The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun

by Dirk van den Boom

  “I don’t know, sir,” was therefore the expected answer, which the King accepted with an approving gesture. There was nothing comparable in known history for such an event. The tales of the city didn’t teach such a thing. “It is without doubt a very special blessing.”

  Siyaj showed confidence, relaxed.

  The fear receded from Chitam’s heart.

  A blessing, then. Perhaps this vehicle of Hunapù was a gift designed to promote the size and power of Yax Mutal. A favor of the sun god, a strengthening, a proof of extraordinary grace. Was Yax Mutal blessed indeed? Was this a sign to signify what Chitam had dreamed of, namely, the expansion of the city, the conquest of other cities, and the establishment of a great empire with many vassals, a prayer that had been heard by Hunapù, and he now consented to these plans?

  Chitam felt a positive expectancy being raised in him, almost a surge, as if he would now realize the truth, the meaning of the incident. A divine intervention, an affirmation.

  He glanced sideways at his father, as he quietly conferred with the priest about the correct course of action. Would he see it that way, too? Would Hunapù accept that his father was more prudent in these matters of conquest and war? Did that even mean that the Sun God would depose Siyaj and crown him, Chitam, as the new ruler?

  The Prince somehow hoped that this would happen in a way that didn’t include the violent death of his father. However much he hoped that Hunapù had come to express his benevolence for the expansion of Yax Mutal’s power, Chitam didn’t enjoy paying for it with the untimely death of his father.

  His father had always treated him well. He was not a bad king.

  And his son was not in such a hurry.

  That should also be understood by the sun god.

  Chitam hoped for the best. As far as he could remember, the sacrificial rituals for the sun god had always been carefully observed. As master of drought and heat, there was always the need to make him merciful. Regularly, the expected ceremonies had been performed to please Hunapù. The sun god could not be overly angry. A punishment was not to be expected.

  The Maya of Yax Mutal, of which Chitam was sure, had done everything right.

  He raised his head, looked back at the black thing.

  Something had caught his attention.

  Then he heard the sound.

  He narrowed his eyes, and now it was easy to see that people were recognizable on the small tower that rose out of the black body of the godsend. Chitam couldn’t make out too many details, but they were men, and they didn’t look any different than he did. The sun god had sent emissaries to them. If these came from within the vessel, then there might be many more hidden in them, a whole army perhaps. Chitam was a little scared at the thought. It was one thing when the sun god showed his favor but quite another when he used the opportunity to send his own forces. What purpose could he follow with it?

  The men stood on the tower, half-hidden by a sort of parapet, and they pointed to the assembled Maya, gesticulating, talking excitedly. Chitam hoped that everyone would remain calm.

  His hope was immediately disappointed.

  He spun around, as he heard the angry scream, and at that moment he recognized the voice. It was one of the men of his father’s bodyguard, a head taller than the average man, a mountain of a warrior and well-versed in all weapons, not particularly intelligent, hot-blooded, easy to provoke, the ideal man in a battle.

  But of little use outside any fight.

  A master of the atlatl. Unmatched in range and force.

  Before anyone could stop the man, he had stepped forward, the spear-thrower in one hand, one of his javelins ready, and stretching out with his muscular limb.

  “Stop!” Chitam shouted, but it was already too late. The spear rose, in perfect trajectory, and slammed with a satisfyingly loud noise against the balustrade behind which the messengers of the gods stood, seemingly unmoved, with their eyes wide open, as if they could hardly believe this crime.

  The reaction came immediately. One of the messenger of the gods raised his own weapon, not unlike an atlatl, but instead of throwing it, he just aimed it at the warrior who was already preparing his second javelin, and then a bang sounded.

  Chitam saw nothing. No visible projectile was discernible.

  But the body of the warrior collapsed, and the spear sling slipped out of his powerless hand. There was blood on his chest, a wound struck by an invisible weapon, a truly divine demonstration of power.

  For a moment, Chitam stared blankly at the warrior, motionless, clearly dead on the ground. Blood everywhere. No blade. No spear. No arrow. Nothing. An invisible blow, fast, deadly, something that wouldn’t give you a chance to dodge, and probably no way to protect yourself from it.

  The priests dropped to their knees and praised Kinich Kakmó.

  Siyaj followed, raising his voice in fervor. He was scared.

  Chitam, his son, did the same.

  All the men, every inhabitant of Yax Mutal in sight, fell to their knees, all raising their arms. The warriors threw down their weapons and presented their breasts to the messenger of the gods, ready to make the sacrifice necessary to calm their fury.

  They all sang the praises of the Lord of Drought and Heat, the conqueror of the Xibalba Houses, hoping that it was not yet too late.

  The gods were quite moody, the Maya knew.

  Chitam closed his eyes and sang. He waited and hoped. When, after a few moments, he dared to look again, the messengers of the gods were still visible, as they gesticulated and talked. Chitam watched the conversation, and it didn’t feel like it …

  The ambassadors had come to a conclusion.

  The men with the god-atlatls left the tower.

  They climbed down to them.

  And then other men followed, without visible weapons, and marched cautiously along the vessel of the sun god. Farther ahead on the object was something, a kind of pump or scaffolding that did not serve a purpose recognizable to Chitam.

  More men came out of the tower. The scaffolding was turned. It was handled somehow. Something was carried from the inside of the god’s vessel. Chitam saw the visitors do unintelligible things.

  Then one of the men raised one arm. This gesture was familiar to the Maya. A commander thus warned the warriors in an attack before the imminent command of a storm against the ranks of the enemy was given.

  A fearful murmur went through the praying Maya.

  And rightly so.

  A heavy bang, deafening, echoed across the square. Chitam winced. The construction, the pump was a … a big, a very big atlatl! And when suddenly a great part was broken out of the neighboring temple, when stone and dust fountains splashed and crashed down on the praying Maya, the consequence of an invisible fist that had hit the steps of the building … at that moment, more than reverence and devotion filled the heart of the Prince. Now panic crept up his throat, and that wasn’t an emotion he’d often felt in his life.

  The same was true for the others. He heard how many interrupted their singing, stood up and ran as fast as their legs carried them. Their faith had left them or their willingness to give her life for the sun god, or they had just lost their nerves.

  The gods didn’t punish the cowards. They didn’t repeat their demonstration of power. They looked down on the remaining Maya, the brave, the faithful, the most stupid perhaps.

  Chitam, on the other hand, looked up. The men up there were waiting. He couldn’t interpret their behavior any different. They hoped for a reaction. They had given their lesson. Were the citizens of Yax Mutal able to understand the language of the gods? Would they …?

  Chitam felt his father rise, felt his hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s up to us, son.”

  In that sentence was all the truth that Chitam always wanted to avoid. Therein lay the downside of life in luxury and prestige. Therein lay the duty of the King and his Prince. Where others
ran and prayed, they had to get up and take the next step.

  Chitam didn’t hesitate. He had always known it since his birth. And mastering this challenge on the side of his father, was despite his fear also his birthright as well as an obligation to his family. He couldn’t turn away.

  Chitam pointed to one side of the half-ruined tomb. “Father, there we can climb and meet the messenger of the gods.”

  The King nodded. He turned to the two priests. “You are with us.”

  There was fear in the eyes of the men but then pride. Who else was fit for this difficult task, if not them? Now it was time to prove that the Sun God looked with favor on the inhabitants of Yax Mutal, and if not, to find out how to restore this favor.

  “Then we go.”

  The King said so, the Prince followed him closely, the two priests kept their distance, out of respect for their overlord as well as out of fear. Chitam sensed that this small distance would make no difference if the messengers of the gods chose to direct their invisible atlatls toward them. The realization that they were completely at the mercy of the men up there was almost liberating.

  So they set off to learn the true will of the sun god.

  9

  Inugami waved to the two bodyguards. “Keep an eye on those four, but do not fire. We should have impressed them sufficiently.”

  Aritomo could only agree. The shots of the gun on the neighboring pyramid had their effect on the assembled onlookers. Many of the savages had run off after praying first. He wasn’t sure if this demonstration was really necessary, but he was grateful for the clear language of the weapon. The single fighter’s attack with the strange but effective spear-thrower had reminded him that if these men down there were able to overcome their awe or fear and launch an organized and massive assault on the boat, sooner or later the Japanese would have no chance of survival. Inugami’s strategy of powerfully intimidating, then hopefully negotiating from a position of strength, wasn’t that stupid.

  If the Captain was smart enough not to overdo it.

  “When I look at those four, I see jewelry and well done clothes, so I think we have to deal with high-ranking personalities,” Sawada said, who had joined them on the bridge. “Maybe we are even dealing with a king or a high priest among them.”

  “Those two men out front gave orders earlier,” Aritomo said. “They seem to be in command indeed.”

  “Not for long anymore,” Inugami mumbled.

  Something in Inugami’s attitude had changed. He looked down at the city – no longer surprised or cautious but like a predator, seeing a willing prey, something to catch and use, to train, if he wanted to. He had his hands on the rail in front of him and looked calm, confident, as if he had a plan.

  Inugami had never been one for whom surprise lasted for a long time, and he had never been accused of thinking on a small scale.

  “What do you mean, Captain?” Aritomo asked.

  The officer’s body tightened. “That’s obvious, Mr. Hara. I don’t know what streak of fate has brought us here, and I don’t know if we will ever be able to return. Maybe we will never find out. Maybe we are stranded here forever. If that’s the case, we need to get set up here. And for us, given the current situation, this can only be achieved through absolute dominance. These are savages. They build very impressive buildings and certainly have their skills. But they are obviously inferior to us all, a race of natives who even consider us quite as being quite superior.”

  Inugami showed a joyless grin. His eyes remained cold, calculatingly staring at the four men working their way up the pyramid.

  “And how right they are, among us is the divine scion of the Emperor. All of this fits so well together, as if fate has chosen us to emerge here and play an important role.”

  Aritomo controlled himself so as not to shake his head involuntarily. Had Inugami been hurt? Given his situation, how did he come up with such thoughts, without any clue, without any foundation? He didn’t know any hard facts. And he planned …

  “Foreseen?” Aritomo echoed.

  “Foreseen, yes.” Inugami waved to the four men, who approached slowly and cautiously. “They want something they can worship? We will give it to them. And something worthy of it: the Prince of our divine Tenno, who also represents for us the connection to the heavenly powers. But worship will not be enough if we are forced to establish ourselves here.”

  “The boy is still a child,” Sawada pointed out.

  Inugami waved his hand with a dismissive gesture. “That shouldn’t stop us. He is a symbol and represents the significance of what is about to unfold – for us who are stranded here, and those who urgently need direction and guidance.”

  “We know too little …” Sawada wanted to object, but Inugami interrupted him harshly. Aritomo saw that the old man was plagued by the same doubts as himself, and they exchanged a brief, meaningful glance.

  “We know enough,” Inugami said. “And what we haven’t yet learned doesn’t change the situation we are in right now. There come the notables of this city, as I agree with Second Lieutenant Hara. If we now show weakness and willingness to compromise, sooner or later we will be at the mercy of these barbarians. If we show superiority and strength, then we have a chance.”

  Although there was some opposition to the Captain’s premature conclusions, Aritomo recognized the logic in those words. And the risk.

  “We don’t even speak their language!” Sawada complained.

  Inugami laughed. “Then we’ll learn it. It can hardly be more complex and demanding than our own!”

  Before Sawada could continue the argument, Inugami imperiously raised his hand.

  “Enough of the discussion. The savages are close enough. We don’t want to show any dissent, but only determined unity.”

  Aritomo nodded involuntarily. No matter his objections to Inugami’s vision, this was neither the place nor the time. Sawada, too, finally seemed to understand this. He lowered his head and said nothing.

  They watched silently as the four men approached the boat as far as the debris of the indented pyramid allowed. Inugami waved. A sailor let the prepared rope ladder slide down the edge of the tower. Inugami turned to Aritomo and Sawada.

  “You come with me. The two bodyguards give us protection from here.”

  The soldiers nodded and raised their Arisakas. At such a short distance, they would make short work of the four savages if they were cause trouble.

  Then Inugami began the descent.

  When he reached the bottom, the four strangers didn’t stir. They stopped waiting. Aritomo saw that they carried no weapons. That was a good sign.

  He followed his commander, then came Sawada, who needed a little longer.

  The two groups stood silently for a moment. Then Inugami stretched out his arms and said solemnly: “In the name of Tenno and his son, I take possession of this city for the Japanese Empire!”

  Aritomo stared first at Inugami – the man couldn’t seriously mean that! – and then the four savages, who made a confused impression. Of course, they didn’t understand a word. Aritomo understood the words but had massive reservations in regard to their content.

  Inugami pointed to the crumbling floor of the pyramid level in front of him, where they all stood. His gesture was imperious, his expression mild.

  “Kneel!” he said loudly and slowly.

  The four men looked at each other.

  “Kneel!” Inugami said again, and now his voice got a threatening undertone.

  As one of the men bowed deeply, Inugami looked pleased, nodded, encouraging him with his gestures. All four savages bowed, and the commander seemed to consider that sufficient. He had made clear who was in charge here.

  Then, returning to the undivided attention of the Maya, he patted his chest and said, “Inugami!” He then pointed to Aritomo and spoke aloud: “Hara!” Finally, his finger pointed to Sawada, and he pronounced his name c
learly. It was hard to misunderstand, and the savages repeated the procedure on their side.

  For Aritomo, the names were barely understandable. The youngest man among the four seemed most able to express himself. Aritomo thought he had heard “Chitam.” Sawada pulled out a writing pad and began to take notes and the Maya, as the teacher had called them, watched with interest.

  The young man called Chitam turned his upper body to the city and made a sweeping motion with both arms. Then, very slowly and clearly articulated, he said, “Yax Mutal!”

  This was undoubtedly the name of the city. Aritomo repeated the name and the gesture and seemed to find agreement with his counterparts.

  “That must be enough,” Inugami mumbled. “We have to discuss the way forward. We’ll get back to the boat!”

  He waved to Sawada and Aritomo, who immediately climbed the rope ladder. Then the commander followed. As they stood up in the tower, the ladder was pulled up and the men gradually disappeared inside the boat.

  The four Maya made no move to follow them.

  Inugami closed the hatch of the bridge above them, and they all stood together in the control room. The young Prince joined them, looked questioningly at Sawada, then turned his gaze to Inugami.

  “Lieutenant,” the Prince said slowly. “I heard what was said outside. Where are we?”

  Sawada glanced at Inugami and answered instead. “Your Highness, there are two questions to answer: Where are we – and when?”

  If the Prince was afraid, he didn’t show it. His stoic composure was convincing, but how much of it was acting, hard training and what was his actual attitude? Aritomo looked around. On the faces of the other crew members was tense attention, a little fear but no panic. They maintained discipline.

  That was reassuring.

  “When?” the Prince repeated.

  “The civilization of the Maya we are confronted with has not existed in this form for many centuries. It’s just an assumption, but whatever brought us here took us not only through space but through time.”