Traveller Manifesto
22.Mississippi - 11th Century

Mississippi – 11th Century

They were, of course, waiting.

Leishman’s team approached soon after sunrise and Tuketu, the chief, stood with his warriors and the rest of the village. The people worshipped together, their voices ringing into the clear, morning air as they chanted and sang with all of their might. Unlike the previous day, others also waited. Six new warriors stood and, despite their best efforts to remain stoic, gasped and stared in disbelief as the Travellers approached. Each of the new warriors wore brightly coloured tunics and embroidered chest plates decorated with porcupine quills. They were also decorated with beads of semi-precious stones which, along with the deference by which they were treated by the villagers, indicated a degree of elitism compared to their humble, forest-dwelling cousins.

Tuketu stepped forward and looked both elated and terrified. Through his poorly understood sign language, he invited the Travellers to travel with the new warriors. As Leishman removed his helmet and looked to them, the terrified newcomers dropped to their knees in obeisance. Blonde hair seemed to particularly unnerve them, while the African American faces in the troop were looked upon with wide-eyed terror.

Professor Hughes had already suggested their strategy. It was hoped that, if all went well, they would eventually be invited to Cahokia, the largest settlement of the region which, in a few hundred years, was to be the largest city in the Americas. Shrouded by mystery, Cahokia was the real reason for their mission to Mississippi. By the time Europeans explored the great land that would become the United States and Canada, Cahokia would be abandoned, leaving only mounds, legends and tribes with barely a recollection of what had gone before. Most locals would then be decimated in the all too familiar tale of rampant depopulation through disease, murder, and war for land and resources that fed the wave of European exploration of the 17th, 18th, and 19th Centuries.

Preliminary drone missions had identified tiny villages spaced only an hour or so walk apart. The village of Tuketu was about two hours from Cahokia, being at the fringe of the flood plain of the untamed Mississippi River. More expansive drone exploration had already confirmed the presence of thousands of mounds along the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers, all carefully mapped for future research. After all, those areas as yet untouched by modern cities and farms could, in the 21st Century, still yield knowledge and artefacts. What was most surprising was that many of the mounds appeared to be ancient, even in the 11th Century, while some were obviously new.

With a show of great ceremony, their new guides led the visitors from the village and through fields of corn, beans, and squash, crops Professor Hughes described as the ‘Three Sisters’; the staple foods for the local people. To vary such a bland diet, women gathered nuts, fruit, roots and tubers while the men hunted bison, deer, elk, bear, cougar, lynx and turkey. Flocks of geese and duck swarmed the marshland and game seemed plentiful, for the moment at least. Even the Travellers’ basecamp had been invaded by local wildlife. A black bear had been scared off while curious racoons and birds seemed intent on causing their own mischief.

At the sight of the party, farmers in their fields dropped to their knees. Anything so different to the norm must challenge beliefs. Leishman watched them, humble people who relied upon a belief system of myths and legends. There was no evidence, so far, to support anything he sought. His Mormon views suggested a common thread throughout the ancient Americas, that the people could have had a form of Christian faith. Though he had his firm beliefs, he was aware that he must not have his own beliefs prejudice his observations. He had a job to do. He had to remain observant.

Bald eagles hovered overhead as the warriors called loudly for watercraft to bear them onward. One warrior, the first amongst equals, gestured angrily and the local farmers fled to return with flat-bottomed boats that they paddled skilfully. Half a dozen canoes were soon propelled onwards and the Travellers feared they might have to discard packs and weapons if they were spilled into the swift, brown immensity of the Mississippi River.

Small craft sped ahead and, as they crossed the heavy flow, Leishman spied a small crowd that gathered. The boat that bore the head warrior, Professor Cowen and Professor Hughes was manoeuvred to the marshy shore. Locals, clad only in a breechcloth, averted their eyes when any warrior or Traveller looked their way. As they clambered from the small boats, a thick, floating mat of reeds acted as a mooring. On placing their booted feet onto the reeds, the mass sunk slightly but prevented their feet from getting wet.

An official delegation stood in wait. Before them, the warriors fell to their faces in deference to a noble man who stood in splendour. He was a big man, his head adorned in feathers and he wore an opulent feather cloak that made him look regal and imposing. His painted face stared at the visitors with wonder and, as the Travellers assembled, even he fell to his knees, covered his face, and loudly wept.

Leishman’s eyes were everywhere, from the slightly embarrassed faces of the academics to the terrified, obeisant locals and he quietly murmured orders to ensure his team remained vigilant. “Keep alert. They appear friendly, so don’t go shooting anyone by accident. You’ve seen their reaction to my blonde hair, so I’m keeping my helmet off.” Leishman and the academics opted to travel bareheaded, communication earpieces and mikes still in place. Warriors knelt, wide-eyed, while the impressive man prayed loudly, his face to the sky as hands were raised with palms facing the visitors. Around them, the remainder of the locals pressed their faces firmly into the earth. It was definitely a National Geographic moment, with sweaty, half-naked, painted and pierced bodies cowering in superstitious adulation. Painted faces, with eyes clenched shut or wide with terror, feared the unknown divine.

“Eagle, how are we looking?” Leishman murmured.

“Roger Lynx,” he heard through his earphones. “We have some locals heading to you through the corn, but all looks pretty peaceful,” replied the senior UAV mission specialist who controlled their unseen eyes in the sky.

“Roger. Watson, check to your left to make sure.”

“Roger that.”

The blonde Leishman was treated with fear and admiration, as if his murmuring added to his mystique by conjuring up sacred and terrible spells. But he didn’t care what they thought. He had to make sure nothing untoward or surprising took place. Thanks to the UAVs, there was little chance of ambush. Judging by the deference shown by the locals, it looked as if the last thing they were to expect was any violence against them.

More and more locals flocked along the path and promptly fell to their knees and faces as the party passed. Bare brown backs of common men and women lined their path as simple people worshipped.

The mounds of Cahokia were finally spied as they peeped over the fields of maize, for the treeless hills reared above the surrounding landscape. Upon them, impressive timber constructions could be seen. Each was neatly thatched and flanked by tall, carved totems.

“Excellent! We can see the mounds and the totems,” exclaimed Professor Cowen excitedly. “Let’s get the vision of our arrival.”

“Roger!” replied the UAV specialist. “You have a welcoming committee, including about a hundred warriors. Armed with shields.”

“Hostile?” replied Leishman.

“Negative,” replied Eagle. “Looks like a guard of honour. They look terrified.”

“Okay, you heard the man, people. Warriors are up ahead. Be alert,” ordered Leishman quietly. “Don’t shoot unless they attack.”

They passed from fields of maize to an open area that was the beginning of the rural expanse that displayed Cahokia in its glory. A broad promenade led into the main settlement, flanked by impressive, grass-covered mounds. Timber and mud huts, each with a high, gabled roof of thatched flax, made for the most common dwellings. Numerous smoky cooking fires left a haze, but what was most obvious were the crowds that awaited them.

Facing the main promenade knelt ranks of locals who, judging by their dress, were the wealthy and powerful. Clad in painted white cloth and adorned with shining jewellery of copper and turquoise they looked radiant as they tilted their heads to the blue sky and, with hands raised, tearfully sang in unison. Behind knelt those who looked more common, perhaps those of the trades and the educated, while farmers remained at the back of the worshipping residents or lined the fields.

Their approach became a procession and their impressive guide slowly led them onward to where another striking man awaited. The singing swelled impressively and to be the focus for the emotion tugged at the heart. Warriors with painted faces and partially shaved heads surrounded him. All carried ornate clubs and small shields decorated with feathers. They looked magnificent. Suddenly, the assemblage fell into utter silence. A breeze blew across the crowd and overhead a bald eagle cried. Leishman knew that three UAVs watched closely. At the first sign of trouble they would be more than capable of fighting their way out and getting the academics safely home.

Behind the welcoming crowd stood the Wood Henge; 72 tall, carved and painted red cedar posts that formed a circle of over 100 yards in diameter. The discovery of the structure by UAV’s on the first day of the mission had the historians enormously excited, for the replace was considered most significant. Archaeologists had known of the potential for the Wood Henge due to archaeological location of post-holes and scraps of timber, but now they were to see it for the first time. Close behind reared the impressive bulk of the largest of the mounds, a pyramid-like edifice that would later be called Monk’s Mound. Topped with more buildings and totems, the sight was more inspiring than even Leishman had imagined.

“Impressive! So impressive,” muttered Professor Hughes into his mouthpiece. “Remember this is not Cahokia in its prime, for this settlement will grow significantly over the next two to three hundred years. It is, however, already a major centre of civilisation.”

They strode forward as their guide, the man with the cloak, began to chant. With his arms wide he led the Travellers to the waiting official. The chief, if that is what he was, was dressed in a beautiful cloak of humming-bird feathers and a chest-plate of gold. What was most surprising was that he looked to be over six foot six tall and his skin was much paler than those around him while his hair was dark-red in colour.

Leishman became distracted at the significance of the pale man. He did not look European. Was this the evidence he sought? His Mormon beliefs included a white race of ancient Americans. The pale man stood and chanted a welcome that lasted for minutes. Around him the locals wept and moaned, but their reception seemed positive, as if their presence was of considerable religious significance. Professor Hughes did warn that their presence might be construed as a visit from deity. Their orders were to not do anything that might change that opinion but to act calmly, record what they could, and then leave.

The academics were obviously thrilled. The mission opted for two academics so they could discuss their replaceings and target the most productive locations. But this was greater than anything both had imagined. Professor Hughes was considered the specialist for the locale, but as a member of the prestigious Transporter Corp, Professor Cowen’s presence was viewed to be politically essential. After all, the mission could only be attributed to his tireless lobbying.

The crowds parted and warriors surged forward. It was a surprise move and, with their pierced faces, jewellery, clubs and shields, they looked both magnificent and terrifying. Unprepared, the Travellers immediately swung into defence.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! This seems like this is a welcome dance. A show of respect and bravery,” stressed Professor Hughes.

The warriors danced. Many had tears in their eyes and looked anything but aggressive.

The Travellers all gradually relaxed. “Jesus on a stick, that was close,” muttered one soldier. “I nearly shot them.” Leishman was shaken. For the Mississippi Travellers, the New Zealand experience was all too real. They had been thoroughly briefed and seen the unedited footage of the Maori attacks on the New Zealand Travellers. The greatest lesson was how being a stone-aged warrior did not mean they were to be disregarded, for despite their modern weaponry, two of the Travellers had not returned from ancient New Zealand. This mock charge had almost ended in a slaughter.

Somewhat shaken by their close call, the team was guided to a place of honour, then respectfully seated on woven mats to be presented with food and drink. There was more maple beer, more sagamite, mashed beans and squash, and other dishes of porridge-like maize. While they ate, the warriors danced and then, to the cacophony of beating drums and flutes, women gathered together and moved in slow unison. Nearby fires were sprinkled with leaves that gave a sweet fragrance, the smoke gently agitated by fans of eagle feathers.

“I notice that the Chief, if that is what he can be called, looks to have imports from the Aztecs or other Mesoamerica races,” narrated Professor Hughes. “His chest-plate appears similar to those used by nations to the south. Whether this is due to trade in materials or simply common ideas remains to be seen.” The Chief sat close and guided the presentation of various foods to his guests, making special attention to the needs of the two academics and Leishman, for they had been identified as the most important members of the expedition.

Tuketu, chief of the small village, arrayed their gifts for view by the great chief who pored over them with envy, so it became appropriate for Professor Hughes and Professor Cowen to offer another round of gifts. The supposition was that gifts opened doors of friendship and placed the hosts with an obligation for protection and hospitality. As was found with the missions to Saxon Aengland and Byzantine Turkey, bright ribbon was a favourite. Accompanied by simple iron axe heads and knife blades, the gifts were something never before experienced and reiterated the conviction that the visitors were imbued with divinity.

The Travellers then learned the names, or titles, of the two main authority figures they encountered.

Vohkinne was the big men who had met them. He was perhaps what could be construed to be a medicine-man or religious leader, even a priest. He stood tall and magnificent in his feathered garb but remained stupefied by the Travellers. He plainly terrified those around him, especially the common folk who scrambled to maintain as much distance from him as possible.

The erstwhile leader of the people, the pale man with the gold chest-plate, went by a long name that could be barely translated. In the end they called him Maska, which might have been more a title than his name.

What followed was a day of more singing, dance and celebration. Young women and teenage boys were brought before them, as if to offer sexual favours as part of the hospitality. The Travellers were ordered never to touch anyone offered, no matter what. Leishman smiled, for there was some comment by a few of the men who were known for their proclivities. Many of the young women were attractive and looked terrified, as if their lives relied on making the soldiers happy yet dismayed what their success might bring.

“Remember, no touch,” emphasised Professor Cowen.

“Oh man!” exclaimed one of the soldiers. “She’s cute. Hey Professor, if it comes down to it, I’ll take one for the team.”

“Yeah. What I’ll do for historical research.”

Leishman smiled. “Okay, we hear you. But not here, and not now. Remember that any women, or boys if that’s your preference, you touch might be sacrificed after we are gone.”

“Boys? That would be for you Daniels.”

“Fuck you!”

“Any port in a storm, hey Daniels?”

“Oh man! You wish! But, I refuse to comment.”

“Even if you could touch any of them, we suggest not,” cautioned Professor Hughes. “Native American populations of the time were thought to have syphilis or yaws.”

“Sanchez doesn’t care, do you? Hey Sanchez, something to add to your STD collection.”

“Damn! Look at this little honey. And she has taste. See how she loves my black skin. Can’t blame her for having good taste. You sure she wouldn’t be better off with a little ‘Brother Love’.”

“No way mano. She’s a silky, brown skin lover. Besides, why start with second best when she can have me.”

“Come here baby! I’ll make your eyes bulge.”

With the chuckles and banter, the mood relaxed.

“Okay, leave the smooth lovin’ for home, guys. Let’s keep it cool and calm,” ordered Leishman quietly.

As the sun descended, Vohkinne, whose task was to converse with the heavenly visitors, presented gifts of iridescent humming-bird feather cloaks and food. It was presumed that he invited them to stay.

“That’s a negative,” ordered Leishman. “We head back to camp. Eagle, just a confirm that all is clear.”

“Roger Lynx, all clear from here. You are the main event though. There are quite some crowds gathering.”

They mimed that they would return on the morrow and, after tearful farewells, accompanied by Maska and Tuketu, the team slowly made their way back to base.