Friday, March 29, AD 2024 5:55am

The High Crusade

“Hearken, Brother Parvus,” said Sir Roger. “I’m weary of this whining about our own ignorance and feebleness. We’re not ignorant of the true Faith, are we? Somewhat more to the point, maybe, while the engines of war may change through the centuries, rivalry and intrigue look no subtler out here than at home. Just because we use a different sort of weapons, we aren’t savages.”

Poul Anderson, The High Crusade (1960)

 

A light hearted romp depicting how the Angevin Star Empire was founded in 1345 when an alien invading force made the mistake of landing in an English village.  A decent game was made out of the book in 1983.  Go here to read about it.

TV Tropes has a good section on the book.  Go here to read it.  A film on the book was made in 1994.  It has its moments but I think it is overall a poor thing, although John Rhys Davies is superb as the narrator, Brother Parvus.  Go here to view it.

It being a Poul Anderson novel, there are shrewd observations scattered throughout it.

“Would God I knew, sire,” I answered after thinking about it. “They look like naught on earth. Yet they do go on two legs, have hands, speech, the power of reason.”

“It matters little,” he decided.

“Oh, but it matters greatly, sire!” I told him. “For see you, if they have souls, then it is our plain duty to win them to the Faith. But if they have not, it were blasphemous to give them the sacraments.”

“I’ll let you find out which,” he said indifferently.

I hurried forthwith to Branithar’s cabin, which was guarded by a couple of spearmen. “What would you?” he asked when I sat down.

“Have you a soul?” I inquired.

“A what?”

I explained what spiritus meant. He was still puzzled. “Do you really think a miniature of yourself lives in your head?” he asked.

“Oh, no. The soul is not material. It is what gives life—well, not exactly that, since animals are alive—will, the self—”

“I see. The brain.”

“No, no, no! The soul is, well, that which lives on after the body is dead, and faces judgment for its actions during life.”

“Ah. You believe, then, that the personality survives after death. An interesting problem. If personality is a pattern rather than a material object, as seems reasonable, then it is theoretically possible that this pattern may be transferred to something else, the same system of relationships but in another physical matrix.”

“Stop maundering!” I snapped impatiently. “You are worse than an Albigensian. Tell me in plain words, do you or do you not have a soul?”

“Our scientists have investigated the problems involved in a pattern concept of personality, but, so far as I know, data are still lacking on which to base a conclusion.”

“There you go again.” I sighed. “Can you not give me a simple answer? Just tell me whether or not you have a soul.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re no help at all,” I scolded him, and left.

 

Sir Roger and I spent much time with Branithar, who was willing enough to tell us about his race and its empire. I was reluctantly coming to believe his claims. Strange that so ugly a breed should dwell in what I judged to be the Third Heaven, but the fact could not be denied. Belike, I thought, when Scripture mentioned the four corners of the world, it did not mean our planet Terra at all, but referred to a cubical universe. Beyond this must lie the abode of the blessed; while Branithar’s remark about the molten interior of the earth was certainly consonant with prophetic visions of hell.

Branithar told us that there were about a hundred worlds like our own in the Wersgor empire. They circled as many separate stars, for no sun was likely to have more than one habitable planet. Each of these worlds was the dwelling place of a few million Wersgorix, who liked plenty of room. Except for the capital planet, Wersgorixan, they bore no cities. But those on the frontiers of the empire, like Tharixan whither we were bound, had fortresses which were also space-navy bases. Branithar stressed the firepower and impregnability of these castles.

If a usable planet had intelligent natives, these were either exterminated or enslaved. The Wersgorix did no menial work, leaving this to such helots, or to automata. Themselves they were soldiers, managers of their vast estates, traders, owners of manufactories, politicians, courtiers. Being unarmed, the enslaved natives had no hope of revolting against the relatively small number of alien masters. Sir Roger muttered something about distributing weapons to these oppressed beings when we arrived and telling them about the Jacquerie.

 

Go here to read the first six chapters of this fine novel.  Throughout the Faith is treated with respect.  Highly recommended.

 

 

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John F. Kennedy
John F. Kennedy
Sunday, May 22, AD 2022 6:31am

One of my favorites!

Nate Winchester
Nate Winchester
Sunday, May 22, AD 2022 8:47am

One of my favorite books. Second the recommendation.

Frank
Frank
Sunday, May 22, AD 2022 2:24pm

Thanks, gentlemen, I was looking for something new and different to read. Off I go to find a copy…a real book, me being a dinosaur and all. 🙂

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