The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun

by Dirk van den Boom

  Aritomo watched fascinated as the teacher proceeded. At first, they were just simple objects that Sawada apparently assumed would be known to the man. Sawada drawed these accompanied by English characters and pronounced the word. The prisoner was very docile. He picked up the pen – and it turned out that he was not afraid of this utensil, so he was familiar with the principle of writing on parchment or paper – and carefully drew strange characters and objects, until he put them in a single word. Sawada, in turn, wrote down what he had heard in Japanese script so that it corresponded to the sounds he had thought he heard. He was excited to see how, after only an hour of intense dialogue, the teacher’s notebook filled with vocabulary. When they took a break and drank tea – which the prisoner also took with enthusiasm –, they had already worked out over 30 words. Aritomo took the opportunity to take a look for himself. “Ajaw” seemed to be the name of a king or ruler. The teacup was a “Ja-yi.” The “Cha-ya” was the fish. There were also some verbs. “Tz’i-b’a” seemed to mean “writing,” an activity the two men had been working on all the time.

  After the tea break, they continued their concentrated work. Inugami, pleased with the progress, left them alone, but Aritomo remained in the entrance and watched the exchange with great interest. The men, both teachers and students, came to numbers. “Jun, cha, ox, chan, jo,” the priest counted his fingers, and Sawada did the same in English.

  Not much was stirring outside the boat. The warriors of the local ruler, probably a king, had sealed off the area around the crash site. There were more onlookers, many prayers and ceremonies were held. Even the abduction of the priest had caused no major reactions. Perhaps the savages thought that he would be used on board of the holy vehicle for some bloody ritual, an idea that the inhabitants of this city obviously had no problems with.

  In the meantime, a complete inventory of all resources had been made on the boat itself. They still had food for about a week and drinking water would last for about that long. By then they would be dependent on food supplies by the natives. The diesel engines were able to recharge the batteries for a few weeks, providing power to the boat, but then they would fail as well, and Aritomo didn’t expect to be able to provide any replenishment soon in this … time. Inugami had therefore ordered all machines shut down. Most of the crew members were in the immediate vicinity of the boat or on the pyramid and familiarized themselves with the environment. That was a difficult process. There was some crying again. Some men seemed very apathetic and were barely responsive. The commander didn’t beat anyone this time, seeming to realize that he wouldn’t speed up the transition process that way. Others, however, were probably infected by the spirit of adventure. Inugami developed the vision of a kingdom in foreign times and on foreign soil, led by the crew members of the boat, and always communicated with a certain persuasiveness. Aritomo had so far never noticed this kind of charisma in the man. It was an aspect of his personality that he admired on the one hand but that made him restless on the other. Inugami went out of himself. He showed facets of a personality that had hitherto remained hidden under military discipline. Aritomo thought about it for a long time. If this was true for Inugami – what would emerge from the hidden in Aritomo Hara, here, in this new and unfamiliar situation?

  That thought almost made him even more nervous.

  The mutual observation of Japanese and Maya was ended by a banquet served in the early afternoon by the townspeople. Aritomo was the first to watch, alerting Inugami. The Mayan women – some of them quite pleasing to the eye, if Aritomo was permitted to say – carried large baskets or trays laden with all sorts of food. Much of it was alien to Aritomo, but he was able to identify some of the fruits, and there was a lot of fried meat. Generally, according to his impression, the natives seemed to make a lot of food from corn. In contrast to the rice he was used to, this grain seemed to be the basis of all nutrition.

  “We should accept this invitation,” he told Inugami, who looked a little skeptical. “For one thing, sooner or later we’ll need indigenous supply anyway. On the other hand, it is necessary for us to establish a relationship with them.”

  “Relationship!” the commander snapped, looking half appalled at Aritomo. “Who uses such a word? We have to rule. They have to be controlled.”

  “That too is a relationship,” Aritomo defended himself. “And they are many, many more than we are. At some point we will run out of ammunition, sir. And they have far more spears in their flings than we have bullets for our rifles. They have many warriors who can die; we only have 31 men, and every single death will cause us great pain.”

  Inugami stared at his first officer, as if that act would cause the awkward truth to dissipate, but neither Aritomo nor the truth were willing to relinquish so quickly. Finally, the commander lowered his head and seemed to realize that there was at least some sense in his subordinate’s words. “You go,” he decided. “You and two or three men, plus one of the bodyguards and Sawada. We will cover you from the tower.”

  “Our prisoner should join us, too.”

  Inugami looked at Aritomo reluctantly. “Why?”

  “So people will see that we don’t intend to sacrifice anyone until further notice. They should see that he is fine. The man copes well with Sawada, learns and teaches, is very enthusiastic. He should show that to the outside.”

  Aritomo briefly explained to Inugami his previous thoughts, and the commander agreed. Their guest had in the meantime continued his education with such intense attachment to the task and seemed so relaxed at the same time that both were quite sure to be able to continue teaching without forcing him to. Aritomo had rarely met such an eager student.

  Maybe the Maya were not quite the savages he took them for. In any case, their writing and their buildings seemed to indicate that they had attained a degree of civilization that was considerable. Aritomo had looked at the city in peace with his binoculars from his elevated viewpoint. The cisterns and the terraces of the fields were impressive. The murals and the endless written representations of many buildings were elaborate and complex. In urban planning, the Maya were very advanced, careful architects, ingenious master builders, persistent and successful. Their roads were dead straight and impressive, as far as he could tell from here. He didn’t even dare to compare the state of development of the current Japan of this time with that of the Maya. He assumed that his ancestor’s achievements wouldn’t be particularly impressive.

  He doubted, however, that he would be able to warm Inugami to this comparison.

  When it became clear that the food had been served and the assembled dignitaries of their hosts – including the three men left by their delegation yesterday – waited for them, Aritomo, Sawada, and a bodyguard named Tanaka listened carefully. They were accompanied by the abductee, whose renewed appearance caused a great “Hello.” They knew by now that his name was Itzanami. When they were on an equal footing with the other natives and came toward them, they met many expectant looks but no great hostility.

  Itzanami stepped forward and spoke. His words were received with great interest. When Aritomo heard him pronounce some English words and then, as Sawada had apparently taught him, introduced all three Japanese by name, the Maya were pleased and enthusiastic. The man was confronted with many questions, but before this threatened to become a too one-sided dialogue, one dignitary remembered his tasks as host and invited to the table.

  Aritomo came to sit directly opposite the two men – on the floor, as the food had simply been placed on large mats on the ground – of which had to be the King. He knew the younger one as Chitam, because he had heard of their welcoming delegation. Now that he knew the word for King – it was called “Ajaw” – he indicated a bow and pointed to the older of the two men, then with a questioning undertone to say “Ajaw?”

  The joy of their hosts knew no bounds. With the help of Sawada and Itzanami they learned that the older man was indeed the ruler of the city – which bore the
name Mutal – and his younger companion was apparently the heir to the throne. Chitam was also one of the first to try to repeat the English words Itzanami used. He made a studious impression.

  Aritomo noticed to his surprise that the feast, whose breadth and preparation impressed him, soon turned into a collective language lesson. It was the food that served as the basis of perception. Quickly, the words for different fruit and prepared food were exchanged, whereby Sawada didn’t know in each case the appropriate English word. They were given a slightly alcoholic juice called “chi,” and a bitter-tasting dark broth that surprisingly bore a name reminiscent of the English word “cocoa.” Sawada assumed that this was the origin of the cocoa, although the potion burned on Aritomo’s palate rather unpleasantly sour. However, the homage he received was reason enough for him not to show it. It became clear that this drink was highly regarded among the natives.

  Aritomo ate and drank and learned. He liked the combination. Sawada and Tanaka, who proved to be extremely talented in expressing the Mayan words correctly, didn’t hold back. And Itzanami tried constantly to identify new items he could name. Their variety of verbs and certain phrases increased in an almost exponential manner during the several-hour meal. From “eating” and “drinking” they immediately came to “give,” “take” and polite formulas such as “thank you” and “please.” Sawada didn’t know what to do first – to write down all the new terms in his notebook, as the core of a first dictionary of words and grammar, or to taste the endless variety of food offered.

  The meal already took a lot of time. Although much chi had been served, no one showed any signs of intoxication. The alcoholic content of the drink was very low. Aritomo assumed that you had to take very substantial amounts to get really drunk.

  This was his consideration when he presented his gift.

  He brought out a bottle of sake.

  Six of these bottles were privately owned by the commander. Inugami had reluctantly separated himself from one. It would take a long time until they might be able to produce anything resembling the drink under these circumstances. And the officer liked his sake.

  Aritomo quickly felt that the King of Mutal would soon share that fondness.

  Expectant silence descended upon the crowd as Aritomo opened the bottle and poured the crystal-clear liquid into one of the sake cups also brought along. To demonstrate the relative harmlessness of the drink, Aritomo himself poured himself a hearty portion and poured it down his throat. The sake was good, first burned satisfactorily, then slid gently and pleasantly down the throat. Inugami had spared no expense, this was no shit, this was quality.

  Then he offered a cup to the King. He didn’t hesitate, took and swallowed. Then his eyes widened, he let out a gasp. Aritomo escaped neither the son’s worried expression nor the fact that the ruler’s bodyguards reflexively reached for the spears they had set aside.

  But the King raised a hand, which immediately relaxed everyone. He stared for a moment, disoriented, at the empty sake cup, gasped again, then a smile crossed his lips, and he said a few words to Itzanami.

  Sawada leaned over to Aritomo.

  “I may not have understood it correctly, but I think the King spoke of sake as a drink of the gods.”

  Aritomo lifted the bottle, pointed it out with his finger, and said clearly, “Sake!”

  The word found a lot of echo in the round.

  The King held out his cup. Aritomo filled it as well as his own, which he handed to the son of the king.

  Both drank. Both immediately panted. Sweat stood on their forehead. The blissful expression that followed was well known to Aritomo. This is how men looked who drank a lot and were happy when the desired effect came in earlier than expected. That made sense. The alcoholic drinks they had been given had been very mild. Strong brandy was apparently unknown to the Maya. And they liked to drink. The intoxication seemed to have a great appeal on them.

  It took about twenty minutes of concentrated drinking, and the bottle was empty. The content didn’t miss its effect on the two men. They had previously laid a solid foundation with plenty of chi. Now the sake did the rest. When the two men wanted to rise, they had to be supported by their servants. The other Maya exchanged admiring and, as Aritomo thought, envious glances. The use of sake had certainly been a complete success. The drink had strengthened the visitors’ godly reputation.

  The problem was that only five bottles of the liquid were available for further demonstrations of its reputation. Aritomo decided to have a serious conversation with Sarukazaki. The man was very resourceful. He would find a way to produce a local alternative to sake. What was possible with rice, should also be feasible with corn, Aritomo assumed.

  The rest of the meal went on without any noteworthy events, and at some point the feasting was officially ended. There was a long conversation between Itzanami and the King, and when the Japanese set out they had company – the Crown Prince joined them next to Itzanami, and also a few servants followed, heavily burdened with the countless dishes not even touched during the meal.

  Everything was carried up to the boat, where the whole process had been watched with interest and astonishment. When the food had been deposited on the boat’s hull by very reverent and somewhat fearful porters, they disappeared remarkably fast. Chitam stayed. He looked long and thoughtfully at the gun that had damaged the neighboring pyramid, and in his glance was both respect and curiosity. This curiosity led him and Itzanami inside the boat. They quickly understood that Chitam was eager to attend the lessons with Sawada.

  Aritomo asked Inugami for permission to be a participant in the lessons as well. Even the gifted Tanaka expressed this request. Inugami agreed immediately. The lessons were to be continued intensively the very next day. Sawada was commissioned to write a textbook and was given all the paper supplies of the boat. In two weeks at the latest, so the strict command, the teacher should be able to give the entire team a first language lesson.

  Aritomo admired Inugami’s consequence. Many in the crew were still a bit apathetic and lamented silently. The commander maintained the discipline, inventing new tasks on a daily basis, ushered the men around and made it clear to them that they had a duty to perform. The presence of the young Prince of Japan helped. This one kept a remarkable attitude. The strict education was noticeable. And after a short while, he also wanted to attend Sawada’s language lessons.

  So began a great time of learning and getting to know each other.

  12

  Tatb’u looked at the drawings Pakul had made and again wondered how a man alone could be so talented. Of course, he roughly knew the distances to neighboring towns and knew how long it took them to walk. He himself, in his time as heir to the throne of his father as well as Yaxchilan’s warlord, had traveled long distances to wage wars and to return from them – usually victorious, as he noted with a not inconsiderable degree of satisfaction.

  Nobody could put this knowledge on paper as well as Pakul. The drawings he made, mostly in preparation for campaigns, were a marvel in itself, and this particular one showed not only the way to Mutal but also an approximation of their external settlement structure. Pakul had been to Mutal twice, both times as an emissary on special occasions, and his attentive, ever-seeking eye and excellent memory had served him well. No one had thought of raiding the city back then, but Pakul’s almost instinctive desire to gather tactical and strategic information had led to these records, which he now submitted to his king.

  And Tatb’u was very happy with all of it.

  Of course, some things would’ve changed by now. Also in Mutal construction was going in all the time, the city expanded, everyone knew that. Their population grew, and this had consequences, above all, it aroused the greed of neighbors – and their fear of the ever-growing power of this metropolis. But everyone knew how to build a city properly, and assumptions could be based on these laws – and these assumptions, in turn, were sensibly compleme
nted by Pakul’s wonderful drawings.

  “So how many men can we raise? I want everyone who can carry a weapon to march with me!” the King said. He wasn’t taking any chances at the moment. The victory over Bonampak had strengthened Yaxchilan’s reputation in the region. None of the smaller neighboring cities would dare question the dominance of Tatb’u and thus ask for the same fate as that of the recently vanquished. Now, indeed, was the perfect time to put all energy into the new plan without worrying too much about defending the homeland.

  “I think we can count on about 3,000 warriors,” his general said. Tatb’u nodded enthusiastically. This was the largest army his city had ever sent to battle. Even the great Mutal would have a hard time defending itself against a determined and unforeseen attack by so many fighters. More likely, they would be able to extract at least a considerable tribute, and they would be particularly pleased to proclaim a glorious victory over Mutal on the stelae of Yaxchilan, eternally and across all cycles connected with the name of equally glorious K’inich Tatb’u I.

  The ruler enjoyed this prospect extremely well. If there were some decent victims, high-ranking prisoners who could be offered to Itzamnaaj to bless his city even more than he had done in His Grace of late, one could be more than satisfied. Everything came together wonderfully.

  “When can we leave?” he asked his general.

  He thought for a moment before answering. Tatb’u did not suspect for a second that the man would lie only to please him. Their relationship with each other was trusting, and Pakul always honestly said what he meant and also named any problems that might arise. If he meditated, then it was his purpose to properly correlate all facts and to consider all important aspects.