It had been too good to be true.
28
Une looked at the sleeping figure of Lengsley, the outlines of which were indistinctly recognizable in the dark. He must have been exhausted from the accomplishments of the night, activities the king’s sister had kept driving him to. She had to admit that the man had done his best and that she was quite satisfied. Of course, she had communicated this satisfaction in word and gesture, and the big man had fallen asleep with a smile that showed a bit of complacency. Une granted him that.
She straightened her torso and looked at the fireplace’s fading flames. The night was cool for her but seemed to be still a very humid one for Lengsley, and she had taken that into account. In fact, she tried very hard to please him. She had listened to his description of local dishes and then started to work with her cook to find out to what extent the local ingredients could be approximated. That was not always possible, but the effort alone counted and had brought a pleased, even touched smile to the man’s face. Otherwise she had been willing to do be pleasing even more, also when her own enthusiasm hadn’t been too great. It was by no means uncomfortable sharing the camp with Lengsley and feeling his impressive masculinity deep inside. It was absolutely necessary to offer him this opportunity, because Chitam and Une had long talked about the role of messengers, the threat, the death of Tzutz, and the children …
The thought of her dead sister-in-law squeezed Une’s neck again for a moment. She accused Lengsley of not returning often to the subject. She herself had been able to find out that the Brit, as he called himself, was not pleased with the events. So Chitam asked her to intensify her relationship with him. Good food and good sex have always been the means by which a woman could gain extensive control over a man. Men certainly had their advantages, and a few of the specimen were not entirely without intelligence. But once they had been sufficiently accustomed to the rewards they kept asking for out of creative urge, there was nothing they could deny. With Lengsley there was also the fact that he also had few friends among the messengers, most of whom saw him as a stranger, anything but equivalent. So the man sometimes felt a little lonely, misunderstood, and therefore opened himself to the caresses and consolations of the princess with special dedication and willingness.
Une knew that.
Une used it.
She enjoyed it with both her body and her mind, and calculated the prospects that would arise when Chitam was ready to openly turn against the messengers of the gods. Lengsley was a relatively safe bet among the messengers. That Aritomo, on the other hand, was a fickle fellow, a man torn between his conscience and his sense of duty, and it was difficult to predict how he would ultimately behave if he was faced with the only important decision. Of course, that could also be improved if there was only a young woman, allied with Chitam and Une, who cast a spell over Aritomo and who, with the same means, was ready to steer him into the pathways the Briton was already wandering into without knowing it.
Others who were critical of Inugami would ask Aritomo for guidance and follow him in both directions. The problem at the moment was: Lengsley did not have such a firm bond of loyalty, yes, he even experienced distance and dislike from the other messengers. And he knew so much. Une smiled. Lengsley would choose the right side, she was absolutely certain of that. As firm and determined as her fingers clasped his shaft and willingly lead it to where she could give him the greatest pleasure, the man belonging to it would also be willing to be guided in other things once she put her hands firmly around his soul. And this process, they judged, was nearing completion.
Une was still smiling. Lengsley would serve her and the city, and he would create himself a place where he was welcome. It served everyone. Everyone was happy. Une looked at her work and found that she had done well. She liked perfection in everything, carefully woven patterns, and here she had created one that was both aesthetically pleasing and served its purpose. That she also liked this man very much and found his style to be pleasant was her own little reward.
She looked down at her bare breasts, scratched in one place with dried sweat and dried sperm. She felt exhausted but not tired and decided to clean herself up. It was quite possible that Lengsley would wake up during the night – or be woken by her – to continue the conversation of her bodies. Then, if she was refreshed, with a pleasant scent, the experience would be much more enjoyable for him.
And that’s what it was about.
“Can’t you sleep?”
His voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to him, a smile on her lips. She read real concern in his eyes, and it was kind of touching. With all of his amazing knowledge and physical strength, Lengsley was sometimes like a child in her hands, even if his interest in her breasts was of a different nature.
“I woke up. I don’t know why, either,” she said softly.
The man also straightened up and put a hand on her knee. “You think a lot,” he said softly.
“It’s the times. They give you a lot to think about.”
“I know.”
Une just nodded. They looked into the almost extinguished fire for a few moments.
“Inugami will be back soon,” Lengsley said then. “He’ll conquer Yaxchilan and see if everything’s in order here.”
Une didn’t turn her head away. Lengsley raised the issue on her own, she didn’t want to interrupt the flow of his thoughts.
“Are you worried?”
“A little. We are not as far as we want with all the work we have been asked to do. The city wall is not yet two hundred meters long. We simply lack labor. We cannot at the same time …”
“My beloved, you don’t have to justify yourself to me. I am not Inugami.”
Lengsley nodded and sighed. Then he shook his head. “Forgive me. I don’t even know what I’m afraid of. Inugami is a man who often makes impulsive and arbitrary decisions. Too many blindly follow him. It is as if he has cast a spell over them. I am certainly valuable enough for him not to be punished excessively, but there is a high pressure of expectation on everyone, and not everyone can handle it like I do. I sometimes wonder what magic many people in this city have succumbed to.”
“It is the prospect of power and fame, wealth and positions. It blinds a lot of people,” she murmured. In her mind, she added that men succumbed to this temptation far more easily than women, but it was better not to say it out loud. Lengsley – to some extent Aritomo and a few others – were an exception, as were those who tried to kill Inugami’s representative.
“He’ll have to listen to your explanations and have to accept them. Who, if not Sarukazaki and you, should supervise the work and make sure that everything is of the right quality?” she added.
“The prince’s disappearance will haunt him. He’ll be looking for those responsible.”
“You’re not one of them.”
“Is that so? I spoke to Isamu. Did I encourage him?”
“Who can predict the behavior of boys of this age?”
“I’m afraid something has happened to him.”
Une drew a circle on his thigh with her index finger. “Nobody heard from him or saw him. The search teams sent out have returned home without results. We don’t know anything, neither good nor bad. So why blame yourself unnecessarily? Maybe he’s fine.”
Lengsley shook his head again. “That’s not the point. Inugami doesn’t care whether he has been eaten by snakes or has been cared for somewhere. The prince opposed his will, thwarted his plans. This is something the captain can hardly cope with. The loss of the prince damages his reputation among his own men. It represents a loss for him that goes beyond the failure of his dynastic ideas.”
Une rose imperceptibly. From that perspective, she had never looked at it. She concentrated and thought. Was the prince’s disappearance an aspect that Chitam had previously neglected in his considerations? Could it be sensible, indeed necessary
, to find the boy and use him?
Lengsley’s discarded remark reminded her that she still didn’t understand the messengers in everything, and this may have led to wrong assumptions or at least missed opportunities. She would have to talk to Chitam. And she had to listen to Lengsley more carefully. Some of the nuance in what he said may have given her insights that she had never been aware of.
“If you find the prince,” she said carefully, “and he would continue to be rebellious, openly opposed to Inugami …”
“That’s a problem, I think,” said Lengsley. “The prince is respected by the crew of the boat, he is a direct descendant of the highest authority in the country from which they come. Not only must Inugami be careful in his anger, the prince himself may also underestimate his ability to influence. So far, he has been very shy and reserved, almost fearful. That may have changed in the meantime.”
“He ran away. I would say that has definitely changed.”
“We don’t know how he came to the decision. He didn’t go alone. A friend accompanied him. Maybe he was persuaded.”
Une sigh softly. “These are all thoughts that don’t help. He will reappear or remain to stay away forever. Your brooding doesn’t make things easier.”
Lengsley nodded and stifled a yawn. He obviously felt much more tired than Une but probably wanted to keep her company.
“I’m going to sleep now,” the king’s sister lied, pretending she couldn’t keep her eyes open. “The night was hard.”
Lengsley smiled knowingly, again with complacency.
Une patted his shoulder. “Tomorrow we can worry about all these things again,” she said. “You won’t find a solution if you lack sleep.”
“I won’t find any solutions when I’m rested either,” Lengsley murmured somberly, letting the woman pull him back into a lying position. “I feel very powerless. And I’m confused. It’s hard to make decisions when you’re constantly confused.”
Une put a hand on his chest and laid her head next to his. She said nothing and waited for Lengsley’s breath to show that he had found sleep again.
She looked at his profile.
“Don’t worry, my dear husband,” she whispered so softly that he probably wouldn’t have heard her if he had stayed awake. “Your confusion shouldn’t bother us, and it shouldn’t hinder you.”
She turned on her back and stared at the barely recognizable ceiling, listening to the sounds of the night and Lengsley’s breath. She smiled again.
“I’ll make the decisions.”
And there could be no doubt about her determination to do just that.
29
Nachi Cocom watched the army approaching his city. Everything was clearly recognizable from his position. It was a formidable force, and the King of Yaxchilan would be the last one not to be impressed. He could not make out any details from here, but he was well informed by the reports of refugees and the descriptions of the scouts about many things, especially about the new armor, which made the warrior slaves into a uniform group, about the new training, who no longer attached importance to the function of the individual fighter but required everyone only act as part of the whole. Nachi had discussed this with his people for a long time and had received a lot of ridicule and rejection. He hadn’t started a fight over it. The fact was that the news of this type of fighting would make the rounds. Even if Inugami came to an end here, it didn’t mean that some of his ideas could not survive his work. In any case, Nachi did not believe that a victory over the messenger meant that everyone would then return to the good old days.
And that was true, above all, of the mighty apparatus that shot arrows, thick as arms, and bags full of pointed stones that caused pain and confusion, though mostly not sowing immediate death. Nachi had heard of all of this, and not one aspect of the narrative he had dismissed as lies. The biggest mistake he could make now was to underestimate the messengers. It wasn’t a question of whether their way of fighting was good or not. It was about adjusting to it.
He let the army march on. He could have sent his soldiers to battle, but he knew that in an open meeting with no cover and no retreat, the new techniques of the enemy would have brought them misery. Should there be a fight, it would be out of the security of the buildings, with flanking advances, with constant pinpricks, using the city as a weapon. His generals were not pleased with this tactic, nor with the psycho-game being prepared in the city’s main square, on which the great temples and his own palace looked down. An army of a special kind was rounded up there, and from the platform of the temple, which the king used to observe the scenery, one heard the crying of distraught children.
The king didn’t close his heart to all of this. He didn’t enjoy the game. It was not that he considered this a brave and honorable deed. But it was necessary, and his situation was desperate enough that no one had opposed it. Nobody was comfortable with it.
Nobody saw a real alternative that could possibly bring them victory.
And nobody was sure if it was one at all.
The warriors’ leaders expressed confidence. Yaxchilan was not like the other cities. Yaxchilan was great. Glorious. Undefeated for a long time. No usurper would be able to subjugate a Mayan city a third time and take history away from it. Yaxchilan would not go down as a province of a new empire.
Nachi heard the words.
He looked at the square in front of him. Hundreds of women and children had been gathered there, all belonging to the men who had once been sent to Mutal. Nobody knew who died then and who would return today as a warrior slave. In some faces, there was even hope that the uncertainty would end and everything would have a positive outcome. Some of the women and children would find out for the first time whether her husband and father was still alive. Some would make do with the hope that they were left behind in one of the other conquered cities. Still others did not want to face their loved ones, as they might be forced to take up arms against them.
But to bring about exactly this situation was the idea of the plan.
Nachi understood all these hopes and fears, he even shared them. This special army was supposed to sow doubt in the ranks of the attackers, let the attack slow down, and undermine the opponent’s morale. If this succeeded, the defenders had a real chance to win this battle. Their morale was good. It was about defending the homeland. Everyone would give his best for that.
In any case, the King of Yaxchilan swore, Inugami would have to wrest every reasonably fortified building from them. He would neither throw himself in the dust in front of the messenger of the gods nor run away fearfully, no matter how the battle should develop.
It was not a comforting thought, but it was this determination with which he managed to overcome his own very creaturely fear of what lay ahead.
He turned, went down the stairs, disappeared inside the building. The temple had been chosen as his headquarters; it was the best defended structure in the city. He would command from here and then switch between different buildings so that the warriors who no doubt were chasing him would not have it too easy.
Nachi reached a room where numerous sub-commanders were preparing to play their part in the battle and beckoned his servants to him. They had just been waiting for the signal, brought the weapons, the insignia of his power. Spear and shield, an ax, sharpened as much as you could grind obsidian, and then the feather headdress that he would wear on his head. A clearly visible target for the enemy, but also a symbol of orientation and leadership for his men. If nothing worked, Nachi would seek death with his own, and he had no illusions that this possibility was a very real one. But the silent determination he exuded when he picked up his weapons seemed to be spreading to the other warriors as well. There was no hesitation, no expression of fear, only tense expectation and the willingness to take as many enemies as possible with them to death and never to suffer the fate of having to serve as a warrior slave for the supposed m
essenger of the gods.
After all, they would have this chance. Inugami didn’t make much of social status, one heard. Simple peasants became leaders, even governors. Nachi was no fool and knew that this prospect was attractive. It turned the well-known and God-given hierarchy upside down, it made possible an ascent only through bravery and loyalty, through proven intelligence in acting and thinking. The King of Yaxchilan was aware of the fact that this was a revolutionary concept that shook the foundations of the Mayan society, perhaps even more than the military march, which was only an appearance. Nachi knew that he was waging two wars here, one against the concrete enemy and the weapons he used in the field, and one against the new ideas that questioned tradition and, above all, the ancient connection between the Maya and their gods. It was a heavy burden on his shoulders. Even if he won the victory, he feared, the war would not be won until all evidence of these new ideas had been erased from the memory of the people. No stele in Mutal, no wall painting would sing about the messengers of the gods. No account of their actions would survive.
Nachi Cocom would personally ensure that any testimony would fall into oblivion. The seeds had to be wiped out of people’s consciousness. Knowledge had to fade with the death of those who carried it. A generation, and everything would be forgotten. The symbol of the power of the messengers, their boat in Mutal, would be smashed and buried under stone, forever out of sight, forever out of mind.
It was an even bigger challenge than winning this victory today. Perhaps it would be necessary to destroy Mutal, not just to conquer it, but to erase it completely from the face of the earth, so that it no longer served as a provocation to the gods – and to remove any reference to the things that the messengers brought. Even then there was doubt that this would be enough.
Nachi Cocom sighed. What a big task. What a difficult act. He hoped that he would stay alive until it was completed, because who else could do it?
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