Of course, none of these Mayan states would ever equal the great Teotihuacán; on the other hand, it was a mistake to close one’s eyes to such developments. The king seemed to share that assessment, another indication that the big city had had stupider rulers in the past.
“The struggles of the corn people come and go, and the size of their cities is changing like the waves of the ocean, great King,” Inocoyotl replied. “It’s their disunity and inability that will cause them to never be a serious threat to the glorious Teotihuacán.” He bowed his head again before continuing. “But it is wise to remind them that their doings are being assessed and they are well advised to remember the power of this city – which has made many of them what they are today. Even the ruler of B’aakal didn’t like remembering that his ancestors were from here, and when I visited him, he wasn’t happy. But he didn’t lack respect, if I may add that.”
“That’s good,” said Meztli. “Respect must be renewed, and you shall bear signs of it to me.”
Inocoyotl bowed again. That was a matter of course.
“I will do your bidding, great lord.”
“Take your own men. In addition, you will receive from me thirty soldiers under an experienced leader. I want to give you a seal so that everyone knows that you are under the protection of Meztli, and no one should come too close or endanger your journey. From the stores of the palace, take what you need for the journey. Observe everything carefully and bring the blessings of Meztli to my younger brothers. I want to give you presents that you hand over in my name. Travel to Mutal, stay there, then return to me with a thorough report.”
“Everything should be done as you say, my lord,” Inocoyotl said.
The King smiled pleased. Of course, he hadn’t expected any other answer, but it seemed to make him happy that the order was accepted with such great readiness.
“When can you leave?”
“Allow me a moon for the preparations of my journey, my lord.”
“It is granted to you. Before you leave, ask for an audience. I want the priests to bless you and your men.”
Inocoyotl couldn’t do enough bows. A blessing in the presence of the Divine Ruler? A direct favor of the Great Goddess, seen by the court and all the notables? In fact, Meztli seemed to consider this mission to be very important, otherwise he wouldn’t shower such extraordinary mercy on his emissary.
“For that I thank you, my king.”
Meztli seemed very satisfied. He waved.
“All is said then.”
Inocoyotl knew that he was dismissed. He rose from his stool, felt a servant take it away, and threw himself face down on the floor again. So he remained for the prescribed seconds, before he slowly rose and turned away, with his face turned downwards, to leave the audience chamber at a quick pace.
As he was led outside by a servant through the corridors of the palace and released to the square, he breathed. The anxiety that he felt again and again in the face of these kinds of encounters left him, and he could feel relaxed.
Noon had arrived. Inocoyotl looked into the sun and enjoyed her warmth.
“Lord, you are back!”
Two of his men had waited for him in the shadows and were now approaching him, their faces filled with curiosity and awe. For them, it was hard to imagine what honor and favor it was to be called near the ruler, even to talk to him. No matter how exhausting or frightening these visits were to Inocoyotl, they increased his prestige quite considerably, and with it, his value as someone to be known in the higher circles of the city. The journey to Mutal, with the seal of the king and thirty of his men as protection, would enhance this reputation once more. It could well be that, if he was too frail to be able to continue these efforts, he would be called to the court as a royal adviser and thus experience the culmination of his career.
He hoped he would end with the mercy of a dignified death.
Inocoyotl was determined to prevent a direct post at court if it was only in his power. There was nothing that seemed more terrible to him than having to bear the presence of the ruler daily and to feel the unspoken but constant threat. Meztli was a good man. Even when he was in a bad mood, he handled his family well, they said. But it happened that kings died a sudden and utterly unexpected death. And who knew what fury a potential successor would unleash?
Inocoyotl shook at the thought. It wasn’t so much about himself. He was old and replaceable. But he had a large family, and a raging king who, unlike the present ruler, didn’t know how to tame his feelings, could do whatever he pleased to punish someone who had caused his indignation.
He served his Lord with fervor but hopefully never good enough to be received in the highest graces. There were rewards whose consequences were incalculable. He was much more modest in his aspirations.
Inocoyotl nodded friendly to his servants.
Then he looked to the left, toward the moon pyramid, which stretched mightily and dominant into the blue sky. He looked to his right, across the square in front of the palace, down the broad, central street that pierced all of Teotihuacán, the Road of the Dead, which ended at the Temple of the Winged and finally led out, a path that Inocoyotl was about to begin. His own house was not far from here, north of the Sun Pyramid, and thankfully often in the shadow of the magnificent structure, making life here a lot more bearable.
He took another deep breath, met the expectant gaze of his servants, who had patiently waited until he finally stirred.
There was a lot to do. A moon for preparation was generous, but it didn’t make sense to unnecessarily strain the ruler’s patience, even that of a well-balanced man like Meztli.
“We have work,” he announced. “A great grace. Let’s start quickly!”
25
They were all sweating, and not only because it was very hot.
Inugami and Aritomo wore nothing but shorts, their torsos bared, and already tinged with red from the bad sunburn they were beginning to develop. Nevertheless, Aritomo felt well, better than in a long time. He stood in front of the line of prisoners and began the next exercise, shouting loud orders that they wouldn’t yet but soon understand.
Aritomo had fervently engaged himself in the task of developing a training plan for Inugami’s janissaries. It was an interesting challenge and a welcome distraction from pondering the future. His plan had met with Inugami’s approval and, to his surprise, the captain had ordered to take part in the exercises where possible. Well considered, this request was not so surprising. Inugami wanted to establish a personal relationship with his soldiers, make them his guard, his praetorians. And so he sweated with them, gave orders, punished and praised, established his authority.
The training program consisted essentially of four components. First there was the physical training with numerous exercises that they had taken directly from the training manual of the Imperial Navy and they just followed them. Then there were language studies in which the slave-soldiers learned English, at least enough to be able to understand and execute basic commands. The third component consisted of combat training; in addition to the spear, the blade and the atlatl, this included unarmed combat, as taught in the Japanese armed forces. Here, non-commissioned officers of the boat helped with the teaching of basic techniques. After all, the fourth unit had not started yet, because language skills had not proceeded long enough – the theoretical transfer of knowledge. This began with the introduction of Japanese ranks, albeit in simplified form, for the new army. Inugami envisaged a total of five ranks, which would have to apply to the new slave soldiers – a basic one, two NCO ranks and two officer ranks. Currently, however, the men had not yet been assigned to any. Once the three-month basic education would be completed and, above all, those that best mastered the language lessons emerged, they could take a first step in that direction.
Discipline was also taught to the slaves. It wasn’t that the Mayan warriors were a wild bunch, but Aritomo and Inugami soo
n realized that an army in these latitudes was not a professional military force. Apart from a small core of armed men – mostly a permanent bodyguard for the ruler –, the warriors were all peasants led by their clan chiefs, the Maya nobility, and at the behest of the king, while in peacetime they tended to the land or performed other services, such as to dedicate their labor to the monumental splendors of this civilization. Many of the men had learned a lot because of the permanent military campaigns of the city-states and gained experience. They also knew how to obey and to maintain a minimum of self-organization. The classic battle wasn’t the standard but rather attacks on defended cities, with a mix of street fighting and confrontation in larger squares and suburbs. Remarkable was that the Mayan cities were all but unfortified. It seemed like inviting the enemy to launch an attack, and perhaps that had something to do with the fact that religious and political motivations were indistinguishable in many of these conflicts. So far, the former had strongly determined how a war was waged, the latter rather when, and a careful consideration of star constellations also seemed to play an important role in answering the question of the right timing.
All this – this form of “superstition” –, Inugami wanted to drive out. Aritomo wasn’t sure if that would work, but the eagerness with which the commander rushed for the task – and the strong support by the rest of the crew he observed – made him reluctant to criticize the plan too loudly. In the opinion of many of the crew, they saw a civilizational work here, of leading the savages into a glorious future, liberated them from archaic ideas and practices, brought progress and a new, forward-looking order. They all overlooked – or disparaged – the accomplishments of their hosts. This meant not only the wonderful and architecturally sophisticated buildings but also the elaborate system of agriculture, which made it possible to feed a growing population in a relatively small space and to allow a metropolitan lifestyle. Aritomo came from a nation in which agriculture had a traditionally very high priority and took an important place in the consciousness of the people. It was amazing that others on the boat could overlook these things without considering them, just because they thought of the Mayans as underdeveloped natives.
That, Aritomo thought, couldn’t make things easy in the long run. There would inevitably be tension, and no matter how superior their weapons were, the Maya were many, many more, they weren’t primitive idiots. While they certainly didn’t understand how the god-messenger technology worked, they knew with confidence what they could do with their own.
The POWs, on the other hand, were demoralized and shocked, so didn’t ask any of these questions. The inhabitants of Mutal, however, would someday realize how little the visitors appreciated what they had built up over the centuries with intelligence, knowledge, and skill. On the long run, they needed to be treated with respect.
And, this thought always came back to Aritomo: There were many, so many more than the handful of Japanese.
To be fair, Inugami seemed to anticipate trouble. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so committed to create an instrument that could compensate for this numerical disadvantage. And Aritomo helped him with it.
What else could he do?
“We’ll take a break!” the commander shouted, as they completed another round of physical exercises that served not only as fitness building but, above all, learning collective, coordinated, and possibly identical movements, forging a community that understood itself and acted as a unit. The Mayan warriors had no choice – they were prisoners, slaves and their only alternative was to be sacrificed in some rituals or being exploited otherwise –, and they worked hard. Inugami had to take care of the moment when joining in from coercion became part of conviction, yes, enthusiasm. If he dealt with it correctly and purposefully, then he would have created his janissaries, and they wouldn’t run away at the first battle.
Inugami toweled the moisture on his face and upper body. He looked at the crowd of war slaves, as they squatted on the ground. Some had been assigned to water service and rushed from man to man with large vessels full of liquid to provide them with the necessary fluids. The two Japanese also brought out their metal bottles and drank.
“You’re making progress, aren’t you?” Inugami observed.
“Yes, sir. They are a bit confused at times, but the routine of training will take that away.”
Inugami nodded. “Once they get used to this routine, we start to shape and forge them. The goal must be supreme valor and absolute submission. In parallel, they are allowed to build decent accommodations. I have identified a place where we can put up barracks. Building houses seems to be in the blood here. They should be well housed and fed. Then we will start rewarding individuals who are excellent – one day off, maybe a few women, the first promotions. Sawada is in the process of developing a system of medals and decorations with Mayan nomenclature, which we can use. We also have to think about a uniform. I propose we’re going to start with a sash that everyone must wear and where we can attach badges and awards.”
Aritomo nodded silently. Inugami’s enthusiasm was intense and almost contagious. He had the right ideas. It didn’t work any different in the Japanese forces, actually in all armies of the world. Why should the Mayans not react to such incentives in the desired form?
“We should talk to Chitam about the barracks. We need his help for that,” he said quietly. Inugami stared at him a bit dumbfounded, then made a derogatory gesture.
“Yeah, talk to him. I’ll show you the place afterwards. Farther outside. Ideally suited. He will agree.” Inugami smiled bleakly. “He has to agree. It’s not like he has a big choice. Did you hear it? Yesterday volunteers turned up!”
Aritomo looked up. “Volunteer?”
“Yes, the duty guard told me about it.”
“Volunteers for what?”
Inugami pointed to the resting soldiers. “To join. The army of the divine messengers. A good dozen young men, eager to serve us. If this is a trend, we must consider building a volunteer company. Some other rules maybe. That needs to be well-considered.”
“All these men are needed to tend for the fields,” Aritomo reminded him. “If we build up an additional standing army, we withdraw workers. We have to think about food security.”
“I’ve already considered that. Our slaves here need physical training. We will clear the forest and create additional fields, which we will plant and maintain regularly, for our own needs as well as for the city. Of course, everyone has to have enough to eat. Otherwise, we cannot wage war. We’ll start right away once the basic training is over.”
Aritomo wiped his towel over his forehead. Inugami had evidently thought about everything thoroughly. The Captain pursued his plans not only with great vigor but also with a certain circumspection. Nevertheless, Aritomo was sure …
“I gave Lengsley and Sarukazaki another order,” Inugami informed him. Aritomo looked up in alarm. The ideas just spilled out this man and each held the potential of further dangers for all of them. He could barely keep up with Inugami, who was slowly outgrowing himself.
“They’re supposed to sit down with the local craftsmen – stonemasons, weapons manufacturers, and architects and builders, who seem to have some technical understanding. We have to get involved in weapon development. We need superiority in tactics, strategy, numbers, discipline of the troops – and their equipment. I want better protection, armor, so that atlatls fired from a distance no longer automatically lead to fatal wounds. The shields they use are inadequate. They are made of wood and animal skin or woven mats. And I want better offensive capabilities.”
“The bow,” Aritomo muttered. “There are small bows used for hunting, but the weapon of choice is the atlatl. If we could develop longbows … The materials are available. Only for really good armor, we lack the metal. We have to find some ores, and that seems to be difficult, otherwise obsidian wouldn’t be so important around here.”
Inugami nodded. “I like how you think.
Sit down with them, if you can. Keep an eye on the discussions. We should concentrate on a few key improvements and implement them consistently. Slipping would be a mistake. We set clear priorities and don’t do everything that might be desirable.”
“Yes,” Aritomo replied. “And what about the wheel? I think it’s a priority.”
“Yes, the wheel. It doesn’t help us much without a draft animal. We need a draft animal. Until then, however, we should construct carts drawn by six men, such as ox or horse-drawn carriages. They will be slow but with a good chassis still better and more effective than transporting goods on your back. I also want Lengsley and Sarukazaki to think about war machines. We have to impress. If we manage to build catapults – two or three are enough – and fire suitable ammunition, which is above all effective … fire pots or something combustible is always good, and in case it rains, something with shrapnel … bags of obsidian shards bursting open, maybe … it will impress any opponent, even if the actual effectiveness is limited. But if we cause fear and surprise, that’s at least as good as a few well-placed explosions.”
Inugami’s voice was lost, as he stared thoughtfully into the distance, deep in thought. Aritomo had heard him well and could not help agreeing with Inugami’s plans. If the ammunition of the rifles and the cannon was used up – apart from the fact that it would be very difficult to dismantle the latter and put it on a gun carriage to make it mobile –, then they would have to have other weapons with which they could scare their enemies. Their superiority had to be made visible, even in symbolic gestures that might not have had a rash in a battle for purely material reasons, but whose psychological impact was not to be underestimated.
Inugami had a considerable amount of empathy. What a pity, Aritomo thought, that he used it all for the question of how he managed to control his allies and destroy his enemies.
The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun Page 19