of rocks and waterfalls is evident, and further demonstrates that the Bane were very much more than a tribe of uneducated and deformed criminal exiles. As for the change in spelling, it can be attributed to the influence of Old High German and the now familiar “vowel shift.” —C.C.
gneiss formations Gneiss is igneous rock of a quality inferior to granite, as well as a name for the second most common type of stone found in the Harz Mountains, granite itself being predominant. The name gneiss seems to date back to the first Saxon settlers; and while most of these tribes had, by the sixth century, moved out of the area that would soon become the kingdom of Broken, some members stayed behind, perhaps explaining why seksent was the Broken word for “peasant” (as earlier noted). —C.C.
the position of the Moon and stars It may seem strange that, up to this point in the story, the Bane appear to have a better mastery of time and navigation as measured and charted by the heavens than do the citizens of Broken—but we must remember that the earliest known European instrument used to determine the timing of the solstices specifically, and to measure the movements of celestial bodies generally, was the “Sky Disc of Nebra,” created no less than 3,600 years ago—in these same Harz Mountains. Indeed, one of the points of triangulation used in the famous Sky Disc was the mountain of Brocken itself. It would appear that there was a long-established tradition of such primitive scientific study among the people of the area; and it likely survived more intact among those tribes that maintained traditional belief systems (i.e., the Bane) than among those that pretended and aspired to greater scholarship (the subjects of Broken). See the explanation of Buhmann, Pietsch, Lepcsik, and Jede, “Interpreting the Bronze Age Sky Disc of Nebra using 3D GIS.” —C.C.
and passim gutting blade Again, one cannot help but wonder, especially given the aforementioned general use of the seax among the Saxons, who took their name from the weapon, if these knives that the narrator persistently refers to as “gutting blades” did not in fact have a far broader and greater purpose, by design or by accident, than the name might suggest: if they were not, that is, like the seax, as close to a sword as a utilitarian knife. The Bane evidently relied on gutting blades so greatly in situations involving close combat that one is led to the strong suspicion that the “gutting” in question must have included not only dead animals, but living humans, too, and perhaps even more so—indeed, to so great an extent that the narrator does not even consider it worthy of explanation. A wound to the gut of a man, then as now, was the next best thing to an actual kill, given that serious abdominal wounds are paralyzingly painful and usually fatal; and the death, being slow and agonizing, renders the unfortunate victim unfit for continued action. —C.C.
The hysterical woman Gibbon writes, “The phrase employed here, in the original Broken dialectal version of the Manuscript, apparently translated, literally, to ‘moonsick,’ which the translator of the work immediately associated with ‘hysteria.’ The two concepts do, indeed, have much in common, ‘hysteria’ being a feminine illness which arises out of the womb, and is generally supposed to be governed by the lunar cycle: hence, ‘moonsickness’ becomes ‘hysteria.’ ” We should not fault the great scholar for what may appear to us a ludicrous interpretation: in 1790, many if not most violent mental disorders in women were still considered forms of hysteria, which was indeed thought to arise from the womb (the ancient Greeks, of course, first came up with the idea, hystero- being the Greek root for “utero” and “uterine”), and to be governed, therefore, by the phases of the moon. What does seem odd is Gibbon’s failure to connect “moonsickness” to “lunacy,” both being illnesses attributed, obviously, to the moon (see note for p. 21). —C.C.
to form a skehsel Gibbon writes, “Again, there remain, alas, several words and phrases, the precise meanings of which the purveyor of the Manuscript could not, or would not, determine; and, even more irritatingly, he persistently refused to say why he could not. I have left these words and phrases in quotations [changed to italics here], and have tried to extrapolate meanings as best I can from context.” Skehsel was apparently not one of the words he could so extrapolate, and, as in the case of the names of the waterfalls, it appears in its original form because the scholarship of Gibbon’s time simply had not caught up to the Broken Manuscript. We can now speculate with reasonable certainty, however, that the word is some sort of an Old High German variation on the Gothic skohsl, the term for an “evil spirit” of neutral gender. Why the Bane should have feared such spirits above others (and they mention several) is unknown, but we can also speculate, based on the very high priority the Bane placed on the natural ordering of the world, their reputation as a highly sexed people among the citizens of Broken, as well as the frequency with which “gelding” is mentioned as among the worst of fates, that it is precisely the gender neutrality of the demon that so disturbed them. The Bane evidently believed, as did many Barbarian Age peoples, that humans could, as a course of last resort, mate with most spirits and other mythical creatures, as a means of appeasing them; the skehsel do not seem to have offered that option, and, as has always been (and still is) the case in traditional societies that are followers of certain pagan religions, both polytheistic and monotheistic, the failure to produce offspring, any kind of offspring, implied personal annihilation. This may well have been tr
ue for the Bane, as well. —C.C.
“bested by Welferek” Gibbon writes, “This man Welferek must, indeed, have held a position of importance among the Outrager ‘knights,’ for his name cannot but be a Broken-Germanic variation of the name we encounter in Old English as Wulfric, the ‘lord (or king) of wolves.’ Given the activities of the Outragers, such a title implies high honor and authority, as well as loyalty to the Priestess of the Moon strong enough to earn him the right to carry out the most sacred punishments—as he does in this case.” Since Gibbon’s time, the word “wolf” (or “wolves”), used in this connotation, has been identified as having the secondary, metaphorical meaning of “hunter(s)”; and it is almost certainly true that the knight Welferek was the Priestess of the Moon’s chief “hunter,” as in executioner—or even assassin. —C.C.