Chapter 276: Dismantling the Native Tribes
Marquis Wellesley smiled faintly. "Hmm, that's quite typical of the Ottomans."
Lord Tarmos said anxiously, "But, Marquis, your North Africa strategy is to launch a pincer attack on Tunisia. If the Ottomans don't move..."
The British Foreign Secretary nodded. "It's not just them; the Moroccans are likely to just observe as well. They'll get our aid either way."
"How can that be?!"
Marquis Wellesley gestured for him to calm down. "We still have Benghiour. Oh, he's a Pasha now.
"Just give him the order, and he'll be delighted to raid Tunisia."
Benghiour had only managed to launch his coup with significant British assistance, including funds, weapons, and British personnel. Now, at least 30 percent of Benghiour's core staff consisted of Tripoli officers fostered by the British. They could exert considerable influence over Benghiour's decisions.
Simultaneously, raiding Tunisia was also politically correct in the Ottoman Empire – it was a "rebel province" that had openly betrayed the Sultan and had to be severely punished. Thus, Benghiour's soldiers wouldn't object. In fact, they were usually quite willing to partake in such profitable endeavors.
Marquis Wellesley continued, "If the French don't intervene, then the people of Algiers will also be emboldened to raid Tunisia from the west, as they often did in the past."
Marquis Wellesley listened to the sound of thick sails unfurling overhead, walked to the porthole, and watched the seawater slowly recede. "I actually hope the French can capture Tripoli in one go. Then those Whig Party fellows will no longer have any excuse to prevent our fleet from interfering in Mediterranean affairs."
The Maghreb Special Envoy added, "And this would lead to a serious conflict with the Ottomans. We could even help transport more Ottoman troops to Tripoli to fight the French."
Marquis Wellesley turned and gave him an approving look. "Your understanding of the Mediterranean situation is remarkably profound. I believe I can safely entrust North African affairs entirely to you.
"As for me, I can then dedicate more of my energy to the situation in the Low Countries and Denmark."
...
Tunis City.
Surrounded by his guards, Joseph somewhat helplessly boarded his carriage.
With such significant developments in Tripoli, the news was bound to reach Versailles. Queen Marie, having learned from unknown sources that her son had ventured to a "domestic province" across the Mediterranean, and that a coup had erupted in a neighboring country, immediately dispatched palace officials to recall the Crown Prince to Paris.
Although Joseph desperately wanted to stay and direct the response to the British Open Scheme, he still had to heed his mother's words.
The carriage slowly set off. He picked up the documents sent from Paris, taking one last look at the exquisite Kahil Palace in the distance.
The palace's dome glittered under the sun, beautiful as a castle from a fairy tale.
A thought suddenly struck Joseph. He signaled for the carriage to stop, then beckoned Joanne and Hilada, who were seeing him off, closer. "Tell me, would you like to live in Kahil Palace? I mean, with considerable freedom, all your food and lodging covered by the court, and daily balls and banquets."
"You're truly a joker," Joanne said, obligingly smiling. "That's Haj Bey's residence."
Hilada, however, laughed and chimed in, "But if such a good thing were truly offered, no one would refuse."
Joseph asked again, "Would you still be willing, even if it meant abandoning the work you're currently focused on?"
Hilada replied, "If one were to enjoy such luxury and comfort, what more could one possibly cling to?"
"I think so too." Joseph nodded, then looked at Joanne. "In that case, the problem of tribes operating outside government control should be solvable."
The latter immediately beamed with delight. "Your Highness, how should we proceed?"
"Have you ever been to the Eden Amusement Park in Paris?"
"Huh?" Joanne was a little slow to react, pausing before nodding. "Yes, Your Highness, I took my wife once."
"I'll grant you 150,000 Livres. Can you build a similar amusement park at Kahil Palace? Oh, half the size would suffice."
"I will do my utmost to fulfill your command, Your Highness."
"Then, allocate another 100,000 to 200,000 Livres to expand Kahil Palace. Build more facilities for entertainment and pleasure."
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand your meaning, Your Highness."
Joseph gave him a knowing smile. "You've probably forgotten how to deal with these tribes. Our Sun King has long since provided the answer."
'??'
"Invite the chiefs of all the tribes, along with their figures of real power, to Kahil Palace. Bestow upon them noble titles – oh, I'll ask Her Majesty the Queen to issue an Edict for that."
Joseph glanced toward Kahil Palace. "Afterward, entertain them with the most lavish banquets and balls, providing them with the finest pleasures, all expenses covered by the treasuries of Tunisia's provinces. Then, tell them that nobles must reside in luxurious places like Kahil Palace to display their exalted status. To be closer to the Bey is to truly be superior. You should know what comes next—just follow the Sun King's example."
Joey's eyes widened upon hearing this. After a long moment, he murmured, "This... can this actually work?"
Joseph clapped him on the shoulder. "That depends on whether you can make the tribal chiefs so addicted that they can't extricate themselves. Oh, and if that truly fails, then guide public opinion to make the chiefs residing in Kahil Palace look down upon their counterparts who remain in the tribes."
Joey swallowed. The Crown Prince's method seemed costly, over 300,000 Livres, but it was far more economical than deploying troops for punishment! And it wouldn't offend the major tribes.
He placed a hand over his chest and bowed respectfully. "Your Highness, rest assured, I will collect the taxes from those tribes within half a year—no, within four months!"
If he couldn't collect the taxes while the tribal chiefs and main power-holders were all absent from their tribes, then he truly wouldn't have the face to remain in his position.
...
Djerba Island, Eastern Tunisia.
Over twenty sailing ships lay anchored outside the harbor. The docks there were simply too small—it had previously been an outpost for Barbary Pirates and was never seriously developed, so only three ships could moor at a time.
On the docks, thousands of ragged people huddled together, craning their necks to gaze at the ships, occasionally letting out anxious shouts of urgency.
These were once the proud and arrogant Tunisian Janissaries, but now, they were all eagerly waiting for a chance at survival.
Those ships could carry them to far-off New Zealand—a place with vast tracts of arable land that could feed them. They had had enough of starving on this desolate island.
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