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Introduction Zamumo, the chief of Altamaha, had to think carefully in the early spring of 1540. Hundreds of unknown men were apparently a two-day journey to the southwest, and they were headed toward his town in the Oconee Valley of today’s central Georgia. Although the intruders did not seem violent, their strange metal weapons and the paucity of women in their party suggested a disturbing aversion to peace. Of course, Zamumo was not without power of his own. From the summit of the flattopped pyramid of earth that his townspeople had constructed, he had close ties with the spirits who shaped the world. Its seven-meter elevation offered him a commanding view of his town and its environs. West of his mound along the banks of the Oconee River were the cane-roofed homes of his followers, who numbered perhaps as many as a thousand and occupied the largest, if not the most populous, town in the valley. Farther west, just across the river, lay extensive fields of corn, beans, and squash. Spring planting had only just begun, but the granaries still held supplies from last year’s harvest, and Zamumo still enjoyed the finest deer and bear that hunters could find. A lofty position in a prosperous town reassured him, but it probably did not content him because his power depended on what he could acquire from the wide and dangerous world beyond Altamaha. Some objects of power came from Ocute, a more prominent chief who lived a one-day journey upriver, but only in exchange for Zamumo’s tribute. In this news of the visitors, then, lay a tantalizing opportunity. Perhaps, if they proved friendly, they might provide him with influence Ocute did not possess.1 So he sent gifts to the approaching foreigners. Women went out with food, and a messenger welcomed the intruders with an offering that their record keepers failed to name. Altamahas paddled the newcomers across the Oconee River, and there, on its banks, Zamumo met this strange party of bearded men, their immense horses, their fierce war dogs, their voracious and innumerable pigs, and their leader, Hernando de Soto. From de Soto, Zamumo received a gift of a silver-colored feather. He accepted gratefully. ‘‘You are from heaven,’’ he replied in the words of a later chronicler, ‘‘and this your feather that you give me, I can eat with it; I will go forth to war with it; I will sleep with my wife with it.’’2 2 Introduction It would be easy to dismiss Zamumo’s words, words recorded many years later by a chronicler who did not speak his language, as Europeans indulging their fantasies of American apotheosis, but the words tell much about a distant and forever lost world. Feathers were powerful symbols, representing lightness, purity, and power. They came from the creatures of the skies. The great bird effigy that one of Zamumo’s predecessors wore as part of a headdress and took to his grave some time around 1300 c.e. remains one of the most remarkable examples of this sacred iconography.3 Zamumo’s words also fit into this larger cosmology . Three and a half centuries after the chief allegedly uttered them, one archaeologist surmised that Altamahas and many other southeastern Indians celebrated three types of rituals centered on communal cohesion and harvest, warfare, and ancestor worship. When Zamumo shared his hopes for good harvests for his followers, great success on the battlefield, and abundant offspring to support his authority and succeed him when he died, he acknowledged that his gift could serve him in all three ritual settings. He further acknowledged the power of the gift and its giver when he asked de Soto if he should offer him the tribute he usually sent to Ocute.4 Zamumo’s gifts—those he offered as well as those he received—symbolized how the power of the foreign supported the security and autonomy of the leader and his community. With his question regarding tribute, Zamumo revealed his hopes that de Soto and Ocute might both compete for his friendship. In the Southeast , a people with multiple partners could always hope for leverage against both by pitting one against the other. Whatever his ambitions, Zamumo failed to harness these newcomers for old practices because de Soto refused to challenge Ocute during his short stay in the Oconee Valley . More ominously, he initiated a host of unforeseen changes. Within a generation of this meeting at...

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