Aritomo nodded. “We’re getting more men. You take a troop, and I tell Chitam to show you a good place for logging – probably the Maya themselves have a decent supply of logs, then they should deliver some. I take another ten men, and we start the refilling work. Where exactly do we want to attach the trunks? We should not get in each other’s way at work.”
It only took a moment, and then they were engrossed in a detailed plan. Half an hour later, when they had made sketches that would help them communicate their wishes for suitable building materials to Chitam, they were very satisfied with themselves. If all the work was done properly, they would stabilize the boat sufficiently to be able to fire a series of shots with the cannon without slipping the boat down the pyramid.
Finally, the intentions of the Japanese were made sufficiently clear to Chitam. Here it was again Sawada who helped them a lot. But it also became clear that the Prince’s knowledge of English was quite advanced for this short time of learning. He immediately began to give his own instructions, which made implementation much easier. As Aritomo had hoped, the Maya, based on their own construction projects, had sufficient material to provide for the crew of the boat. Workers emerged, bringing massive logs that were immediately cut to size. Stones were piled up and expertly placed following the orders of Mayan architects – who, as expected, proved to be true experts in structural design. Soon, the Japanese only had to watch and give occasional instructions. The numerous workers and their unsurpassed zeal for work brought the stabilization measures to a successful conclusion already on the first day, so that Aritomo and Inugami could quickly focus on tactical issues.
The following discussion wasn’t easy. Inugami apparently had the great urge to take the chance to make an example and clearly demonstrate the superiority of the time travelers. It was an opportunity to consolidate one’s claim to domination and thus ultimately lay the foundation for those dynastic and imperial ideas that the commander repeatedly considered. Hara, on the other hand, was keen to be efficient, to minimize the risk to the crew while leaving a positive impression on her hosts. Both goals were by no means entirely contradictory – even Inugami wanted to avoid losses as much as possible, even though he mostly referred to his own crew, while he dismissed the potential blood toll of the citizens of Mutal with a rather nonchalant gesture of his hands.
The captain already had very precise ideas. He calculated losses of the “savages” with merciless severity.
Hara moved on brittle floor. He had to avoid any appearance of disloyalty while trying to avoid the worst excesses of Inugami’s ideas. It was a balancing act that required a great deal of concentration and sensitivity.
After some two hours of consultation, they had prepared a plan. It envisaged at its core that Mutal’s warriors lured the attacking enemies by apparent escape movements into the city center, to place them conveniently in the field of fire covered by the cannon and the riflemen. The wide street that led from the southeast into the city, ended at the ball court and then headed west to the central squares of the city, seemed well suited. The large temple on the eastern main square, which Hara called the Jaguar temple because of its paintings and sculptures, was an excellent lookout for the observer and the provision of signals to the main square where the submarine had stranded. The greatest danger was that the enemy was primarily interested in the royal palace, which wouldn’t be a very wise target to fire upon and which limited the field of fire to the southwest.
They would have to discuss these things with Chitam and his father. And that’s why a balanced tactic was needed. If the Prince, who was anything but dumbfounded, had even the slightest suspicion that Inugami didn’t care if Mutal’s soldiers were also to become victims of Japanese weapons, his enthusiasm for the battle plan would surely be muted. The Maya had no problem dying in battle, under the guidance of their kings. They were, after all that was known, brave warriors. But a senseless slaughter without regard to losses, and then to their own people, was not something that was easy to accept.
Hara, however, wanted the King’s soldiers to do the rest – to encircle and attack a demoralized and surprised opposing army in a final battle, best to force them to give up. The fact that the “messengers of the gods” didn’t do everything but cooperated in the protection of the king’s army would make for a much deeper bond of cooperation than humiliating enemies as well as friends, but with varying degrees of intensity.
It was hard to explain this to Inugami. When Hara pointed out that it made no sense to uselessly waste the future subjects of his dreamed-up empire he had a noticeable impact. One would need willing warriors for future campaigns – which Inugami considered inevitable. That was an argument that met with acceptance, albeit unwilling, from his superior. It was the only “rational” thought that could at least begin to change his view of these inferior natives, establishing a different perspective. Aritomo considered the Maya to be anything but inferior, and he didn’t easily forgive himself for bringing this argument into play. But it helped to establish a plan, which he could submit without much pain to Chitam, as task to which he was immediately assigned by Inugami.
He felt like an ambassador between warring camps. That was exhausting.
And it was dangerous.
Aritomo wasn’t sure if he liked to be the mouthpiece. He felt compelled to do so against his will, but of course he was also able to convey many of Inugami’s expressions and opinions with a certain degree of self-discipline. On the other hand, he was by no means sure that an attentive observer like Chitam wouldn’t begin to recognize the differences in outlook between him and the commander.
What consequences could that have?
A thought he intended to deal with later.
Darkness fell. A long, exhausting day was coming to an end. Hara sat down on the forecastle with a cup of chi and wanted to enjoy the evening sun for a few minutes. He regarded the drink in his hands with a certain regret. A few days ago, the supplies of tea had been used up. Their hosts supported them with provisions without complaint, but only with what they themselves used. Everyone had therefore necessarily developed a taste for the local food and especially the drinks. Aritomo may have already adapted better than many others, who were still reluctant to drink chi and often couldn’t keep disrespectful comments to themselves. Aritomo had once been allowed to attend the production process of the drink. The raw material was from a tree Aritomo didn’t know and was mixed with honey and water and brought to fermentation. The drink had, like so many things here, a religious meaning and was apparently used for ritual occasions to gain visions of the gods in a intoxicated state. The nobility, it seemed, also used it for less sacred purposes, while the common folk still had to make use of water – or what could be gained from the various fruits of non-alcoholic drink.
The use of chi was also regulated aboard the boat to set a limit on alcoholic beverages, but the tea-accustomed Japanese, far removed from any sake, needed the relaxation that this light mead offered to them. Anyway, for Aritomo the restrictions didn’t apply, on the other hand, he wanted to be a role model and voluntarily – and in public – adhered to the ordered rationing.
This was his first cup today and the last one at the same time. He just wanted to take a little break. He would have a bite to eat – he found the meat-filled Maya bread pies quite appetizing – and then continue the work that could be done in the dark. If only to study Mayan vocabulary with Sawada.
“There will be a battle, won’t it, Lieutenant?”
Aritomo’s head jerked up as he heard the thin voice, and involuntarily his back stiffened as he realized that Isamu, the Prince, had appeared quietly beside him. The officer turned to see the towering figure of one of the two bodyguards behind the boy’s narrow body and started to get up, but the Prince’s hand abruptly settled on his shoulder.
Aritomo froze. He was not allowed to touch a member of the imperial family. Conversely, of course, it was something else, and in the n
arrowness of the boat touch could never be completely avoided, which had led to the relaxation of certain rules. But it was still an unusual, unthinkable act.
“Stay seated,” the Prince said, squatting next to him.
Aritomo slowly put the cup down. Prince Isamu was old enough to take the occasional gulp – there was much and heavy drinking at the imperial court, even though the legendary Meiji had been someone who had given the sake a certain … indifference – but both Sawada and Inugami had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t yet appropriate for the Prince to partake in such merriments. The last tea had been stretched to the end only for the use of the young man, and now he was allowed to enjoy fruit juices and water.
“There will be a battle?” the Prince asked again.
Aritomo cleared his throat. The presence of the bodyguard made him restless. He knew that Inugami was fine with the two soldiers. He was afraid that they would report anything they heard, if necessary. He had to choose his words wisely for that reason alone.
“Yes, Highness, that’s correct. The city is being attacked by its enemies. Captain Inugami has ordered to help the rulers of Mutal in defense. We are preparing for this right now.”
“So we’re not going back to Japan?”
Aritomo was silent for a moment, not sure how to answer. In the hustle and bustle of the past few weeks, this option had taken a back seat so much that he couldn’t imagine anyone still holding onto it. But who wanted to blame the boy?
“We … are far from the coast, my prince. If the boat is to be launched, we need the help of these people, otherwise we can’t succeed. And if we want their help, we’ll have to help them in this hour of need.”
“And then we’ll go back to Japan?”
In Prince Isamu’s voice, self-discipline and longing fought each other. How did the boy felt on board, exempted from all the ship’s work that might focus his thoughts, without function or task? Too much time to ponder, Aritomo thought.
“My prince, it will take some effort to return to Japan. But it’s a different Japan from what we know. It is not even a unified country at the time, but divided into smaller kingdoms, some of which are permanently at war with each other. I’m not sure what our fate would be if we go there.”
“Yes … no …” The Prince searched for words. “I mean … will we go back to our Japan? Will I see my father and mother again? Will I go back to school?”
Aritomo sighed. Sawada had certainly told him which situation they were in. The fact that the young prince turned to him showed that he didn’t believe – or didn’t want to believe – the explanations of the old teacher. But the officer who had proven himself in the past few weeks as someone who handled the situation well and who was a respectful person … and unlike Inugami, also able to say a kind word … seemed like a more reliable source of information.
That put a heavy burden on Aritomo’s shoulders, for the Prince’s question didn’t come up by chance. He expressed a hope – with all the self-control of a boy a desperate to show dignity in despair.
“My prince …”
“Call me Isamu, second lieutenant. At least when we are alone. Your captain will not allow it otherwise.”
Aritomo looked up at the silent figure of the bodyguard.
The Prince grinned and looked for a moment like the boy he really was.
“They don’t care. As long as you don’t try to kill me, and we have a reasonable conversation, my bodyguards will ignore you.”
Aritomo nodded. “Isamu, then. I’m Aritomo.”
The prince shook his head. “You are Second Lieutenant Hara. You are the elder. Here you are above me, no matter where I come from.”
Aritomo sighed. The boy didn’t make it easier for him. But maybe it was just fine in the face of the conversation they had to have now.
“To get back to the question … Isamu … I want to be very honest: I don’t know why we fell through time and ended up in this place. It was certainly nothing that we have arranged. Maybe it was a natural phenomenon that repeats itself. We can wait and hope for that. But until further notice, we all, including you, have to deal with the prospect that we will stay here. Maybe only a few months or years – or forever. The sooner we make friends with this thought, the faster we can focus our energy on creating a new life here. The conditions are favorable. The Maya are well-disposed to us. If we succeed in helping them to defend the city, our relationship should improve even more. If we make the right choices, we can all enjoy a comfortable and safe life here and will be masters of our destiny. That’s very important, Isamu. We have to face reality and begin to shape it. We can’t give up. This isn’t our way. Captain Inugami reminded us of our duties. We have to fulfill them in every situation.”
“Your duties seem to be clearer than mine,” the boy mumbled, looking pensively over the foredeck, past the cannon over the city, slowly sinking into the darkness. Both scented the smells of the evening jungle that stretched out along the edges of the city, now familiar and pleasant. The animals of the night commenced the acoustic background of the scenery.
“Anyway, I know that I have a responsibility and can’t escape it through despair and distress,” Aritomo replied. “Sometimes I feel weak too. I’m confused. But I’m not alone with that, and I have to be a role model for others who feel similarly. I deliberately chose this path when I volunteered for the navy, when I wanted to become an officer. It’s my job, it’s inseparable from this uniform and my position. Just because things have happened that I don’t understand and that threaten to exceed my horizon, I mustn’t shy away from this path. I would betray myself if I did.”
Isamu nodded. “And what is my way, Second Lieutenant Hara? What is my duty?”
Aritomo thought that was a pretty smart question for a boy of this age, and one that should be appreciated by a suitably smart response. But the officer was faced with a dilemma: What had been communicated to the Prince as part of his previous education, and how, perhaps, had Sawada answered that question? It didn’t suit him to confuse the Prince with contradictions that would only worsen his mood. Nevertheless, he couldn’t get out of this situation by making general observations, as the Prince’s earnest and hopeful gaze made clear.
Aritomo hesitated for a while, then said, “You are a prince, a member of the Imperial House. You are a leader. You still lack the life experience to fulfill that role, but once the day comes, you’re grown and need to make decisions. For your own life and, in all likelihood, for other people as well. That is your destiny. And it has nothing to do with whether you are in Japan and in our old time or here and now. It’s your destiny because you’re Prince Isamu. Time and space have no meaning. It’s what makes you special. That’s your way. A difficult way. But you are not alone. We will all help you and stand by your side. Together we can take the necessary steps.”
“That sounds really hard,” Isamu muttered, still looking depressed. “I think that’s a high expectation. I’m afraid I can’t satisfy it.” He looked up at Aritomo. “Will you really help me? I don’t know what lies ahead.”
“I don’t know either,” he replied softly. “I’d like to have a little more security and confidence too. We are all in the same position,” he said with a sweeping gesture, “and sit in the same boat. All we can do is make the most of the situation and see what the next step might be. But we will help each other. It won’t work out otherwise.”
“What’s the best? Whatever the captain orders?”
Aritomo pressed his lips on each other. Now he finally entered very, very fragile ground. No matter what he said, it was basically wrong.
“The captain is in command. We follow his orders faithfully. He listens to the advice of all of us. Whether it’s always the best we advise and what he commands, no one knows. All we can hope for is that we stick together, Prince Isamu. Now everyone counts. Also you. You in a very particular way.”
The boy said nothing and stared in
to nothingness. Aritomo felt his own words to be hollow and empty. He didn’t believe in what he had just said. Inugami was an ungracious superior who was able to take advice, but rarely requested it, and often regarded it as criticism in principle, even when reasonable. If Isamu was an attentive observer, he’d already noticed that as well.
Maybe it was his good upbringing, or he didn’t want to destroy the feel-good illusion of Aritomo’s words – at least, the Prince was silent, and the officer was relieved not to go deeper into that subject for now.
It was only postponed, he was sure of that. Isamu was an important tool in Inugami’s far-reaching plans. And in Aritomo’s eyes, especially after this conversation, that already had something tragic about it.
The Prince had not been asked by anyone if he was ready to be that tool.
Aritomo sighed softly and got up. “My prince, we are facing a battle. May I withdraw myself?”
Isamu looked up at him and just nodded.
Aritomo bowed correctly and left, leaving the boy pondering and doubting.
He probably couldn’t have helped him anyway.
18
Siyaj knew he was taking a big risk, but it was necessary to do so.
He looked at the worm of soldiers approaching Mutal and felt despair. The crazy king of Yaxchilan might be at least megalomaniac, but he had underpinned his megalomania with vigorous action and good planning, he had to acknowledge that. An army of this size had never been seen by Siyaj. He had heard of Teotihuacán’s soldiers, numerous and powerful, as they had once conquered Mutal and appointed his father as ruler. He hadn’t been born by then. He always had the feeling that the ancients inflated the story a little, especially those who wanted to give the impression that the brave inhabitants of the city simply had no chance against such a massive onslaught. That was probably a matter of pride. His father had told him the events with much drier words. But still … Teotihuacán’s troops had defeated Mutal’s defenders in no time and had therefore definitely been much superior. There was no doubt about that.
The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun Page 13