by Alan Smale
Much of Cahokia was built in a flurry of dedicated activity around 1050 A.D., but to this day nobody knows why or by whom. The city and its immense mounds are not claimed by any existing tribe or tradition, and no tales about the city’s foundation or dissolution have been passed down through oral history. The Illini who lived in the area when white settlers arrived appeared to know little about the mounds and did not claim them or show much interest in them. However, archaeologists and ethnographers are reasonably confident that the ancient Cahokians were Siouan-speaking, and I have gone along with that assumption in the Clash of Eagles trilogy.
We can, however, be certain that the original residents of the Great City did not call it Cahokia. “Cahokia” is actually the name of an Algonquian-speaking tribe that probably did not come to the area until several hundred years after the fall of the city. Nor did the Iroquois call themselves by that name. “Iroquois” is probably a French transliteration of an insulting Huron word for the Haudenosaunee. However, in this case and some others I have used familiar terms to avoid needless obscurity. For the river names, I may be on firmer ground (so to speak). The Mississippi and Missouri rivers are named from the French renderings of the original Algonquian or Siouan words, and the Ohio River was indeed “Oyo” to the Iroquois. “Chesapeake” and “Appalachia” have their roots in Algonquian words.
Even for names that are unambiguously Native American, it is sometimes not clear when those names started to be used. The individual names of the Five Nations of the Iroquois might not have been in wide use before 1500 A.D., although the ancestral Iroquois certainly had a strong cultural tradition by the 1200s and were building longhouses long before that. I also may have anticipated the foundation of the Haudenosaunee League by a few hundred years. Other aspects of the longhouse culture, along with the clothing and weaponry styles, are taken from the historical and archaeological record. As far as the “hand-talk” is concerned, the Plains Sign Language did indeed become something of a lingua franca, though perhaps not as early or universally as I have postulated.
Otherwise, in writing the Clash of Eagles books I have tried my best to remain accurate to geographical and archaeological ground truth. The size and layout of Cahokia are accurate for the period to the extent that the geography of the city and its environs has often not so subtly driven the plot. Every mound featured in the book exists, and I placed the Big Warm House and the brickworks and steelworks in open areas where there were no known mounds or buildings. The Circle of the Cedars corresponds to a monumental circle of up to sixty tall cedar marker posts designed as an early calendar, based on seasonal celestial alignments. The established large-scale agriculture and fishing, available natural resources, food types and weaponry, pottery and basketry, and so forth, are as accurate as I could make them. Granaries, houses, hearths, storage pits, and so on, all match current archaeological findings. Chunkey was a real game. The clothing depicted is true to the times, including details of Great Sun Man’s regalia and his copper ear spools of the Long-Nosed God; much of what later would become stereotypical Native American clothing, including large feather war bonnets and extensive beadwork, probably originated centuries after Cahokia.
We have much less detailed knowledge about the social structure of ancient Cahokia, and extrapolation can be dangerous. Although Hernando de Soto found strongly hierarchical chiefdoms with a complex caste system in his 1539–1543 expedition to southeastern areas at the tail end of the Mississippian era, it does not follow that those social systems were universal. In fact, in Cahokia’s case the evidence may point the other way—to a heterarchy of diverse organizations within the city. I have assumed a pragmatic, rather nonhierarchical structure for Cahokia rather than the superstitious and ritual-bound structures that some postulate for such societies.
Clearly, I have given the Hesperians credit for a few additional technological achievements. Native flying machines are unsupported by the archaeological record, although because they are made of sticks, skins, and sinew and wrecked Catanwakuwa and Wakinyan are ceremonially dismantled and often burned, we might not find their remains even if they had existed. However, birds and flying were highly revered in the cultures of the Americas before the European invasion. Hawks, falcons, and thunderbirds were venerated and are central motifs observed throughout ancient American cultures. There is evidence for a falcon warrior ideology in Cahokia and also strong suggestions that the birdman cult originated in Cahokia before spreading across the Mississippian world. Feathered capes, birdmen, and falconoid symbolism abounded. Bird eyes, wings, and tails are extremely common iconography on pots, chunkey stones, and other items. In many Native American traditional stories, key figures are able to fly.
Catanwakuwa and Wakinyan may be a stretch, but oddly, I may be on slightly safer ground with the Sky Lanterns. Although this is speculative, it has been suggested that balloons might have been feasible for peoples at a Mississippian technology level. Julian Nott, a prominent figure in the modern ballooning movement, has pointed out that the people who created the Nazca lines in pre-Inca Peru had all the necessary technologies and materials to create balloons. To prove his point he has constructed and flown a hot air balloon with a bag consisting of six hundred pounds of cotton fabric made in the pre-Columbian style, launched and powered by burning logs, with a gondola constructed of wood and reeds. For the Cahokians, the cotton would have been the key. Cotton grows only weakly in Illinois north of the Ohio River and can be wiped out easily by frost, and so realistically, their cotton would have had to be imported from the south. But since the Cahokian trading network extended to the Gulf of Mexico, this would have been at least possible.
The Mourning War is an authentic idea, with many historical examples of long-standing feuds and territorial disputes between native peoples of North America. Although there is no direct evidence of such a large-scale and pervasive feud between the Mississippian and Haudenosaunee nations, there is archaeological support for an increase in the palisading of towns and villages from 1200 A.D. on in those cultures and also in Algonquian territory. Clearly, these peoples were not establishing such vigorous defenses just for fun. And although people nowadays tend to associate the practice of scalping with the colonial wars, it was in fact a form of violence frequently perpetrated long before the arrival of Europeans.
The Iroquois were noted for their competence in the lethal arts. However, there are no grounds for believing them responsible for the deaths of the Cahokian women buried in Mound 72 (the Mound of the Women), as Great Sun Man tells Marcellinus. In our world, those women probably perished as part of a homegrown ritualized killing. In reality the women might not even have been from Cahokia; their teeth and bones are more typical of people originating from the satellite towns and eating poorer diets.
Just in case there is any doubt, the People of the Hand include the ancestral Pueblo peoples at the tail end of the Great House culture centered in Chaco Canyon, and the People of the Sun are the postclassic Mayan culture.
Many of Cahokia’s mounds still remain, and walking among them inspires awe. The Cahokia Mounds State Historic Site is just across the Mississippi from modern St. Louis, Missouri. It is well worth a visit and, failing that, can be investigated on the Web at www.cahokiamounds.org.
APPENDIX IV
THE DECLINE AND RISE OF THE ROMAN IMPERIUM
In the Clash of Eagles series the classical Roman Empire does not fall on schedule, and in 1218 A.D. a Roman legion crosses the Atlantic to invade the newly discovered North American continent. There they face a mighty wilderness, confront the Iroquois and Mississippian cultures, and get much more than they bargained for.
Now and then I encounter polite incredulity at the notion that the Western Roman Empire could survive until the thirteenth century with recognizable classical legions, their soldiers armed with the familiar gladius, pugio, pilum, and all the rest. Some people assume that since the Roman Empire declined and fell in our universe, it had to fall. That the Imperium’s collaps
e was almost preordained, a consequence of marauding tribes from without and moral decay and degenerate leadership from within.
I think this greatly overstates the case.
First, let’s look at what really happened. Then I’ll offer a straightforward way in which it might have turned out very differently.
In the third century A.D., everything went to hell for Rome. It’s known as the Crisis of the Third Century, and for good reason. The crisis was foreshadowed by the atrocities and persecutions of the Emperor Caracalla (198–217 A.D.)—of whom more later—and the utter bizarreness of his successor, the flamboyant and decadent zealot Elagabalus (218–222 A.D.). The emperor who followed, Alexander Severus (222–235 A.D.), tried to bribe the Empire’s enemies to go away rather than facing them in battle, alienating his legions, which eventually assassinated him. Certainly dodgy days for the Roman leadership.
This breakdown of Imperial power was followed by a half century in which twenty-six men ruled as emperor, many of them army generals who claimed the position by force. In the process of almost constant civil wars the frontiers were stripped of troops, allowing a broad range of incursions by foreign “barbarian” tribes plus a resurgence of attacks from the Sassanids to the east. Just to mess with the Empire further, the Plague of Cyprian (probably smallpox) hammered it from 250 to 270 A.D., further reducing military forces while helping to promote the spread of Christianity.
Although it took until 476 A.D. for the Western Roman Empire to founder completely, leaving Constantinople as the power center of a transformed Eastern Empire, the rot was clearly irreversible after the Crisis of the Third Century. Organizationally, the most ominous step was the precedent of dividing the Empire into parts. Once division of the Empire became acceptable (during and after Diocletian’s reign, 284–305 A.D.), the demise of Rome was inevitable. No coming back from that.
But was all this predestined? Somehow programmed in? Could the Crisis of the Third Century have been averted?
Yes. Rome had introduced significant constitutional changes before, notably under Augustus (27 B.C.–14 A.D.). With sufficient will and strong leadership, such things were possible.
So let’s go back to the beginning of the third century. Emperor Septimius Severus died in 211 A.D., leaving the Empire to be ruled jointly by his sons, Caracalla and Geta. Caracalla was thoroughly unpleasant, and his murders, massacres, and persecutions make him a close runner-up to Caligula for paranoid brutality. Caracalla clearly had no intention of sharing the Empire with a brother he hated and murdered Geta within the year. Caracalla then strode off as sole ruler into his reign of terror.
By all accounts, Geta was a much calmer, more thoughtful, and more reasonable man than his brother (although maybe this is a low bar). And perhaps on one critical day in December 211 A.D., Geta could have been just a little luckier, surviving Caracalla’s attempt on his life.
In the world of Clash of Eagles, this is exactly what happens. Geta escapes his grisly fate and flees Rome for Britain, where he is greatly respected by the legions. Factions align. Senators and armies choose sides. The Empire descends into a bloody ten-year civil war and almost collapses in the process. But ultimately Geta wins.
Geta and the Roman Senate have experienced a cataclysm they never want Rome to experience again. They have looked into the abyss of chaos and societal collapse and backed away. Thus, when Geta proposes civil reforms to limit his Imperial power and that of his successors, and plants the seeds for military reform to curtail Roman legions’ bad habit of supporting their own candidates for the throne and acting as kingmakers, the Senate is right behind him. The Severan Dynasty solidifies the Empire. Classical Roman culture perseveres. And there is much rejoicing, Roman-style: feasts and gladiatorial games and such.
Nothing about this scenario is at odds with Roman psychology. From Julius Caesar onward, the Senate would have dearly loved to curb the powers of both its dictators and its generals. Emperors used the power of the legions not only to put themselves into the Imperial purple but also to maintain themselves there…and to win arguments with the Senate.
If legions are not distracted—and often destroyed—by the Imperial struggles all through the third-century crisis, Rome’s long-term future looks much brighter. A strong army can defend Rome’s borders. Strong emperors can beat back the Parthian resurgence.
What about the “barbarians”? you say. Well, massive migrations of hostile tribes into the Empire had been halted in earlier centuries by the likes of Julius Caesar and Trajan (98–117 A.D.). Similar incursions could have been held at bay again by a succession of determined emperors and competent armies in later centuries. The surge of Goths into the Balkans in 376 A.D. could be terminated and future troubles deterred by means of ruthless massacres. For examples, see how Rome razed Carthage to end the Third Punic War in 146 B.C. and how Trajan smashed the hell out of Dacia in 101–106 A.D. If the Romans were anything, they were ruthlessly efficient in slaughtering their enemies. It wouldn’t have been pretty. But it would have been effective.
In my scenario, Emperor Geta quite unknowingly puts in place the safeguards that prevent the crisis. His successors prove to be equally competent. The Empire continues to be ruled through strong central control. The military stays solid. The Rhine is never crossed by hostile tribes; Rome is never sacked by the Visigoths. The Empire is never split by power-sharing emperors, and Byzantium—Constantinople—never rises to become dominant. The Western Roman Empire lives on.
I think that does the trick. If you agree, feel free to stop here.
If not, let’s dig deeper into the Official Causes of Rome’s Decline and Fall.
Here we hit an interesting wall, and for me the most telling point: if even professional historians and other well-read experts can’t agree on why Rome fell, the conclusion that its fall was inevitable is pretty hard to sustain.
For Edward Gibbon, “the decline of Rome was the natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness.” Meaning that the Empire was unsound to begin with because of lack of civic virtue, and its use of non-Roman mercenaries and the advent of Christianity ultimately caused its death knell. Vegetius, too, blamed military decline resulting from immoderate use of mercenaries. Many have proposed a slow decay of Roman institutions all through the centuries of the principate.
Prominent economists, however, blame unsound economic policies. Joseph Tainter, an anthropologist, blames social complexity and diminishing returns on investments. Military historian Adrian Goldsworthy points to the weakening effect of endless civil wars and the decline of central authority. Historian William McNeill blames disease, and geochemist Jerome Nriagu names lead poisoning.
There are, in fact, more than two hundred different theories for why Rome fell. This preponderance can perhaps be blamed on the lack of strong evidence—the death rates from the Cyprian plague are guesses, for example, and precious few economic documents survive from the Rome of the third to fifth centuries A.D.
But to simplify: a number of these causes look suspiciously like effects—the effects of a weak central authority, combined with an out-of-control military promoting its own favorites for emperor and weakening the borders in the process—and seem avoidable.
In my scenario, the much more moderate Geta has defeated his notoriously brutal brother Caracalla in a sustained civil war at the beginning of the third century A.D. and ushered in an alternative time line in which the Empire is not weakened by almost a century of turmoil. With the military reforms I’ve postulated, mercenaries are less necessary and can be kept under firmer control, and their leaders are less likely to rise up against Rome. The borders stay firm. The so-called barbarian tribes are forced back or eradicated.
The economy remains strong, bolstered by plunder. The religion of the Christ-Risen thrives, but church and state remain separated. People still die from plagues and contaminated water, but with a strong central authority paying attention and without the general devastation of almost constant civil war, many dire effect
s can be mitigated. Thus, the Roman Empire expands in a series of fits and starts through the rest of Europe and ultimately into Asia.
But does it live on unchanged? Does Roma still have recognizable legions in the thirteenth century?
Maybe so.
The Romans did adapt when they needed to. They adopted new ideas when they found them. But only if they saw an overwhelmingly good reason to do so.
And if they didn’t, they stayed with the tried and true. In fact, the Roman army was extremely conservative. Weapons and tactics remained largely unchanged between the Marian reforms of 107 B.C. and the late third century A.D. The military formations used by Julius Caesar were still commonly used well into the third and even fourth centuries. As it turns out, most Roman military disasters were caused by the army’s strategic and tactical inflexibility.
Beyond the tactics, the rituals of the military triumph remained unchanged throughout Roman history. Contemporary books discussing Roman army marching camps written three hundred years apart describe exactly the same layout, and this is backed up by archaeological evidence. Often even the individual signa—the symbols of various centuries and legions—persisted for centuries.