The Emperor's Men 8

by Dirk van den Boom

  “It doesn’t sound unusual. Saclemacal is actually owing tribute to Mutal and has committed treason. That’s how you would act, noble Bahlam, if one of your tributes should orientate himself otherwise.”

  Bahlam laughed again, but this time it sounded happier. “I don’t blame Mutal. One small detail bothers me: Chitam, it is said, is now determined not to just punish Saclemacal, to humiliate the king there and replace him with a more pleasing one, to plunder properly and to take slaves – no, the intent is to conquer the city. Permanently. Manage its affairs directly, with no intention of ever granting her independence again.”

  Inocoyotl understood. He understood Bahlam’s fears too well. And he remembered why Teotihuacán was so happy that the Mayan kings were fully occupied with their own repetitive trades. Because if this wasn’t the case …

  “Chitam is ambitious,” Inocoyotl said finally.

  “He or those who stand behind him,” said Bahlam.

  “Yes, these strange alleged messengers of the gods.”

  “Supposedly or not, the fact that someone with special powers is fighting for Mutal is undisputed.”

  Inocoyotl nodded. “And what plan do you have, my king?”

  “An alliance.”

  “An alliance against Mutal.”

  “An alliance to march against Mutal, join forces before it marches against us.”

  Bahlam leaned forward, eyes narrowed into narrow slits, and fixed his eyes on the ambassador, who knew exactly what was coming.

  “This is a potential danger for the mighty Teotihuacán too!”

  “My master is undefeated and invincible,” Inocoyotl said almost automatically, but he still felt a little out of balance. He didn’t want to believe much of what Bahlam was saying. On the other hand, the king was apparently not one who was prone to hasty alarmism. He seemed to be a careful ruler who knew how to assess risks. It was clear that he believed the reports of his agents. And Meztli had sent him, his ambassador, here at that time. The conclusion was overwhelmingly clear.

  “Your city is powerful, more powerful than all of us,” Bahlam admitted, trying to sound somewhat respectful, an effort that Inocoyotl rewarded with a smile. “But if this attack on Saclemacal succeeds and turns into a tidal wave, it might be too late for all of us. After Saclemacal, Mutal will logically attack Tayasal or Yaxchilan, one of the other two cities that were involved in the original attack against Mutal. So we have a little time to make our own preparations and to position ourselves.”

  “Then we have to think of several strategies at the same time,” Inocoyotl heard himself say, and immediately noticed the satisfied smile on Bahlam’s heavy lips. But now there was no going back for him, he was part of the discussion, and he wasn’t sure if that was wrong at all. There was a feeling of a threat, the magnitude of which could not yet be properly estimated. As diffuse as it sounded, the fear that came with it felt real.

  “What do your ideas look like?” Bahlam asked.

  “First of all, I will send a messenger to my master with all the information you have just given me. I may have to tell him myself at one time so he can see the urgency of the matter.”

  “I want to provide an escort for this man, and he should travel quickly,” Bahlam said, nodding.

  “Then I have to inform myself about these things before I recommend my king to join an alliance against Mutal. I cannot step before my master, only armed with second-hand information. I have to see.”

  The fat king’s nod again. “I can understand that. It will not be too dangerous if you only act as an interested ambassador for Teotihuacán. In Mutal they are aware of your common history and feel connected to you. Chitam will speak to you, and you will be able to look around. I’ll give you the name of one of my agents, you can meet him on site, and he can tell you his view of things.”

  “A good idea, noble king, and I am grateful for it. But you should continue and consider how you try to defend yourself against Mutal. If an alliance is your target and you want to attack Mutal to avoid the looming danger, you need a commander-in-chief. You can imagine yourself taking this office?”

  Bahlam looked pensive as if he had never paid attention to this question. Inocoyotl, of course, didn’t believe that for a moment. “B’aakal is the most powerful of the cities that gather here. Popo’ alone can be regarded as equivalent, but the noble ruler has already indicated that he intends to leave the overall command to someone else.”

  Inocoyotl’s eyes fell again on the quietly seated man who hadn’t spoken a word before and nodded to him. He got a slightly bowed head to answer.

  The ambassador thought that he would not really be able to figure that man out.

  But he had expected Bahlam’s answer, and it was now up to him to deliver bad news to the king.

  “Noble Bahlam, your request is logical, because B’aakal is the first among the cities we are talking about. Of course, I don’t know yet whether my lord will join this alliance, but let’s assume he sees the danger as you do. When he declares himself as a full member of your alliance, it is clear at the same time, and I say this as someone who has served both him and his father for many years: My great sir will not accept anyone’s command except his own – exercised by himself or through one his generals, whom he will certainly send if he participates in this campaign.”

  Inocoyotl bowed his head in a gesture of respect. It was better to address this unpleasant fact straight away than to trigger conflicts later which, if everything was as urgent as described, could have very negative consequences.

  Bahlam looked at Inocoyotl, looking neither angry nor disappointed. “Ambassador, you must think I’m a fool.”

  “Not even remotely!” Inocoyotl replied.

  The rumbling, erupting laugh of the king was heard again. “I have the impression. I assure you, I am not. I am clear about who the king of Teotihuacán is and what rank he occupies in the structure of the world. If … I say it very clearly … if your Lord decides to march against Mutal together with us, I will leave him or his general in command and pray with him to all the gods, ours and yours, that they may give us victory – all of us.”

  Inocoyotl felt relieved and confirmed in his good judgment of Bahlam. Truly not a fool. And he had already considered this question very carefully. He bowed again. “A wise decision.”

  “I don’t claim wisdom. Security is my goal.”

  “Should I take part in your consultations?”

  “I don’t make that decision. You are, of course, invited. Your word will have weight. But if you have to make sure that everything I’ve told you is correct, you should leave while there is still the possibility of traveling peacefully.”

  “That sounds wise again.”

  “And again it’s all about security – yours in this case.”

  “The mighty Bahlam’s concern moves me.”

  The king liked to laugh, and so he did it again. However, he seemed genuinely amused and clapped his hands.

  “Excellent, Inocoyotl from Teotihuacán. You will be attending my banquet that I will be giving to all my guests tonight. And then do as you see fit.”

  “I’m traveling, but I’m leaving one of mine as an observer. He will not speak and take no position, but he will be my eye and my ear.”

  “So be it. Now you are wise, my friend.”

  Inocoyotl smiled softly.

  “I just want to be on the safe side.”

  Bahlam laughed loudly, with violent tremors in his body, and even the silent King of Popo’ managed to smile. Inocoyotl bowed again and found that the matter had gone well.

  Then he left.

  5

  Lengsley touched Sarukazaki’s shoulder. He was allowed this confidentiality. He had been working side by side with the technician for weeks, and it was as if two related souls had found each other. Across all linguistic and cultural differences, t
he two men shared a common passion for everything related to technical devices. Be it the complicated machinery of the boat, be it the much simpler things they tried to convey to the Maya, it was all engineering, and everything was equally important. There were some among the Maya who shared this passion, a strange mix of builders, artisans, scribes, and some young people who might not have been all of these, often sons of influential nobles. They had formed an informal circle around Lengsley and Sarukazaki, a group of students and teachers, because even the time travelers had to understand what their hosts knew before they could set out to teach them anything useful.

  It was always in the evening, and it was not always the same number of Maya who gathered around the two men, but the changes were minor. Lengsley and Sarukazaki had started to come up with something like a curriculum to be able to convey information in a targeted manner. Since this was entirely in line with Inugami’s wishes, who generally did not think much of the achievements of Mayan culture and saw a massive need for development, there was no danger of causing the Captain’s dislike.

  They had started to learn the numbers of the Maya themselves and how they did the math. In some areas the Mutalese were very advanced. Lengsley was only beginning to get an idea of what astronomical knowledge existed, but he was already impressed. He found understanding listeners as he began to work through formulas and calculations that he slowly introduced and ended his explanations immediately when he found that someone already knew the answers and could do it much better. In this way, he succeeded in exploring the scope of Mayan mathematics, which in many ways was the basis, above all, for the introduction to mechanics.

  Otherwise it was just fun. It was a pleasure to work with people who wanted to know something and who were able to use their previous knowledge correctly and build on it. Sometimes the evening discussion wandered and they left the topic that they had intended. As a rule, it remained with technical-scientific discussions, also on topics where even Lengsley and Sarukazaki had to resign at some point, since they knew little more about it than the Maya. But they were not resented for it. The questioners steadfastly probed the depth of their teachers’ knowledge, and soon they seemed to have gained an impression of where further inquiries were worthwhile and where not. Their respect didn’t seem to shrink. Of course, the teachers lost the nimbus of infallibility, but since neither the British nor his Japanese colleague had ever seriously tried maintain such and did not attach any importance to it, this did not particularly matter. With each lesson, apparent and actual differences blurred a little more.

  However, their lessons got a special quality when one evening Prince Isamu appeared with them, along with his teacher, the old Sawada. Lengsley did not lack respect, but Sarukazaki immediately became stiff, terribly formal, and hardly dared to look the boy in the face. Sawada just sat with the Prince, and they both listened to the conversation. They said nothing, and at the end, when everyone left the fire to sleep, Sawada came up to both of them and said, “The Prince will be attending your classes in the future, Brit. He needs instruction, and I’m busy with many other things that Captain Inugami told me to do. You will include His Highness in the conversation, and he will learn.”

  The way Sawada said it sounded like an order. Lengsley had no major reservations, Isamu seemed to be nice enough despite his parentage, and he had already learned a lot of the Mayan language. Sarukazaki, however, only turned pale when he heard Sawada’s words, and the first two evening sessions showed how uncomfortable he was, tense, excited, and unsure of how to behave properly. Lengsley was concerned about this and wasn’t sure how to help his colleague. Sarukazaki was of little use during these lessons.

  It was their Maya friends who solved the problem. The younger ones included Isamu in their conversations, first carefully, then with greater courage when the Prince was ready to respond to her request. This broke the ice for Sarukazaki, too, and since the Prince never complained when someone turned to him without being asked or even corrected him, the soldier relaxed visibly.

  Lengsley knew that Sawada was playing a dangerous game. Inugami had specifically ordered that the Prince be kept as far away from the “savages” as possible. He wanted to make the boy a god emperor, as Aritomo had explained to the British, exactly as he was meant to do, and in the spirit of the old shogunate – as a puppet and symbol of a power that was actually in the hands of the shogun, and who in turn intended to hold this office, there was no doubt for Lengsley.

  But Sawada seemed to want to use the opportunity that Inugami was in Saclemacal for his own plans. Since none of the crew dared to contradict the Prince and his wishes – an effect that the Captain may have underestimated –, he was able to gradually ensure that the Prince’s isolation was removed. The evening lessons with the intellectual elite of Mutal were as much a part of it as some other arrangements that Sawada had made in a subtle way.

  Aritomo didn’t seem to notice or didn’t want to notice. Lengsley assumed that he did not want to, since he had to enforce his orders in Inugami’s absence, at least in theory. And there were probably those for whom the first officer did not feel the necessary enthusiasm to enforce anything.

  Isamu thawed more every night.

  And it happened what Sawada would have intended.

  He found a friend – a young man, a year or two older than the prince, the son of a nobleman, who attended every evening instruction with his friends and had never been absent, and whose intent was no doubt to be more than just a member of the elite the city. His name was Ichik, and he was one of the first to speak to Isamu. The Prince discovered a fascination for Mayan architecture with him. One day when Lengsley saw the two boys standing in front of the Jaguar Temple as Ichik explained the intricacies of the building to him – and shortly afterwards the intricacies of some of the noble daughters of their age passing by –, it was clear to the Brit that there was no way back into isolation for the Prince. How would Inugami deal with it – and what drastic measures would he be ruthless enough to take in order to restore the status quo? And if he admitted, to think how would he take revenge on Sawada or even him, the suspicious Gaijin?

  This said something about Sawada that he hadn’t asked him beforehand, knowing that any possible consequence would hit him at least as hard as the old teacher. Both were, of course, indispensable to the captain in their own way. But that didn’t mean Inugami couldn’t make life very difficult for them. He was a calculating but also a vindictive man who did not shy away from violence in any form. There was a reason why King Chitam had sent his family to safety far from Mutal, out of the captain’s reach, and before they left for Saclemacal.

  Lengsley found himself thinking about his own escape options. It was not a good sign.

  It was one evening, the day the news of the triumph at Saclemacal reached their ears, when the group had been smaller than usual and lectures ended earlier. A violent tropical storm had wreaked havoc, and most of the usual guests had been busy repairing until the dark, so tiredness had prevailed over eagerness to learn. But Isamu, and with him his friend Ichik, had not missed the opportunity to attend Sarukazaki’s presentation of a model of a water mill. The Maya relied heavily on the strength of their muscles and had achieved something outstanding with it. But since they didn’t even use wheels for vehicles, they had underestimated hydropower, and Sarukazaki had made it its business to change that.

  The presentation went well; there had been questions and a request to repeat it again the next time everyone was there. The Japanese had been satisfied, and Lengsley had little to contribute as this was the technician’s show.

  He helped Sarukazaki disassemble his carefully constructed water mill and to safekeep the model for another demonstration, and only realized when they were done and the Japanese left with his treasure toward the accommodation that Prince Isamu and Ichik had waited until the end.

  The Brit felt almost alarmed against his will. He took a deep breath and smiled. �
�Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?” Lengsley said with a respectful tone. He couldn’t take the risk of claiming too much freedom. As a stranger among the Japanese as well as the Maya, his position was special, and he had to use the credit he had obtained on both sides with great care.

  “Mr. Lengsley, I’d be happy if you just call me Isamu – when we’re among us.”

  Ichik was apparently included in “among us,” and the fact that the Prince spoke to him in English – which he knew surprisingly well – was a sign that he was serious.

  “Good, Isamu … whatever you want. But if I accidentally ignore certain elements of expected etiquette, then –”

  “It is already forgiven,” the Prince replied, smiling.

  “So what can I do for you?”

  “I would like your opinion as an outsider.”

  Lengsley pressed his lips together briefly. Isamu did not act diplomatically, but on the other hand this word corresponded exactly to the thoughts he had just had himself. So why should he blame the young man? “My opinion on what?”

  “To my fate.”

  Lengsley immediately felt overwhelmed, and the alarmed feeling returned. The question was asked so clearly, without any self-pity, and there was a great deal of uncertainty behind it, but at the same time there was also self-knowledge about his own role – it was so much that he did not know at which level he should answer and why he was actually chosen to deal with this topic. He had, of course, talked to Aritomo about the Prince, and they had both agreed that Isamu was a poor guy who would find it very difficult to assert himself in the face of all the forces that were pulling at him. The boy had also started talking to Aritomo a few weeks ago, and Aritomo had told Lengsley about it in a nutshell. The Prince was looking for advice old Sawada obviously couldn’t give him.