The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun. Dirk van den Boom

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      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.”

      Everyone exchanged blank looks.

      “A daring claim,” Inugami said, though he seemed to have already accepted that explanation inwardly, as it offered him considerable opportunities to the extent of which he had already outlined. He felt, it was clear, as a conqueror who was chosen for great things, a man with a mission.

      “A claim that explains what we’ve just experienced.”

      “How is something like this possible?, the Captain asked.”

      “I don’t know.”

      “A natural phenomenon? I’ve never heard of it.”

      Sawada blinked. “Ships sometimes disappear under unclear circumstances, Lieutenant. We then assume storms or misfortune. But maybe … maybe something like this happens sometimes. It seems to have happened to us.”

      Inugami pressed his lips on each other. “How do we get back?”

      He had to ask that question, no matter how much it drove him home or not. As the boat didn’t even seem to be near the sea, it was almost rhetorical. Aritomo knew that he addressed this issue to the benefit of the crew. Nobody should think the commanding officer wouldn’t try everything. That would jeopardize the loyalty of his men.

      Sawada shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe never. You’ve already realized that, Lieutenant, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have wanted to take possession of this city for the Empire.”

      “Am I a king now?” the Prince asked. Everyone looked at Inugami for an answer, until it was Sawada talking to the boy.

      “If we do it right and make no stupid mistake, we may be able to achieve that goal.” Then he looked up and at Inugami. “We really need to discuss what we want to do next. We can’t hide in the boat forever. And we can not wait for too long. We have to keep initiative and momentum in our hands.”

      Sawada seemed to come to terms with Inugami’s plans. Aritomo didn’t mind. The primary responsibility of the teacher was the well-being of the Prince. He would do anything to ensure that.

      “That’s true,” Inugami said. “But first we inform the crew. By now everyone should be awake. If we don’t find inner strength, we can’t demonstrate it to the outside.”

      Aritomo wasn’t in any way opposed to Inugami’s words.

      But still.

      He didn’t feel easy with the turn of events. It was as if something had been set in motion whose consequences were barely foreseeable. They knew so little. How could one make grandiose plans?

      It was ironic when he thought of the submarine like a fish out of water. But this also referred to him as a person, and that was a most unpleasant situation.

10

      K’inich Tatb’u, whom everyone called the Jaguar Skull, looked with great satisfaction at his old enemy, the Lord of Bonampak. He was called Bird Jaguar, the once proud king of the neighboring town, situated farther to the south, where the rich forests of the lowlands gradually made way for fields on higher elevations, located on artificial terraces. Bird Jaguar was an honorable name, as Tatb’u had to admit, since his own ancestor, the third king of Yaxchilan, his great-great-grandfather, whose grandfather again had once again been the legendary Yoaat B’alam, the first king of Yaxchilan, had also carried it. A venerable rule by his family, uninterrupted for more than 70 years and, if it was for Tatb’u to decide, unbroken until the end of days.

      At least the Lord of Bonampak would no longer doubt his supremacy, never challenge him anymore and present no obstacle to the rule of his city. The fight had been short and fierce, but the troops that had been led into battle by Tatb’u had at once proved to be clearly superior. Gone were the days of infamy, the stelae on which Bird Jaguar had dared to call himself and his family the superior ones, the rulers of these lands, had been shattered to pieces. Tatb’u had personally lashed out to smash the family stele of those of Bonampak with his obsidian axe – and in front of the humiliated king.

      The captive now awaited death. Tatb’u had returned to his city with him and many other prisoners of war, loaded with rich prey, and had announced a great festival. Everyone was in high spirits and full of pride because of the tremendous triumph. Tatb’u had never felt so strong, and he radiated this power clearly.

      “I will pay homage to the beaten king who deserves his name. No one should say I insult my own glorious ancestor by treating an enemy who calls himself that same unworthily, no matter how much he mocked me,” he told the assembled notables and priests. “He and his ilk are to play against us in the ballgame. The gods may decide their fate. If they are victorious, their lives should be spared. If they lose, they are to sacrifice to Itzamnaaj, the god of our city, the Lord of Heaven. Prepare them. The beaten king is allowed to choose his own team from the prisoners. Thus speaks the gracious K’inich Tatb’u, whom everyone knows by the name Jaguar Skull.”

      He hadn’t missed the expression of hope in the eyes of his old enemy when he announced his decision. And that was a good thing. Anyone who has hope for survival struggles. Tatb’u was aware of the outcome of the game. His players, including his own son, were unbeatable. They had been informed early on of the intentions of the ruler and had prepared accordingly. And even if it unexpectedly came to a defeat, Tatb’u would not have lost his face. He would accept the ruling of the gods and condemn the king and other prisoners of war to slave labor. For Bonampak, nothing changed anyway. He had already established a trustworthy man there as the new regent, someone who wouldn’t make himself more than he was, and knew that paying tribute to his overlord once a year was an important duty that to neglect caused dire consequences.

      “Pakul!”

      The nobleman stepped to his King’s side and bowed.

      “Come with me.”

      The ruler and his subject left the large room that was commonly used as an audience hall. They withdrew СКАЧАТЬ