The Emperor's Men 8

by Dirk van den Boom

  Mutal was big, and in a way it was home.

  Inocoyotl smiled at the thought, as he saw the first outline of the metropolis through the morning mist. They had marched hard, and the soldiers of the Divine Ruler had proven themselves worthy companions. No word of complaint had come over her lips, no groaning or shaking their heads when Inocoyotl had ended the all too short night’s sleep. It was clear to everyone that the ambassador of the Divine was among them. Because of his position, he could have insisted that he be carried in a palanquin, but Inocoyotl felt neither sublime nor frail enough for it. So if the old man set such a pace, who should complain about the hard march?

  It had become clear to everyone that the more general exploratory expedition to maintain neglected diplomatic contacts had become something else and that their protégé, commissioned directly by the God King, did not drive them forward for no reason. His success was their test, and not one of the men under Queca’s command wanted to be accused of failing to meet expectations.

  As if the officer had noticed that Inocoyotl had thought of him, he appeared next to the ambassador.

  “Should I send a messenger ahead?”

  “No. Let all the signs and banners be raised, let us march loudly and audibly, and let us show the greatest discipline. Teotihuacán does not announce himself. We once conquered this city and appointed its ruler, whose successor is now on the throne. This city owes us respect, and if it doesn’t show it, we’ll know where we’re at.”

  “Yes, my lord!”

  This answer was entirely to Queca’s taste, Inocoyotl could see that. With this approach, he took a calculated risk. If these strange messengers of the gods reigned the city indeed, their reaction would show whether they were willing to take political considerations into account or whether they acted in a grandeur that gave an outlook on their future behavior. In that case, there was only hope that they could get away alive.

  When they approached the city at a steady pace and the first families on the outskirts of the city were awakened from their sleep by their march, Inocoyotl was able to take a look at the mysterious object that was perched on a pyramid in the city center that had not yet been completed. At first, the view was only occasionally possible; when they entered the wide access road that would lead them straight to the center, it was hard to miss. It spoke for the men from Teotihuacán that they neither stopped and showed confusion, nor began to question their orders. Their march did not slow down and the discipline did not weaken. The searching looks that kept falling on the mighty, black appearance were filled with doubts and sometimes fear. Inocoyotl himself felt a certain feeling of anxiety. It was one thing to be provided with agent’s reports about this miracle and the seemingly fantastic development, it was quite another to be able to convince oneself of the truth. No exaggeration but reality – and it didn’t need any verbal decoration. Even the king of Teotihuacán, Inocoyotl was now certain, would be impressed by this … thing, whatever it was supposed to represent.

  And it became clear to him that until now he had been secretly hoping that the rumors and stories would turn out to be exactly that, only rumors, which on closer inspection turned out to be absurd. A hope that he had not become aware of and that he now noticed where it was disappointed. It would have made everything a lot easier if the King of Mutal had simply become a little megalomaniac. One could got along with that.

  The closer they marched, the more the damage from the fight against the soldiers from Yaxchilan was visible. A lot had been repaired, and construction sites were still recognizable. Of course, there was destruction during a battle, but the fact that entire walls of palaces had collapsed … that was rather unusual, unless the builders had already made major mistakes in the construction, which Inocoyotl did not want to expect from Mutal.

  A great force had left these traces and once again underpinned the reports he had read. His disappointment was now almost palpable.

  Then the first men in the city came straight up to them, some with sleep in their eyes. Inocoyotl recognized priests and high-ranking nobles, hurriedly dressed up to receive the noble guest, and an honor guard who was seen to have been recruited from a night watch and was in urgent need of rest as well.

  Inocoyotl hid a smile. The effort deserved respect. He had wanted to provoke this or a comparable reaction. And it was probably not the intention of the city’s elders to immediately throw him to the gods for food. That was comforting.

  He saw only the familiar faces of Mutal’s residents, no one unusual. There was apparently none of the messengers among the small group of notables that greeted him. Of course, he didn’t know exactly how to recognize them, but the agent reports said they were distinctly different from the Maya.

  Maybe they waited in the background.

  Maybe they just hadn’t woken up yet.

  Messengers of the gods who got up late and enjoyed sleeping in immediately lost their spiritual significance.

  A lean priest came to meet him, bowed low, and spread his arms.

  “Itzunami from Mutal greets the visitor from Teotihuacán!”

  Inocoyotl nodded slowly. “Inocoyotl, Messenger of the Divine Ruler, greets the children of the city!”

  Itzunami didn’t even flinch when Inocoyotl called him the “child of the city.” Even though Teotihuacán’s sovereignty over Mutal was based only on historical events that had long been forgotten by many, it was clear that someone at a higher hierarchical level visited one below him. This did not mean that a King of Mutal would take any orders without good cause. It just said that the protocol was followed as long as it didn’t cost too much.

  In any case, Itzunami seemed to be of the correct opinion that politeness was not a major investment and that one could therefore dispense it freely, an attitude that Inocoyotl shared.

  “Your visit is both a joy and a surprise,” said the priest, waiting for his companions to complete all of their bows before continuing. “Our king is out of town. In his absence, this council rules. I can speak for him in all modesty. But soon Chitam will return, and you can confer with him directly. Until then, let us cater for you.”

  Inocoyotl nodded. The notables that had met him here were not just nobles. They were the city’s current rulers. But what role did the messengers of the god play? Had the spies exaggerated in their descriptions?

  “I’m coming unannounced but not unintentionally,” Inocoyotl replied, waving toward the black device beginning to cast a shadow in the morning sun. “The news of strange events has reached the ear of the Divine Ruler,” he lied on, without flinching. “I was sent to marvel at the miracle and report to my master. I hope Mutal will not be burdened with that.”

  “How can a visit from our older brothers be a burden?” Itzunami replied smoothly, picking up on the family issue the emissary had started with, just with the nuance that he made the residents of Mutal not younger children but younger siblings, a note that Inocoyotl didn’t miss. He smiled contentedly. The old priest did not play the game badly, and he was always happy when he came across a worthy interlocutor. He bowed out of genuine respect for the delegation. Indeed, these were Teotihuacán’s children.

  “I’m ready to be enlightened about the events by you, if you like to,” he said. “The king is gone, you say?”

  “We expect him back every day. He was on a campaign against our neighbors in Saclemacal. You must have heard of the cowardly attack by that alliance led by cursed Yaxchilan. Saclemacal was one of them and received the just punishment.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” said Inocoyotl in a neutral tone. When Itzunami uttered the name of Yaxchilan, his hatred had been clearly audible, neither masked by diplomatic restraint nor by courtesy to the guest. Whatever had happened here, Inocoyotl was certain that Yaxchilan was due and that no one would be able to prevent the Mutalese from executing their revenge. There was nothing wrong with that – as long as the previous customs were ad
hered to. Conquer, loot, appoint a subservient ruler, agree on a tribute, withdraw. If nothing more than that happened, Mutal was in its rights and didn’t need to be blamed.

  “You are warmly welcome in the new palace. It is still under construction, but we will definitely be able to offer you a suitable guest quarters.”

  “The old palace –”

  “Has burned out and will be destroyed.”

  Inocoyotl raised his eyebrows. This detail hadn’t been in the reports, so it must have been recent. “A fire got out of control?”

  “Arson.”

  “What happened?”

  Itzunami made a face. “A first attempt ultimately failed. But a second attempt was successful. We mourn the death of the queen and the disappearance of the two princesses.” He looked openly at Inocoyotl. “When the king returns, he may not be in a good mood, and it may well be that his company is not as pleasant as you expect. If this happens, I would like to apologize for it already.”

  Inocoyotl was calm. Events developed quickly and obviously not going for the better. It was the right decision to travel here and get an idea of the situation.

  “I offer my sincere condolences to the people of Mutal,” he said and tried to give his thoughtful expression a glimpse of grief. “A shameful act, and I pray that the cowardly perpetrators will be brought to justice.”

  “Thank you. If you want to follow me.”

  Inocoyotl, along with Itzunami, trotted toward a large building, some of which was still under construction, which gave an idea of the likely outline of its completion, but which still had a lot to be done. After all, in addition to the still blackened remains of the burned-out part, a new audience hall had been erected, and Inocoyotl saw with satisfaction that the city leaders had used the welcoming conversation to press ahead with the preparations for his reception. In any case, a new guard of honor was selected, and the scent of the opened kitchens suggested that work on a proper meal had already begun.

  They entered the audience room. Like all Maya rooms, it was relatively narrow. At its head was an orphaned throne waiting for its king. In addition to Itzunami, some members of the welcoming committee had gathered, while Inocoyotl had only asked for Queca to come with them. He gave up a bodyguard as a sign of his trust in his family here in Mutal.

  And then he met the first messenger of the gods – or rather two, who were also waiting in the hall and who were immediately recognizable as strangers by their appearance and clothing. Inocoyotl was introduced to a young and an old man, both of whom wore tight-fitting garments that precisely encircled their limbs. The young man’s clothing was additionally decorated with all kinds of symbols that hardly interrupted the monotony. The old man wore black robes that were devastatingly uniform and gave him a very austere appearance. Both of them demanded respect by their appearance alone, but Inocoyotl was warned not to attach importance to such things too much.

  “This is Aritomo Hara, second of the messengers of the gods. His master, the captain of the black vessel, is on the campaign that I have already told you about,” Itzunami introduced the younger one. The man named Hara bowed, showed insecurity in the presence of the guest, and didn’t look half as superior and powerful as one might have imagined.

  “The messengers fight for Mutal?” Inocoyotl said. He did not miss the brief hesitation before the priest answered.

  “Yes, they fight with us and have brought us victory, twice already,” Itzunami said then, and although it sounded honest – and according to the envoy’s knowledge it was –, Inocoyotl felt that this was not the whole truth.

  “Here is Master Sawada, the great teacher,” was the old man’s turn.

  “I greet the envoy from Teotihuacán,” the man said in slightly broken Maya, and bowed. “I’m excited to learn about your city.”

  Inocoyotl felt no distrust here. If Sawada was the great teacher, then he was also the great student, because he believed that one went with the other. Sawada’s interest was sincere, and Inocoyotl’s only problem was that these “messengers” pretended to know nothing or very little about his city, a fact that was really hard to believe. Teotihuacán was known, respected and feared all over the world. What kind of gods were they who didn’t even give their emissaries the most necessary information along the way?

  “I’ll be happy to answer your questions,” he said with a noncommittal tone and was finally asked to sit on a stone bench.

  Itzunami knew exactly what was expected of him. In the emerging silence, he began to describe the events of the past weeks and months before the visits. He tried to avoid overly wild exaggeration. His voice remained calm and composed, even when he described the battle for Mutal and the share of the messengers in the victory over the men of Yaxchilan. Inocoyotl listened without interrupting him even once. He did not get the impression that the priest was prone to lies. The fact that much of it absolutely corresponded to the contents of the spy-reports that had been presented to him only reinforced this impression. The priest was finished after half an hour. He looked at the ambassador, as if he expected a lot of questions, but the man thanked him kindly for the report and immediately turned to Aritomo Hara and Sawada, who had remained silent and unmoved. Since they had not protested the priest’s descriptions, Inocoyotl had to assume that they were in favor of the priest’s point of view and that he believed that he had told everything accurately.

  He knew that a response was now expected from him, and he struggled with it. All of this was disconnected from all of his previous experience, and he had no idea what his ruler would do in this situation. Only if Mutal turned against the divine city with the messengers leading them did the matter become clear: Nobody attacked Teotihuacán with impunity, nobody who was reasonable would even try it.

  Inocoyotl looked closely at Aritomo and Sawada. They looked like people who knew what they were doing. Both made a calm and deliberate impression, and if they spoke at all, and in contrast to Itzunami, they apparently did not like to relate to deities, providences, and apparitions. Aritomo reminded him, in a way, of Queca, with his pragmatic and goal-oriented manner, and Sawada, in turn, reminded him of his own teachers, who were generous with their knowledge but otherwise left it up to their students to draw the right conclusions from what they had learned.

  Yes, they were all quite sane.

  Inocoyotl urged to ask a question, but not here in public. It would be interpreted as blasphemy, and he was already known for his critical attitude toward his own deities, tolerated because he was useful, but certainly not here in Mutal, where he apparently walked in the presence of heavenly figures.

  He would ask his question once the opportunity arose.

  Nevertheless, he now reported from his city and satisfied genuine curiosity. What happened in and around Teotihuacán was important, and it was gratefully accepted to be brought up to date. What the envoy had to report was not half as exciting as what Itzunami said, but out of courtesy no one dared to interrupt his presentation. Since Inocoyotl was not prone to praise his master consistently and kept the report short, the exchange was soon over.

  It almost surprised him that his request for a personal conversation with the messengers was accepted without any problems. But since they did not refuse, the Mutalese were probably not able to guard their access to the strange visitors. Something like jealousy sparkled in the eyes of some councilors when Sawada agreed to take Inocoyotl to the metal vehicle of the messengers and allow him access. The envoy knew he had to be careful. Under no circumstances should he give the impression that he wanted to take “their” messengers away from the Mutalese.

  Still, he would ask Sawada if they really were emissaries of heavenly powers – or if there was a more profane explanation for their origins. He didn’t know if the old man would answer him, but the question had to be asked – just not in public, and certainly not in the presence of a priest who obviously owed his exalted position to the fa
ct that he was particularly well connected to the mysterious visitors.

  Before another discussion could develop, a servant burst into the session, drawing everyone’s attention. He only showed the absolutely necessary minimum level of courtesy when he threw himself on the floor in front of Itzunami. The fact that a highly respected guest was present seemed to have escaped him completely. But before anyone could reprimand him for his behavior, he already told what he had to report.

  His message was not alarming or unexpected, but it ended the conversation quickly, which Inocoyotl found accommodating.

  King Chitam had been spotted approaching the outskirts of Mutal with his retinue and bodyguard. It was as if the envoy’s presence was forgotten, and everyone could see the nervousness caused by the king’s arrival. He returned to the city, which had now been stripped of her queen, and no one could foresee what state of mind he was in. Preparations for the envoy’s reception were therefore immediately changed to those for the appropriate greeting of Chitam, and Inocoyotl considered it advisable to withdraw into the background and not stand in anyone’s way. He and Queca were not asked to leave the site, but no more attention was paid to them.

  He was pleasantly surprised when Sawada spoke to him.

  “My lord Inocoyotl, it will take more than an hour until the king arrives here and is available to you. Do you want to follow my invitation and take a look at the boat?”

  The envoy was somewhat irritated when Sawada described the divine vehicle with a word he would have given to a simple dugout, but he would not be discussing it now, therefore agreed eagerly, a little bit happy to escape the hustle and bustle, and when he did so, he asked to be allowed to grant Queca this honor, too, a request which was immediately granted. Sawada led the two men out of the audience hall, and they soon found themselves confronted with the ascent over the ruins of the temple, up to the makeshift platform that had been built to the side of the tower, which Sawada said led inside the black monster. Inocoyotl looked up and felt respect, a little fear, and curiosity at the same time. It was no wonder that this vehicle was attributed to the gods. Had it appeared in Teotihuacán, it would have been given the same meaning. How would Meztli have reacted?