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Appendix: Religion in the Tibetan Empire
A religious map of Tibet & surrounding lands, 1198 AD.
Appendix: Religion in the Tibetan Empire
Tibet at the close of the Twelfth Century was perhaps the most religiously diverse society since the late Roman Empire. While there was an official state faith with the patronage of the Imperial Family that faith did not even make up a plurality let alone a majority of the population.
Most Tibetans remained Bön. The ancient faith of a vast and animistic universe populated by both benign and malevolent spirits had absorbed much cosmology and philosophy from Buddhism, even if many devout Bönpos preferred to ignore that fact. The religion had for centuries been split into two strands, though the difference was as much political as theological. The Bön faith was believed to be founded in the distant past by an enlightened teacher named Tönpa Shenrab who had pledged at the feet of the god of compassion, Shenla Okar, that he would guide the people of the material world. An aesthetic philosopher Tönpa Shenrab's complex doctrines can be divided into two strands: 'The Four Portals and the Fifth, the Treasury' (sgo bzhi mdzod lnga) the 'Nine Ways of Bon' (bon theg pa rim dgu.)
This intellectual, contemplative strand was vitally important to monastic life and dedicated theologians but for most of the common people and indeed the aristocrats the many spirits and gods of the Bön faith were most significant. Greatest of these deities was Sangpo Bumtri, the Creator deity, but there was also Damchen, the Worldly Protector; Shinje, the Wrathful and others of varying fame and power. Innumerable incantations, rituals and magic spells to call upon the aid of or protect against the baneful influence of these great spirits. Tibetans of every station and creed were fascinated by magic and magical beings and though it was commonly thought that the greatest of sorcerers lived in China there were no shortage of amulet makers, astrologers and exorcists among the common people of Tibet.
Until the reign of Pelmo the Scholar what might be called 'conventional' or monastic Bön had been the state religion of both Guge and Ü-Tsang. This was the standardized, reformed version of the faith that had been established in the Ninth Century with a unified dogma and a sacred hierarchy of monks, abbots, lamas and a spiritual-political leader traditionally located in Tsaparang and known as the 'Archpriestess' (if female) or the 'Dalai Lama' (if male). A more conservative - detractors would say primitive and superstitious - strand of the faith remained, known as the Old Bön for the refusal of these followers to accept the dogma and official nature of the reformed path.
The conversion of Gyalpo Pelmo had been a disaster for the Bön clergy which had immediately lost most of their status and in many cases their monasteries. Surprisingly the conservative Old Bön had if anything benefited from the change. Already blocked from positions of power they had no great monasteries to lose and they also avoided the stigma of being linked with treason, as the official Bön hierarchy became ensnared in a rhythm of holy wars and rebellion. Many a religious conservative had offered prayers to Sangpo Bumtri or Tönpa Shenrab that Pelmo - and her son and grandson after her - might further crush the arrogant elite of the monasteries.
A male Bön deity on a red horse, from an Eighteenth Century print.
In terms of sheer numbers Buddhism was the second most widely practiced religion in Tibet after reformed Bön (though an Old Bön faithful would probably say there was no difference between the two.) The faith of the Imperial Dynasty during the Old Empire the Buddhists had occupied a similar position as Christians had under Pelmo and her successors, a disproportionately 'elite' faith. Since their fall in the Ninth Century the Buddhists had suffered intermittent persecution and that they had held on at all, let alone as a sizable minority was a remarkable tribute to the resilience of Tibetan Buddhists.
Though practicing a very similar faith and philosophy to the Buddhism dominant in Northern India the Buddhists of Tibet had woven much of the local culture and beliefs into their ways and the small Buddhist monasteries and shrines that dotted much of the country were visibly of a kind with those of the Bönpos.
The Church of the East or Nestorians were the third most populous faith in Tibet, currently politically and intellectually dominant and overwhelming concentrated in the towns. Though they had grown in numbers and won converts among the Tibetan grandees most Tibetan Christians were townsmen and women, merchants and artisans. They were in contact with their co-religionists in Persia and China and ultimately followed the leadership of the Patriarch of the East in distant Baghdad, though in practice the spiritual leader of Tibetan Christians was the Metropolitan of Tibet, who lived in Tsaparang.
The conversion of Pelmo had turned the Nestorians from a minority, albeit a relatively successful one, into a dominant force but that success had come with difficulties as well as opportunities. Most of the more traditional Nestorians had included Tibetan customs in their religious beliefs but still followed an orthodox interpretation of the Gospel (at least as interpreted by the Church of the East.) The 'new' Nestorians were far more varied in their beliefs and there quiet but real crisis in the monasteries and churches over such topics as the exact nature of Jesus and the notion of transmigration of the soul after death. The sense of being a minority in a heavily pagan land kept the Tibetan Church together but the faultlines were present.
Part of the problem was that the Nestorian Church was intrinsically bound to the Royal (now Imperial) Family and was thus invested in the thoughts and beliefs of the monarch. Pelmo the Scholar had been a theologian in her own right but Selbar I was only reluctantly literate and Selbar II, though prepared to invoke the faith in his wars was also very attracted to his own burgeoning mythos. All of the Purgyals were reluctant to press forced conversions on their subjects, which had likely saved Tibet from imploding into massive religious rebellion but had left the spread of the faith among commoners advancing at a snail's pace.
There were some tiny groups of Christians completely unaffiliated with the Church of the East, both members of the European orthodoxies and obscure heresies but they played a very minor role in Tibetan life. One exception was Nytari the Mystic, court sorcerer to Tsenpo Selbar. Nytari was a Messalian, a bizarre and obscure heresy that had only increased the uneasiness that others felt around him - and his presence at court said much about the still complex relationship between Christianity and the monarchy.
A Nestorian woman at prayer, from a pre-Pelmo manuscript.
Compared to other faiths the Radhanite Jews were amazingly culturally and religiously cohesive. As with the pre-Pelmo Nestorians they were overwhelmingly urban and involved in the merchant trade and again like the Nestorians they had contacts with their co-religionists in both the East and the West. Several members of the Council had been of Radhanite origin and in the early Eleventh Century their numbers had actually temporarily exceeded the Nestorians. The Black Death had proven disastrous and though the Jewish communities had recovered since they had yet to revive their earlier prominence.
The reason the Radhanites had eventually been surpassed by the Nestorians despite their many similarities was simple: the Nestorians were willing to inter-marry with non-Christians and welcome new converts while the Radhanites didn't proselytize and rarely married outside their communities. To a much greater degree than their Christian counterparts the Tibetan Jews were reliant on immigration from abroad to maintain their culture and faith. Fortunately for them the Purgyals had proven very religiously tolerant but it still meant that a devastating blow like the Black Death was simply far harder for them to recover from.
The Taoists were as numerous as the Tibetan Jews but their history was very different. Or perhaps 'histories' would be a better term for there were two Taoist communities in Tibet with little in common beyond their faith. The first group were the Tangut people of North-East Tibet. Culturally distinct from the rest of Tibet they had once ruled a state known as Western Xia or simply Xia for short and their occasional rumblings of independence had proven an irritant to many rulers of Ü-Tsang. While religiously mixed many of them had adopted Taoism while under the influence of China, before their eventual conquest and integration into Ü-Tsang (and thus later Tibet.)
The Tangut lands were considered a quasi-barbarian wasteland by the Tibetan elite, but other Taoists were held in far higher regard. Several times over the centuries the Purgyals had married into the ruling Chinese family and Wei and Zhao blood ran through the veins of the Tsenpo Selbar's sons. Chinese princesses and princelings had inevitably arrived with processions of servants, guards, entertainers and aides of all conceivable kind. Most eventually vanished into the great mass of the Tibetan people, but enough made their mark that there were small Taoist communities in the cities and towns.
Almost as spectacular and in their own way even more rarefied were the Taoist sages so revered as magicians and philosophers by Tibetan grandees. Some arrived as the pet thinkers of a great Han lord or lady but others had taken the hard journey West for their own mystical reasons.
Like the Radhanite Jews and the Taoist Tanguts and Han the Hindus were overwhelmingly licked with a specific culture and location, in their case in that ill-defined and contested area where the culture and people of India gave way to the culture and people of greater Tibet. Of all the peoples of Tibet the Hindus had perhaps the least contact with the wider populace, left marooned from their co-religious in the Himalayas by the various wars and conversions that had made the Buddhists the dominant force in Northern India. To most other Tibetans the Hindus were a little known mystery, though scholars and traders, particularly those in contact with the Subcontinent had a deeper grasp of this minority.
Last of the major faiths were the followers of Tengri. To many Tibetans Tengrinism was synonymous with the horse riding barbarians of the North but there were enough followers of the old pagan sky god in the Empire that permanent communities existed in the Tangut lands of the North-East. Despite the historical fears of fierce barbarians more than one Tengri royal had married into the Purgyal line and some (though not all!) members of the dynasty honoured in their ancestors.
Beyond the groups already mentioned there were many more 'minor' faiths practiced in the Tibetan Empire. Some, like Islam were significant foreign faiths that for one reason or another had simply failed to make their mark in Tibetan life. Others like Jainism were in decline even in their own homelands. The universal experience of these religions was that they were practiced by individuals or families rather than at the community level. The broad religious tolerance of Tibetans meant that unless one deliberately drew attention to oneself they could live in the Empire indefinitely with lmited fear of persecution.
A Snow Lion, a celestial animal of the highest mountains thought to be the 'King of Beasts' and venerated across Tibet.
I thought I'd give a brief overview of the many faiths of the Tibetan Empire at this point, to help everyone with the background of the country and dynasty!
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Well said! As short as his life was he did leave his mark!
That is very true.
I have to admit to feeling a glow of pride at finally reuniting the Tibetan Empire. That was definitely one of my goals for this story - though of course now I have to keep it together!
Yes, couldn't have put it better myself!
As others have found to their cost! well said.
Thanks, and I hope you are still enjoying it! as always I welcome your thoughts though I completely get if you'd rather avoid spoilers by reading 'ahead'.
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Well said! As short as his life was he did leave his mark!
All hail the Tesnpo! Long live the Emperor at the Roof of the World!
The critics notwithstanding, Selbar II's accomplishments are legitimate enough. Even if the conflict itself was anticlimactic, the very fact that Tibet had the confidence to challenge the might of the Caliphate (and the ability to succeed) is itself a sign of how potent the realm has become. Empires have certainly been founded on less sure foundations in the past.
That is very true.
I have to admit to feeling a glow of pride at finally reuniting the Tibetan Empire. That was definitely one of my goals for this story - though of course now I have to keep it together!
An Emperor/Tsempo, at last! Selbar II reigned shortly, but as I understand it never lost a war. Not a reputation all rulers get. A worthy ruler indeed.
Yes, couldn't have put it better myself!
As others have found to their cost! well said.
By the way, just to let you know @RossN that I’m still working my way through the back-catalogue.
Thanks, and I hope you are still enjoying it! as always I welcome your thoughts though I completely get if you'd rather avoid spoilers by reading 'ahead'.
A very intriguing overview into the tapestry that is religious life in Tibet at this time.
I’ll take you up on your offer! Just finished Part 10, where Dharmapala gets the dreaded face-removal cure. They never seem to read the small print in the physicians’ disclaimer forms.
I’m impressed by the depth of the storytelling and insights into your ‘alternate Tibetan society’. Will keep up the ‘stern chase’
Just finished Part 10, where Dharmapala gets the dreaded face-removal cure. They never seem to read the small print in the physicians’ disclaimer forms. I’m impressed by the depth of the storytelling and insights into your ‘alternate Tibetan society’. Will keep up the ‘stern chase’
Certainly an eclectic mix of faiths there. With the wide mix of faiths and customs and a relatively strong trend towards syncretism I could almost see Tibet becoming something like present-day Japan, where it's common to say that people are "born Shinto, marry Christian, and die Buddhist."
Part Twenty Two: Tsenpo Purgyal Ngawang (1198 to 1201 AD)
Tsenpo Purgyal Ngawang in January 1198 AD.
Part Twenty Two: Tsenpo Purgyal Ngawang (1198 to 1201 AD)
Tsenpo Selbar's death was a bolt from the blue. Crown Prince Ngawang was, just, old enough to avoid a regent when he inherited the Imperial Throne. His younger brother Selbar who became Gyalpo of Kamarupa was just a boy of thirteen. Neither brother had been granted any personal power or responsibility prior to their sudden elevation to their thrones.
Tsenpo Ngawang was tall and handsome, with a fine beard that immediately made him appear older than his years. By misfortune he had inherited a club foot on his left leg, a legacy of his mother but otherwise he was in rude health and a excellent swordsman and horse rider. The new emperor was not famous for his manners or hygiene, which carried traits picked up from his less salubrious drinking cronies. Warrior though he was Ngawang's most famous conquests took place in the bedroom, and it was an open secret that his fondness was much for his own sex. As a man Ngawang would have been an excellent soldier of the Imperial Guard. As a monarch he was perhaps less skilled.
The Tsenpo was at once faced with ending the on-going war against the Bön 'crusade'. The Dalai Lama Zungsten had succeeded in stirring up the Bön living beyond the borders of Tibet into a great effort to reconquer Guge. The bulk of the foreign troops came from the eternally optimistic Gyelmo of 'Punjab', but Zungsten's rallying cry had summoned the faithful from across Central Asia. It was an exhausting and unlooked for war but the far greater resources at the disposal of the Tsenpo meant the outcome was not in doubt. However that was not the only challenge. It was under Ngawang's reign that a new danger began to emerge: Bön malcontents inside the Empire.
Ever since Pelmo's conversion the Purgyals had walked a delicate path when it came to faith. Tibet was far from having a Nestorian majority and pragmatism alone forced the monarch into de facto religious tolerance. The coronation of Tsenpo Selbar in 1187 had a primarily Christian affair with the emperor crowned by the Metropolitan of Tibet, but the monarch had still allowed his Bön grandees time and space to pray to their gods before the ceremony, and the Imperial regalia - the fabulous crown of majesty, emerald sceptre and golden sword smithed for the new emperor - had designs that echoed the traditions of Tibet more than anything specifically religious. Ngawang had carefully followed his father's example.
Unfortunately for Ngawang thousands of Bön gentry and peasants, excited by Zungsten's religious war and the other upheavals they had faced took up arms in May 1199. Zimun, a lama from Labrang known for the vigour of his words and his sword arm alike had seen his opportunity while the Tsenpo was fighting Zungsten's invasion. There is no evidence that Zimun or any of his cronies were ever direct contact with the Dalai Lama but treason was doubly treason in wartime and the Tsenpo's wrath was bloody. Ngawang even turned some of his armies away from the main front to deal with the traitors. At the Battle of Labrang on 16 April 1200 the rebels were crushed, many ridden down by the Tibetan cavalry as they fled the field in disorder. Zimun himself, who had the misfortune to be taken captive was buried alive as a warning for others.
The Bön Uprising of 1199 to 1200 AD.
Militarily speaking Zimun's uprising was never a mortal threat to the Tibetan Empire. His cohorts lacked the training or experience of the Imperial Guard, or of the various feudal levies the Tsenpo could call upon. Much more dangerous was the precedent that he had set. There had been rebellions by disgruntled minorities in the past but Ngawang knew only too well that the Bön faith was practiced by most of his subjects. Most of those subjects had remained loyal to the crown but the Purgyals could not survive if that changed. The problem was that in 1200 loyalty to the Tsenpo was perhaps the only thing that bound Tibet together as one state. There was a cultural unity across the Tibetan Plateau but much of that sense of identity was bound up with the Bön faith. The bureaucratic and administrative backbone of the Empire remained weak, still a tangle of different kingdoms with differing laws. Economically the Tibetan Empire was rich, but that wealth was unevenly spread across the regions and with no universal currency in use the crown's control was limited [1].
Broad prosperity and a sentimental regard for the Imperial Dynasty were weak ties to bind a state of several millions. This along with personal inclination had encouraged the Purgyal monarchs towards religious toleration. Ngawang himself had married a Muslim, the Karluk princess Teçush as a gesture towards non-Christians, though she soon converted to the Nestorian faith. Unhappily the Tsenpo had misread the mood of his subjects; Teçush was immediately unpopular in Tibet precisely because of her original faith. At the time for most Tibetans Islam was a poorly understood foreign faith and those stories they had become aware of hinted at a religion starkly opposed to the practices of Old Tibet with its hundreds of petty gods and its love of magic and ritual. Even the Nestorians proved suspicious, with some grandees questioning how deep her conversion went. Poor Teçush was left trying to combat a vague impersonal hostility that led some jealous courtiers to begin a whispering campaign that she was a spy for the Caliph.
Whether out of sheer stubbornness or more tender feelings Ngawang never considered annulling his marriage to Teçush in favour of a more popular union.
The Tsenpo's brother Selbar, who came of age in 1201, sought to distance himself from the Tsenpo's unpopularity by marrying a distant cousin nearly a decade his senior who had kept firmly to the Old Bön ways. This excited the non-Christian faction at court and alarmed the Nestorians, though neither side had any evidence that Selbar was anything other than a conventionally pious Christian. The pressure on Ngawang to produce an heir of his own became acute.
Ngawang was no fool. He knew that his throne was precarious and that his own inclinations didn't help; it was the delighted gossip of the barracks that the Tsenpo had to drink himself halfway into oblivion before entering his wife's bedchamber. To his credit though there were certainly favourites in Ngawang's entourage the Tsenpo never appointed an officer who was less than capable for the job. Pleasure was pleasure but a military defeat would end all that. He also had every intention of reforming Tibet into a more modern and stable government - after he defeated Zungsten.
Between January 1198 and May 1201 Ngawang and his forces fought five battles against the Bön crusade. Not all of them were victories, with an Imperial army suffering a surprise defeat at the First Battle of Spanggur in May 1198. The advantage in manpower and experience never deserted the Imperial forces and gradually the invaders were pushed back out of North Western Tibet with the Tsenpo even able to launch a counter-invasion of 'Punjab'. Zungsten remained stubbornly optimistic but as the new century dawned it was clear that his forces were beginning to crack.
The Imperial Army on campaign against Zungsten's crusade, September 1200 AD.
The linchpin of Ngawang's war was the Imperial Guard, the standing retinue of the monarch. While they were never more than a quarter of the whole army they stood far above their levied cousins in reputations. These elite regiments, sometimes called the Mountain Guard or the Snow Lion Guard were drawn mostly from the tough villagers of the Himalayas and in peace time they stood at about four thousand eight hundred strong. It might have been assumed these were heavy troops of the line, but in fact the Guard was trained and equipped as three quarters light infantry to one quarter light cavalry, fighting with spear and lance and especially the famed dpa'dam the straight edged Tibetan sword. They were uniformed in chuba (the long woolen robes worn by almost every male Tibetan from monarch to mendicant) dyed in maroon tones and with the symbols of the dynasty woven in. The Guard were universally seen as masters of ambush and skirmish warfare, able to move across the roughest terrain with terrifying speed. More than one barbarian adventurer had met his end at the weapons of these soldiers.
The ancestors of the modern Guard regiments had existed since the Ninth Century but as their numbers, duty and legend all grew they gradually evolved beyond their role as a personal bodyguard into something of a defacto standing army and police constabulary. The Tibetan monarchs were very familiar with the military of China and various theories of warfare had traveled West during marriages between the Purgyals and the Wei or Zhao.
Beyond the Guard, and far more numerous in the field were the Imperial levies supplied by vassals and bondsmen. Many of these were also light infantry and cavalry, inferior in quality and reliability to their counterparts in the Guard but similar in arms and armour. Archers, pikemen (armed with the mdung, a long double edged spear) and even rare and fabulously exotic war elephants also formed a part of the army. Most significant were the heavy infantry clad in lamellar and chain and armed chiefly with swords. The heavy infantry were chiefly richer farmers and lower nobles, always a feared part of any Tibetan army and rivals of professional soldiers of the Guard when in came to élan.
Ngawang enjoyed the military life, and if he would have much preferred leading his army in conquest rather than in defence against fellow Tibetans he found compensations. The Tsenpo was able to get a better feel for the loyalties and capabilities of the grandees than in years of ritualised ceremonies at court. They in turn were afforded experience with their monarch where he performed best, face to face and in person. As he wrote continuously to his Lönchen Thumo Sharpa Lha of Dêgê [2]:
At some point in 1200 the Tsenpo's letter's abruptly changed. The rather romantic and optimistic language of a young man living the life he loved gave way to darker thoughts. It is possible that Ngawang's temper had changed because he feared victory and thus a return to a world where problems could not be solved by strategic use of a sword. With the benefit of hindsight a more unsettling possibility becomes plausible. He had sensed that he enemies nearby, and not those on the other side of a battlefield.
The young monarch had no shortage of enemies. To non-Christians he was the embodiment of all the changes they mourned. To many of the grandees he was a soldier emperor plotting to sweep away the ancient customs of the Tibetan aristocracy in favour of a military command. His personal habits had left a trail of broken hearts in his wake so personal motives cannot be entirely set aside. Whoever would eventually commit the deed there were many in Tibet who would have rejoiced at the Tsenpo's death.
The opportunity for the assassins came at the beginning of May 1201. The Tsenpo and several of his officers had left the main camp to visit the high altitude lake of Pangong Tso. By all accounts the diversion itself was splendid, giving Ngawang the rare chance to swim and wash off the stench of horseflesh, then later dine on snowtrout, an unheard of luxury back in the capital. It was only once the expedition was over and the contented party were riding back that events turned. By chance (or 'chance') the monarch's guide took a wrong turn and the young Tsenpo found himself alone and beset by highwaymen...
The assassination of Tsenpo Purgyal Ngawang, 3 May 1201 AD.
Footnotes:
[1] At this time the Tibetan Empire did not mint her own universal currency, but Chinese, Indian and Persian coins were in common use.
[2] As head of the Imperial Council the Lönchen or 'Chancellor' as the title was usually translated was effectively, if not formally. regent while the Tsenpo was on campaign.
It is surprisingly hard finding pictures of medieval Tibetan warriors on line but these links should give you some idea what they look like. In game terms the Guard are retinues, composed entirely of the 'Himalayan Mountaineer' retinues.
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Yes, it was a real highlight for me to finally restore the Imperial Tibet, and not just because 'Tibet' is far easier to spell and say than Ü-Tsang.
Thank you! I thought given the turmoil in Tibet I really should delve into it more.
Thanks! It was very interesting writing it up.
Ah yes, poor Dharmapala. One of my favourite characters.
Thank you very much and I'll try and keep up the quality!
That is a great way of putting it.
In many ways the Tibetan Empire here is a lot like the Roman Empire of the early Fourth Century. Christianity is legally dominant but lacks a plurality, let alone a majority of the population.
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Ah! The Empire at last! also, that religious abstract is a nice surprise.
Yes, it was a real highlight for me to finally restore the Imperial Tibet, and not just because 'Tibet' is far easier to spell and say than Ü-Tsang.
Thank you! I thought given the turmoil in Tibet I really should delve into it more.
Wonderful glimpse into the religious fabric of Tibet.
Thanks! It was very interesting writing it up.
I’ll take you up on your offer!
I’m impressed by the depth of the storytelling and insights into your ‘alternate Tibetan society’. Will keep up the ‘stern chase’
Ah yes, poor Dharmapala. One of my favourite characters.
Thank you very much and I'll try and keep up the quality!
That is a great way of putting it.
In many ways the Tibetan Empire here is a lot like the Roman Empire of the early Fourth Century. Christianity is legally dominant but lacks a plurality, let alone a majority of the population.
Turmoil is the really the right world, and the comparison to the 4th century Roman Empire has a certain multiplicity of purpose - civil war, religious discord, barbarians at the gates, it has it all.
Bit of a backlog here, but finally caught up! Loved the religious overview interlude post, also! Really fleshed out how Tibetan society may have been like in this timeline
Anyhow, great writing! Eagerly looking forward to more installments!
This second line here is what fascinates me about this story - the cosmopolitan, syncretic society that has developed in Tibet, allowing this diverse mixture of cultures for the Tsenpo to indulge in.
Hurrah! Though, I wonder how this would effect relations with China. I suppose it was referred to later on, with China handwaving the title away and keeping their position of China as the sole Imperial title, the Middle Kingdom, etc., but if Tibet were to grow more powerful, or Zhao to be overthrown... I could see Tibetan imperial pretensions being a source of strife between the two states.
How appropriate that someone like Nytari would appear during the reign of Selbar the Cruel. Again, it's tidbits like this which really help further the narrative and make it so immersive, weaving things together. I wonder, what happened to Nytari after Selbar's death?
There does seem to be a lot of soldier-kings in Tibet! Is that deliberate?
Anyhow, great writing! Eagerly looking forward to more installments!
You know, I'd almost suspect Selbar himself to be behind the deed, if he weren't so young. Quietly offing his brother would certainly win him a throne, and perhaps a few well-placed friends too.
But then, as was noted, Ngawang certainly wasn't short of any number of enemies, from religious foes to spurned lovers.
But then, as was noted, Ngawang certainly wasn't short of any number of enemies, from religious foes to spurned lovers.
Always fun when your character gets assassinated, and the first thing you see as your new character is ''we successfully assassinated the old guy.''
Part Twenty Three: Tsenpo Purgyal Selbar II 'the Lionheart' (1201 to 1244 AD)
Tsenpo Purgyal Selbar II in May 1201 AD.
Part Twenty Three: Tsenpo Purgyal Selbar II 'the Lionheart' (1201 to 1244 AD)
Magician, lunatic, visionary... all these labels and many, many more have been applied to the second Selbar to wear the imperial crown of Tibet. All of them are accurate. Selbar the Lionheart, an erratic yet supremely gifted man was the most controversial and divisive Tibetan monarch since Pelmo the Scholar.
Selbar II [1] succeeded to the throne by an accident of timing. He had only just turned sixteen thus avoiding the need for a regent and though the Dowager Empress Teçush was with child she did give birth until many months after her husband's death which would have seen the throne go elsewhere altogether. As it was the young Tsenpo had already if briefly reigned in Kamarupa and arrived in Taktsé with a wife, nine years his senior. Tsenmo ['Empress'] Purgyal Zigsma was a distant cousin of the monarch, gossipy, sturdy of body and a partisan of the Old Bön faith. Her husband was slender, though not frail, a man who moved softly despite his club foot, an infirmity shared with his late brother and still living mother. Young Selbar was an intellectual and a theologian, urbane and witty though prone to become dogmatic when it came to his passions.
The faith of the monarch's wife had sent a tremor through the court, but despite fears (and hopes) Selbar was not a man bound to restore paganism. The Tsenpo remained a Nestorian all his life, even if that faith became very idiosyncratic at times but he was also a pluralist at heart. Jewish and pagan courtiers found the monarch tolerant and accessible and later in his reign this personal sympathy extended to Taoists, Buddhists and Hindus. Only with Muslims was this path of tolerance less clear. The strength of the Caliph, the poor understanding of the religion in Tibet and the tussles along the Abbasid-Tibetan border all left the youngest of the Abrahamic faiths distrusted in the Empire. Indeed Selbar would seek to invoke the banner of holy war twice during his reign [2], but even here the Tsenpo was happy to use the services of his sister-in-law the Muslim Dowager Empress Teçush as a general - and to turn a blind eye as she discretely reared her son in that faith.
Selbar's interest in theology had stemmed from his education when his father had considered training him as a bishop. As an adult he was an excellent reader and linguist, who worked with many others on a much praised translation of the Peshitta from Syriac into Court Tibetan. Pilgrims passing through Tibet (as numerous Chinese Nestorians did) could expect to find themselves engaged in friendly if sometimes spirited debate on the matters of God and His designs on the world.
In the Summer 1207 the Tsenpo suffered a crisis that changed his life and the perceptions of him forever. The then twenty two year old monarch fell ill with a bout of the flu so severe that it almost killed him. In desperation the bedridden Selbar turned to his court physician and magician Khön Chödron of Kamarupangara. Chödron was an enigmatic figure even then and the historical record is remarkably poor for someone of her importance - evidently she made few friends among the Taktsé camarilla who sought a posthumous revenge on her reputation. Still what is known is that she was generally seen as capable in her field and a superior replacement for the unlovely Nytari the Mystic (who had wisely departed from court after the death of his patron.)
To cure her monarch the physician had administered an elixir of her own creation, distilled from rare flowers extract to dull the Tsenpo's pain during the grisly curative procedure...
Selbar is cured, yet left permanently marked...
Whatever experiences Selbar underwent during his 'treatment' he survived but was never quite the same. The Tsenpo's intelligence remained unharmed but now the cautious and careful speech he had been known for was replaced by an excited stream of ideas. The monarch, always had a stubborn streak but now he latched onto particular ideas with great passion, spending hours in debate with his harried thoughts on the mating habits of falcons, the intricacies of Bön tea ceremonies or minor Chinese dialects. A majority of the time Selbar was lucid and persuasive, still the cleverest man in the room but there was always a manic quality to him from that point on - and of course there were days when he seemed to lose his sense of reality altogether. On one occasion the Tsenpo became convinced his own wife was an envoy of the Moon King. On another courtiers discovers the monarch naked and baying at the Heavens. Most famously late in his reign the Tsenpo would order the construction of an immense statue dedicated to his own horse.
Though Selbar's eccentricities could not be kept hidden there was never any move to appoint a regency. The designated regent for most of Selbar's reign was his mother the formidable Dowager Empress Wang Lize, a strong partisan of her surviving son who was much more grounded but who shared her son's fascinations with the esoteric. Selbar also enjoyed the support of most of family for he proved himself an attentive and compassionate husband to both his wives and a loving father to his children. For someone so intelligent the monarch could be a remarkably innocent individual and for a man driven by passions and dizzying tempers he was never known to be cruel or harsh. It may have been that the Council felt protective towards their ruler.
Of course no matter how sympathetic most of the court was towards Selbar he would not have maintained his throne without a potent mind. His oddities aside Selbar was fully capable of focusing on matters concerning himself and his empire. In fact - though many of his theories were based on the strangest of fancies - Selbar was one of the most learned and advanced philosophers of the Thirteenth Century. He was also a great student of magic and the world of the unknown.
By 1240 AD Selbar would be seen as first among equals in the Hermetic world.
All Tibetans had a fascination with magic, regardless of their individual religions. The use of spells and invocations was part of the fibre of the Old Bön faith and even the reformed path with its strong Buddhist influence was seeped in the mystical. Every home had its own household gods, every mountain its guardian spirit. Competing religions had come to Tibet with their own cosmology and traditions and even the most orthodox of Nestorian Christians consulted astrologers before undertaking any great venture. In the Eleventh Century Purgyal Sumnang, Selbar's own ancestor had written The Spirits Among Us, a famed compendium of the folk religion and practices of the Tibetan people. Yet for all this love of magic surprisingly few magicians of renown had actually come from Tibet. True sorcery, it was universally felt, came from China.
Wang Lize also hailed from China and as a devout Taoist she had remained true all her life to the habits and rituals of the Zhao Court. Though she had not persuaded her son to adopt her faith she had provided him with a gateway to the magics of the Middle Kingdom. From his father's side came the beliefs and philosophy of the Nestorian Christian world and the folk magic of Tibet. Beginning in about 1210 Selbar began to devote himself to the world of the unknown, drawing on all these traditions to build something new.
Some later historians of the esoteric have firmly placed the so-called 'Tibetan School' of Selbar and his followers with the Western European tradition of Hermeticism, which according to popular tradition had been brought to Tibet by Máel-Míchíl the Wise in the days of the second Torma. Certainly Selbar's surviving writings and correspondences show he was aware of the Western Tradition and in direct correspondence with adepts in Persia and Europe [3]. However the Tsenpo's connection to Far Eastern traditions makes it difficult to pigeon hole. In one still existing theorem on the movements of the zodiac Selbar stressed the unity of Western and Eastern mystic thought:
The Tibetan and Chinese influence upon Selbar's mystical research made him a target of both awe and envy to the Western Hermetics. As Tsenpo of Tibet and fabulously wealthy he had near limitless resources to draw upon. The Glorious Gardens of Taktsé alone provided rare blossoms useful in any number of experiments. In the markets of the capital and the even larger markets of Lhasa to the North an adept could find almost anything, and beyond them lay the vast country of Tibet herself. Selbar organised expeditions to gather wild herbs, hunt exotic animals and even an ultimately failed attempt to track down the fabled Mi-go or Yeti - a beast of the mountains so rare and unknown that none could agree whether it was animal or man or demon.
The known members of the 'Tibetan School' established by Selbar included the court physician and sorceress Khön Chödron (the Tsenpo could be remarkably forgiving of grudges), Bishop Wangdu of Shey, Bishop Sönam of Chitral and many other lesser lights. The presence of some of the highest clergy in the Church of the East reflected the generally Christian ethos of the School, though there were also Jewish and Taoist members. All the adepts agreed that there was a single Divine hand in the creation and ordering of the universe that was the basis of human religion - a prisca theologia ("ancient theology") that represented a true understanding of the universe. By undergoing certain rites and performing certain rituals a man could understand the truth of God.
Selbar sought to connect with the Divine through magic ritual...
On at least three known occasions Selbar was involved in magical rituals to summon a Divine Being. Only the most fragmentary of clues remain the private writings of Bishop Sönam as to these startling experiences, with a codex once attributed to Selbar now considered by mainstream historians to be a Seventeenth Century hoax [4]. Like many mystics the Bishop of Chitral wrote in code and the exact nature of this Divine Being remains mysterious, though everything indicates the mystics sincerely believed they had successfully contacted some greater intelligence. The Tsenpo apparently steered much of the policy of his later reign based on insights gleamed from these rituals.
Selbar was also a talented astrologer and alchemist and the so-called 'Tibetan Zodiac' so beloved of occultists for centuries after his death is commonly attributed to him. The Western Zodiac places Selbar as a Libra, while the Tibetan Zodiac signifies him with the Druk or "Thunder Dragon", and some Medieval Tibetans (and modern occultists) believed Selbar was a Dragon whose soul had been trapped with a human body, explaining both his great wisdom and his bouts of madness.
As befitting a man surrounded by so much mystery and debate Selbar's end was and remains shrouded in myth. According to the most prosaic retelling of his death the Tsenpo had kindly (if unwisely) fallen into the practice of offering shelter to lepers and pilgrims. One of these men turned out to be an assassin and killed Selbar in his private chambers on the night of 24 May 1244, with a dagger to the heart. The killer was never caught and the men or women who organised the deed never revealed, allowing countless theories to emerge over the centuries over different suspects and motives.
It is certainly true that Selbar died on that date but just about every aspect of this rationalist account is rejected by a more popular version of the story that states the assassin - traditionally given the name 'Sachen' - was no mortal man at all but Death himself come to claim the monarch's soul. In this variation the Tsenpo sought to bargain with Death by a game of chess and only after his defeat consented to accompany Death into the afterlife...
Whatever really happened to Selbar he had attained immortality in his own lifetime as a mystic both mad and profound. As we shall see in the next chapter that role, however important, was not the only aspect that defined his forty three year long reign. He changed Tibet too...
Tsenpo Purgyal Selbar II 'the Lionheart' dies 24 May 1244 AD.
Footnotes:
[1] Selbar's regnal numbering indicates he was the second Selbar to hold the rank of Tsenpo ('Emperor') over all Tibet. Had he used his lesser titles he would have been Gyalpo Selbar III of Ü-Tsang.
[2] As shall be seen in the chapter.
[3] Surprisingly the longest surviving work definitively attributed to Tsenpo Selbar II is The Purgyal Cookbook a characteristically idiosyncratic but fascinating collection of delicacies and dishes eaten by the Imperial Family. Mainstream historians have long found it an invaluable insight into Medieval Tibet. Esoteric historians believe it to be a work written in code concealing as yet unknown secrets of the universe.
[4] Not including the above mentioned cookbook no less than fifty books have been attributed to Selbar in the centuries after his death. As mentioned The Taktsé Codex is now almost universally regarded as a hoax while the Yellow Leaf Book exists only as a (poor quality) Chinese translation that is probably a compendium of unrelated magical lore stitched together in the Fourteenth Century. The enigmatic and by all accounts eerie Book of the Sun-Robed Lady is thought to be a lost work if it ever existed in the first place.
I don't normally do this but Selbar picked up a pretty fascinating collection of traits by the time of his death that I think it is worth posting him as of 1244:
.jpg "Selbar II (old).jpg")
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Very true. I hope Tibet fares better than the Roman Empire however!
Wow, thank you. I had a lot of fun writing the religious overview - Tibet in this timeline is really a fascinating cosmopolitan place.
Regarding China I have kept a deliberately policy of good relations with the Zhao. Selbar's own mother is Chinese so there is a longstanding peace treaty and if the exact nature of Tibet's imperial pretensions is seen differently in Tibet and China... well the diplomats politely ignore that!
As for Nytari he was gone before Selbar II took the throne. A bit of a shame as he would have been fascinating to weave into Selbar II's reign and interest in the metaphysical.
I suppose I do tend to go for soldiering as a default upbringing but I am trying to keep things rounded - Selbar II was a theologian.
Indeed. I don't think it was Selbar (quite aside from being out of character he was plotting to gain a title when he became Tsenpo.)
Of course the irony is that he ended up being a far more unconventional emperor than his brother would ever have been...
Heh. That's a good point!
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Very true. I hope Tibet fares better than the Roman Empire however!
Bit of a backlog here, but finally caught up! Loved the religious overview interlude post, also! Really fleshed out how Tibetan society may have been like in this timeline
This second line here is what fascinates me about this story - the cosmopolitan, syncretic society that has developed in Tibet, allowing this diverse mixture of cultures for the Tsenpo to indulge in.
Hurrah! Though, I wonder how this would effect relations with China. I suppose it was referred to later on, with China handwaving the title away and keeping their position of China as the sole Imperial title, the Middle Kingdom, etc., but if Tibet were to grow more powerful, or Zhao to be overthrown... I could see Tibetan imperial pretensions being a source of strife between the two states.
How appropriate that someone like Nytari would appear during the reign of Selbar the Cruel. Again, it's tidbits like this which really help further the narrative and make it so immersive, weaving things together. I wonder, what happened to Nytari after Selbar's death?
There does seem to be a lot of soldier-kings in Tibet! Is that deliberate?
Anyhow, great writing! Eagerly looking forward to more installments!
Wow, thank you. I had a lot of fun writing the religious overview - Tibet in this timeline is really a fascinating cosmopolitan place.
Regarding China I have kept a deliberately policy of good relations with the Zhao. Selbar's own mother is Chinese so there is a longstanding peace treaty and if the exact nature of Tibet's imperial pretensions is seen differently in Tibet and China... well the diplomats politely ignore that!
As for Nytari he was gone before Selbar II took the throne. A bit of a shame as he would have been fascinating to weave into Selbar II's reign and interest in the metaphysical.
I suppose I do tend to go for soldiering as a default upbringing but I am trying to keep things rounded - Selbar II was a theologian.
Indeed. I don't think it was Selbar (quite aside from being out of character he was plotting to gain a title when he became Tsenpo.)
Of course the irony is that he ended up being a far more unconventional emperor than his brother would ever have been...
Heh. That's a good point!
He strikes me as someone who will be a rich tapestry for future authors, there is just so much to unpack in this.
The Tibet of Selbar II would make for a fascinating setting for an RPG. A largely benevolent mystic Emperor, a mysterious and shadowy court sorceress, a secretive order that seeks to unlock the ancient secrets of the Universe-- and an esoteric (possibly magical) cookbook full of recipes that is undoubtedly full of ambiguous footnotes along the lines of "By ensuring the ingredients are in the proper harmony, one's senses may enter full communion with the Divine Presence."
Part Twenty Four: Tsenpo Purgyal Selbar II 'the Lionheart' (1201 to 1244 AD) (cont.)
Tsenmo ('Empress') Qangma Tashi, Selbar's second wife.
Part Twenty Four: Tsenpo Purgyal Selbar II 'the Lionheart' (1201 to 1244 AD) (cont.)
Selbar the Lionheart earned his nickname. Had he never so much as opened a book in his life he still would have changed Tibet.
The third emperor of reunified Tibet inherited the war against the forces of the Dalai Lama Zungsten. The strength of the Bön crusade was already fading by 1201 but it still took weeks of hard fighting to bring the zealots to heel. The Tsenpo campaigned on the well practiced terrain of the carrot and stick, able to point with conviction to the pagans in his court - and indeed in his bed given the beliefs of his first wife. Those who surrendered could expect reasonable treatment. Selbar's motivation was partly sincere toleration but he also hoped to discourage future rebellions.
The war finally ended in June 1201 with the surrender of Zungsten. The Tsenpo, true to his word was happy to negotiate a modest peace, unofficially claiming patronage over the Tibetan pagans. While his hope of ending the threat of permanently pagan revolt proved unrealistic - Bön malcontents would take up arms twice during his reign - Selbar did win at least the grudging support of his non-Christian subjects, the vast majority of whom would stay loyal. Indeed with the unwanted war against the Bön zealots over Selbar would prove able to rely on a common enemy to help unify his people. In this Selbar would follow the ideas of his late brother. Unlike Tsenpo Ngawang Selbar never pretended to be a born warlord (though he could handle a sword with surprising ability as many an opponent found to their cost). Instead the shrewd monarch relied on the excellence of his generals for advice when it came to battle.
The first truly foreign war waged on Selbar's terms was his conquest of the tiny enclave of Manthang in the Himalayas. This isolated Nepalese county was one of the last surviving fragments of the old Kingdom of Guge and still retained allegiance to the 'Kingdom of Punjab' to the North West of Tibet proper. During Zungsten's crusade this had served as a thorn in the side of Tibet and Selbar was determined it should not do so again. In February 1211 he declared war on 'Punjab', citing his own de jure claim as Tsenpo of Tibet. Though his opponent was a Bön kingdom the Tsenpo was careful not to invoke the religious argument in this clash. When 'Punjab' surrendered control of Manthang in May 1212 Selbar merely proclaimed he was restoring imperial rule to a piece of Old Tibet.
Manthang was a real if minor war. Barbarian adventurers and other nuisances were a fact of life the Tibetans had to deal with. As common as they were they could never play the part of a menacing villain against which the Tibetans could stand. That great rival was the immense Abbasid Caliphate. The Tibetans had fought the Abbasids before and within living memory Muslim armies had invaded the Empire. The territories of Kashmir and Pamir, now ruled from Damascus had once been part of Guge and before that Old Tibet. In the early Thirteenth Century there was still a common Tibetan culture and language in these provinces. Islam had made inroads but many of the common people still practiced Bön, and so war to liberate Kashmir or Pamir could find support even among Tibetan pagans.
The Jurchen Invasion of China (1213 to 1225 AD) almost destroyed the Zhao Empire. Though they ultimately defeated the barbarians the war punctured the myth of Zhao invincibility.
Selbar had one other reason for considering war with the Abbasids: China. In 1213 the Jurchen barbarians had invaded the Zhao Empire. A terrifying horde of bloodthirsty horse nomads swept away the border armies of the Zhao and pushed deep into the Middle Kingdom. As refugees reached the borders of Tibet Selbar began to consider a prospect so appalling and so astounding that he could hardly speak it aloud. What if the Zhao fell to the barbarians? The Zhao could be imperious and irritating but they were civilised men while the Jurchens were whispered to be murderous madmen fit only to gibber at the moon. The Tsenpo of Tibet would have to make sure of his own realm should such a cataclysm happen.
It would take two separate wars (1214 to 1217 and 1230 to 1232) to push the Abbasids out of Kashmir and Pamir. The great advantage for the Tibetans was that it was far easier for them to mass armies in the region than it was for the Caliph in far off Damascus. Even assuming the Abbasids were not preoccupied with events on their European frontier (and they usually were) the tyranny of distance posed immense problems for the immense Muslim armies. Any relief army sent from Syria or even Persia would have to pass through some of the least hospitable terrain known to man - and then fight in the barren mountains and bitterly contested valleys where the Tibetan Plateau faded into the harsh black gravel peaks of the Karakoram. These were places where a grand and splendid host might vanish without trace in the hungry arid country and even the Tibetans with all their advantages preferred to divide their forces into smaller commands. Paying heed to his generals Selbar knew that the key to victory lay in winning sieges whether they be of lonely Abbasid outposts or bustling trading towns. The great field battles were best avoided.
Sometimes it wasn't possible to avoid a clash. At the Battle of Vanj in September 1231 during the war for Pamir the Dowager Empress Teçush led more than forty thousand Tibetan soldiers - almost the entire army - to victory over an Abbasid army that had almost reached the Tibetan Plateau. Vanj was the largest battle of Selbar's reign and some historians later criticised Teçush for emptying every siege of Tibetan soldiers against a smaller Abbasid force but the Tsenpo extensively praised his sister in law. Teçush's victory did much to dispel the hostile gossip that she was the Caliph's agent in Taktsé [1].
At the end of May 1232 the Caliph sought terms, agreeing to concession of the border regions. Selbar and the Tibetan court could allow themselves a quiet sigh of relief. With relatively little bloodshed (on their side), they had restored the Western borders of Old Tibet and held a much more defensible frontier should the Abbasids think to look East again. The Tsenpo had emerged from the wars with his reputation greatly enhanced, several rather dashing scars and a cadre of loyal officers hardened in battle against the strongest power in the world.
Wars were exciting but even more important for the realm was Selbar's reorgnaisation of the Tibetan Empire from a collection of feudal titles into a bureaucratic unified state. Though few would admit it then or later this was really the field in which Selbar's 'unorthodox' way of thinking proved most effective. The Tsenpo, with his strangely intense passions and his endless flow of ideas was always willing to overthrow time honoured tradition if it proved inferior to his vision.
Selbar introduces succession by primogeniture for the Tibetan Empire, 1219 AD.
In the Summer of 1219 Selbar summoned the full Imperial Council to Taktsé to codify the future of the Empire. The monarch had enjoyed mixed fortunes in the recent past with the still present glow of the conquest of Kashmir hiding his own struggle with ill health and the death of his first wife Tsenmo Purgyal Zigsa. The Tsenpo had recently remarried and his second wife, Qangma Tashi had drawn much favourable comment from the court. A dark eyed, slender, graceful beauty of arisocratic origin - 'a mountain stream in human masque' as one fevered admirer put it - Tsenmo Tashi also proved herself a fashion plate. With the limitless fortunes available to a empress she patronised the finest of jewelers and tailors and as Tashi favoured traditional Tibetan attire (albeit of exquisite quality and designed to favour a figure that nature had already favoured) the Chinese clothiers who had established a foothold at court among the best groomed aristocratic women suddenly found themselves out of fashion.
If the Tsenmo, regally seated by her husband at Council provoked much gossip, even she was outshone by the changes Selbar proposed. Every moment of the discussions was dominated by the Tsenpo's zeal in proposing his new constitution for the Tibetan Empire. The law was to be altered so that only the direct heir would inherit the Tibetan throne and the personal demesne of the Imperial Family. The old legal status of Ü-Tsang, Guge and Kamarupa as independent kingdoms unified under one one crown would be dissolved in favour of a single remaining crown - that of Tibet. The old laws of the three kingdoms would be amalgamated into one common imperial law. Other laws would constitute a single unified currency and civil service and the Snow Lion Guard, already expanded under Selbar's reign, would become the official standing army of the realm rather than simply the Tsenpo's private retinue.
Not every change was as breathtakingly revolutionary as it might have seemed at first. The Guard was still appointed by and answerable to the monarch and in practice their new status only recognised an existing reality. The old royal councils of Ü-Tsang, Guge and Kamarupa were mostly composed of the same men and women who sat on the Imperial Council and again Selbar was simply recognising a truth. Still, for many from grandees to peasants it was a shock. It was almost as if with the future of China herself in doubt Selbar had decided to build a new Middle Kingdom in Tibet.
The grandees of Tibet were not known for their radicalism or for slavishly following the demands of their monarch. Ever since the days of Queen Mother Zhang Que in the Tenth Century the Gyalpo - and later the Tsenpo - had been required to listen to the Council and allow them to vote on important measures. In practice the vote had rarely gone against the monarch but it was an article of faith for the Tibetan elite that no matter how wealthy or powerful their ruler was he or she was bound by the law and by the grace of their subjects. Selbar knew that as well as anyone and for all his desire to change Tibet he had no desire to actually strip powers from his Council or simply overrule them. So he doggedly persuaded them to vote for his measures. Some of this was won through bribery and certainly rubies, sapphires and minor titles exchanged hands but the Tsenpo could never have begun his task but for one key factor: he was popular.
As he grew older Selbar grew odder. In his middle age his conversations with unseen entities became more frequent and harder to ignore (though given the universal knowledge that Selbar was a powerful conjurer many wondered whether these invisible courtiers were figments after all). The Tsenpo sank a small fortune into building a titanic sculpture of his horse in Lhünzê, a prosperous mining region East of Taktsé [2]. He (perhaps jokingly) suggested that the turnip become the universal currency of the Tibetan Empire (the treasury persuaded him to mint silver coinage instead.) Though he remained very close to his wife it was known that for the last decade and a half of his life Selbar practiced strict celibacy for esoteric mystical reasons. As Tashi had been praise of a thousand poets as a young woman and had aged like the finest of wines some wits (quietly) said that this was a far worse sign of madness than building a giant stone horse.
In spite of all this, or perhaps because of all this Selbar remained immensely popular. For over four decades he was the realm. When died in 1244 Taktsé - the entire Tibetan Empire was overwhelmed by public grief. As the thirty nine year old Crown Prince Selbar - soon to be crowned Tsenpo Selbar IV - returned to the capital two days after his father's death he was struck by the pale faces and haunted eyes that greeted him. Turning in the saddle to a friend he said: 'I am not the only orphan here. They too have lost their father.'
The Tibetan Empire in 1244 AD.
Footnotes:
[1] Teçush is a fascinating character in her own right. Born a Muslim horse nomad she had converted to the Nestorian faith to marry Tsenpo Ngawang but returned to her old religion after her husband's death. Despite being a pious Muslim for the majority of her life she would spend most of her celebrated career as a general (far longer than her brief period as an imperial consort) leading armis against her co-religionists.
[2] This fascinating oddity was never completed and Selbar III had it pulled down but by contemporary accounts the foreleg of the 'beast', the only part assembled in Selbar II's lifetime stood 'three times the height of a man'. A much smaller version, made of jade but seemingly identical in appearance did survive in the Glorious Garden of Taktsé.
Happy Christmas all. Hope everyone has good holidays!
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I certainly think so. He'd be a very rich character for European writers fascinated by mysticism and I could easily picture H. P. Lovecraft fitting a version of the man into the Cthulu Mythos - even if Selbar's madness was pretty benign it would be very hard to argue he was sane.
Or on a happier note I could also picture this version of Tibet fitting in with the Buffyverse or Charmed as an exotic locale to draw lore from.
Hah!
Also yes, a thousand times yes! As a tabletop gamer I completely agree - I can just picture GURPS Tibet or as I mentioned above a Call of Cthulu tie-in. Maybe the World of Darkness books too?
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I certainly think so. He'd be a very rich character for European writers fascinated by mysticism and I could easily picture H. P. Lovecraft fitting a version of the man into the Cthulu Mythos - even if Selbar's madness was pretty benign it would be very hard to argue he was sane.
Or on a happier note I could also picture this version of Tibet fitting in with the Buffyverse or Charmed as an exotic locale to draw lore from.
The Tibet of Selbar II would make for a fascinating setting for an RPG. A largely benevolent mystic Emperor, a mysterious and shadowy court sorceress, a secretive order that seeks to unlock the ancient secrets of the Universe-- and an esoteric (possibly magical) cookbook full of recipes that is undoubtedly full of ambiguous footnotes along the lines of "By ensuring the ingredients are in the proper harmony, one's senses may enter full communion with the Divine Presence."
Hah!
Also yes, a thousand times yes! As a tabletop gamer I completely agree - I can just picture GURPS Tibet or as I mentioned above a Call of Cthulu tie-in. Maybe the World of Darkness books too?