Chapter 276: Dismantling the Tribal System
Marquis Wellesley displayed a calm smile. "Yes, that's quite in line with the Ottomans' habits."
Lord Tarmos appeared anxious. "But, my lord, your North African strategy is to create a pincer movement against Tunisia. If the Ottomans don't act..."
The British Foreign Minister nodded. "It's not just them. The Moroccans are likely to just watch, as they'll receive our aid regardless."
"How can that be?!"
Marquis Wellesley gestured for him to remain calm. "We still have that Benjiur—oh, I mean Pasha Benjiur now. Just give him the word, and he'll be more than willing to raid Tunisia."
Benjiur had succeeded in his coup largely thanks to extensive British aid, including funds, weapons, and personnel. Now, at least a third of the officers in Benjiur's ranks were British-supported Tripoli officers who could significantly influence his decisions. Moreover, raiding Tunisia was seen as politically correct in the Ottoman Empire—after all, Tunisia was considered a rebellious province that had openly betrayed the Sultan and therefore needed to be punished. Benjiur's soldiers were unlikely to oppose this idea; in fact, they'd likely be eager to participate in such a profitable venture.
Marquis Wellesley continued, "If the French don't intervene, the Algerians will feel encouraged to raid Tunisia from the west, as they've done many times before."
Lord Tarmos quickly understood. "And if the French attack the Tripoli forces, the Moroccans will have to carry out their agreement with us and launch a diversionary attack on Tunisia. Meanwhile, Benjiur can just retreat to Tripoli and hold out."
Marquis Wellesley listened to the sounds of the heavy sails being unfurled overhead and walked to the stern window, watching the water recede as the ship moved. "I actually hope the French manage to break through Tripoli. The Whigs will no longer have an excuse to prevent our fleet from interfering in Mediterranean affairs."
The British envoy to the Maghreb added, "And this will lead to serious conflict with the Ottomans. We could even help transport more Ottoman troops to Tripoli to fight the French."
Marquis Wellesley turned back, giving him an approving look. "You have a very keen understanding of Mediterranean affairs. I believe we can confidently entrust the North African matters to you. That way, I can focus more on the situation in the Low Countries and Denmark."
...
Tunis.
Joseph, surrounded by his guards, reluctantly climbed into his carriage. The commotion in Tripoli was too significant to go unnoticed at Versailles. Somehow, Queen Marie had learned that her son had gone to the "domestic province" across the Mediterranean, just as a neighboring country was experiencing a coup. Alarmed, she sent court officials to summon the Prince back to Paris.
Although Joseph wanted to stay and personally oversee the response to the British plot, he knew he couldn't ignore his mother's wishes.
As the carriage slowly started, he picked up the documents sent from Paris and took one last look at the distant, ornate Qasr el-Kebir Palace. The palace's dome glistened in the sunlight, looking as beautiful as a castle from a fairy tale.
An idea suddenly struck Joseph. He ordered the carriage to stop and called over Joan and Hilada, asking them, "Would you like to live in Qasr el-Kebir? I mean, with a lot of freedom, the palace taking care of your meals and accommodation, and daily balls and banquets."
"You're quite the joker," Joan responded with a smile. "But that's the residence of the Bey."
Hilada, however, laughed and said, "But if such a wonderful offer were real, who would refuse?"
Joseph continued, "Even if it meant giving up your current pursuits?"
Hilada replied, "If I could enjoy such luxury and comfort, what could I not leave behind?"
"I thought so." Joseph nodded, then turned to Joan. "Then the issue of tribal leaders not obeying the government should be resolved."
Joan was immediately thrilled. "Your Highness, how should we proceed?"
"Have you been to Paris's Eden Garden amusement park?"
"Uh?" Joan was momentarily confused but then nodded. "Yes, Your Highness, I took my wife there once."
"I'll give you 150,000 livres. Can you build a similar amusement park in Qasr el-Kebir? It only needs to be about half the size."
"I will do my best to fulfill your request, Your Highness."
"Then invest another 100,000 to 200,000 livres to expand Qasr el-Kebir. Build more entertainment and leisure facilities."
Joan was puzzled. "I don't quite understand what you mean, Your Highness."
Joseph gave him a meaningful smile. "You seem to have forgotten how to deal with these tribes. Our Sun King had already provided the answer."
"??"
"Invite the tribal leaders and those with actual power to stay at Qasr el-Kebir. Grant them noble titles—I'll ask the Queen to issue the decrees for you."
Joseph glanced toward Qasr el-Kebir. "Then, entertain them with the most luxurious banquets and balls. Give them the best treatment, all at the expense of the Tunisian provinces. Then, tell them that staying in such a lavish place as Qasr el-Kebir is the only way for nobles to truly display their high status. To be closer to the Bey is to be truly superior."
"After that, you'll know what to do—just follow the example set by the Sun King."
Joan's eyes widened in disbelief. It took him a while to process it before he muttered, "Can... can this really work?"
Joseph patted his shoulder. "It depends on whether you can make the tribal leaders addicted to the luxury. And if it doesn't work, you can guide public opinion so that the leaders in Qasr el-Kebir look down on their counterparts who stay in the tribes."
Joan swallowed hard. The Prince's plan seemed to require more than 300,000 livres, but it was far more economical than deploying troops for punitive expeditions. Moreover, it wouldn't offend the major tribes.
Joan was deeply impressed and respectfully bowed. "Your Highness, rest assured, within half a year—no, four months—I'll have collected the taxes from those tribes!"
If he couldn't collect taxes when all the tribal leaders and key figures were no longer in their tribes, he wouldn't deserve to hold his position any longer.
...
Jersey Island, off the coast of Tunisia.
Over twenty sailing ships were anchored outside the port—unfortunately, the dock was too small to accommodate more than three ships at a time. This place had once been an outpost for Barbary pirates and had never been properly developed.
On the docks, thousands of ragged men were crowded together, craning their necks to see the ships and occasionally calling out anxiously.
These men had once been the mighty Tunisian Janissaries, but now they eagerly awaited the chance to secure a spot on one of those ships.
Those ships would take them to the distant lands of New Zealand, where plenty of fertile land awaited them, and where they would finally have enough to eat. They had endured enough of this wretched island and its constant hunger.
(End of Chapter)
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