The Emperor's Men 8

by Dirk van den Boom

  Terzia frowned. That made her lovely.

  “So if everything goes wrong,” she said, “we can wait a long time for our work to begin.”

  Köhler shook his head. “I would think that the identification of a landing site that is as ideal as possible, as well as the possible peaceful contact with those who live here, does not fall under the category of ‘going wrong.’ We don’t want to be attacked just because we dare to enter the country too cheekily. Rome is far away, we are relying only on the resources we have with us. I agree with Navarch Langenhagen that unnecessary risks must be avoided. In the end, we should all return home safe and sound. Any knowledge will also be of no use to you if you will never have the opportunity to write it down and spread it at home so that others can also benefit from it.”

  Terzia seemed to accept the officer’s arguments, at least the disappointment was gone from her face. “I’m sure you’re right in everything you say. I am of course eager to be able to go ashore to really get started with my work. I have high expectations.”

  Köhler frowned. From this point of view, he rarely viewed their mission, and then only from a security perspective. The primary goal of the expedition was to find out if time-wanderers had landed anywhere else in the world, at least for the ship’s command, which had received clear orders for such a case. There were many other tasks, but that was the main motivation. He hadn’t really considered that Terzia was under a very special kind of expectation. He scolded himself a fool. It was understandable. A woman, unmarried, who had left the traditional ways of female life, a member of a minority, often with incomprehension and sometimes even rejection, one of only four ladies on this important expedition – the eyes of her family were on her, the eyes of many other women for whom she was a role model, and also those of people who wished or even predicted failure. She had to and wanted to meet the expectations of many, she had to and wanted to disappoint the expectations of others – and both were inextricably linked. A triumph was double, as was defeat twice. Köhler rocked his head slowly. Although Terzia had smiled lightly at his words and made a lighthearted impression, he now understood the concern and, above all, the pressure under which the woman was operating. And it was a situation in which he could only help her to a very limited extent.

  But maybe he could at least relieve her heart a little.

  “I promise you one thing,” he said. “As soon as we have made all the preparations, the Navarch will certainly commission me to send the first expedition ashore. If we realize that the situation is peaceful and that the risk is limited, I see no reason not to allow a small group of civilians to start working within a certain framework. You will belong to this first group, that’s what I am committed to. But don’t tell anyone else, otherwise they’ll all come running. You are not the only one with expectations.”

  “But the only one with such beautiful blue eyes.”

  Köhler grinned. “I have to warn you. Claudia Sculpia, the insect researcher, has breathtaking legs, as the male crew of this ship will be happy to confirm any time.”

  “So serious competition? I have to keep her away from you.”

  Köhler nodded seriously. “In fact, I rather assume that she also will belong to the first group. I am a simple man without great finesse, noble Terzia. Too many feminine stimuli cause me great confusion and affect my thinking. As a typical representative of my gender, I tend to find simple solutions that don’t overwhelm me. You will certainly understand that.”

  Terzia laughed. “I want to try to understand. But I have to say that I am not yet beaten in the competition for the most beautiful legs.”

  Köhler raised a hand in warning and then pointed west. “I am sure that the countries we are now heading to also have many beautiful daughters. I don’t want to spoil the fun, but it should be better for everyone involved not to put competition at the center of our attention.”

  Terzia followed Köhler’s outstretched hand.

  “That’s okay,” she said softly. “As long as I’m the center of your attention, I want to be frugal.”

  She nodded to him and turned away.

  Köhler did not even have time to reply in a suitable way.

  But it was better that way, because it didn’t take long for him to realize that even after a long period of thinking, with the best intentions in the world, he wouldn’t have thought of one.

  18

  Inugami had emerged from under the bodies of the two women only after the guards had killed them. He lacked strength, and he willingly let himself be taken by the arms and carried to the side, sitting down, breathing. He gasped for a while, concentrating on sucking air into his lungs, chasing the black clouds in front of his eyes, and thinking about what had transpired. He felt the moisture on his neck, sweat and blood, and swallowed painfully. He cursed himself and his carelessness, his carnal greed that had made him carefree. Had it not been for his personal guards being attentive and faithful, that night the end of his grandiose plans would have been sealed and he would have been just a marginal note of history, an anecdote, and others would have taken his place.

  No, Inugami corrected himself, as he placed a damp cloth on the sore spots on his neck that relieved the pain of the injury. Nobody would have taken his place. Nobody had the necessary format for this. The time travelers would have become an obscurity. Forgotten in later times, their remains unearthed by researchers in the distant future, cause for great wonder and speculation, but irrelevant to the history of mankind.

  Inugami closed his eyes.

  Or maybe that was even what was supposed to happen. Had one ever heard of a submarine appearing out of nowhere and its crew that reformed Central America and built a powerful empire? None of this was known! Such an empire had to leave its mark on history, the Japanese was sure of that. But if he had never heard of such an event himself, then he might have already failed. Or, if this logic did not necessarily follow, it would change history, and the Inugami that had once lived in the 19th century was not the one that existed now, but a different version and time spread out like the branches of a tree, was not straight and linear. Perhaps there were many Inugamis who were sitting here now thinking about their fate, and others who were strangled on the bed and would not worry about anything. Others who peacefully decided to live in Mutal, others who desperately committed suicide when they realized that there was no return. Infinite possibilities with endless consequences and one as true as the other.

  Inugami smiled. He was alive. If these other selves existed, they would have to take care of their own problems.

  He looked at the dead women and felt something like regret. Killing such young flesh, those firm thighs, the fine breasts, that was a bit of a waste. But above all those who were behind this cowardly attack and whose punishment was now Inugami’s task were wasted as well. These women were unimportant, the bleeding, motionless things were only tools of a higher, a male mind. Whoever was responsible for sending them to his bed to have him murdered had to pay for it. It would not be a quick and merciful death, as it had been given to the assassins. A cruel and painful end was predestined for this person.

  It was a shame that the girls could no longer be interrogated. Inugami warned to instruct his guards more carefully. The one who had pulled on the garotte, yes, her death certainly had been inevitable. The others, however, should have been spared to squeeze out any information that might have been hidden in their small and weak brains. Then one would have got rid of them. Or he would have given them to his men for pleasure until they got tired of them. Yes, that would have been an appropriate fate, and fair as well.

  Inugami cleared his throat. It hurt. He took a deep breath. That hurt too. But he was alive, and he intended to take advantage of this fact.

  “My Lord, are you all right?”

  One of the guards now dared to speak to him. Inugami might be wrong, but he heard genuine sympathy from the man’s voice. It
was irritating on the one hand and encouraging on the other. Despite the incident, it gave him a sense of security.

  “I want to know …” he croaked, clearing his throat again. “… know who did it.”

  The guard nodded and pointed to the door.

  “Lord, do you want to stay in this chamber? We have prepared new accommodation.”

  Inugami nodded and rose. The smell of the spilled blood was heavy in the room; it would prevent him from sleeping and remind him of his disgrace. He had no illusions: the news of this incident had to spread like wildfire. That was definitely a good thing; that he had survived this assassination was a sign of the gods. But it also had two other ramifications – future conspirators would try harder, and Inugami had to seriously worry about his personal security. That would certainly cost him time and energy that he would otherwise invest in more pressing matters.

  But he had to organize this himself. He was never allowed to rely too much on the services of his followers, Maya or Japanese. It was precisely in this matter that he had to establish a new culture of security, and only after its establishment he would be able to sleep peacefully again.

  He left the scene and changed his mind on the way. The cool night air promised refreshment and he felt how he was still full of excitement. He was not yet ready for sleep. He ordered the guards to accompany him outside. When he stepped out of a door, he saw the peacefully sleeping city beneath him. It was still dark, but the sky was starry, and there was an almost full moon, bathing everything in a pale white light. The nightly air revived him, and he had the wet towels around his neck replaced. For a moment, he just stood there looking into the impressive sky. At that moment, actually for the first time since he had been marooned in this time, he remembered those he had left behind in his original era. There weren’t many. A brother, like him a soldier, old parents whom he rarely visited. Some of the girls in town might remember him as his own memory began to wear off here. He missed the saké and would do everything possible to make at least something similar out of local means. Sarukazaki had promised to do so, but so many things had come up …

  On the other hand, he would be an even easier target for his enemies when drunk. Perhaps the time had come to rethink some of the habits he loved that might turn out to be a security problem. Now that fate had warned him sufficiently, he had an obligation to take care of his own good. If he failed to meet this obligation, there would be no excuses for him should his plans fail. Maintaining himself as the center of change in the world was a top priority.

  Inugami decided not to press Sarukazaki after all. It was inevitable that the resourceful mechanic would end up putting something together like a still, and the captain wouldn’t say anything against it. But it was no longer an issue to put this project at the top of the list.

  “My lord.”

  Inugami startled from his considerations and turned. One of his slave warriors stood before him, one of the twenty-five officers whose name Inugami couldn’t remember now. He nodded to him. “What is it?”

  “Lord, the King of Tayasal …”

  “There is no longer a king of Tayasal,” Inugami said harshly, his eyebrows furrowing. “He was deposed. Tayasal is now part of the Mutalese Empire.”

  The soldier winced and bowed his head. “Forgive me, sir, of course. The former king of Tayasal killed himself, sir. We found his body. His wife is dead too, he has cut her throat open. His children have apparently been taken away by servants. Shall we look for them?”

  Inugami stared at the man, then made a slow, negative gesture. “When did that happen?”

  “It can’t be long ago. The wounds are fresh, the blood has not yet clotted.”

  “Thank you, you can go.”

  The warrior bowed and disappeared into the palace. With that, the captain realized, it was also clear who was behind the unsuccessful attempt. The fallen ruler had drawn his consequences from the failed attack. Instead of subjecting himself to an undignified execution or starving in long captivity, he had judged himself. Inugami was not satisfied with this. A proper show trial had always, at all times and in all cultures, made an impact, including a public execution, in which Inugami would have been particularly pleased in this case. This had now been denied him, and parading the body of the former king through the streets alone would not have the same effect. Better to just make it disappear.

  No. No, he had to disgrace him and spread the story, that he himself, Inugami, had judged the man. Or something similar. A body that disappeared without trace only caused rumors. He had to create facts.

  Inugami took a deep breath. His throat still burned, but it was getting more bearable. One would see the traces of the garotte for a long time. Should he cover them or show them openly? He chose the latter. The fact that he had survived and proudly displayed the signs of the attack shouldn’t hurt him. He had to capitalize on the matter as best as was possible.

  He looked at the city. It would still remain dark for some time. He felt how a certain tiredness was slowly spreading through him again. A little sleep would do him good. He had a lot of work to do tomorrow before planning his campaign against Yaxchilan.

  He felt a sudden impatience to act strongly. The attack had troubled him. He knew that his time on earth was limited. It was important to proceed as quickly and consistently as possible. Yaxchilan had to fall.

  Yaxchilan. And then?

  Inugami allowed himself a fine smile.

  There was still a lot to do.

  And every setback only made him more determined.

  19

  “I am grateful for the concern that the Divine Ruler expresses through you,” Chitam said, looking at Inocoyotl. They sat alone in the king’s private chambers, isolated from servants and courtiers, as far as one could be alone in this building. They spoke in a muffled voice and did everything so that no one could hear what their conversation was about. This was necessary, because the content of their exchange was quite explosive.

  “You know that the Eternal City never forgets its children,” the envoy replied. “And Mutal is the first among our children. It grew up and makes us proud. But in the end we see you also with concern.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  Inocoyotl shook his head. “This worry is greater than the few words I can speak. I have to say it frankly: I do not want to imagine the reaction of the Divine Ruler to my messages and the developments described therein. Your Inugami has conquered Saclemacal, and maybe Tayasal too, most likely – and he has installed governors.”

  “He did. And he’s not my Inugami.”

  Inocoyotl looked at Chitam closely. His reply came with some vehemence, almost defiantly. He hadn’t expected such strong, obvious aversion. But he knew where this antipathy came from and chose clear words again.

  “It has not been proven that he is behind the attack on your wife.”

  “But one of them is responsible for setting fire to my palace.”

  Indeed, Inocoyotl and Chitam had had a very open conversation so far. The King of Mutal had apparently sought to win Teotihuacán as an ally for what Inocoyotl could only describe as the King’s civil war against his own city. It was not something that particularly troubled him, in fact it fit his plans well. But to show this too openly may turn out to be wrong. So he remained cautious in what he said and expressed his doubts. He didn’t want to get into a position that looked like he had forced Chitam into rash actions. It was necessary for their plans that the King of Mutal remained to be his own lord, or at least that it seemed to the outside world that way. It would not benefit his position if the impression was given that the Divine City interfered in Mayan matters at will.

  “I have got the impression from your descriptions that not all of the messengers agree with their Lord.”

  “There are differences between them.”

  “Can you take advantage of this?”

 
Chitam pursed his lips, looked thoughtful. He wasn’t sure, it seemed. “I’ll try. Once we agree, I speak to that one named Aritomo. The seeds of doubt are already growing in him. I have to skillfully accelerate their growth. I am still not sure how to do this. But there is definitely one on our side when the time comes, namely the tall man named Lengsley. My sister Une has her strong hands firmly around his balls. Depending on how he behaves, she will massage or crush them.”

  Inocoyotl found that Chitam’s cold, calculating tone hadn’t even changed throughout their conversation, even when he was talking about his sister. And he had spoken to “our side,” as if an alliance between him and Teotihuacán was already a sealed deal. Of course, Inocoyotl believed that it all boiled down to it. Chitam, however, saw only his goal and all steps toward it as given. That could turn out to be a miscalculation.

  Inocoyotl remembered the name Lengsley. It might make sense to remember him again at the right time. He leaned back and pretended to consider the other person’s words. In fact, he knew exactly where the conversation would take him.

  “What exactly do you expect from Teotihuacán, noble Chitam? I have to remind you that the Divine Ruler has not yet made a decision. He won’t be happy with all the things I put on the table anyway. Join an alliance, yes lead it. And the formally responsible opponent, the King of Mutal himself, wants to join in. It’s an … unorthodox practice.”

  “Unorthodox things are happening, Ambassador. If there is one thing for sure, it is that.”

  “Indeed.”

  Inocoyotl was not quite clear about the king’s state of mind. This cold anger seemed to mix now and then with a fatalism that he regarded with concern. Fatalism led to instances where determination was paralyzed in strenuous situations. But if Chitam needed one thing, it was his determination.