“Yes. I saw him at the Temple of Love when I went there to talk to the High Priestess.”
“You would find him there often—he’s the lover of the High Priestess, as is his father.”
“I had suspected that and found it interesting that he is probably half her age.”
I didn’t think that even Flint Shield would have intruded into the living goddess’ quarters unless he knew it was his privilege.
“She chooses her lovers among the most powerful. Flint Shield hopes to someday follow in his father’s footsteps as War Lord. His father’s absence from the city with most of the army, leading them to battle with Cobá, gave the prince the opportunity to attack.”
“Why didn’t Flint Shield follow the army into battle with Cobá?”
“He is considered the best warrior in Mayapán and was deliberately kept back at the palace rather than sent to the Flower War. From lips loosened by torture, the king suspected that his own brother would attempt to steal his head and his kingdom. He kept Flint Shield with a contingent of soldiers at the palace in case his suspicions proved true. If it were not for you, Flint Shield would have had the honor of being the hero of the day.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept my silence, but Lord Janaab, perceptive as a hawk, anticipated my words.
“Speak. Tell me what you fear to speak.”
“Perhaps it is my own false impression, but when Flint Shield and his men were coming toward me at that moment just before the gate was shut, I had the impression that he was going to attack me.”
“He may have thought you were one of Prince Jaguar Paw’s men.”
“He knows who I am. The High Priestess told him when we were at the temple together.”
“Because he recognized who you are, doesn’t mean that he realized what side you were on.”
“It wasn’t just that.” I hesitated again.
Lord Janaab’s features grew grave, and his lips pressed together as he stared at me. I had the feeling that I had raised an issue he didn’t want to hear, because it involved problems he would rather not deal with. “Speak,” he said.
I spit the words out. “My impression is that his intent was to open the gate, not keep it closed.”
“You’re telling me that Flint Shield went to the gate to make sure it remained open to permit the rebels in?”
“Perhaps Flint Shield wished to ensure that he will indeed be War Lord. It also took members of the palace guard considerable time to make it to the gate after the alarm was sounded. Guards from farther away were already there when Flint Shield reached the gate. Something else happened, too. After I turned to face Flint Shield, the warrior on the ground, Prince Jaguar Paw, drew his dagger and was going to stab me in the back. Flint Shield had to have seen the man. Flint Shield’s obvious intention was to let the man knife me and then use his men to force open—”
Lord Janaab hit me across the face with the back of his hand. The blow caught me completely by surprise, and I staggered backwards.
He picked up a wood staff. “Down on your knees.”
I knelt down, and he lashed out at me, beating my head and shoulders until I was prone on the floor and bleeding.
“Get up,” he said.
I rose, my whole body shaking. Blood flowed down the side of my face from an open gash across my head. I wiped at blood on my face and tasted it in my mouth.
“You are a commoner, but you speak and act as if you were a lord of the land. You have no right to judge the actions of those above you. You can report what you see, but only I will judge the actions.”
He tossed aside the bloodied staff.
“You were right in not expressing your suspicions to Flint Shield. You erred enough in implying that he had acted cowardly.”
He gave me a long look.
“The beating was to teach you not only never to repeat to anyone what you told me, but never to even think of such things about a High Lord. The War Lord commands more status than even I, who am favored by the king. If a word of this accusation passed out of this room, you would cause problems for me, and not even the king would stop the War Lord from having you flayed before the priests cut out your heart.
“Most of all, you must remember your place. Common people tell stories of your slaying of the jaguar as if you were a man-god, but the nobles know that you slew the beast because your years of hard labor gave you powerful muscles. Many nobles are angry at me for making you a member of my household. They have asked me to send you back to the village of stoneworkers because you have embarrassed them.”
Lord Janaab paced for a moment, pursing his lips. “Regardless of your impressions, which do not count, something unusual did happen this morning. The drums you beat warned us of the attack, yet the battle for the ceremonial center gate was all but over by the time Flint Shield and his men got there. I don’t know if the king noticed it. But I will make sure he realizes it.”
He gave me another look, nodding, but it was a stare that went through me as if I were just part of the furniture. “The War Lord suggested that Flint Shield remain back at the palace. He recommended his son stay, because of the uprisings and food riots that have been occurring. He wasn’t aware that the king had come to suspect Prince Jaguar Paw of plotting against him, and it all would have worked out perfectly for the intruders if you had not left the palace early and saw the gate open. Most of the army is en route to the Flower War with Cobá.”
He expected no comment from me, and I had none. My head still rang from his beating. Lord Janaab had no more gratitude toward me than if I had been a dog that had thrown itself at the jaguar. Perhaps less—his pet dog would guide him through Xibalba after he dies.
He gave me a dark look. “There are ways that this matter of Flint Shield can be dealt with, but none to which you are privy. No word of this leaves the room,” he warned me again.
I nodded.
“You’d best leave the city for a while. Right now Flint Shield’s rage is that of an angry fire mountain god. If your suspicions are true, you won’t live long, anyway. A blade will find its way to your back to silence your tongue.” Lord Janaab shrugged. “That may happen anyway. Your insult to Flint Shield will have to be avenged. That means you will not live to a ripe old age.”
He spoke with the same emotion as he would have if his household majordomo had told him the price of maize had risen.
He paced some more. “There is a task for you to do. There is a man I want you to speak to in Tulúm.”
My eyes and mind lit up. Tulúm was a city on the seacoast. An important city, it was a place to see and learn about—before Flint Shield exacted the revenge Lord Janaab was so certain he would.
“The man in Tulúm is a slave who tells a strange story of living in a tribe of people, which was lighter skinned than we are and worships mightier gods than ours. I am told that his skin is indeed lighter than ours and that he and his light-skinned companions washed ashore after their boat sank in a storm.
“Moreover, he boasts that warriors from his tribe will someday come with boats big as palaces and spears that travel a hundred times farther than our own.”
“He’s a madman!” I said.
“Without a doubt, and his insane ravings seem to flow as quickly as water into a cenote.”
“What is it you wish me to speak to the man about?”
“The king has great curiosity about him. He makes claims that his powerful gods will vanquish our puny ones.”
“Eyo! And he hasn’t been painted red!”
“Most of his companions were, but he was spared because the headman of the village, who found him, believed gods were speaking through his lips.”
People who said crazy things and acted oddly were believed to be possessed by the gods and exempt from sacrifice.
“The king wonders if the gods of the man’s tribe are causing our crops to fail.”
“The king believes the stranger’s gods are more powerful than ours?”
“Of course not!” His expressi
on went dark again, and he looked to the staff he had beaten me with. For a moment, I thought he was going to pick it up and hit me again.
He got control of himself and spoke in a calm, flat voice. “Pakal Jaguar, those lips of yours that flap like a flag on a windy day. They are a threat not just to yourself but also to me. Servants cannot say such things.”
“Yes, my lord,” I said with humility I didn’t feel but did not dare not show.
“The king wonders whether the man’s gods have loosened some demons in our region. That is all. Go to Tulúm and speak to the light-skinned slave. Six Sky will go with you.”
I started to leave and turned back as Lord Janaab spoke.
“If you had not left the palace earlier than usual this morning, you would not have found the gate open and called out the alarm. The news of your gift of prophecy again will spread like wildfire.”
“I found the gate only because I wanted to get ahead of the day’s heat.”
“Perhaps,” Lord Janaab mused. “But it has happened before, so heed this warning: If you have the gift of prophecy, look to your own future, because the admiration you get from some will be a blade from another. Bear this in mind—Jeweled Skull was also said to have the gift. And where he is now?”
Dead or in hiding was the answer that stayed with me as I left the High Lord’s chamber.
39
Because the king of Tulúm paid tribute to Cobá, which was engaged in a Flower War with Mayapán, we traveled as merchants from Uxmal.
We had six porters with trade goods as a cover for our journey. For merchandise, we selected crudely carved, inexpensive wooden images of Chaac because the carvings would not tempt thieves.
“The king of Tulúm each year sends Cobá slaves for sacrifice, dried fish, and cacao beans,” Six Sky explained. “He would not dare seize Mayapán merchants during normal times, but the Flower War makes it permissible. Besides, we have more to fear from bands of thieves than we do from kings.”
We left before dawn, quickening our stride to put as much distance between ourselves and any possible assassins Flint Shield might have sent to dog our trail. Tulúm was a five-day walk with porters, and we wanted to make it in four.
Only Six Sky and I bore weapons—daggers and short obsidian swords. The porters were hired from groups that hung out in the marketplace and knew nothing of our mission.
I knew little about the mission myself. Talk to a madman about which demons the gods might have unleashed upon the land? Still, I was content to leave the city, visit new lands, and get away from the treachery of the royal court.
Exiting the city was more complicated than I had thought. Because the incident at the ceremonial center gate had enlarged my reputation, I was unable to walk the streets anonymously.
I felt sorry for the people who viewed me as a hero and a prophet. Times were desperate, and people were growing more frightened as food supplies dwindled. Farmers accused of hoarding maize to feed their families were executed, and the city-dwellers routinely rioted as the price of food went up in direct proportion to the lack of it.
People needed a savior in times of trouble, and in each retelling of my adventures, they magnified my feats many times over. As my legend grew, people came to believe I was touched—even chosen—by the gods.
I carefully covered my facial claw marks with makeup and hid my claw necklace. I awoke Six Sky in the wee hours and told him we were leaving now rather than waiting for dawn.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because His Lordship commands it,” I lied.
That was enough to stop any questions, even though it wasn’t exactly true. Lord Janaab had not instructed me on how to proceed other than to tell no one my purpose.
Six Sky was not privy to either the reason for the sudden trip to Tulúm or the fear that Flint Shield would avenge himself on me, but I knew he suspected why we were leaving the city under cover of darkness: I had offended the nobleman.
When Six Sky started to leave by the main door to the High Lord’s palace, I stopped him because assassins would expect me to leave that way.
“We’re using the back door,” I said.
To his annoyed “Why?” I gave the same response—the High Lord commands it—and received the same blind obedience.
What a life the nobles led, surrounded by servants whose tended to their every whim.
“It’s not safe going through the city at night,” Six Sky complained. “Hungry people would murder us for a few beans.”
“I’m more worried about the ones who kill for pleasure,” I said under my breath.
Under ordinary circumstances, as commander of the High Lord’s guards, Six Sky could have kicked me like a dog any time he felt the urge, and while he had been my constant companion since leaving the village, he was not a person in whom I could confide.
I had made no other friends. The people in the High Lord’s household treated me with a mixture of awe and fear, while others sought my ruin, even my life. Not having friends made me lonely and sometimes frustrated because I could not share my thoughts. When Six Sky talked about punishing hungry people who were rioting, I wanted to point out to him that no lords would be found among those crying for food to feed their families.
Even the servants suffered from the food shortages. After Lord Janaab’s lavish feasts for the city’s rich and powerful, the servants previously could eat all the leftover food. Now, however, the staff’s food was rationed . . . even though the guests at the feasts still gorged themselves.
Out on the dark streets, we moved quickly, and again I surprised Six Sky with another diversion.
“We are not going out the west gate of the ceremonial center and the city,” I told him.
“What? The porters are meeting us at the city’s west gate.”
“We’re not using those porters. I hired another set, ones waiting for us at the south gate.”
He stared at me, his jaw hanging. He started to say something, but I turned my back on him and walked in the direction of the south gate. He grumbled under his breath but followed me.
My plan was simple: Get out of the city without being seen. Out on the open road and set as fast a pace as possible in the hope of outdistancing pursuers if I was indeed being followed.
As we passed under the torchlight of a guard’s station, I saw that Six Sky’s features were locked in anger. I decided the dog had been kicked enough for one morning.
“Lord Janaab has told me that there are people in our city who would like to see me dead. We’re leaving the city in a way that will prevent me getting a knife in my back.”
I don’t know what I said that struck him as funny, but he howled behind me with laughter. Perhaps he found the notion of people wanting to murder me not so much humorous as pleasurable.
As we went by the Temple of Love, I looked to the building atop it, knowing I would not see anyone up there while it was still dark, yet having yearnings I couldn’t control.
Before night fell yesterday, I sneaked out of the palace and walked around the temple, hoping to see the tall, slender figure of Sparrow among the priestesses who came out atop the temple for air or on errands. They were always fully clothed, but she would have stood out as taller than most of the others.
One of the prostitutes available almost anywhere in the city could easily have sated my lust, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie in the arms of a stranger.
Even worse, knowing from personal experience that the priestesses often teamed up to give a man pleasure, I tormented myself by imagining Sparrow joining the High Priestess to make love with Flint Shield.
Eyo! . . . Obviously I deserved all the beatings Lord Janaab gave me and then some. Why else would I allow myself to be jealous of a slave girl making love to a High Lord? I was no doubt more demented than the stranger in Tulúm who talked about boats as big as palaces.
40
We met our merchandise carriers at the rendezvous grounds for porters outside the south gate of the city, and I i
mmediately set a quick pace, telling the porters that their wages would be doubled if they were able to maintain the pace I set.
Six Sky exposed his curiosity as to why I was being sent to Tulúm again by fishing for information. He asked if I would be inspecting the inscriptions in the coastal city.
I merely grunted an evasive reply rather than tell him that I had been warned by the High Lord not to disclose the reason to him. Besides, I felt no need to give him any answer.
Eyo! I am merely a lowly stoneworker turned hero. Who am I to decide whether to tell a lie or not?
We were two hours out of the city when disaster struck: Six Sky twisted his ankle and fell. When he got up, he began hobbling.
I didn’t know what to do. All my maneuvers to get out of the city and to Tulúm safely were being jeopardized.
“I’m sorry, Pakal Jaguar. You should go on without me.”
I couldn’t. And I cursed myself for my stupidity. The main route to Tulúm took us toward Cobá. To avoid the war zone, we had to turn off. I had not chosen porters who regularly made the Mayapán-to-Tulúm run, but simply picked porters who appeared best able to maintain the fast pace I wanted.
I felt no loyalty to Six Sky. For a certainty, I felt none that would make me risk my life for him. I would have left him to hobble behind us, but only he knew the route we must take.
“Let’s get moving,” I told him.
I made a decision that at the next village we came to, I would hire porters to carry him on a litter. They would not be able to carry him as fast as I wished to move, but it would be faster than the lame pace he maintained.
Later that afternoon, a few minutes’ walk from a camp where merchants gathered for mutual protection for the night, Six Sky halted us, telling me he had to relieve himself.
I was tempted to tell him that he could piss as he limped, but went ahead and told the porters to drop their loads and rest.
After Six Sky disappeared into the bushes, I paced, pondering the questions I would pose to the madman in Tulúm, when five men approaching us from the rear caught my attention.
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