He would insist on that. He would enforce that. And he was reasonably certain that the lord of Tayasal would prove to be reasonable.
When they were halfway there, more messengers came, a little more desperate than the first. They were surprised that their colleagues were still alive and were allowed to march as guests, since they had expected that the angry messenger of the gods would wipe them out. When they were convinced otherwise, they were immediately more relaxed, but this did nothing to detract from their submissiveness and the urgency of their mission. Another letter from the King of Tayasal, again the readiness to refrain from any struggle, and for the first time the indication that one would be ready to abdicate and deliver the highest person if the family and the children were spared.
Inugami was surprised. Mayan kings were not known for simply evacuating their throne, which was given to them by the gods. But this one had not been in office for long after the death of his predecessor, who had not taken part in the battle against Mutal but was overthrown after the great defeat. He had probably had slight doubts as to whether the gods had actually chosen him as ruler or not someone else – someone with magical weapons and a damn big, pretty victorious army, for example.
Inugami’s willingness to show grace grew. The king shouldn’t be killed, he decided. And he kept that decision when he marched into Tayasal days later, a small town like Saclemacal, completely open, with a fearful and expectant roadside population, few soldiers, and a king standing in front of the city’s main square who threw himself in the dust before Inugami and his leaders, and with him the whole court.
As it was supposed to be.
For a few moments, Inugami let this affect everyone, the residents of the city as well as his troops. It was a symbolic act full of messages, and it was intended to strengthen his power, his legitimacy, and his charisma. And the impact was huge. He felt everyone’s eyes on him. He felt the triumph and satisfaction of his men, Achak first and foremost, to whom the disappointment of not being allowed to spill blood spoiled the mood somewhat.
“Rise, King of Tayasal!” the captain called out. He hadn’t even bothered to memorize this man’s name. He was no longer part of the history of his city. His name was therefore completely unimportant.
The young man did as he was told.
“You have begged mercy, and grace is to be granted to you!” Inugami said aloud. “The city is spared. Your family will be spared.” He looked straight into the relieved face of the king. “You are spared.”
The first timid cheers sounded. Inugami raised his arms, and it fell silent again.
“You shall be my guest, in Mutal, the queen of all cities, the center of my power, and live there with yours until the end of your days. But I take your throne and your rule from you.”
The king bowed his head and covered his disappointment. He had hoped for another one after the first round of good news. But in this important aspect the messenger of the gods did not want to meet his expectations.
But he wasn’t in a position to argue with Inugami.
“I obey your will, messenger of gods,” he said aloud, so there was no doubt about his intentions. “The city and the country belong to Mutal. I will withdraw as you ordered.”
Inugami smiled graciously. It went better than expected, almost perfectly. This process had to spread like wildfire in Mayaland. Everyone should know that there was an alternative to fighting, a way that everyone could protect their lives. He hoped that other rulers, especially in smaller towns, would take this as an example. It would be annoying to have to conquer every autonomous place piece by piece. He was not allowed to split his strength like that, did not yet have enough confidence in his commanders to be able to commission them with their own operations. Some would possibly remember their old loyalties or come up with the idea of replacing one dynasty with another – personified by themselves.
Control was everything, at least for the time being, until loyalty to him had passed into flesh and blood, became a habit and a matter of course that no longer seriously questioned. The moment when Inugami ordered and everyone obeyed him had to become normal. Then he could distribute authority and be reasonably certain that no matter how far Mutal was, there would be no questioning of his supremacy. Only then a loyal cadre of capable administrators could develop who he could entrust with tasks without constantly keeping an eye on everything. Until then he had to improvise, just like in Saclemacal.
Now he needed a governor for Tayasal, and he felt that it would be necessary again to look for a suitable candidate in the ranks of his warrior slaves. He knew what he was doing. With small steps, he transformed his slaves into a new nobility, who pushed the old one aside and who had a new legitimization, not appointed and led by the gods but by Inugami, the new shogun or, if it came to it, the new king. The emperor. They owed their exalted position to him alone. He was the source of their existence.
The longer Inugami thought about this perspective, the more his heart warmed to it.
He looked at the deposed king. He would not humiliate him any further. His people would make sure that he packed up his belongings and left for Mutal as soon as possible. Inugami sighed. He would have to write another letter to Lieutenant Hara, with detailed instructions on how to deal with the Tayasal man.
At least he knew the Mutal affairs in reasonably safe hands. Chitam had returned safely by now. Inugami did not envy Aritomo the task of having to deal with the angry and suffering king. It was to be hoped that the men he trusted, who had eliminated the queen, would no longer attract attention and have sufficiently covered their tracks. He didn’t know if everything had really gone smoothly. But the details would clear up when he returned triumphantly to Mutal.
He set out to enter Tayasal’s rather modest palace. It was important to perform certain symbolic acts. He would sit in the deposed king’s place, listening to the blessings of the priests. He would forbid blood to be shed in his honor or to attune the gods to the new times. He was determined to drive this barbaric custom out. When two priests in Saclemacal had insisted that as the new ruler he had to submit to a ritual during which he was expected to use a needle to poke through his penis’ foreskin in a secret, sacred chamber, half underground, he had refused to puncture his organ, catch the blood and consume plenty of chi. He didn’t need visions, fed by pain and alcohol, to know what to do. The Mayan gods were silly decals of true spirituality, dolls with absurd habits, perversions of human abysses, a wonderful pretext for rituals that had no other purpose than to place a priestly caste in a privileged position. There was only one privilege in Inugami’s new empire, and that was to find recognition and mercy in the eyes of the new ruler. That was the true nobility, and wherever the gods had their hand, Inugami was imbued with the conviction that only rational action and faithful fulfillment of duties made one person more than just another tool.
Those who refused to fight for their own purpose immediately agreed to serve the purpose of others. That was Inugami’s conviction, his sacred creed, his conviction, and a motto he followed in live and action.
He entered the former king’s chambers. A certain exhaustion caught him. The long marches, the excitement, all of this took its toll. The old king’s servants had left everything impeccable, and it was Mutal’s soldiers who were now taking care of their leader to avoid unpleasant surprises. One never knew if there wasn’t someone around after all who disagreed with the new power in place. Inugami did not believe that there was a great danger, but the news of the failed attempt to assassinate his deputy had made him even more vigilant.
When he entered the bedchamber, he found a large bucket of hot water, as he had ordered. Personal hygiene was extremely important, and his obsession with cleaning himself with boiled water and the soap he had brought with him from the boat had already given rise to rumors. The Maya were generally not aware of the connection between poor hygiene and infections, and Inugami admitted that thes
e findings were still relatively new in his day. But that shouldn’t stop him from paying close attention to this aspect. He noted with satisfaction that his followers had become particularly enthusiastic about this habit. It was behavior that he only approved of being spread quickly.
In addition to the water and a small buffet of freshly prepared food, three young girls were waiting for him; none of them were older than sixteen. They sat in a row on his couch, were dressed up according to local standards, made up and obviously intended as a kind of personal welcome gift for the new ruler, to cheer him up and to recognize the advantages of Tayasal. Inugami smiled as his eyes rested comfortably on the three expectantly smiling women. Indeed, whoever was responsible for their selection had shown good taste. The young ladies were of a pleasant build, no fat village tromps, and their brown eyes showed dedication and willingness. Inugami looked at the prepared meal, then at the water, and decided to delay the meal. After all, he wasn’t really dirty either. He had only sweated to the usual extent, the effort to separate a head from the torso had been spared. Indeed, he began to like this city, and even though he knew that this was an attempt at manipulation, he was quite willing to accept it.
He was the new overlord, the creator of an empire – hadn’t he more than earned certain amenities?
Inugami smiled and undid the buttons on his shirt.
As if this was a call to action, the three girls rose and began to assist him. Within a few moments, the covers had fallen, only moments later the women’s clothes were on the floor, and the firm, supple bodies of his concubines were pressed against his own. He felt the immediate excitement, enjoyed how slender hands gripped his manhood and began to massage it gently, then demanding. He let himself be drawn onto the bed, felt soft breasts, the nipples pressed against his mouth, and how warm kisses began to wet his skin everywhere. Arms wrapped around him, pelvis pressed against his thighs, he felt the scratching of pubic hair, the moisture of their loins as it began to spread over him. He sucked in the earthy smell of their skin, listened to the soft whispers with which the three women encouraged each other to divide his body like a battlefield between themselves, everywhere at once.
Inugami released a moan, half relaxation, half excitement, and closed his eyes, stretched his arms and let the young flesh slide over his body, stimulate his limb to relentless hardness, always charming, withdrawing again and again, a joyful game of promise and hesitation that he was only too happy to succumb to.
This was his reward, this was his right. He was Inugami, the lord of the Mutal Empire, the new Emperor of America. And all who served him did so with dedication, lust and the strong desire to give him the greatest satisfaction.
He had arrived where he belonged. This was his place. All of this was predetermined, Inugami was absolutely certain of it right now, more than ever. All doubts were gone.
He felt tongues and lips press around his member, cool, strong fingers wrapped around his shaft, and groaned again. The little sluts would fight over his semen, the effusion of a messenger of gods, the new ruler over everything that is, and they would still lick him when he was long exhausted …
Then his neck was pulled up and something wrapped around it. He opened his eyes and groaned. One of the young women was suddenly behind him, put his head on her thighs and put a band around his throat – and started strangling him.
Inugami began to fight back, but the other two girls lay heavily on their arms and legs, clinging to him like drowning people, paralyzing him with the sheer weight of their bodies. He saw their faces very close now, staring at him with beautiful brown eyes, and there was no more admiration, no passion, nothing of devotion, there was only cold lust for murder, the determination to kill someone, and that with combined strength.
Inugami mobilized all his power. He jerked his head to the side, tensed his arms and legs, tried to turn his body. It was the overwhelming mobilization of agony that caused one of the girls to slip out of balance. Suddenly he had one arm free, which immediately went up, his hand clenched into a fist, and he struck the face of the assassin, who had a firm grip on the garotte.
A cry of pain. Something cracked and cracked again. His hand ached and got wet. He must have hit her in the mouth, broken out one tooth or more. The grip loosened, he gasped for air, took another swing – but the girls never let up. The woman he had pushed aside threw himself on him, clutched his free arm, paralyzed his movement. And the victim, whose blood now dripped onto his forehead and emitted a slightly metallic smell, overcame her pain, tightened the band again, and Inugami had to fight for his breath again.
He did not find the strength to raise himself again. He felt his defenses weaken, how he could do nothing more than a quiet wheeze, and then how the blackness fell around him, and he realized that it was not easy to be a god.
Especially when you weren’t.
14
“Chitam, I’m sorry.”
The king looked at Aritomo. His eyes were rimmed red. He had gotten drunk senseless the last night, now that all the city’s chi stocks were at his disposal. Or sensible, depending on one’s point of view. He had slept until noon and had woken up in a mood that could only be described as murderous. But Chitam was not a man without self-control. The silent rage boiling in him and the horrific mood he showed never went so far as to harass his subordinates to let his feelings out on them. Aritomo feared, however, that those responsible for the murder of Tzutz did not expect a pleasant fate if Chitam ever got hold of them.
The worrying thing was that the King of Mutal had just opined that he didn’t believe for a second that scattered Yaxchilan attackers were responsible for this cowardly attack. He had said this with deep seriousness, self-assurance that came from a great deal of conviction, and Aritomo got serious about his fear.
“I even believe you, Aritomo Hara. I believe you that your grief is real. But I don’t believe anyone who tells me that those from Yaxchilan killed my wife. Don’t get me wrong. I trust that the fanatical followers of dead Tatb’u are capable to do everything, including that. But I know more. I know of things we never talked about. And I didn’t want to bring it up so soon. But now the developments have led me to a decision. It is good that you can listen, and I trust you to do more than blindly follow your Lord. That is why what we are now discussing is particularly important.”
He looked at Aritomo so intensely, as if he expected the officer to guess what he was talking about by looking at it alone. And Aritomo wasn’t far from doing just that. He was reminded of his own suspicions that Inugami was behind the attack. It fit too well into the behavior of the captain, who was unable to stop on his way to power and imperial glory.
But Aritomo was silent. Chitam would explain. And when he said what was to be feared, the time came when the Japanese had to worry about fundamental questions of loyalty – much faster than he wanted to.
Much, much faster.
Chitam was sitting on a stone bench in the audience room, and no one else was present. Servants would certainly appear when the king called, but none of them could be seen. They spoke a mixture of Maya and English, and while both of them were challenged in that, they refrained from asking Itzunami or Sawada for help.
“Before I left for Saclemacal to witness your commander’s grand victory …” Aritomo was certain that there was a trace of sarcasm in Chitam’s voice – and a good deal of envy. “… I had an interesting visit. One of your warrior slaves spoke to me, someone you know well. I don’t give his name, but it should be clear who it is.”
Aritomo had a very precise idea. He leaned forward slightly, the expression on his face concentrated. That promised to be interesting. The arson attack …
“This man had seen something that night and witnessed a conversation that occurred at my palace just before the fire started. A very insightful conversation and with explosive consequences.”
“Speak up, Chitam. Get to the point!” Ari
tomo was amazed at his own angry tone, as if he suspected that he wasn’t going to like the truth and didn’t want to admit it. Loyalty was a complicated thing when it put one to the test.
“Someone gave the man the order for the attack. It was one of the messengers of the gods, one of the men with the long metal fire pipes protecting your prince.” Chitam smiled. “I heard the prince escaped this protection. That is extremely unfortunate.”
Chitam’s tone showed that his regret was limited. Aritomo didn’t even resent that. Their previous efforts to find out anything about Isamu’s whereabouts had been unsuccessful. Whatever the two young men were doing, their actions were better prepared than Aritomo had expected.
“Let’s talk about Isamu later,” Aritomo muttered, who had heard what he feared secretly. He tried to keep a neutral expression on his face, but the emotionless mask didn’t seem to work.
“You don’t look surprised,” the king immediately demonstrated his powers of observation. “You knew about it?”
Aritomo never missed the sudden coldness and distance in the ruler’s voice. “No,” he hurried to answer. “But I was afraid of it.”
Chitam relaxed a little. “Your Inugami is playing a dangerous game. It could be that his charades would soon be his undoing.”
Aritomo nodded, said nothing.
“If Inugami ordered the arson, why not murder my wife? After all, our death has already been his will. It is logical. It fits his behavior. I cannot accept anything else. The conclusion comes to mind.”
“You don’t know if Inugami gave this order. It wasn’t him that your source saw, was it?”
The Emperor's Men 8 Page 11
