The officer always had to remind himself not to underestimate his captain. Indeed, this had been unexpected. Aritomo remembered the way Inugami reacted to Balkun rather dismissive, critical, and degrading. But sometimes it was the right decision to put such a man in a position that would make him stand out from the crowd and create commitment.
In the best case.
Aritomo continued reading.
Then Inugami came to his future plans. Encouraged by the recent victory, he decided to continue the campaign immediately and not to return to Mutal. The next town on his list was Tayasal, a little further from Mutal, which would prolong his absence for some time. Only after that did he intend to take a break, to take a quick look at affairs back in Mutal before he finally incorporated the biggest chunk, the metropolis of Yaxchilan, which was only a little smaller than Mutal and which had had enough time to prepare for a defense. Possibly, however, if Tayasal turned out to be quick to conquer, the march toward Yaxchilan could be connected directly. He would inform Aritomo in due course.
Inugami’s letter ended with the instruction to continue “holding the ground” in Mutal, including “firm and determined action” against “inappropriate submissions” by King Chitam, who would now return to his hometown after defeating Saclemacal.
Aritomo dropped the letter. Chitam therefore would not participate in the continuation of the punitive expedition.
Had the King given up? Did he think he was wasting his time if he continued to be used as a symbolic figure for Inugami’s military maneuvers? Or did he want to take the opportunity to turn Inugami’s absence into an advantage for himself? And if the latter was true – did he expect Aritomo to stand on his side and possibly openly rebel against Inugami?
Aritomo felt dark clouds brewing above him, although the day was pleasant and bright. Decisions that he had put off for a long time cast shadows on him. Aritomo had to be sure of his allies and see where his enemies were. However, he was not so sure whether the two could be so clearly distinguished from each other. Neither did he want Chitam to become the captain’s puppet, nor did he want to combine his own fate with the wishes of the Mayan king.
He pocketed the letter without reacting to the curious glances of his comrades, refrained to inform them of its contents. Nobody would ask, they were all respecting the iron discipline of hierarchy. What the Captain told the First Officer was only for him until they got their orders. This kind of devotion protected Aritomo, who was faced with the possibility of having to or want to break this discipline.
He looked up.
“All is well. The captain was victorious and will continue the war. We have to continue here and await Inugami’s orders.”
Everyone nodded and looked satisfied. There were only a few here who questioned the Captain’s plans.
Aritomo frowned, as he got up and left the accommodation. He wanted a different approach. He could make it very easy for himself. Just obey. Participate in Inugami’s imperial plans. He would rule. It was inevitable that part of this empire would fall to him as a territory in which he could control and act as he wished. A very promising thought, and he was a little surprised that he did not immediately fell to this temptation.
When he left the building, four guards – two Mayan warriors and two members of the submarine crew – immediately joined him. They carried two of the few weapons they had, loaded and ready, determined to get rid of any potential threat. But today was obviously a peaceful day, for the crew of “messenger” anyway – Aritomo still had his problems with this term –, and so far no one was hostile to or behaved threatening.
His path led him to the palace, where, in the absence of the King, a council of nobles was in charge of the normal public affairs. Aritomo was familiar with these personalities in different ways, but knew that the informal presidency was occupied by the high priest Itzunami, who had been the first to receive English lessons and whose skills in that language had grown to a remarkable level since then. Aritomo, too, had not neglected his language lessons and was busy studying Maya. He didn’t know if he was actually progressing as well as his teacher – an old, weathered writer who had been sent to him personally for this purpose – always claimed. But he found himself in the situation of being able to understand more and more of everyday conversations, and had already started reading simple texts that his teacher repeatedly presented to him with patient persistence. So he actually learned something, and this knowledge brought him satisfaction.
Aritomo attended the council as a silent observer. He was asked his views often enough, but he was wise in holding himself back. He deliberately did not want to act like Inugami and left the daily business to those who in all likelihood knew a lot better about it. Today, however, the preparatory work was on the plan, with which the submarine could possibly be taken from the pyramid. It was becoming increasingly apparent that the ruined temple, the never completed tomb of Chitam’s father, would not withstand the constant pressure of the metal body for too long. At some point the building would sag, and there was a risk that it could cause major damage. This had to be prevented. It was not yet clear where the boat would ultimately go – maybe first into the large lake south of Mutal, at least this was the most likely solution –, but it had to get down from the temple, and as soon as possible. The other alternative was to build a new, more stable support structure under the boat, making it the city’s landmark forever, an option that Lengsley and Sarukazaki now secretly preferred.
The Maya did not shy away from this challenge. They were grandiose builders who thought on a large scale. They may have underestimated the weight of the boat, but they did not consider the operation to be impossible. The plans that Lengsley, Sarukazaki and their Mayan colleagues had drawn up were reminiscent of the construction of the Egyptian pyramids, with a trundle bed made of tree trunks, with many ropes and flanges, a lot of collective muscular strength from hundreds of workers, and a gentle lowering of the boat along the slope of the ruin until it came to rest on the large square in front of the building. Not a very ambitious plan, but one for which all kinds of preparations had to be made. In the end, it wasn’t even Aritomo who had to make the decision – as long as Mutal’s men were mostly deployed outside the city as warriors, there was a shortage of workers anyway. Those who were still here had to take care of the endless cycle of sowing and harvesting, because this time the losses due to the absence of the soldiers would not be offset by rich tribute of conquered cities. Inugami wanted to rule, and he knew very well that it did not help his legitimacy to deprive the subjects of what was necessary, especially to expose them to hunger. Therefore they couldn’t expect corn deliveries to Mutal, and accordingly the city had to continue to take care of itself.
Aritomo could easily enter the palace. Nobody dared to stop one of the messengers of the gods.
When he stepped into the throne room, which despite its pompous name seemed rather narrow and sometimes oppressive to the Japanese, some of the council members were already waiting. Aritomo immediately noticed that something was wrong – there was excitement, some faces were openly horrified, and others were angry, wildly determined to do something without being able to steer this determination in any way. When the congregation recognized Aritomo, High Priest Itzunami pulled away from the group and hurried toward him, his face covered in sweat, although it was comfortably cool here, protected by the thick sandstone walls.
“Master … have you heard the message?” he asked a little breathlessly.
“Which message? What happened?”
“The Queen! The lady Tzutz! The princesses – they’re all dead!”
The Japanese paused and took a moment to digest the words and make sure that he hadn’t misunderstood. Itzunami repeated, no less excited, and then Aritomo was sure to understand correctly.
He stared at Itzunami, unable to utter a word. He looked for a lie on the priest’s face, but there was nothing to be seen. Dead.
And Chitam was already on the way back after defeating Saclemacal, could arrive here every day, and what only …
Dead.
“How did this happen?” he managed to say. Itzunami wrestled with his hands, an expression of pure despair.
“Murder! An assassination, a robbery! All were slaughtered. Travelers have discovered the bodies on the road, and there are other traces that they were carried into the jungle. Blood there, too. It must have been days ago, because the corpses have already been digested by animals. Some are unrecognizable.”
The scope of this news rested on Aritomo like a heavy weight, and he closed his eyes for a moment.
“Are you sure they’re all dead? Nobody escaped?”
“We don’t know exactly how many people the Queen had with her. But her body is clearly recognized. We fear the worst for the children, but their bodies have not been found. Perhaps there is still hope and they have only been abducted. Mutal’s enemies, that’s for sure. But …”
Aritomo nodded. Itzunami didn’t have to say anything else. The Maya were willing to wage war against each other at all times and took advantage of these occasions when the time was right for them. But the kidnapping of children, the arbitrary killing of women without directly gaining political capital – and without prior provocation? This was rather uncommon, and in Mutal’s case, it was the first event of its kind. Aritomo had used the city’s historical records to improve his writing skills, and also his teacher had a soft spot for history and was happy to talk about the subject extensively.
That didn’t sound like the Maya.
But if that was the case, there was only one terrible alternative.
Aritomo had to sit down. But he couldn’t show any weakness. He was a messenger of the gods. They never got dizzy.
“The King must be informed immediately,” Itzunami said. “We’re sending messengers to Saclemacal!”
“The King is already on his way back here,” Aritomo answered weakly. “But yes, send the messengers, he must know as soon as possible. Are there any clues as to who is responsible for this act?”
Itzunami nodded grimly. “Yes, my lord. We found remains of clothing on site, two dead warriors who were not part of the Queen’s entourage. They wore traditional costumes and symbols from those of Yaxchilan. The dead king of that city still reaches for his enemies from the underworld. There must still be scattered subjects of this unworthy man on the way, hidden in the forest, probably the exact same people who set fire to the palace. All of this fits together too well to be untrue. But we won’t rest until the culprits are found. The King himself will not rest, not a minute. We’re going to search the jungle, we’re going to hunt them down, and we’re going to wage war on anyone who gives them shelter.” Itzunami looked at Aritomo inquiringly. “May I hope for the help of the messengers? Are you at Mutal’s side during this difficult hour?”
The first officer made an approving gesture. How could he have refused this request? He could only dispel or confirm his own, much more terrible, suspicions if he found out the truth.
“We want to do what we can do. But don’t expect miracles, priest. I am as horrified by this development as everyone else, and I am just as perplexed and desperate. The Lady Tzutz was an honorable and smart woman. Your loss weighs heavily. The King will descend into a very dark mood. Itzunami, you have to stand by his side and make sure that he doesn’t make any hasty decisions. He can be very impulsive. The warriors are out of town. He has to be careful.”
Itzunami laughed bitterly. “He listens to you more than me, messenger. You are the one who should speak to him. But I agree with you. Without Mutal’s military power, vengeance will not be possible. Inugami himself has to take matters into his own hands and restore the city’s honor.”
Aritomo nodded silently.
But what if it was the same Inugami that had soiled this very honor?
A speculation, certainly nothing else. But the gnawing doubt remained. He trusted the Captain to order the death of the royal family to upset Chitam – or to blame someone who hadn’t done it. Yaxchilan. How fitting. Another, even stronger motivation to take care of this metropolis, to prove the dishonor of the enemies and the moral superiority of Inugami. A double punishment, a just revenge, there was nothing better to push all of the city’s warriors to their best – and with a grand victory, mapped out by the gods, initiated by the new shogun, to cement the Captain’s legitimacy in a way that nobody would be able to do anything about it anymore.
Aritomo chided himself as being too hasty, too suspicious, and a fool who took conclusions out of thin air because they met his fears, perhaps also because he secretly wanted Inugami to be the man he thought he was.
This could lead to dangerous misjudgments.
“I’ll write a message to Inugami myself and send a messenger,” he said, and the priest nodded, obviously pleased to have someone else do the job. “You discuss everything else here, I’ll go back to our house to get it done right away.”
“We’ll let you know as soon as we know something new.”
“I’m grateful for that.”
Aritomo felt dismissed, although no one would have told him so. He saved everyone the embarrassment of having to look for more words of horror or sympathy, but said goodbye immediately and hurried back to the Japanese residence. His bodyguard wasn’t even surprised when he came out so quickly. The news had by now reached the soldiers, and while the two Japanese accepted the matter with equanimity, the Maya showed their dismay as well as their displeasure quite openly.
They hurried back.
Once at his destination, Lengsley was waiting for him. He too must have heard the news by now, because he immediately got down to business, pulled Aritomo aside, spoke in a lowered voice.
“What do we do?”
“Call Sawada. We have to hold council of war.”
“We have to.”
It took less than five minutes for the triumvirate to gather. Aritomo didn’t know how to start, so he didn’t object when old Sawada spoke first. His head was still buzzing. It was good if the others initiated their deliberations.
“It’s a disaster,” the old man said, clearly dismayed. “Inugami is going to be outraged.”
Aritomo frowned. Inugami would be outraged? Even if he was not responsible for this act, he would not be particularly angry about it, but would only try to do everything in his favor.
“The death of Lady Tzutz is something that particularly infuriates the Maya, and Chitam might become completely unpredictable,” he said. “We have to be careful not only of the political consequences but also of becoming victims ourselves. The assassination attempt on me shows that we don’t have only friends in this city.”
Sawada and Lengsley stared at Aritomo in disbelief.
“What are you talking about?” the Brit finally managed to ask.
“If Lady Tzutz was not murdered by the men of Yaxchilan –”
“I beg your pardon? The Queen is dead?” Sawada interrupted, eyes wide.
Aritomo suddenly grew cold. He took a deep breath. “Good. I notice that we may be talking past each other. I just learned that the Queen and her daughters were subjected to a cowardly attack. The Queen is dead, her daughters have disappeared. It suggests that Yaxchilan men are responsible for this act, and maybe that’s true. If but –”
He paused when Lengsley grabbed his upper arm. “Aritomo,” said the Brit with an urgent undertone. “It’s all terrible, sure. But Sawada and I have something else to discuss with you!”
“What? What else?”
The old man raised his trembling voice. He looked so battered that Aritomo involuntarily feared that he would collapse. But the teacher kept himself with iron self-discipline.
“Isamu has disappeared,” he finally said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“With notice,” Lengsley added. �
��I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t expect the Prince to act so quickly.”
Aritomo groaned and put his head in his hands. The third blow. He felt things slip away from him in such a fast way that he seemed to loose whatever he wanted to hold on.
“Lengsley,” he said half-desperately, half-reproachfully.
“I know. He spoke to me about it two nights ago. I only took it half seriously, the reverie of a young guy who wants to feel freedom. I wanted to discuss it with you in time, really, but there is so much to do, and we barely came across each other … it sounds like a bad excuse, I know …”
Sawada raised a hand and waved it off.
“If anyone is to be blamed, it is me. I have known the Prince longest and best of all of us. I should have recognized the signs much sooner. In retrospect … yes, I see it. But before that – I should have done something earlier.”
“But what?” Aritomo murmured softly, remembering his own conversation with the Prince. “But what could we have done that would do everyone justice?”
Sawada screwed up her lips.
“The Prince has duties. What his personal wishes are is second to his duty.”
Aritomo sighed. That was exactly what had led to this catastrophe. But it wasn’t helpful to argue with the old teacher, who, in his way, had only the best in mind for the boy.
“It worked in Japan but not here. It is not clear if what we consider to be our duty is actually valid,” Lengsley said. Aritomo nodded. Sawada was not happy with this answer, but that was exactly the problem.
“When did he disappear?”
“Apparently at night. His bodyguard only noticed it now that he didn’t show up for breakfast.”
“Where? Are there any traces?”
Sawada and Lengsley shook their heads.
“Is he traveling alone?”
“No. His friend Ichik appears to be with him.”
Friend? Aritomo hadn’t even noticed Isamu had made friends. He scolded himself a fool. What stupidity. He had been careless.
The Emperor's Men 8 Page 6
