The Emperor's Men 8

by Dirk van den Boom

  “Lord, the opposing army has taken a temporary position outside the city. The farmers fled here from the outskirts, unless they were already under arms. It seems the messenger is waiting to see if we want to face him.”

  Nachi Cocom accepted the report with a nod. Inugami was in charge of taking initiative. The King of Yaxchilan, however, would reject the offered battle.

  Should he only come, Nachi thought with a smile. Should he just come.

  His city was ready.

  Its king was ready.

  30

  The bulk of warrior slaves was lined up in front of him in exactly the formation he had trained, in blocks of one hundred men each, disciplined, absolutely still, upright and attentive. Inugami stood on the hurriedly assembled platform and paused a moment to look at the weapon that had been forged by his hand. He enjoyed the moment, and pride he felt. And he knew that everything he said now would be particularly important in order to take the city in front of them, defeat the enemy, and at the same time not jeopardize the loyalty of these men. It was one thing to look at a formation that just stood there listening to its commander. It was completely different to set it on the march and to be able to trust that it was doing what it was told to do.

  Especially now.

  Nachi Cocom, king of Yaxchilan, was a cunning man, as Inugami had been allowed to learn.

  He would have to play on the men in front of him like an instrument, subtle, virtuous, convincing. Inugami knew that he was not a gifted speaker. For a long time, he had been thinking about which language he would consider for his speech. English, which has been a compulsory subject for warrior slaves since their training began, or Maya, an idiom that Inugami reluctantly familiarized himself with, since he considered it inferior and difficult to pronounce, a burdensome duty.

  But he had to talk.

  So he chose English, with passages in Maya, carefully worked out with the generals and rehearsed in pronunciation, as an affirmation. He hoped that the parts would fit well together and make a whole that would have the desired effect. It was a risk, but life here had taught him that if he wanted to achieve his goals, he shouldn’t shy from it.

  Another look from one end of the formation to the other. There was attention, anticipation. The right sensations for this moment, and therefore he must not drag the moment out indefinitely.

  He took a deep breath and spoke.

  “Men! We are facing Yaxchilan, a city that has been home to many of you. I know what that means for you. You feel insecure. You are afraid to raise your hand against brothers, wives and children. You are afraid to break your oath to serve me, and thus to evoke the punishment that must inevitably follow.”

  Inugami took a well calculated break. The discipline of the slaves was good, but it was now hard to miss the fact that he had their attention. He immediately began to address their main concern and greatest fear, and he immediately caught them. Now it was important to use this correctly.

  “Men! I tell you: don’t be afraid! The King of Yaxchilan wants to abuse your old loyalty to your city! The scouts report he has gathered women and children, your relatives, and wants to send them to you so that you become fickle, lower your arms, and betray me. The new king is a smart man – and he is a man full of hate and without pity. He uses you for his war, but above all he uses those to whom your heart is attached to.”

  The silence was almost palpable. Of course, rumors of the defenders’ tactics had already spread, but here was the open, honest confirmation, without any threat. Inugami felt that the men in front of him focused on him like a being, a common intelligence, united with their consciousness and their hopes. He suppressed a smile of triumph. He had to be serious, concerned, and determined. Any mistake could prove fatal for the rest of his life at those moments.

  “Men! Listen to me! The King of Yaxchilan’s plan won’t work! Hear my orders: None of you will raise a weapon against a woman or a child, against a relative who is dear to you. You are warriors, not butchers! You are fighters with honor and as my slaves connected to my honor. And I say: No child should bleed, no woman should be hurt by the hands of my warriors.”

  A movement passed through the rigid mass of warriors like a wave through an otherwise still lake. Inugami felt the surprise, the sudden rise in emotions, the joyful confusion, the relief. Everyone remained silent, composed and disciplined, but the captain could read the faces of the warrior slaves. He played the instrument of manipulation, and he did it well. Better than expected. He learned. Inugami was not too proud to admit it, but he actually learned.

  “Men! Be like the water and flow past this human wall that has been built to oppose to you. Whoever does not carry a weapon is not a threat. Run past them, slide through the alleys, through the corridors and rooms, do not stand in the way of this person. Where an opposing warrior uses your wife as a shield, hurry past. There are enough other enemies. Once they start killing their own people, they have lost all right to mercy. You will be careful not to make this mistake.”

  Inugami spoke loud and clear, and everyone understood him. There would be deaths. But there was no slaughter, and their leader did not ask them to kill whom they could not bring themselves to attack.

  Inugami freed them.

  He gave them absolution.

  He gave pardon for avoiding an opponent, he gave them exemption and indulgence. He blessed their feelings and preserved their personal integrity as Yaxchilan men, fathers and husbands. He gave them a gift that would bind them to him even more than any training or brainwashing that has been associated with it.

  And he made a promise to them.

  “Men! Whoever takes the city for me should keep it. One of you will be the new master of Yaxchilan, and all those bravely fighting should be allowed to stay here, reunited with their families, and they should guard and administer the city for me. This should be your station, your base, from here you will march in the future and return here after every victory, loaded with fame, fortune, power, the respect of the world, and the admiration of your women and children. I give you this promise. Give me the power of your weapons, the swiftness of your legs, mercilessly kill every warrior who gets in my way, bring me the head of the new king so that I can make one of you king. Because this, men and companions, is my will and my will alone!”

  There was no stopping now. There was a roar, a cheer, a fierce eruption of enthusiasm, and out of the chaos Inugami heard that his name was raised, again and again, like a rhythmic cry of war, and they all cheered him, warrior slaves, free men of Mutal, officers and nobles, leaders and led. The storm of emotions seemed to move the trees and shake the pedestal on which Inugami stood with both arms spread in a blessing gesture, recipient of all submission, transmitter of all promise. Nobody stopped them, and it was only minutes later that the shouting ended and Inugami knew that he was now their master.

  He lowered his arms and bowed to his soldiers.

  Cheers rose again. His name again, like an invocation, a prayer. Inugami stood there, a few more moments, then the captain climbed off the platform, his face a mask that showed neither his pride nor his triumph, and he walked to his subordinates with a measured step. They were ready now. There was nothing left to do, nothing left to say.

  Yaxchilan would fall, there was no doubt about that. And if the defenders didn’t come to them, they would get each one of them, and their messenger from the god would fight with them in the first row and lead them to victory.

  “Good speech, sir,” said one of his generals to him, and Inugami found the same enthusiasm in his eyes that he had seen among ordinary soldiers. He looked for Achak’s gaze, which also nodded to him, an expectant beam in his whole posture, the battle ax in his gnarled hand.

  “My orders apply. They all do. Nobody is punished who bypasses civilians and avoids raising their hand against them, and no hostage-taking by enemy soldiers is ended by attacking them. But anyone who t
urns away and joins Yaxchilan is put to death, instantly.”

  There was general approval and determination. Carrot and stick, the old principle. But Inugami was confident that the whip would not be used extensively in the upcoming battle. He had his people under control. He had given them the chance to be decent, and that was far more than they expected.

  Inugami looked up at the sky. It was midday, and there was a scorching heat over the city. The speech had dried his mouth, and he felt that the words had left him with plenty of his energy. He resisted the urge to rest. He couldn’t let the magic of the moment pass by. He felt the need for a drink of saké and pushed it aside.

  “Distribute water to everyone,” he ordered. “Everyone should drink a lot. Distribute the prepared tortillas, but not more than one per man. You don’t fight very well on a full stomach. But they should all be refreshed and not thirsty. As soon as the water has made the round, we advance.”

  It began. Inugami watched as orders were given. Large calabashes and water hoses, already filled in the Yaxchilan cisterns outside, were passed around. They all drank greedily, knowing that they would soon be unable to quench their thirst. The tortillas were also distributed, baked smaller than usual, just enough to drive out the hunger, but not so powerful as to make them sluggish and limp. Inugami saw that the free warriors of Mutal also participated in the supply ritual and that the joy of being able to attack the old enemy was on every face. It was these men who would also kill retreating or fickle warrior slaves, and he could count on the Mutalese men to act relentlessly and effectively. They weren’t their people. This was Inugami’s advantage, and so far it has prevented overly strong comradeship. Inugami’s intent was to turn the slave troops into an elite unit that was personally committed to him, free men and slaves alike. Separating them from the other soldiers was a clear tactic and would continue to be so in the future.

  Those who otherwise had no friends, no allies, who had lost their old loyalties, turned their hopes to the only one who promised them security and prosperity. And that would be the Lord of the messengers of the gods.

  Inugami stood in the shade of a tree, drank from a mug in small, methodical sips, rejected the offered tortilla, felt sufficiently refreshed by the liquid. Once the city was conquered, there would be a feast for everyone, and then there was enough opportunity to fill up one’s stomach.

  He checked his weapon, the pistol, and looked over at the one bodyguard of the unfaithful prince who did the same with his rifle. Two other Japanese, with no firearms, were entrusted with the task of maintaining the onagers and catapults and helping with repairs. Otherwise … only Maya everywhere, among friends as well as among enemies.

  No, he didn’t feel threatened or lonely. No more.

  These were his people, his tools. He decided that nothing better could have happened to him than traveling through time. It was a liberation and a development of all of his potential. Here he became the person he always wanted to be.

  Inugami saw that everyone had drunk and eaten. He put his mug down.

  Then he gave the sign.

  31

  It was a group of over a hundred Maya, some of them armed, who eventually showed up on the beach the following morning and did nothing but to stare devoutly, fearfully, and with fascination at the ships anchored on the coast. Köhler was able to make out the facial expressions of the men through the binoculars, especially the warriors, who clutched spears and axes, knowing that their weapons would not do anything against these sea monsters.

  It spoke either for the culinary skills of Diderius or for the diplomatic skills of the Navarch that the night was calm and the morning remained peaceful despite the visible tension of everyone involved. The old man seemed to reassure the newcomers with a description that he performed with gestures, that much was clearly visible through the eyepiece. Arms were lowered, though suspicious looks remained over the water. What could the old man tell his friends? That they had eaten well and crouched around the campfire? Köhler did not know what Langenhagen had discussed with the old man, as far as one could assume a conversation, but when the signal came from the beach that he had been waiting for, he immediately let the boat out and ordered ten soldiers to row him over.

  When he jumped curiously on land, the first thing that caught his eye was the map that Langenhagen had laid out. It showed where they came from, and it was apparently difficult for many of the Maya to understand what they were shown on paper. However, the old man – and a small group of more mature gentlemen, who were treated with a certain respect – looked at the cartographic image with keen interest, and if Köhler was not mistaking everything, one or the other seemed to understand what was said. In any case, a lively discussion broke out among the newcomers, and as far as Köhler correctly interpreted the gestures involved, it was about the ocean and themselves. The conversation was stimulating, but it lacked aggressiveness, and the Mayan warriors made a visibly relaxed impression over the course of the discussion.

  Hands and feet and drawings painted in the sand were the basis of all communication. After another hour, Langenhagen had the old master from Ravenna summoned, who had already recovered well from the crossing and showed great interest in being able to prove his skills. By name of Andochos, he was extremely agile despite his age, although he was clearly not a friend of the water. But when he was safely landed by other legionaries, he approached the group like a young man. He was visibly delighted with the new task as well as the fact that the ground no longer moved under his feet. They got an idea of the geography of the island. It seemed that the city they had been watching was the only major settlement.

  After a while they all agreed that the next phase of the contact should be started, and Langenhagen decided to go for it.

  “We’ll take Yatzak on board and some companions with him as he wishes,” he told Köhler. “Then we set sail, circle the island and anchor on the other side of the city. I don’t know if we can get it right, but in any case it is time to show people here that we are not a threat and do not want to hide. Andochos thinks that all these people here are just subalterns, and whoever rules over the island should be found in the city. We can’t do much more here on the beach, I think.”

  “That is a risk,” Köhler pointed out immediately. “If you have a lot of soldiers there – and a lot of boats –, they can try an attack.”

  Langenhagen did not contradict this assumption directly.

  “We minimize the danger. Only the Gratianus comes close enough to the coast. The rest of the flotilla remains anchored outside and can intervene if something goes wrong. We can’t avoid a certain risk – but we knew that before, didn’t we?”

  Köhler nodded. They had to take the next step, in this he agreed with his commanding officer. And he had apparently thought about it well. Köhler could not object to the proposed approach.

  “How are we going to invite the old man?”

  “Andochos and I will try to explain it to him.”

  Drawings and gestures were used again. Langenhagen drew the outline of the island on a piece of paper, which was acknowledged with eager approval. Then he painted in the position of the city and the six ships, also easy for the Maya to understand. He pointed to Yatzak and spread his arms to symbolically embrace other Maya, and then pointed to the Gratianus. Finally he painted a line from the current anchor point to the city.

  The Maya began to discuss animatedly. The message had obviously been understood. Langenhagen and Köhler sat quietly, waiting. Although there were some high-ranking individuals, Yatzak seemed to be regarded as the one who found the strangers first and “talked” to them. When he spoke – usually not at all loudly, but carefully –, they all listened. That did not mean that they all agreed with him, that was quite evident on the faces of the discussants. But Yatzak’s calm manner and his ultimately very determined demeanor made the difference. He spoke, he pointed at the man who had stayed with hi
m overnight, then at the rowboats. It was a clear approval and thus a success of their difficult communication.

  A decision had been made. Yatzak and his younger companion took a few symbolic steps toward the rowboats and gestured theatrically to the anchoring ships. They agreed. The rest of the group bowed to Langenhagen and the old man and headed for the city without haste to return. They would probably have reached the settlement well before the ships, but this was ultimately in the interest of the Romans. After all, this wasn’t a surprise attack. If they carried home a message of peace, their reception would be friendlier; at least that assumption was not without reason.

  Langenhagen nodded to Köhler.

  “That would be it. We dismantle everything and raise anchor. The first contact went very well. People here seem to be reasonable enough. They are scared, but at least I was able to break the ice last night. A good sip of wine can be extremely relaxing. In any case, we have a basis for communication.”

  “Do we have that?” Köhler asked, looking at Andochos, who had joined them. “Magister, how is it going? Will we be able to learn the foreign language in the foreseeable future?”

  “Or they ours,” Andochos replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve just picked up a few words. I cannot make a forecast based on this. There will be a grammar that I have to understand, and then the first thing we will have to do is develop a vocabulary. On the other hand, I do not shy away from teaching Latin or English to the willing here. I would like to say that our language is very logical and not hard to learn with diligence. There should also be talented people here who can easily tap into this knowledge. It all depends on whether we will have the opportunity and leisure to do so.”

  The teacher looked at Langenhagen with the last sentence.

  “I can’t offer a forecast either, Magister,” he picked up the thread. “But it is my goal to build friendly relationships with the islanders. I don’t mind staying here a little longer so that we can familiarize ourselves with the conditions here. The island location is even ideal for us, because it strengthens our defensive position. If someone disagrees with us, he must come over all by sea. Have you seen the looks of the people with whom you watched our ships? Awe, fear, sheer astonishment, even disbelief. I may be too hasty, but if islanders show this reaction, it indicates that the residents’ ships here must be of a simple nature, enough to get people to the mainland in good weather … but obviously far from a threat to us.”