Inugami frowned. It was clear that he hadn’t thought much about it so far.
“And the reverse is true as well. I can only speculate about that. I don’t know about tropical diseases, but … the malaria maybe? We don’t have quinine,” Sawada added.
“What do you suggest?”
“We have to pay attention to our health. If someone is sick – fever, runny nose, general weakness –, we need to isolate this person immediately. In addition, we have to think about hygiene – and about a hospital.”
“A hospital?”
Sawada nodded seriously.
“With an isolation ward.”
Inugami sighed.
“We need to improve our medical knowledge,” Sawada went on, unimpressed. “Medicinal plants. Diseases and their symptoms. There are healers here. We must continue talking to the Maya, including about the treatment of the wounds after the palace disaster. We have to catalog knowledge. Write down therapies. It increases our life expectancy. We can’t prepare properly because we don’t know what to expect – but we should create structures that handle the unexpected better than it is now possible. In addition, you spoke of an offensive, Captain. Your vision is well-known to me. We will deal with injured people, not just the Maya. Let’s be honest. Our men will sooner or later get into risky situations and possibly suffer injuries. It is therefore in our own interest that we can treat them as best we can. We are so few, Captain. And every dead person is a big loss. We must do everything we can to protect our health.”
Aritomo saw that this last argument had drawn in Inugami. His critical thoughtfulness had turned into agreement. And Aritomo supported Sawada in his words. The teacher had addressed a fundamental and very important problem. And the list of things they still needed to do and organize was getting longer and longer.
That in turn meant …
Inugami looked at him. “Hara, you’ll deal with Sawada and the Maya.”
Aritomo bowed his head in silent agreement.
Exactly.
That’s exactly what it meant.
What had become of clear priorities? They had so many pressing issues, it was almost impossible to establish a firm hierarchy to work through. And they were so few …
The rest of the conversation revolved around many more details, and both Lengsley and Sarukazaki proposed a lot of interesting suggestions, but their practicality was not always beyond doubt, at least for Aritomo. It wasn’t just a matter of resources but also a challenge of having the right tools. In Aritomo’s view, they lacked tools to build the tools needed for further development. It was such a complex problem that Aritomo didn’t even know how big it actually was. He was glad that they had experts who dealt with these challenges.
When the meeting was over, Inugami waved, motioning him to stay a little longer. He grabbed his arm, and they began a walk that led them almost inevitably to the training area for the captain’s private army. The men were all assigned to take part in the clean-up after the fire in the palace.
And that was evidently also the topic of the conversation that the captain wanted to have with him.
“Is there any indication of who is behind this attack?” Inugami asked, sounding not half as curious and interested as his first officer would’ve expected.
“There have been several conversations with this Balkun, one of our people.”
Aritomo used the term “our people” almost automatically, and it didn’t seem so wrong as it did at the beginning. Inugami seemed to have bigger problems with this term. They were not “ours,” they were “his” people. And it was probably not even “people” for him but not much more than human material of specific use.
“I want to talk to the man too. He probably … prevented the worst.”
“He saved the king’s daughter from the flames. Chitam is very thankful. He wishes the man to be freed.”
Inugami shook his head. “That’s a point that’s not debatable to me. This Balkun belongs to me. He will of course be praised and receive honors. We can give him rank. But he will have to fight in my army and earn his freedom with blood. If he distinguishes himself, he will become an officer, and all officers will be free men.”
Aritomo raised his eyebrows. That was news the Captain hadn’t told him yet, and the idea was surprisingly … liberal. Inugami actually began not only to intensively worry about some things, but also to adapt to the circumstances. Of course, only if they served his overarching purpose, there was no doubt about that.
“Balkun stays close to the king. Chitam hasn’t yet allowed him to return to the camp.”
“I will give the order. I don’t really want to get into a contest of power with Chitam yet, but I can’t accept him doing whatever he pleases. My authority mustn’t be called into question by a native chief.”
Aritomo fell silent. Chitam wasn’t a chieftain or something like that. He was the king of one of the most powerful cities in Central America and came from a family that had been established by the local superpower three generations ago. A superpower, he remembered, whose existence he had not even discussed with Inugami. Only a brief conversation with Sawada had led to this topic.
But Inugami would need to confront that particular issue by himself.
Aritomo saw the clouds darken on the horizon – and that even though it was a day with a bright blue sky.
“What will Chitam do to find those responsible for the attack?” Inugami returned to the topic. The question seemed to upset him a bit.
“I don’t know. His people walk around asking questions. If they can figure something out … I can’t guess.”
“Will we learn about the results of his inquiry?”
“I’m sure we’ll be informed if we ask.”
“What are the current assumptions?”
“I understand that the prevailing opinion is that we missed some fleeing warriors – and nobles – from Yaxchilan who secretly sought revenge and somehow organized the attack – with certain promises, if we want to believe Balkun.”
Inugami nodded. “Very well. I think we should support this possible explanation. It offers an excellent opportunity to justify the planned campaign. We’re creating additional legitimacy.” Inugami paused, looked thoughtful and a little sad. “Of course that would have been easier if there had been some spectacular deaths, preferably from the royal family. But we have to work with what fate has granted us.”
Aritomo thought of the king’s little daughter, who was still wincing and crying at every open flame, as Dame Tzutz had told him at their last meeting.
He thought it better to keep to himself the retort that forced itself on his tongue.
“I want you to keep me informed of the progress of the … investigations.”
“Yes.”
Inugami pursed his lips and nodded.
“And bring me this Balkun. He showed … initiative. I’m not sure that’s such a good thing, but if he’s somebody to make proper use of, then I want to talk to him.”
“Yes.”
Inugami nodded and gestured. Aritomo was dismissed, he saluted and turned away. He suddenly felt the need to bring as much distance between himself and the Captain as possible.
He wandered over the training field and noticed that his feet were carrying him to the palace ruins. He didn’t mind. It was a good place to get an idea of the course of events and obtain the information Inugami expected of him.
When he got there, he realized to his surprise that the Maya didn’t want to endure the shame of a smoldering ruin in the middle of their city any day longer than necessary. Long chains of workers had formed and carried off what their comrades in the ruins broke into pieces. All the remains were systematically removed and leveled with an impressive speed. Hundreds of men were at work here, many of them Inugami’s soldiers, and they operated under the guidance of experienced builders who had a good grip on the entire construction site.
> On the square, in turn, building materials were piled up by other construction crews, most notably bricks from the nearby fractures but also wooden beams, tools, other materials, all carefully layered and thus ready to start with immediately after the demolition had ceased. What proved to be recyclable from the ruin of the palace was also placed here.
The fire had not affected the foundations of the mighty building, so it could be built upon. This would significantly reduce the time for reconstruction. If Aritomo overlooked it correctly, the Mayan builders used their workforce in a very effective way. Since this project had the highest priority, everything would be done very, very fast.
That was a problem, because it endangered the construction plans of Inugami. Proper barracks for his army? Sarukazaki’s city walls? Aritomo had some guesses on additional plans. Improved tools and materials would be used, sure. But above all, there would be a need for many additional workers, which in turn meant that the Maya would increasingly turn into a slave-holding society – if Inugami didn’t come up with yet another idea to increase the population.
The Maya knew slavery. Enslavement was the preferred punishment for serious offenses such as murder, burglary or adultery, although the application of this penalty varied depending on the social status of the person to be punished. He who was born into slavery remained a slave. Those who raised enough wealth to buy their freedom or served their master well could be released. All in all, there wasn’t an endless amount of slaves in Mutal, and most of the work of lower nature was done by free citizens of the city. What would happen if the proportion of slaves increased significantly, if they were collected by Inugami’s campaigns and if their only hope for freedom was to find favor in the captain’s eyes?
Aritomo knew where these thoughts led to.
Chitam, if he was wise, would have the same reservations.
He stood there for a while watching the well-organized activity and imagined what it would look like once Inugami realized his imperial fantasies. Would there be another palace, completely cut off from the city, with its own life, a place to which only selected people had access, and nobody knew what was actually going on behind it – much as it had been the case in Meiji-times in Japan? To assume that the young prince would be more than just a doll in the hands of a shogun Inugami would be absurd. The boy himself already guessed what was in store for him, and each day he seemed more introspective and reserved. Sawada took great care of him, but he had many other duties and, as an old man, needed rest too. Aritomo wanted to suggest allowing the prince access to peers, perhaps by establishing a common English class. Sawada would have endorsed this idea, but Aritomo already knew that the Captain would oppose it. Officially, of course, in order not to pollute the exalted and sanctified status of the prince with the presence of filthy savages – in reality, to keep the young man as isolated as possible to prevent him from developing other, uncontrollable loyalties, even friendships and, thus, influences that might detract from the right path.
A “right path” whose direction only Inugami sought to determine.
Aritomo decided to start another conversation with the prince at the next opportunity, if only to give him some comfort. His situation was far from enviable.
The officer sighed.
It was not his major concern either.
But unlike the prince, he had the means in his hands to initiate change.
He saw Lengsley heading for the construction site. He would surely meet some of the Mayan artisans to discuss with them the things the Captain had told them to do. The Maya showed quite a desire for learning, even though there were still major problems with understanding. In men like Lengsley and Sarukazaki, however, they recognized practical craftsmen who seemed able to create something grand from nothing. Beyond the spoken word, they shared a common language on a very different human level and a desire to mold nature to their own will and do it a little better each time than before.
Aritomo gave himself a jerk and followed the Briton.
29
Inocoyotl looked down from the hill at the small settlement and wondered how much wretchedness he would have to endure on his journey. His expression must have betrayed his feelings, for Queca, the officer of the thirty soldiers who accompanied him along with his own servants to protect the expedition, shook his head.
“Besides Teotihuacán, all towns are villages, and all villages are dirt holes,” the imperial officer said with a mixture of satisfaction and contempt. “The Maya will forever be in our shadow, ambassador.”
Inocoyotl nodded. “Yet they are not to be underestimated, my friend. Some of their cities are not without majesty. Have you been often so far south?”
“No further than here. I’m a border guard.”
“Then arm yourself. Although no city resembles our capital, you will see that this,” he gestured toward the village,” is by no means the standard we can expect in the future. In fact, if the Maya agreed and all of them would follow a single ruler who has both courage and energy, I would seriously fear for the good of our kingdom.”
In Queca’s face, there was the conflict between the respect for the honorable envoy, who had personally received a seal from the Divine King, and his doubt about the man’s testimony. A challenge for the great Teotihuacán? Who on this earth should have that much power?
Inocoyotl didn’t mind him. He knew this attitude from all those who, blinded by the greatness of Teotihuacán, often didn’t want to realize that the world beyond their own borders was not as run-down and inferior as they commonly thought. Queca would learn a little more with each day of their trip, and possibly bring a different picture back with him on his return.
As a border guard, he was already someone who was ready to make certain concessions, but as the big Mayan cities were still further inland and they had just crossed the uncertainly defined border, he was relatively inexperienced as his busy neighbors were concerned.
And they were busy. Inocoyotl had spent the last day before entering Maya territory meeting with all kinds of traders who were delivering obsidian to Teotihuacán. They brought news of thriving cities and powerful rulers and rumors of gods that had plagued the Maya and ushered in a new epoch in the history of their people – a perspective that was greeted with more anxiety rather than anticipation by its interlocutors.
Queca thought that was sloppy talk, just showing off. He had joked, luckily not in the presence of the traders but afterwards and a lot. His men had laughed. Inocoyotl hadn’t.
He had learned that no one in his presence, in front of the Eye and Ear of the Divine Ruler, seriously thought of stories that didn’t carry a small kernel of truth. To find this kernel and thus to explore the situation to the fullest, he was about to do.
The Divine King expected him to do his best.
Inocoyotl expected no less of himself.
“We will not stay over there for long. But we can’t help but to pay a salute to the head of the village. He will then broadcast the news of our arrival to the neighboring larger cities, so we will be received appropriately there. We don’t want to embarrass anyone by our surprising appearance.”
Queca bowed. “I will send soldiers in advance. I don’t want to risk anything.”
Inocoyotl wanted to stop him for a moment, then decided against it. It didn’t make sense to manage the officer too much. He would have to work with him for many months, and a good personal relationship was crucial. And he found it worth noting that the man was worried about their safety, though no serious danger was to be expected.
“A wise decision. But they shouldn’t be too bossy and not scare ordinary people. We don’t come as enemies. We want to talk to them, exchange information, affirm friendly ties. Let us behave that way.”
Queca made a contemptuous snapping sound before he turned away to give his orders. Inocoyotl didn’t mind him again. Queca was full of arrogance, but he followed orders, and with great discipline. A successf
ul expedition and a benevolent report at court would improve his own position. The ambassador wasn’t afraid of real insubordination.
Shortly thereafter a small group of soldiers trotted off, carefully briefed. Inocoyotl’s eyes followed as they ran down the path, open and visible to anyone, their shields tied behind their backs. Queca had faithfully followed his suggestion, and that was a good thing.
An hour later the rest of the column followed, at a more leisurely pace. In addition to the soldiers, Inocoyotl had brought twenty porters from his household to transport the supplies and tents, gifts for the Mayan rulers they’d meet, and their gifts on the way back. In addition, he was accompanied by two Maya from the Teotihuacán alien quarter, who would serve as translators and mediators. They were reliable people, chosen by the palace itself, beyond any doubt. Inocoyotl himself spoke Maya, but he was well aware of the variety of dialects, which differed significantly from each other. And he hadn’t been here for a long time, so there was a danger that his language skills were a little rusty.
When they reached the village, they were already greeted by those who were leaders in this small estate. The village chief was the highest man of the local nobility and thus for someone from the big cities only little more than a glorified farmer. The ambassador’s attendance noticeably embarrassed the elderly man. He looked nervous and wasn’t alone in this feeling. Surely, many were scared here too.
Inocoyotl decided to continue to be gracious and show consideration.
He smiled with warmth.
The man stared at the envoy, looked at his gorgeous clothes, and decided to show the only correct reaction that couldn’t be mistaken. He threw himself flat on the ground, pressed his forehead to the ground, and said, “Greetings, lord. Me and mine are at your disposal.”
Inocoyotl was pleased to see that the man’s few companions also followed suit. Even Queca, who had a look of disdain on his face all the time, seemed content.
The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun Page 23
