by Ken Hansen
So then he should not be surprised, even by this tale of wise men from the sea. But was this story another cause of the differences between these two worlds or just another effect of an earlier deviation? And, worse yet, he could not know which world was real and which was fantasy. The duality became incomprehensible and seemingly pinched every neuron in his brain. He had to find the answer before it split him in two. He had to find the right path or die trying. Is Isa the answer? With that thought, the pain vanished.
The Emperor was saying, “Very thoughtful, Isa. I see you appreciate that the wise men also serve as a metaphor for my efforts to shift the paradigm of this ancient world. Many do not understand that I seek to modernize us with an infusion of technology and understanding from abroad. They hold to their old ways. But this is a large empire with so many parts that have long been corrupt. Sometimes the people may be made to follow a path of action, but they may not be made to understand it.”
Isa regarded the Emperor. “You seek to transform your country. I seek to transform your people’s souls. I wish you well, but I see no place for us in this palace. I care not about any political influence, nor do I believe politics can truly promise man anything but sorrow. Change in society comes not from those who govern but from the hearts of the governed. Any other change will soon devour itself.”
“You are wise to say this, Isa,” replied the Emperor, “and I begin to wonder if you have studied Confucius as well. For the master once said, ‘To put the world in order, we must first put the nation in order; to put the nation in order, we must first put the family in order; to put the family in order, we must first cultivate our personal life, we must first set our hearts right.’”
Isa smiled. “Well, he did have a way with words. Perhaps even he had a little guidance from above?” The two laughed. Isa looked at Tomadus. “Tomadus, you have been very quiet. I thought politics and technology would be of great interest to you.”
“I am sorry,” said Tomadus, “so they are. I have been distracted by the odd convergence of two worlds—but perhaps only in my own mind.” He noticed the Emperor looked at him with a kind of wonder in his eyes. Tomadus thought about the Emperor’s comment on the East Asian Empire and recalled the warning from the First Consul. “I do have a question for you, Your Highness, if I may?”
“Of course.”
“You spoke of your renewal of Chinese culture and your renewal of ties with the East Asian Empire. Is that what concerns the Three Empires?”
“You know of this fear because of your friends in high places, no doubt. Remember, Tomadus, a man’s position need not reflect his inner qualities, and you should have no friends not equal to yourself. Nonetheless, let me answer your question. I suppose our ties to the East may concern them, but I think they may be more worried about our little cultural revolution here. Your friends in Roma and the Three Empires fear change more than anything. Their power is built on the vestiges of the past, and they fear that change will eventually topple them.”
“How so?” asked Tomadus. “Forgive my forwardness, but as an Aztec emperor are you not also a symbol of stagnation after a millennium of imperial rule?”
“I can see how you might think so, but recall that I came to power by overthrowing a weak and corrupt man who was allowing our empire to shrivel up and die. Those who supported me then still understand the need to revitalize our world and look beyond the concept of empire.”
Yohanan perked up and asked. “Beyond empire? Do you seek other ways of governance?”
“You do not believe I signed on for life, do you?” asked the Emperor.
“Is that not the way of emperors?” Yohanan asked carefully. “Most only leave power when they leave the Earth.”
“That has been the paradigm, I’m afraid. I want to change that.”
“Why?”
“Well, who will govern when I am gone?”
Yohanan replied, “Your oldest son—is that not the system employed by monarchies and many dictatorships?”
“No, I have no sons, nor am I capable of producing any offspring. And if I did, is it not possible they would not be up to the task?” He looked over at Tomadus. “Following the ancient tradition from Roma, I suppose I could adopt someone as my heir to the throne, but why? It is all the same. I cannot anticipate how my successor will rule once I am gone.”
“Why? Can’t you select someone you trust who will not change after your death?” Tomadus asked.
“One certainty is that people always change. They must, for the world changes around them, and should they foolishly choose not to change, they would change all the more.”
“I don’t understand,” Yohanan said.
The Emperor sat back. “Let me see if I can make it plain. Such a person is like a stubborn, inexperienced sailor who must travel due east to reach a particular port. He sets out and finds himself lucky enough to have a perfect tail wind from the west for a full week. He makes such great progress that he begins to congratulate himself on his excellent handling of his sailboat. But then the wind shifts and blows directly from the east. Now, instead of adjusting his tiller to begin to tack his ship toward the east, this foolish and stubborn sailor says to himself, ‘No, this method I have used in the past has worked well for me, so I will not change.’ Eventually, despite the tiller, the wind and waves toss the bow of the boat around and he begins heading due west, back from whence he came. In his confusion and proud of his ways, the sailor smiles and says, ‘See, I have not changed and I am sailing smoothly again. I was right; I know that if I keep my tiller straight I will always sail true. But I must say that I am very disappointed in the sun, which has succumbed to the vagaries of the world and now rises in the west and sets in the east.’”
The four men laughed heartily. Isa said, “Thank you for this fine, humorous tale. It makes your point so well.” Isa turned toward Tomadus and Yohanan and spoke in a very serious tone, “The Emperor shows true insight, for this story reveals another meaning as well. I am the sun. You are the sailors. The winds are the many good, evil and unknown forces that affect this world. For each of you, the tiller is your own personal experience before we met. Now I say to you: follow not the way of the tiller, even if it has served you well, for your reliance upon it can make you a fool. No, use the tiller as it is intended—as a tool, but always find your way again by looking to see where the sun rises, for the sun will never lead you astray.”
Tomadus stared at Isa and took a deep breath. I want to believe him, but he demands something I cannot give: unconditional loyalty. Were he and Yohanan to follow Isa even if their experience told them Isa was wrong, or worse, insane? It had been too much to ask. I hope Isa will never lead us astray, but what if he does?
The Emperor had remained silent and seemed to be contemplating Isa’s proclamation. He opened his arms, palms toward the sky, and said, “Isa, you are indeed wise. Do you intend these words for me as well?”
Isa looked at the Emperor and smiled. “Though all men can be sailors, some have no present cause to sail eastward.”
The Emperor laughed. “I’m afraid sailing is out of the question for me right now. But someday, who knows, a trip may be well earned or even necessary. For now, I seek a way to keep this empire from imploding when I sail away. As I said, Yohanan, everyone must change, so I choose not to put my assurances in the promises of any one individual. I must find another way.”
Yohanan raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. “Have you considered democracy? It is the most resilient form of government over time, for it does not rely on any one man but on all the citizens.”
“Well, I don’t know if you mean a true democracy or a mere republic, but both have been tried and both were quite flawed and short-lived. Your precious democracy killed Socrates, did it not? And the Romanus Republic flourished for far fewer years than your subsequent Romanus Empire. Is that not true?”
Yohanan responded: “Our democracy has survived for nearly two centuries. We think we’ve solved the problem
of the reckless majorities that killed Socrates by agreeing to minority rights and built-in checks and balances between parts of the government.”
“And it has worked well within your own little province of Amer—, uh, Tetepe, my friend, but have you Tetepians flourished? No, you survive only because behind the scenes we have prevented the Juteslams from wiping you out. And if you were to grow and no longer have a common enemy as your focus, your little factions would soon grow apart. Whether you like it or not, the wealthy among you would eventually assume the mantle of power over those less fortunate, all in the respectable guise of representing the people.”
Tomadus said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, Emperor, but did you say America?”
Looking a bit squeamish, the Emperor said, “No, I…I’m sorry, you must be mistaken. What is this thing you call America?”
“Perhaps I misheard. I am sorry.” But he had heard it. The Emperor did not want to admit it. Tomadus could not push the Emperor now in front of the others, or the man might just lock the truth within for good. “Please, go on.”
Yohanan took the cue, “Yes, Emperor, I am trying to understand you better. The people have the power to elect whomever they wish. Won’t they elect those who meet their needs regardless of the size of the nation or where the wealth resides? If the wealthy govern best, then the people will vote for them, but if they do not, then the numbers will be against them and they shall fall.”
“Hypothetically, I suppose you are right,” the Emperor acknowledged. “Yes, the poor have real power, but in the end they do not, they cannot, exercise it. Your statement assumes that all voters will understand the situation well and act accordingly. But the wealthy tend to control the diffusion of information in large societies, and leaders who win elections tend to discover that they need the rich to win future elections. In the end, apathy arises among the poor because they feel none of those who seek office will truly help them anyway. So the wealthy will always dominate representative democracies in the long run.”
Yohanan shook his head demonstrably.
“Oh, I understand,” the Emperor said, “the rich may allow the middle class to appear to control things for a time, but when interests of the wealthy are truly threatened, they will assume power again, directly or indirectly. It is no different in empires, you know. I can only remain in power as long as enough of the elite with money and power believe it is in their best interests. Without them, my government will eventually topple. So in the end, what is really the difference between empire and democracy?”
“The difference is that democracy makes people free,” Yohanan said. “If they make mistakes in selecting their rulers, it is a mistake of their own freedom. And if the wealthy have more power, they still choose, perhaps unwisely, to allow them to govern. But at least the people can feel they are free.”
The Emperor stroked his beard for a few seconds. “I wonder, what is worse for a people— to be blindfolded and not see the cage that surrounds them or to have their eyes uncovered so they know the ugliness of their jailor? Look, I do not disagree that democracy has a certain allure, but do not believe it is a panacea. Despots rule in democracies the same as in kingdoms, and often from behind the scenes. Democracy may well be right for Tetepe or some other nation. It may even be right for the Aztecs at some point. We have not yet decided that. But do not fool yourself into believing in the perfection of any form of government. The superior man does not set his mind either for anything or against anything. What is right he will follow.”
When Yohanan glared at the Emperor for a moment, Isa intervened, leaning over and grabbing Yohanan gently by the shoulders and saying in a low and slow voice, “Yohanan, your search is noble, but you search for answers to the wrong questions. Let government take care of itself, for governments are creations of men and will always remain the tools of their desires. Seek instead to change the hearts of men, and you will change the world.” Yohanan looked with wonder at Isa, turned his head and then nodded slowly with his eyes shut.
Tomadus stared at the Emperor. “Your Highness, you seem to have thought so deeply about democracy that it almost seems as if you have studied examples of it personally. Since neither the Aztec Empire nor the East Asian Empire has ever seen it practiced, how have you come to this knowledge?”
The Emperor stared at Tomadus for a few seconds, apparently searching for something in his eyes. “It is true that there are not many examples to study. Perhaps I have formed an opinion too quickly without sufficient empirical evidence. I shall give that greater thought in the future. Thank you, Tomadus.” The Emperor rose. “A fitting way to end this delightful and illuminating conversation, but now I must return to the drudgery of governance. Know that you are welcome to visit all of our empire, including our remaining territories to the north, whenever you see fit. I shall grant each of you a Letter of Transit that will allow you in any of our territories. Perhaps our paths will cross again someday, though I cannot sail east with you as yet.”
The other men stood. “Before we part, please take heed, Isa of Palestine,” the Emperor added. “In Roma and the Three Empires, danger may well await you and your followers. Most men of power do not tolerate novel ideas as well as I. They fear what they are unwilling to understand. If not removed, their fear saps their minds like an insidious poison. It renders them weak, consumes their thoughts, and blinds them to the consequences of their actions. They think only of how they must eliminate that fear at its source. If strong enough, a drowning man in the depths of fear will pull his potential savior under and kill them both, never realizing, if he had only conquered his fear, he might have been saved.”
Isa nodded. “Thank you, Emperor. I am quite aware of this danger. Nevertheless, I must follow the will of my Father in Heaven.”
“Then follow His will you must, but take care to watch out for enemies.” The Emperor paused and looked directly at Tomadus, “Tomadus, protect him.”
The Emperor clapped his hands and his guards reappeared. As Yohanan and Isa were led out, Tomadus hung back. “Your Highness. May I speak with you alone for a moment?”
“Of course.”
“I need to ask you something,” Tomadus said. “But I’m afraid you will think me mad.”
“The man who asks may be a fool for the day, but the man who never asks will be a fool for life.”
Tomadus looked up. But will the fool for a day be put in a derangement ward in the Aztec Empire? No, he knows about the other world. Take the risk. Slowly and calmly, he said, “America.”
The Emperor sighed, “I believe we have had this conversation.”
“Do you know of the Light? The Light of Our Yesterdays? Have you seen visions of the other world?”
The Emperor pinched his lips together for a few seconds, staring back. Then he spoke softly. “Tomadus, I can tell you are capable of seeing many things. That is wonderful. Everything has beauty but not everyone can see it. Perhaps you can see more beauty than others. I cannot answer your question, but allow me this warning: be careful, for what I said to Isa would apply doubly to you if you repeat whatever visions you may have had to the wrong people.”
“You asked me to protect Isa. How am I to do that, and how do you really know he is in danger?”
The Emperor held up his hand. “Look, I have said what I have said. Remember, a man should study the past so he can define the future. And if a man were fortunate enough to study even more than the past, then what a future he could define! Farewell.”
A guard ushered Emperor Acamapichtli X to a doorway that opened to another room and then closed behind him.
Chapter 53
The repetitive sway of the train car closed Yohanan’s eyes and nearly delivered him into a well-deserved sleep. It had been difficult to contain his sadness when he had parted with Isa and Tomadus at the aeroportus in Tenochtitlan at the close of their winter together in the Aztec Empire. The sadness compounded with the growing weariness from walking so many miles every day, the southern Aztalan sun b
lazing down on his back, to bring Isa’s message to so many who had never before even heard of the God of Abraham. Still, his spirits had soared during this goodbye when Isa had put his hands on Yohanan’s shoulders and said, “You are in our Father’s hands now, but I will be with you always. I know you shall walk a path of peace, for you will prepare my way.”
Yohanan had asked, “And how shall I do this?”
Isa had answered, “When you follow the rising of the sun, Yohanan, you shall lead the rising of the sun, and you will find your way home.”
Home—he had now almost reached Shenandoah. Shenandoah had no landing strips for aeronaves that had not been bombed out for years, so he had flown to New Hedeby and boarded this train that would take him through several Juteslam-controlled cities and ultimately to his home. As a Tetepian, he was required to sit near the front of the train, where the noise of the locomotives could be deafening. He might find a way to move toward the back after the last Juteslam stop in Lodbrok.
A door slammed, and a man said, “Tickets and papers please.” Yohanan opened his eyes and handed over the documents to the conductor, who gave him a stern look, ripped the ticket and returned the passport marking Yohanan as a lowly Jewish Tetepian. Well, at least they still let him travel. He would change all of this. It may take years, but it would change. He would find a way.