The Dakota Cipher eg-3 Read online

  ‘“Old Custom”? It really exists?’ The president seemed to know more about Bloodhammer’s group and mission than I did. ‘Why am I surprised? Look at Ethan here, always embroiled in the thick of things. I want you to see the elephant, Gage. I want you to prove it exists.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘You support, then, the idea of our going west?’ I’d rather hoped he’d prohibit the entire idea and send me back to Paris.

  ‘What wonders must lie between the Mississippi and the Pacific!’ Jefferson had the dreamy tone of one who’d never been beyond the Blue Ridge, did his exploring in atlases, and would be pressed to camp in his own yard. If I sound a little cynical, well, I’d been hard-used the past three years. ‘All kind of strange creatures could be out there, rivaling the menagerie already found. There are also rumours of odd volcanoes far up the Missouri. There has been speculation about vast mountains of salt. Not to mention more conventional prizes, such as waterways to cross the continent and furs to supply our commerce. We’ve found the mouth of the Columbia, gentlemen; now we must find its beginning! Geographers speculate it is but a short portage from the source of the Missouri to the source of the Columbia.’

  I didn’t like the prospect of volcanoes any more than room-sized mammoths. ‘So you want Magnus and me to find the headwaters?’ I tried to confirm.

  ‘Actually, I hope to send young Lewis here on an expedition to answer what lies between the oceans. Captain Lewis is my protégé, a lad – well, you’re twenty-six now, aren’t you? – who grew up about ten miles from Monticello and for the last six years has served with the First Infantry Regiment, attaining the rank of captain. I have every confidence in him. But I must persuade Congress to finance an expedition. Plus, there’s a little matter of boundaries and empires. The Spanish stand in our way.’

  Here I could earn my dinner. ‘Actually, sir, it is the French.’

  Jefferson beamed. ‘Then that rumour is true as well! This is an auspicious start to my presidency.’

  ‘According to Foreign Minister Talleyrand, a secret agreement was signed the day after the Convention of Mortefontaine conveying the Louisiana Territory back to France,’ I confirmed. ‘The French asked me to inform you. That gives Napoleon Bonaparte an empire in America as big as our own United States, but he’s not at all decided what to do with it. I’m to report back to Paris the condition of Louisiana.’

  ‘And report to me,’ Jefferson said. ‘We’re as keen as Napoleon. You’re the bridge between nations, Ethan Gage. You can serve Bonaparte and me at the same time. Are he and I at all alike?’

  ‘In curiosity,’ I assured. ‘The first consul envisions a friendly boundary along the line of the Mississippi and ready American access to the sea via New Orleans.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear of friendship. We’ve come near war with the Spanish. And yet I see the west beyond the Mississippi as the natural territory of the United States, not the European powers. If Russia can stretch to the Pacific, so can we. A single nation, Ethan, from Atlantic to Pacific!’

  First mastodons, now this. ‘What would the United States do with all that land?’

  Jefferson glanced out the west-facing windows. ‘Hard to imagine, I admit. I’ve calculated that just filling up the frontier between the Appalachians and the Mississippi will take a thousand years. Yet our population is growing. We have more than five million now, a third of Britain and a fifth of France, and we’re gaining on those nations. That’s what you must impress upon Napoleon, Gage. Mere demographics suggest American hegemony. Do not tempt him with thoughts of American empire!’

  ‘The French remain obsessed with the British. Talleyrand asked me to scout out their designs and enquire about alliances with the Indians.’

  ‘So everyone is plotting, with Louisiana as the prize. Tell me, what kind of man is Bonaparte?’

  I considered. ‘Brilliant. Forceful. Ambitious, to be sure. He sees life as a struggle and himself at war with the world. But he’s also idealistic, practical, sometimes sentimental, and tied to his family, and he has a wry view of human nature. He’s obsessed with his place in history. He’s as hard and multifaceted as a cut diamond, Mr President. He believes in logic and reason, and can be talked to.’

  ‘But a tough negotiator?’

  ‘Oh, yes. And that rarest of men: he knows what he wants.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Glory. And power for its own sake.’

  ‘The old tyrant dream. What I want is human happiness, which I believe comes from independence and self-reliance. Right, Lewis?’

  The frontier officer smiled. ‘So you have told me.’

  ‘Happiness comes from the land,’ Jefferson lectured. ‘The independent yeoman farmer is the happiest of all men – and the need for land justifies our need for expansion. For democracy to work, Gage, men must be farmers. If Greece and Rome taught us anything, it is that. Once we cluster in cities we become slaves to a few, and the American experiment is finished. Land, land – that’s the key, isn’t it Lewis? Land!’

  ‘There’s no shortage of that in the west,’ the secretary said. ‘Of course, it’s occupied by Indians.’

  ‘And now we have a Norwegian, Magnus Bloodhammer, who wants to explore it. Indians, bears, wolves – none of that daunts you, does it, Magnus? What is so fascinating that you take such risk?’

  ‘That America’s social experiment in fact started with Norwegians,’ my companion said. ‘My ancestors sought refuge here first.’

  ‘You really think Vikings preceded us all on this continent?’

  ‘Not just Vikings, but Norsemen. There’s evidence they came here in the fourteenth century, nearly one hundred fifty years before Columbus.’

  ‘What evidence?’

  Magnus shoved his china aside and took out his map from his cylinder. Once more I wondered what was in the compartment that must be at the cylinder’s end. ‘You’ll see the significance immediately,’ he said, unrolling the chart. ‘This was found in a knight’s tomb in a medieval church, meaning it was drawn about 1360. Is this coastline mere coincidence?’

  Jefferson stood, peering. ‘By the soul of Mercator, it looks like Hudson Bay.’

  Lewis came around the table to look and nodded. ‘Remarkable, if true.’

  ‘Of course it’s true,’ Magnus assured.

  My mind was caught on the president’s comment of Indians, bears, and wolves. Yet instead of the mockery I’d half expected, the other three had formed a little triumvirate. ‘I’m surprised you’re not more surprised,’ I said.

  ‘At what?’ Lewis asked.

  I gestured to the map. ‘At what may be one of the most startling historical finds of all time. The Norse before Columbus? You believe it?’

  Jefferson and Lewis looked at each other. ‘There have been rumours,’ Lewis said.

  ‘Rumours of what? Tigers as well as elephants?’

  ‘Of blue-eyed Indians, Mr Gage,’ Jefferson said. ‘Pierre Gaultier de La Vérendrye reported them when he explored the lower Missouri River in 1733. He came across a tribe called the Mandans, who live in communities reminiscent of northern European habitation in medieval times. A dry moat, stockade, and wooden houses. They farm instead of roam. And some of them are surprisingly fair in colouring, with their leaders sporting beards. Never heard of an Indian with a beard.’

  ‘There’s also an old legend that a Prince Madoc of Wales set out from Britain to the west in 1170 with ten ships, never to return,’ Lewis explained. ‘The names Mandan and Madoc are enough alike to make one wonder if the legend could somehow be true.’

  ‘Wait. The Welsh got to the middle of America?’

  Jefferson shrugged. ‘It’s a possibility. The Mississippi and Missouri, or the Saint Lawrence and the Great Lakes, or the Nelson and Red rivers from Hudson’s Bay – all could lead wanderers to the general area of the Mandan, the centre of our continent.’

  ‘I’ve seen fair-eyed Indians myself at Kaskaskia, in the Illinois country,’ Lewis said. ‘General George Rogers Cl
ark has reported the same. Where did they come from?’

  ‘Mr President, I believe past men of power in your country wouldn’t have been entirely surprised at my information either,’ Magnus interrupted. ‘Many, like Washington or Franklin, are or were Freemasons – true?’

  ‘Yes. But not me, Bloodhammer.’

  ‘Still, if these leaders were your friends, you know of Masonic ties to the persecuted Knights Templar,’ he insisted.

  I groaned inwardly. We were about to lose any credibility.

  ‘Is it possible Templars fled to America?’ Magnus went on. ‘And created a utopian idea that is being recreated, even here in your new capital? These are very grand buildings and avenues for a new nation. And your streets make intriguing patterns to anyone familiar with the sacred geometry of the east.’

  ‘Simply modern planning.’ The president looked guarded.

  ‘No. The United States was created for a purpose, I’m certain of it. A secret purpose. I think it was to recreate a golden age long lost, an age of gods and magic.’

  ‘But why would you think that?’

  ‘This city, for one. When it was founded, when cornerstones were laid, its size. And because of that.’ He pointed to the hammer symbol on his map.

  ‘What is that, Magnus?’

  ‘It’s a symbol for the hammer of the god Thor.’

  ‘You think you’ll find Thor in America?’

  ‘No, just his legacy.’

  I expected Jefferson to have us packed off to a madhouse, but his bright eyes flashed with more understanding than I was comfortable with. ‘His legacy? How interesting. Well, I’m a scholar of the past myself, with quite the library. I’ve read of your Forn Sior, and more besides. We don’t know just what lies beyond, do we, or who walked there? Pale Indians. Prehistoric beasts. Rumours of violent weather unknown in Europe. Medicine men warning of baleful spirits. I am not certain of any of it, gentlemen. But I am curious. I’m curious.’

  Magnus said nothing. I, meanwhile, was realising why I was reluctant to leave New York. Baleful spirits?

  ‘The Welsh are one possibility,’ Jefferson said. ‘That you two have given us another just strengthens the possibility that Vérendrye was not exaggerating. What if a lost colony of Welshmen, or Norsemen, interbred with the native population and persists as a tribe living in walled towns somewhere up the Missouri? Alternately, there are theories that some of the lost tribes of Israel might have somehow made their way to America and provided the ancestry of the American Indian. And tales that the Carthaginians defeated by Rome might have fled across the Atlantic to escape the sack of their city.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Magnus. He nodded at me.

  ‘Plato wrote of a lost Atlantis, and the astronomer Corli has contemplated its location. Indians say tobacco grows where the hairs of a burning god fell from the sky. Is the bloodline of King David or Hannibal roaming the western desert? All these groups might have forgotten their origins. But if it could be proven, the stakes are significant.’

  ‘How so?’ I asked.

  ‘European empires in the New World are based in part on claims of first arrival,’ Lewis explained. ‘If it turns out the first arrivals from Europe were other groups entirely, it undermines the legitimacy of British, French, and Spanish claims to land ownership.’

  ‘Which could improve the chances of United States’ claim or purchase,’ Jefferson said. ‘Our expanding population gives us the possibility of ownership by occupation, but that can lead to wars we don’t want. A sale is preferable, from a party whose past claim is in historical doubt. If the Norse came first, it could shake world politics. The important thing is that we learn the truth, and ideally learn it before the French, Spanish, or British do. That, gentlemen, is why you can count on my support for your scouting expedition – but only if you confide to me. I trust your first loyalty is to your home country, Ethan?’

  ‘Of course.’ Actually, it was to self-preservation, but that seemed down the list of everyone else’s priorities.

  ‘What you learn will, I hope, provide information that Captain Lewis will expand on, if I can persuade Congress to send a more ambitious quest.’

  ‘How ambitious?’

  Jefferson shrugged. ‘Perhaps twenty to forty men and several tons of supplies.’

  ‘Impressive. And how many men will accompany my expedition?’

  ‘Why, just one, I believe. Magnus Bloodhammer.’

  The Norwegian beamed.

  ‘One?’

  ‘I want you two to go swiftly and silently, scouts before an army.’

  ‘What supplies, then?’

  ‘I’m prepared to furnish one hundred dollars and a letter of introduction to the newly acquired American forts at Detroit and Michilimackinac, asking for escort. I suggest you travel as far west as you can on the Great Lakes before starting overland. With luck, you can finish your exploration within the season and report back, and we can refine our strategy for both Lewis’s expedition and dealing with Napoleon. If you survive.’

  I took a big swallow of wine. ‘I was hoping for more help.’

  ‘I’ve just started in office and Adams left a mess. It’s the best America can do. Fortunately, Gage, you’re a patriot!’

  ‘Meaning anything valuable you find is properly the property of the United States,’ Lewis added.

  ‘Not if it’s not on American soil,’ Magnus countered. ‘And the Norse went farther than any American yet has. Which means it is Norwegian soil … gentlemen.’ It was amazing how much force he packed into that last word.

  Jefferson smiled. Magnus had taken the bait. ‘Then you do think you’ll find something valuable, even priceless, that is tangible proof of Norse exploration?’

  ‘Yes, and such artefacts by right are mine and my country’s. And Ethan’s. Am I not correct, Gage?’

  ‘Rusty trifles only,’ I hastily assured. ‘Old spearheads. A rivet here, a stud there.’ No need to talk about magical hammers that might be worth a king’s ransom.

  ‘I want to back an explorer, not a treasure hunter, Gage.’

  I pretended mild indignation. ‘It seems to me we’ve earned your trust. I’ve secretly carried word of the French-Spanish treaty on Louisiana. Magnus here has shared a map of incalculable value. We’ve confided in you, Mr President, and only ask that you return our confidence.’

  ‘Well said. We’re all partners here, gentlemen, in one of the greatest adventures in history. So I leave you to it. Your only competitors are the British in Canada, the French and Spanish in Louisiana, howling wilderness, gigantic animals, and hostile Indian tribes. Nothing more than what you’ve faced a dozen times before, eh?’

  ‘Actually, I think we might need two hundred dollars.’

  ‘Come back alive, with useful information, and I’ll pay three hundred. But a hundred to start. I know a sharpshooter like you will want to live off the land!’

  It was dark when we left, my head full of woolly elephants, lurking Indians, baleful spirits, mountains of salt, and the usual dubious state of my finances. Well, I was in it now. ‘You found a fellow visionary, Magnus,’ I said as we stood outside looking at the candles in the President’s House. ‘I expected more scepticism.’

  ‘Jefferson wants to use us, Ethan, just like Bonaparte uses us. As we use them! So we’ll see their Louisiana and let them fight over it if they wish.’ There was a tone of hard realism in his voice, very different from my usual Norwegian dreamer. ‘As for you and me, if we find Thor’s hammer we’ll have a chance to change the entire world!’ His eyes were dark and gleaming in the twilight.

  ‘Change the world? I thought we just wanted to profit from it.’

  ‘Restore it. There’s more at stake here than you think.’

  ‘Restore what?’

  He patted his map case. ‘The human heart.’

  And I wondered again just who my new companion really was.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For our journey west, Magnus chose a musket that could be used as
a fowling piece and a huge double-bladed axe that he strapped to his back like a Norse marauder. ‘Jefferson gave me the idea!’ He spent happy hours shining it with file, oil, and cloth. ‘With this and that little tomahawk of yours, we’ll have no problem making a fire.’

  ‘Make a fire? That axe is big enough to heat hell, deforest half the Ohio Valley, or serve as a dining table.’

  ‘If I ever shaved it would make a good mirror, too.’ He held it up for inspection. ‘I wish I had a broadsword.’ He was as excited as I was dubious.

  Our route was northwestward up the Potomac and across the Appalachians on the road first carved out by the British general Braddock before his disastrous defeat during the French and Indian War. Then we’d go down to Pittsburgh at the confluence of the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers, take the Ohio River to the Great Trail established by the Indians to Lake Erie, and board a boat to Fort Detroit, five hundred miles from Washington. From there, Lakes Huron and Superior would provide a water route of another five hundred miles to the edge of the blank wilderness on Bloodhammer’s map.

  The first artefact of civilisation that disappeared as we rode up the Potomac was paint. As we ascended the mountains, farmhouses faded to weathered wood; milled lumber gave way to squared logs. Our road followed an undulating scar of vegetable plots, trampled pasture, and wounded hillsides of stumps and slash. No firmer than porridge, it curved and coiled tighter than a barrister’s argument and was worn to a trench by traffic that never paused to repair it. Always we smelt smoke, hardscrabble farmers trying to burn back the forest to make room for corn. And then, deep in the mountains, finally there were no farms at all. Winter-barren brown ridges, the tops still frosty most mornings, ran like multiple walls into haze. Hawks orbited by day, and wolves howled in the dark. When the wind blew, the brown carpet of last winter’s leaves rustled like tattered pages. It sounded like the forest was whispering.

  We slept outdoors when the weather was fair, hardening ourselves to our new lives as frontiersmen and avoiding the stiff fees and biting fleas of Appalachian accommodation. We’d make a bed of boughs, have a simple dinner of ham, cornbread, and creek water, and listen to the night sounds. Through the lattice of slowly budding trees, we had a spangled canopy of a million dazzling stars. Magnus and I talked sometimes of the ancient belief that each was an ancestor, gone to reside in the sky for all eternity.