The Emperor's Men 8

by Dirk van den Boom

  “He won’t do anything rash. I have discussed it with him.”

  “How well do you know Chitam?”

  Aritomo shrugged. “I cannot tell you.”

  “Then don’t rely too much on the truth of his words and the reliability of his announcements.”

  “I would like to contradict you, but I admit that I find it difficult.”

  Lengsley sighed. “After all, a good part of the city wall will be ready when Inugami arrives. People work hard. We have already done more than two kilometers, and the work is going well. I guess the Captain will be happy with our progress.”

  “Everything else was prepared according to his taste. The returning men of Mutal were trained to fight and operate in a new way. New combat equipment was manufactured. If Inugami brings back enough people, we will have a pretty powerful army of warrior slaves and freemen, and it will get stronger every day. I want to see the Mayan troop successfully standing in the way of these legions.”

  Lengsley started to reply but was interrupted, because someone joined them. Daiki Sawada, Prince Isamu’s old teacher, modestly drew attention to himself with frugal gestures. Aritomo nodded to him. Since the prince had disappeared, the teacher had plunged into language studies as if there was nothing else in the world for him. Among the Japanese, he was undoubtedly the one who knew the local language best, and he passed this knowledge on to the other crew members in tireless lessons. Although Aritomo did not attend every lesson, he benefited immensely from this zeal. In contrast to Lengsley, who had found a private tutor who paid him all her attention, he was even dependent on it.

  “Master Sawada,” the officer greeted the teacher. “What leads you to me? You must have heard of Inugami’s imminent return.”

  “As a matter of fact, that is also the reason for my words. Lieutenant Hara, you know that Inugami will look for guilty parties who will be responsible for the Prince’s disappearance. I’m afraid his punishing look will fall on me first.”

  The old man stood stiff, a prime example of discipline and self-control, but it was evident from his eyes that he preferred not to be the center of Inugami’s attention, especially when it promised to be less benevolent.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Aritomo promised. “It’s not your fault alone. We all were not careful and should have recognized the signs earlier. As his deputy, I take full responsibility.”

  Sawada smiled and indicated a bow. It was clear from his expression that he hadn’t come to him because of that assurance.

  “Second lieutenant, you didn’t quite understand me – although I thank you for your willingness to stand in front of me. I am quite ready to face the captain’s wrath and justify my actions before him. It’s more about solving the real problem. Isamu is gone. Our responsibility remains. My responsibility. We have to find him again.”

  Aritomo nodded.

  “I am listening.”

  “I concentrated my inquiries about the Prince’s whereabouts on his friend Ichik after we got stuck with other trails. That has proven to be smart. Ichik apparently had his own reasons to leave Mutal, and I’m not so sure anymore who is actually the driving force behind this adventure.”

  Aritomo raised his eyebrows and nodded to Sawada.

  “Go on, that sounds interesting.”

  “Yes. In any case, Ichik obviously suffered from a … bossy father, to put it politely. It took some time before someone was willing to let me in on the less appetizing details of the life of such an important family. But the man has his enemies, not just among his relatives. In any case, Ichik had already threatened several times before to leave the family’s home and look for his luck outside the city. What is most interesting, however, is that he has a specific goal to choose from: his uncle was driven out under similar circumstances or fled from his brother, the eldest of the family and thus their head. I don’t know the exact reasons, but it seems that no one is surprised that this clan is slowly breaking apart. Be that as it may, the uncle has settled in another city, and it is only natural that Ichik and Isamu steered their steps there – or rather, are still on the way, because the route is long and certainly not entirely without dangers.”

  Aritomo exchanged a meaningful look with Lengsley.

  “What is your suggestion, Mr. Sawada? You have one.”

  The old man smiled. “An obvious one. We send an expedition to the uncle and either meet them on the way or can get hold of them at their destination. It should be worth the effort. I myself want to take part in this trip. It’s time for me to learn about this country and get out of Mutal. There are now good teachers here who can take over my lessons. Itzunami speaks passable English and will continue to teach the Mayan language. I can gain valuable insights on the journey beyond catching Isamu.”

  Aritomo frowned. He was reluctant to send Sawada on such an expedition. On the other hand, he was not a member of the military but belonged to the imperial household. And it would be a sign informing Inugami that nothing was left unturned to pick up the renegade prince again.

  “Of course you won’t be traveling alone,” he said.

  “Itzunami wants to give me his own son and two of his servants as guards.”

  “It’s good, but it’s not good enough. I will also give you one of our men. I can’t do without any of our few firearms …”

  “Ah, right. Lieutenant, you may have missed this.”

  The old man put a hand in his jacket pocket, and it came out with a Nambu A, an automatic pistol, as Aritomo and Inugami carried it. It was the first version of the handgun that all Japanese officers traditionally had to purchase from their own money. Lengsley grinned.

  “I see our arsenal is larger than expected,” murmured the Brit.

  Sawada gave him a nod. “I am the Prince’s personal teacher. It’s my job to protect him if his bodyguards fail.”

  “I see,” said Aritomo. “Do you have magazines?”

  “One untouched in the gun, three in reserve.”

  Aritomo looked to the side, gestured for the teacher to put the Nambu back in. “I never saw that weapon.”

  “I understand, Lieutenant.”

  “Nevertheless one of our men will accompany you.”

  “Naturally.”

  Aritomo sighed. “When are you leaving? What is your goal exactly?”

  Sawada carefully put the gun in the coat. Only now did Aritomo notice that a special bag had apparently been incorporated into it for this purpose. One should never underestimate an employee of the imperial household. “I want to start traveling in the coming days. There are only a few preparations left to be made.”

  “You call on me before you leave.”

  “For sure. And the question of where to go is easy to answer. It’s going to a coastal town that seems to be of some importance. The name is Zama.”

  Aritomo nodded. Famous or not, he heard this name for the first time. “Good luck to your trip, Mr. Sawada.”

  And he said that very honestly for many reasons.

  38

  His feet burned, and he felt that he was no longer the youngest. Nevertheless, it was not appropriate to sit down without being asked to do so by the highest authority. Inocoyotl stood, his back pushed through and only slightly imperceptible against the cool stone wall behind him. An hour after his return to the city of the gods, he had been called to the palace. Meztli, the king of Teotihuacán, the lord of his life, well-being and future, really had his eyes and ears everywhere.

  The ambassador didn’t feel like a long conference with his eager king. The return trip had been unpleasant, extremely exhausting, with far too much rain and soft paths, with bad news about the Yaxchilan case – bad but not surprising – and an increasingly exhausted escort that he had been unable to push ahead at some point. Queca’s departure from his service had been almost a relief, though the soldier was professional enough not to show it too m
uch. He would certainly submit his own report at the appropriate time, hopefully confirming what the envoy was about to deliver. When he finally got there. If only he could finally sit down.

  Just a little.

  Inocoyotl had thrown on clean clothes and put on fresh sandals, had cleaned his hair and prepared himself so far that his appearance at court was not considered to be completely disrespectful. Nevertheless, the hardships of the trip could be seen, and even if not, his legs and feet cried out for rest, a massage, a hot bath – and just a good night’s sleep in the familiar and comfortable surroundings of his own house.

  That would have to wait.

  “The Divine Lord is now receiving you!”

  Inocoyotl pushed off the wall and nodded. The steward personally led him to the throne room, which was a good sign. Had he been picked up by a lowly servant, this would have been a subtle indication that Inocoyotl’s reputation in the eyes of the Meztli was no longer entirely in a position conducive to further survival.

  Inocoyotl immediately threw himself on the floor as he entered the chamber and saw out of the corner of his eye that apart from the Great Lord’s closest bodyguards, there was no one present, no adviser, no minister, not even a personal servant. Was that good? He decided it was good.

  “Rise and join me!”

  The ambassador did as he was told and was able to find that a stool stood next to the throne, pointed to by the ringed hand of Meztli. Next to it was a table loaded with fruit, tortillas, and a jug of water. A great honor. He was still in grace, that much was clear.

  “You just got home, so get some strength.”

  “The Divine Ruler is too kind.”

  “Maybe.” Meztli smiled. “On the other hand, it doesn’t help me if you suddenly fall over in my illustrious presence because you are too tired.”

  Inocoyotl bowed his head submissively. Meztli had always had a practical streak. He pretended to eat and drink and didn’t have to wait long for the king to turn to him again.

  “I received your letters, my friend. You told me about unpleasant things that worry me.”

  “My expedition didn’t quite bring the success you expected,” said Inocoyotl. “I have to ask for your mercy.”

  “You don’t have to. If it hadn’t been for you, important knowledge would have reached my ear late. Maybe too late. You did well. You are in my favor. Do not worry.”

  Inocoyotl couldn’t hide a certain relief. He was almost so daring to bite a fruit seriously, but he still controlled himself.

  “Now speak and tell me everything.”

  The ambassador hurried to immediately comply with the request. He spoke long, evenly, with precise words. He left no detail out but did not unnecessarily decorate his account with inventions that would emphasize his own role. He made his assessment again and again, but not too pointedly, and always neatly separated from the presentation of the facts. Meztli, that had to be held up to him, was silent all the time, made no comments whatsoever, and left it to his servant to depict the flow of events as he saw fit. Inocoyotl took his time, and when he finished, he felt his mouth was dry. He dared to take from the water without being asked to do so and only realized when he put the mug down again that Meztli was not watching him but seemed to be lost in thought.

  “You saw the boat of the gods yourself, my friend? With your own eyes?” the ruler asked suddenly.

  “Yes, my lord. With my own eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  “Yes. I can understand. Let’s try something, my friend.”

  Meztli snapped his fingers, and out of nowhere a servant appeared who brought him paper and writing tools. He disappeared as quickly as it had come. Meztli rose from his throne – a sight very unusual for Inocoyotl – and pulled out a second stool with which he sat down at the table. He pushed some of the dishes aside – Inocoyotl hurriedly helped him so that the high gentleman didn’t have to do this low deed alone – and put the paper on it.

  Meztli said nothing. He started drawing with amazingly sure movements. Inocoyotl controlled himself. The fact that someone was a supreme divine ruler did not mean that he had no everyday skills or preferences. Meztli was a good draftsman, maybe an artist. That’s how it should be.

  When the picture was finished, the King showed him the result.

  “Did the god boat look like this?”

  Inocoyotl was amazed at how precise and clear the drawing was. Either the great Meztli had listened carefully to his words and the ambassador had described the metal vehicle with great devotion – or …

  … he had seen something like this before.

  Inocoyotl felt himself start breathing a little harder. His hand groped for the water pitcher to refill. No, these thoughts certainly misled him.

  “So … that’s how it looked, my lord.”

  Meztli focused at him with narrowed eyes.

  “Exactly or something like that?”

  “It had … that weapon …”

  “Ah yes, the weapon.”

  Meztli looked as if he knew exactly what his servant meant, and instead of painting the wonder weapon small on the god boat, he threw a second sketch on the paper, which showed it on a larger scale.

  “Something like that?”

  Inocoyotl just nodded and drank hastily. Pretty much the same.

  It was very worrying.

  “Describe to me the uniforms of the messengers of the gods. Their special clothes. You said they were very different from ours or those of the Maya.”

  The ambassador began his descriptions again and again tried to be extremely clear. It was fascinating what details came to mind when your life depended on it.

  Meztli tried his drawing skills again. An image of a man appeared on paper, and every second he resembled the prototype of a messenger of gods more. Inocoyotl was even amazed to see that the narrow, strangely shaped eyes of the strangers had been captured inimitably by Meztli. When the ruler showed him the finished picture, the envoy found nothing to complain about except that it existed at all and that his ruler had been able to draw it with such accuracy.

  Disturbing.

  “They don’t call themselves messengers of God, do they?”

  “Some do, they like the name.”

  “But?”

  “The correct term is ‘Japanese,’ I heard. I heard a few bits of their language. Very strange.”

  “Two languages, didn’t you say?”

  “Yes, my lord. One that they keep to themselves, another that they teach the Maya. They call it English.”

  “English.”

  Meztli rolled the word back and forth in his mouth as if it had a special meaning.

  “You heard words from that English too?”

  “No, sir.”

  “That is unfortunate.”

  The tone in which the King said this made Inocoyotl a little nervous. But Meztli did not give the impression that he wanted to punish him for this negligence. He returned to his throne with calm movements, again ignoring how his faithful servant drank the water. Today the air in the palace was really, really dry.

  “So you negotiated an alliance, my friend?” the ruler asked.

  “An alliance under your leadership – or none,” Inocoyotl added. “Lord, if I was too cheeky and …”

  Meztli raised a hand. “You were far away, and you had to act. I don’t blame you. Do you hear?”

  “Yes, gracious ruler.”

  “There will be this alliance, Inocoyotl. But there will be more than just eliminating a threat. My father told me that this would happen one day and that I had to be vigilant. I haven’t believed it for a long time. Much of what my father told and taught me at that time sounded absurd. Over the years, I have even forgotten some things that I now need to refresh. I also have to apologize to him. I should have listened to him better.”

 
Inocoyotl said nothing. He was hardly in a position to comment on the family relationship between the old king and his son. Whatever he said, it would be the wrong thing.

  Meztli did not expect any reaction to this either. He asked his next question.

  “And these wonderful weapons – have you seen them in action?”

  “Not myself. But the descriptions of the people of Mutal sounded very convincing.”

  “The messengers of the gods themselves – were they surprised by their appearance in Mutal or did it appear planned?”

  “Surprised should best describe it, my lord. The fact that their boat did not land in water but on a tomb … I spoke to their leader’s deputy, and he frankly admitted that he did not know how and why he came here.”

  Meztli nodded thoughtfully. “That fits. Well. My father was right.”

  Inocoyotl blinked in confusion.

  “What will we do now, my lord?”

  “A good and well-justified question. I tell you: I confirm your alliance. I will mobilize the warriors of our empire and march into the Mayan territory. And I will lead this army personally. Whether you see it that way or not, my friend, a new era has begun. The great Teotihuacán will now give up his restraint and patience. We will do more than just protect our brothers, the Maya, from the messengers of the gods. We will submit their country to our gracious and just rule, to protect it from future dangers of this kind. These messengers of God are one threat. But there is more to come. There has to be more. The world is large … much larger than you can imagine. A development has started that will change everything and all of us. But now the good news, Inocoyotl: I am prepared for it. Teotihuacán knew what was going to happen. My father told me, and he knew exactly what he was talking about.”

  Inocoyotl stared at Meztli and tried to find logic in his overlord’s words. He was relieved that he was recognized for his actions. He was confused and afraid about the plans the lord of the city began to develop – or, if he understood correctly, that he had been preparing for a long time at his father’s behest and would now put into practice.