remarkable little fellow as one of our own: not only because of the filed teeth, a practice not unknown among such primitive tribes as the Picts, but because he only reached Broken as a child-slave, and thus could have come from almost anywhere, including Britain. The first component of his name is clearly a Germanic interpretation of our English Hero (in modern German Held, or Helden, in the plural), a name that also comes to us from the Greeks, by way of Rome; and the dismissive-sounding bah, along with exclamations very much like it, were then already in use among Britons, Saxons, and Frisians alike — making it reasonable to assume that the boy was taken from Britain by seafaring plunderers from the North (quite probably Frisians, with whom the people of Broken apparently both fought and traded), and that these warriors took his given name of Hero and made of it a term of derision. And when the boy became a man, he likely kept the name, either because he had never learnt its meaning, or out of no more complex a cause than spite. The second of these explanations is the more likely; but the first displays a taste for irony among the Bane that we shall encounter again.” Gibbon is repeating a popular legend about the Picts filing their teeth (an idea picked up on by Robert E. Howard in his “Conan” stories), and could not have known that, if anyone filed Heldo-Bah’s teeth besides himself, it was likely those same northern captors, for Vikings, it has recently been discovered, often “beautified” their teeth in this manner. —C.C.
† “… Daurawah.” Gibbon writes, “The town of Daurawah, which served as a port for Broken traders, as well as for those foreign commercial vessels that brought goods to the kingdom, was certainly located on the Saale, the river referred to in the Manuscript as ‘the Meloderna’; and should one find it difficult to believe that so obvious a group of Bane as these three foragers could have entered such a town freely, one must remember the general air in and condition of Daurawah, at this time, which is clearly elaborated in a later chapter.”
† “… Hafften Falls—” See note for p. 00 concerning waterfalls in the Cat’s Paw.
‡ “… oozing …” As mentioned in the Introductory Note, the text contains many elements and words that have a vernacular quality that might make them sound relatively modern, to our ears, but that are quite appropriate to and consistent with the era — and “oozing” is an excellent example, being derived from a Dark Ages, Middle English term for “juicing.” Conversely, words with similar meanings that might seem more formal and therefore “older”—in this case, say, “seeping”—were only coming into use at just the time that the translator was at work on the Broken Manuscript in the late eighteenth century. This fits a pattern that will soon become well established, of many onomatopoeic words that sound familiar and contemporary to our modern ears actually having deeper roots than many other, seemingly more antique words; all of which reminds us that Old High German, one of the parent languages of the Broken dialect, was perhaps the first European tongue to inspire significant written works in the vernacular; whereas the notion that barbarian and early Middle Age tales are more naturally or authentically expressed in stuffy, florid language really originates with such late medieval “courtly” writers as Thomas Malory, and especially with such revisionist Victorian interpreters as Sir Walter Scott and Alfred, Lord Tennyson. The number of modern authors who have followed in Scott’s and Tennyson’s footsteps is too high to list here, although notable exceptions — Robert E. Howard, for instance — do exist. Of course, there are also modern writers who have gone in the opposite direction, and who have characters speaking not only in the vernacular of either the actual medieval or fantasy-medieval eras, but speaking in utterly and anachronistically modern vulgarities; but they are not the concern of this study. —C.C.
† “… the mang-bana.” Gibbon writes, “The names of the various rituals of exile, mutilation, and execution cited in the text show the entirely cosmopolitan nature of life and language in Broken. Like some of the Bane curses, the phrase mang-bana contains elements of words that have both survived into modern German (we may translate this phrase, very roughly, as ‘the exile of the imperfect’) yet also display a distinctly Gothic influence — or so, at least, we may suppose, based on our limited understanding of that language, which shows us that these words contain elements quite common, not only to Gothic names, but to Gothic terms, as well. The remainder of the Broken dialect’s peculiar vocabulary was apparently made up of words imprinted with Eastern and far more obscure origins, many of which we shall doubtless never be able to trace or identify — considering the fact that entire dialects, and even languages, that were used in Barbarian Age Europe have disappeared entirely.”
† “… three weeks …” Although there was some variation in the number of months in the calendars of the people of Broken and the Bane, they would all seem to be broken down, as indeed were almost all calendric systems, into seven days. —C.C.
‡ Tayo The name of Keera’s husband is one of several intriguing examples of Bane names which have their roots firmly in more than one of the languages that first influenced the Broken dialect. In this case, the languages are Old High German and Gothic, and the meaning is almost certainly the same as our modern Theodor or Theodore, that is, “gift” or “gift of god”—or goddess, as in this case the reference was almost certainly to the Bane’s Moon deity. —C.C.
† Sentek The founding king of Broken must indeed have served as a Roman auxiliary warrior, as Gibbon postulates, because the system of military organization he devised so closely resembles the basics of the late Roman imperial order (with numbers of men in each unit adjusted drastically downward, obviously, given the much smaller size of the kingdom of Broken): the rank of sentek is roughly equivalent to the Roman legatus, or legion commander, while yantek corresponds to praetor (although, having no true provinces, and with the Merchants’ Council serving the function of consuls, the rank becomes simply “supreme commander” in Broken); a linnet, meanwhile, seems no different than a tribune, while a pallin is a simple legionary. A khotor is, fairly obviously, the equivalent of a legion, though taking its name from the smaller Roman unit of a cohort, and made up, in Broken, of ten fausten (sing. fauste, or “fist”). There also appear to have been two ranks slightly beneath the linnet: “linnet-of-the-line,” commanding ad hoc subdivisions of an infantry khotor, and lenzinnet, “first lance,” a rank that anticipated the future, equating to a grade that would exist among certain formations of modern cavalry. But more importantly, here, both of these commissions are grounded firmly in Roman tradition, being less formal versions of that empire’s pilus prior, “first spear” (or, in the case of lenzinnet, “first lance”). The final proof of this theory of a Roman model for the Broken military is the apparently interchangeable nature, in the text (or so the translator apparently thought), of the words khotor and “legion.” —C.C.
‡ Sixt Arnem This is a wholly German name, the components of which have been passed down intact into modern times, further supporting Gibbon’s contention of the tale’s cultural and historical plausibility. The spelling is very often changed to Arnim, although it is unclear whether this is a mistake or a mere result of translation and dialect adjustment/confusion (in Old High German, Arnim would certainly have become Arnem, in keeping with the shift by which all vowels in unstressed syllables became the short “e”); and, although the family’s original associations were, not surprisingly, military, by the mid-nineteenth century we find what are by now the von Arnems and von Arnims (von denoting “of” or “from,” and used to indicate an honorific aristocratic connection to a family home or a location of some great achievement, in the same sense that the British aristocracy uses “of”) branching out into the humanities. The reason for this broadening of interests among the Prussian military caste (and most wise officers in smaller German states followed the Prussian example) is that, during the second half of the nineteenth century, it came under the increasing philosophical as well as doctrinal influence of Helmuth von Moltke, creator of the modern general staff system, military right arm of Chancellor Otto von Bismarck, architect of the wars that would fulfill Bismarck’s dream of uniting the German empire, and, finally, a firm believer that officers, especially junior officers, should train themselves as he had: nearly as much in the humanities as in purely military studies. (Women shared in the German liberal humanist movement, and the von Arnems and von Arnims were no exception: by the early twentieth century we find the wife of one of them, an Englishwoman, becoming an established enough writer that one of her books, The Enchanted April, was sufficiently well received to become the basis of two film adaptations, one in the 1930s and another, nominated for several Oscars, in 1992.)
There were generals of consequence who bore the name von Arnim (still often spelled Arnem) in the Franco-Prussian, First World, and Second World Wars; the youngest of
