That wasn’t Chitam’s problem. Enemies were enemies, and prisoners of war were sometimes also victims for the gods. It had always been that way, and it always would be like that. But this tinkering, all the blood and eternal, ever-repeated rituals, that was nothing that filled the Prince with anticipation.
And so it happened that, for selfish reasons, he wished his father a long and healthy life.
“Sir?”
Chitam turned around. Behind him stood two servants, one armed with a large palm frond, with which he fanned the narrow, almost slender figure who had spoken to him. When he recognized her, a smile crossed Chitam’s face, not so much because he was really pleased but rather because it was one of his duties to react in such a way.
The unattractive woman in front of him, her mouth too tight, her nose too narrow, and her shoulders too wide, was the Lady Tzutz Nik, his wife. He would never have chosen her for this position, but his mother, the most honorable Lady Ayiin, and his father, the King, who was very calculating in these matters, had insisted on this particular marriage. Tzutz Nik had all the qualities that Chitam felt were a nuisance to a woman – intelligence, a will of her own, education, and at the same time she was quite unattractive and always looked somehow sickly. Chitam had disliked most of his marital duties, and although Tzutz Nik was almost six years younger than he – he in his prime age –, she had only given him two daughters, though certainly more was to be expected of her, although with his own participation somewhat forced. Something that couldn’t be said of a number of other young women in Mutal.
But Tzutz Nik was his wife, and she would one day be the queen. Even now she sometimes acted as if she already held this position, at least as far as the regency over her husband was concerned. The fact that she usually had a much clearer understanding of politics and the court than himself already pointed out that she would be a queen to be reckoned with.
As has been said, Chitam wished his father a very long and healthy life.
The fact that his swollen eyes and strong thirst told her something about his current condition certainly didn’t help make the upcoming conversation a pleasant part of the morning.
Chitam sighed.
Then he smiled as good as he could.
Because this was his duty.
Tzutz bowed respectfully; after all, there were enough spectators here. But Chitam, to whom the young daughter of a significant noble family had been married when she was sixteen years old, was able to interpret the true expression of the esteemed lady. She was not pleased.
“Sir, you skipped breakfast. Do not you feel well?” she asked with exquisite courtesy.
Chitam grimaced. Breakfast. The thought itself … “I’m fine,” he said, perhaps a little curtly, but by all the gods, he was the husband and Prince. “Thank you for your concern, my lady.”
“May I remind you that we’re having a banquet tonight for our good friend K’inich and his wife. We delayed this a long time, and they are in town today to pay their respects to the King.”
Chitam’s expression darkened. K’inich was the ruler of a small vassal settlement a few miles outside the city limits of Mutal, at least as far as one wanted to grant him the title of a “King” at all. So close to the mighty Mutal that his position was no more than that of a glorified governor. K’inich regularly came to pay his respects and to renew the bond with Yax Mutal, usually right after the first harvest. That was all well and good, but the governor’s wife was an old acquaintance of the honored Lady Tzutz, and so it was customary for them to have a banquet. The “good friend” was an old-fashioned landed nobleman, and considered himself something better than the current dynasty of Yax Mutal, which was ultimately attributable only to Chitam’s grandfather, who had been used by the Teotihuacán usurpers as a front. The old royal family of Yax Mutal, whose history went back much further, had been excluded from rule. One more reason for Chitam’s father to establish a new, his own genealogy with a clear reference to local traditions. K’inich, of course, was not easy to wrap up. He could look back to an unbroken line of predecessors and that made him – at least in his own eyes – something special. It really had to make this man very angry that his expanded village had to pay tribute to the mighty Yax Mutal so that he could continue this tradition with his head remaining on his shoulders.
Anyway, he wasn’t a good friend, and the yearly banquet a most unpleasant business. Of course, Chitam as heir apparent had to uphold etiquette. K’inich was officially a loyal vassal who always fulfilled his obligations completely and punctually. So he enjoyed the respect of such, and of course that was also for the corresponding good behavior of the Prince.
But Chitam didn’t feel like good behavior today. He just wanted to sleep.
Lady Tzutz didn’t seem to be prepared to liberate him from this social obligations – otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered to remind him immediately on the morning of the important day.
“I didn’t think about anything else the whole day,” he lied to his wife. In fact, last night he drank so much because he wanted to suppress the memory of the impending banquet. And Tzutz knew that, of course, as her fine smile signaled all too clearly.
“I’m glad, my husband,” she said, bowing again, and then darting away gracefully across the paving stones of the square toward her palace. Chitam looked after her for a moment, refusing to shake his head – both because of the spectators and because of his severe pain in this area – and apparently devoted himself to the construction work again. As expected, on this front everything went very well. The tomb would become a wonderful temple, bigger than the one next to it, and a worthy addition to the acropolis. Mutal wasn’t just any city, and no matter how much Chitam wished that he wouldn’t become king to soon, he knew that the current expansion in both population and production would soon make it possible that tribute wouldn’t only be paid by village chiefs like K’inich. No, there were more rewarding goals, and Chitam already had very precise plans.
In return, it would be worthwhile to become king.
The hammer that drove the obsidian bits into the stone really got on his nerves. He decided that he had fulfilled his duties and, with some servants in attendance, he returned to the palace where his father resided and waited for his report. Chitam was well-known in Yax Mutal, and anyone who crossed his path was respectfully keeping his distance, making the expected signs of reverence and not bothering him with unnecessary conversation. Chitam, on the other hand, was free to stop and address anyone, a privilege he used extensively in young women. He had already fathered many children in his life, and although this offspring didn’t automatically lead to the mothers being promoted to a higher social rank, the royal house was also responsible for the illegitimate children, as long as legitimacy played a role. As long as the King was well, his children didn’t have to suffer; the same was true for the crown prince. The population of the city grew steadily. After recovering from the invasion two generations ago, the upswing was unmistakable. Other parts of the forest constantly were cleared to make room for new fields and buildings. The city center grew more and more beautiful every year, as more and more aristocrats created grandiose structures, and the King led them all the way. Trade flourished. The upper class was covered with jewelry made of green jade, the most valuable of all gemstones, and the often magnificent presentation especially on feast days blinded the simple man. But that didn’t mean that the simple peasants suffered. Farming had been refined, yields became bigger and bigger, especially with the food that formed the basis of everything: corn. The royalties paid to the ruler were enough to feed his own family. If one paid attention to all the holidays and paid homage to the King in the prescribed manner, opportunity to participate in the military campaigns arose – which in the case of Chitam’s father didn’t mean much, since his activities were directed more inward than outward, a circumstance his son endeavored to end in time. Everyone in Mutal lived a good life, as a citizen of one of the mo
st powerful cities of the corn people.
Chitam stopped.
Another passerby, a man of nobility, as one could see from his retinue, had a servant hand him a cup of quill, a coffee made from roasted corn. Although the Prince did not really want to eat, he felt the need for liquid as the pleasant scent of the freshly-heated drink reached his nose. It mingled with the freshly baked corn patty, which the servant unpacked. It was certainly the privilege of the Prince to demand his own share, but at the same time it was extremely rude, because as a member of the royal family he wasn’t a beggar. Chitam’s eyes narrowed. The man was somehow known to him, but he was turning his face away. Had not he even bumped with him last night? At some point they had been so many, because he had lost track of everything, and some details of that merriment he could remember only vaguely anyway.
“Tell me, who is this gentleman?” Chitam quietly asked the servant closest to him. “I should know him … By Naal, I’m getting old.”
His servant bowed and made a negative gesture. “It’s hot, sir. The sun obscures our thoughts. The young master there is Tek’inich, the son of the high priest of the Naal.”
Chitam’s memory cleared. Tek’inich was an important man. He would become high priest before Chitam became king, and that was a significant detail, for it was Tek’inich who would direct and bless the Prince’s coronation ceremony.
He definitely had too much chi last night.
Tek’inich looked up, recognized Chitam and smiled at him. He beckoned to him, exactly what the Prince had hoped for.
Moments later, he drank a particularly hot quill, and he felt the warmth and strong taste spread through him, helping clear his head. He even laughed at a remarkably bad joke on Tek’inich’s part. He almost even accepted the offer to try one of the corn patties.
But he didn’t want to get cocky.
Chitam knew that it would be late again tonight.
They talked for a while. Tek’inich was not a man of special ambition, but he was considered wise and sensible. He would be a support to Chitam, someone whose help the young king might one day depend on. He was not a particularly likable man and was not one of Chitam’s close friends, but the noble lady Tzutz pointed out to her husband every week that it would be helpful to have a nice word with him, to be friendly and polite, because you never know.
Tzutz knew a lot about all these things. She also knew Tek’inich’s wife and maintained a friendly relationship with her.
That should, Chitam thought, really suffice.
When he said goodbye to the man to finally rush to his father’s palace, he felt better. He developed something like optimism. Energy returned to his body.
Maybe, he thought, it would be a good day after all.
6
The dinner proved to be a test of his abilities.
Of course, this was not due to the food offered. The cooks had done their best under the supervision of Lady Tzutz. All the dishes one could imagine, made from corn, beans, pumpkin and cassava. There were three freshly roasted peccaries whose best pieces were, of course, presented to the guests and the host, the Prince. Chitam’s appetite had returned, but he didn’t tend to be a glutton while eating, unlike with drinking chi. His guest was less restrained and preferred to eat all the best pieces, as if it were a great shame to just eat enough and then leave the other, less worthy diners some of the specialties. Of course, there were additional guests: Some nobles who, for whatever reason, were friends with the village brush or wanted to make friends, and Tzutz had certainly selected and invited them with care and diligence. The underlying logic was female in Chitam’s view, and therefore it was quite pointless to try to understand it for fundamental considerations.
The evening was absolutely predictable. The guests were of submissive politeness, but it was not by chance that the village chieftain, as Chitam still quietly called him, never missed an opportunity to spread anecdotes from the oh so glorious and, of course, endlessly long family history of his. The fact that he – very submissive and respectful – looked at Chitam and always touted a toast, didn’t make things better. The message arrived and wasn’t hidden from the other guests of the family. Everyone looked at Chitam, asking themselves how he’d deal with this subtle and permanent provocation. Did he stay at formal courtesy? Would he have his head cut off?
Chitam chose the former. These were the moments when he was more a Prince than an upset son, and he had a role to play. He pretended to listen attentively to his guest’s monologue and made sure his wife couldn’t complain about his manners. But what he had known to prevent was that the guest was served cocoa. This drink of the gods was reserved for the highest and most important occasions, the really important, the most respected and revered guests.
So there was none tonight.
Chitam was reasonably sure that this message had also come home with everyone present.
When they retired, it was already very late. Even with the exertions of the night before, Chitam felt righteously tired and was glad to be able to rest. He was now very sleepy and even ignored the nightly assessment of his lady, who couldn’t fail to list to her weary husband the things that went well, and to criticize those who hadn’t developed as expected. Already half-asleep, Chitam thought that Tzutz would be a good general, if he was to encounter a bad fate as king and his wife would take over Yax Mutal. At least, she had the necessary eye for detail.
In Naal’s name, that she had.
Thankfully, the Prince slumbered, and with the firm intention of not getting up before noon the next day.
The night tormented him with wild dreams whose meaning he couldn’t interpret. They were threatening images that scared him, and he wanted to wake up several times, but he didn’t succeed. It was as if the gods sent signs to him to arm himself. Chitam didn’t want to arm himself, he wanted to sleep in peace. But the dreamy images were stubborn, even when he finally awoke in between and stared into the darkness. Sleep always caught up with him quickly, almost too fast, but he immediately brought back the clear, frightening and haunting visions that filled him with greater unrest than usual.
He obviously had eaten too much. Peanut filled meat aroused this, especially if you took too much of it. His mother had already told him that. Would he listen more to his mother? But she had been dead for a year. Did she perhaps send him those dreams? Then he knew why he had always found the advice of the old woman annoying.
He found sleep again, restless though, filled with somber images, but nevertheless sleep.
When he was suddenly startled and sat upright in his bed, he was confused for a moment. Did his dream wake him up? He looked around, it was obviously early in the morning. Chitam was wide awake, and at an unusual time for him.
He listened for a moment. Silence. Touched his forehead. Fully a wake, no doubt. He wouldn’t find back to sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t want, anyway. He didn’t look for further dreams, and he tried everything to forget the disturbing images quickly. Tzutz was still asleep, judging from her quiet face, she was not plagued by what had tormented her husband this night.
He got up cautiously, careful not to wake his wife, and left.
For a few minutes he paused in front of his father’s palace, holding a stuffed cornbread in his hand, which he chewed slowly, breathing in the fresh morning air that mixed the city’s scents with the pleasantly musty smell of the nearby jungle. He really enjoyed this special time at the dawn of a day, he thought. Most of the days he slept longer. Maybe he should change his rhythm a bit, earlier to bed, earlier out. The Lady Tzutz would certainly like that too.
Chitam recognized two servants approach him eagerly, but he waved a hand. The retinue was a symbol of his status, but in fact, in the city center of Yax Mutal, he needed neither protection nor servants. And since there was hardly anyone on the road at that time, he didn’t need anyone, just because he felt the desire to take a morning walk.
He wa
ndered around a bit, stretching his limbs, chasing away the shadows of the night, which fortunately, in his memory, faded more and more. The delicious cornbread with its rich filling of meat and vegetables helped him, because it revived him with new energy.
He finally stood in the great square of the acropolis, in front of the almost completed temple, which was to become his father’s mausoleum, looked up the mighty structure and winked briefly.
The sky was overcast. It would rain soon.
He winked again.
These clouds were … remarkable.
He shoved the rest of his cornbread into his mouth and squinted.
That was strange. What …?
Then he saw the hand of the gods open the sky.
It was only a glimmer that made him wink a third time.
Then it was a bright, glistening glow, as if a knife had slipped through the sky and revealed the brightness beyond.
Chitam opened his mouth so that almost the scraps of food fell out. He stood rooted to the spot, completely absorbed and fascinated, almost paralyzed, and felt a cold terror rush into his limbs.
And he was by no means the only one.
He heard the cries of other people – fear, surprise, horror, confusion. Chitam was not distracted by that, just staring at the crack that had obviously formed directly above him.
The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun Page 4