Nobody knows what it was called, or who lived there, but the site is known and the great earthen mounds mark what was undoubtedly a remarkable example of the skill and ingenuity of the indigenous peoples of North America. There were at least 120 of the mysterious earthen mounds in and around the city. Similar in shape to the pyramids of Egypt or Central America, these square-based mounds would have been topped with some sort of building in which the leaders of the community lived. In the city centre was a large plaza, where the most sizeable mound of all rose. The mound is today known as Monks Mound.
Cahokia – or whatever it was called – was surrounded by fertile fields where food was grown. There was trade across much of North America, while the city held priests and skilled workers as well as astronomers who built wooden henges, possibly to predict the movement of the sun. This society had not yet discovered steel so all working was done with tools of stone or wood. The city manufactured hoes with flint blades and stone-headed axes.
There were no horses or other beasts of burden, so the building work was carried out by men or women, presumably slaves. One major piece of construction was the high palisade built around the city, which argues for some external threat. At two miles long and with towers at regular intervals, this wall was an impressive piece of work; one wonders what sort of enemy the city faced and what happened to them. The first wall was built around 1100 AD, with more walls later. It seems that the citizens of this particular Mississippian Camelot had to look over their shoulder at less than friendly neighbours. Within the walls dwelled the elite and presumably the artisans and astronomers. Outside it, in single-storey houses and in neat streets with alleys, paths, and courtyards, was the bulk of the population, not important enough to be protected but necessary for the continuation of the city.
This was not a monetary based society, so presumably, trade was by barter, with the surrounding corn fields possibly providing a staple commodity. In return, Cahokia imported shells, copper, salt, and mica.
When European pioneers reached this area in the 17th and 18th century they questioned the local Illini tribe, who did not know who had been the builders. The name Cahokia was taken from a small group of the Illini who moved to the area from further east over a century after it was abandoned.
Dedicated work by archaeologists has unearthed (literally) many facts about Cahokia. There was an upper class controlling the city, retaining power and influence by giving away gifts. They seemed to favour ornamentation, with sea-shell beads particularly popular. The elite was born into their position, much like royalty in Europe, and passed on their power to their children in a society where caste seems to have been highly important.
There are also traces of a coppersmith's workshop, games, much skilful building and rebuilding and possible religious ceremonies. All in all, Cahokia was an impressive place with a population of perhaps fifteen thousand souls. One grave site held a man who was interred about the middle of the eleventh century, around the time of MacBeth in Scotland and before the Norman conquest of England. He was tall and obviously important as he was accompanied by some twenty thousand shells and hundreds of arrow heads, perhaps for his use in the next world. The shells were arranged in the shape of a falcon, which gave the idea for the falcon warriors and copper objects. Over fifty women and four men had been executed to keep him company. Other bodies have been found, killed by arrows, clubbed to death or beheaded.
Despite the many discoveries, archaeologists have much work to do before all the secrets of the city are laid bare. So far (2017) only a couple of dozen of the surviving 80 mounds have been excavated.
So why did this great and intricate civilisation die? Did the external enemies breach the defensive palisades and slaughter all the inhabitants? Unlikely: there has been no evidence of a general slaughter. It is much more likely that a rise in the Mississippi flooded their agricultural land, or the Little Ice Age that started in the middle of the 13th century made the land less productive. With a large population, the nearby hunting would have been poor and the temptation of crossing the Mississippi to hunt the prolific herds of buffalo may have been too much to resist. The people certainly left and never returned.
The city of mounds, abandoned by its people, was forgotten. It is not mentioned in folklore, myth or legend, which is a mystery in itself. In British legend, Camelot and King Arthur's battles against the invading Saxons loom large, yet this city did not give rise to any story. Perhaps the human sacrifices were so shocking that the inhabitants blocked the memory from their history?
Whatever the truth, each year the indigenous peoples of the United States gather here for dancing and music. In some way, it is a part of their heritage, although they do not know quite how or why.
Today the city is best known as the Cahokia Mounds State Historic Site in Illinois. Some archaeologists think the Dhegihan-Siouan speaking tribes were related to the city, which was something I took advantage of and twisted to meet the ends of the story. One thing is absolutely certain: this site is well worth visiting and reveals much about the pre-Columbian history of the area. The mighty Mississippi still flows past and the mounds remain but all else has changed.
Let the dead rest in peace, from the falcon warrior to the sacrificed women. They have had their day; life moves on.
Malcolm Archibald.
Moray, Scotland, 2017
About the Author
Born and raised in Edinburgh, the sternly-romantic capital of Scotland, I grew up with a father and other male relatives imbued with the military, a Jacobite grandmother who collected books and ran her own business and a grandfather from the mystical, legend-crammed island of Arran. With such varied geographical and emotional influences, it was natural that I should write.
Edinburgh’s Old Town is crammed with stories and legends, ghosts and murders. I spent a great deal of my childhood when I should have been at school walking the dark roads and exploring the hidden alleyways. In Arran I wandered the shrouded hills where druids, heroes, smugglers and the spirits of ancient warriors abound, mixed with great herds of deer and the rising call of eagles through the mist.
Work followed with many jobs that took me to an intimate knowledge of the Border hill farms as a postman to time in the financial sector, retail, travel and other occupations that are best forgotten. In between I met my wife; I saw her and was captivated immediately, asked her out and was smitten; engaged within five weeks we married the following year and that was the best decision of my life, bar none. Children followed and are now grown.
At 40 I re-entered education, dragging the family to Dundee, where we knew nobody and lacked even a place to stay, but we thrived in that gloriously accepting city. I had a few published books and a number of articles under my belt. Now I learned how to do things the proper way as the University of Dundee took me under their friendly wing for four of the best years I have ever experienced. I emerged with an honours degree in history, returned to the Post in the streets of Dundee, found a job as a historical researcher and then as a college lecturer, and I wrote. Always I wrote.
The words flowed from experience and from reading, from life and from the people I met; the intellectuals and the students, the quiet-eyed farmers with the outlaw names from the Border hills and the hard-handed fishermen from the iron-bound coast of Angus and Fife, the wary scheme-dwelling youths of the peripheries of Edinburgh and the tolerant, very human women of Dundee.
Cathy, my wife, followed me to university and carved herself a Master’s degree; she obtained a position in Moray and we moved north, but only with one third of our offspring: the other two had grown up and moved on with their own lives. For a year or so I worked as the researcher in the Dundee Whaling History project while simultaneously studying for my history Masters and commuting home at weekends, which was fun. I wrote ‘Sink of Atrocity’ and ‘The Darkest Walk’ at the same time, which was interesting.
When that research job ended I began lecturing in Inverness College, with a host of youngsters and no
t-so-youngsters from all across the north of Scotland and much further afield. And I wrote; true historical crime, historical crime fiction and a dip into fantasy, with whaling history to keep the research skills alive. Our last child graduated with honours at St Andrews University and left home: I decided to try self-employment as a writer and joined the team at Creativia . . . the future lies ahead.
Dear reader,
Thank you for taking time to read Falcon Warrior. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.
Falcon Warrior (The Swordswoman Book 3) Page 27
