Dirk van den Boom - The Emperor's Men 8 - Stormy Heavens

“Noble King, noble majesties, I send you my lord’s greetings, and I’m delighted to see you in the best of health. The friendship of my lord and king is unbreakable, and his blessings accompany you. Teotihuacán sees you as a family, and we are united by a bond that stretches through the ages. Thank you for the friendly welcome, the kind hospitality and the opportunity to step in front of you.”

K’uk’ Bahlam’s broad face grew even wider, as his lips twisted into a smile, thus expressing his benevolence. “Thank you, ambassador. It is an astonishing coincidence that you appear here at the exact time when a major crisis is looming, and I have called a gathering of dignitaries to discuss this.”

Inocoyotl kept his composure. It was remarkable that Bahlam had exactly the same thoughts as the envoy himself. His respect for the massive man grew a little more. “A coincidence, indeed. I only heard about this meeting on my way here.”

“So you weren’t sent directly as an observer, as a participant in the deliberations?”

“No,” Inocoyotl said the truth. “My mission was of a more general nature. I should strengthen relationships with our friends, the Maya, and visit many cities. It was not my specific job to attend this conference; I knew nothing about it and neither did my master.”

He wasn’t so sure about the last claim, but of course he couldn’t show that.

Bahlam nodded. “But then you hurried here.”

“It seemed appropriate to me. Am I welcome?”

Bahlam laughed. It was remarkable what tremors the brief outburst caused on his body. “A lot. The gods look benevolently down at us. We could use the help of our generous friend, your king, someday.”

Inocoyotl said nothing and just bowed. He knew that he had extensive powers. His king might support whatever he said here, even what he didn’t think was right, just to save his face. In such a case, however, the head of his envoy would no longer be sitting on his shoulders too securely once he returned. Inocoyotl quite liked the current position of his head. He had to be very careful. “I’ve only heard rumors so far, noble majesties.”

“It started with rumors. But it is now much more than that.”

“Do you want to inform me?”

“That is the purpose of this gathering.” Bahlam rose.

Inocoyotl immediately wanted to do the same, but the king waved him off. The flexibility with which he was able to move was amazing, as if all the fat on his bones were actually muscles. Inocoyotl frowned. Indeed, there may have been more muscles than it appeared. He didn’t want to face the man in battle. The outcome could be surprising.

And Inocoyotl was really attached to his head.

Bahlam spread his arms and spoke. “Many weeks ago there were the first indications that amazing things had happened in Mutal. They spoke of messengers of the gods that would have appeared one day from heaven, brought by a strange vehicle, a metal container of impressive size, which the temple crushed among itself. We didn’t take these rumors too seriously, they sounded a little … hysterical.”

Inocoyotl just grunted. Who would blame Bahlam? That was his first reaction to the story. Visions of priests who had given themselves to chi too intensively and wanted to impress gullible people to demonstrate their usefulness.

“But then these rumors grew as our own informants began to confirm them in their reports. Indeed, something extraordinary has happened in Mutal. And any doubts we might have had have been cleared up by recent events that you probably haven’t heard of.”

Inocoyotl nodded promptly. “I’m listening, high king.”

“And attentively, as I observe. Good.”

Bahlam walked through the room during his lecture, driven by an inner unrest that now seemed to be transferred to Inocoyotl. He had to hold on to himself not to jump up. The one who remained completely uninvolved was the lord of Popo’. He had even closed his eyes. “Our dear brother, the king of Yaxchilan, has always been a man full of ambition and confidence. He used a victory over a neighboring town to fuel enthusiasm for a campaign against Mutal, and he managed to find two valuable allies in this regard, the lords of Saclemacal and Tayasal. An impressive army marched toward Mutal, and although this city is so big and powerful, I wouldn’t have given much of its chances of a successful defense.”

Inocoyotl said nothing. The Mayan habit of constantly attacking each other was well known in Teotihuacán. His own king was very pleased with this practice. Mayan kings in battle meant that none of them could ever pose a serious threat to the Eternal City. So they should keep pounding each other’s skulls. Inocoyotl found this a very reasonable attitude. The description presented to him thus so far corresponded to what he had to expect from the current power politics of this region. “What happened?”

“Mutal prevailed. The king of Yaxchilan is dead. Thousands of prisoners have been made.”

“One hears a lot about the power of Mutal’s warriors,” Inocoyotl said, unable to hide the fact that he was somewhat proud. Mutal’s current dynasty was founded by a noble Teotihuacán who had led one of the last great campaigns in this region. It seemed that some of his people’s energy and ability had been transferred to his offspring. If a Mayan state was honored by Teotihuacán, it was Mutal.

Bahlam knew that, of course. And he was a polite man. “Indeed, envoy. But all reports speak of magic weapons that brought great destruction to the attackers, thundering sticks from which invisible arrows shot, and large fires that spontaneously spread like magic. They speak of men in strange robes who have conquered the ear and heart of the King of Mutal and a metal vehicle that rests on one of their temples.”

“These reports sound … embellished.”

Bahlam laughed again in his shattering way. The sound came deep from his body and felt like a volcano was preparing to erupt. There was something contagious as well as terrifying.

“My spies are men of the greatest reliability, I expressly admonish them to only report what they hear and see and never to try to interpret these things.”

Inocoyotl believed that the king was extremely careful when selecting and instructing his agents, especially those in Mutal. He was concerned that the truth did not seem to be far from the visions of drunken priests.

“That’s how you called this important conference,” Inocoyotl concluded. “In the visit of the messengers of the gods you see a danger, not a blessing.”

“I doubt it’s messengers from the gods. I have no doubt, however, that they are a danger, except for Mutal itself, and I don’t want to come to a final judgment there either.”

“What is the danger? How do you want to deal with this? Do you wish to attack Mutal? Who should support you?”

Bahlam laughed again, and Inocoyotl imagined hearing respect in the laughter. “Everyone at this conference once wanted to conquer Mutal. Even the mighty Teotihuacán, if I remember correctly.”

Inocoyotl shook his head mockingly, grinning. He started to warm up for this king.

“The problem is not whether and when we attack Mutal, but rather where the king of that city, supported by the messengers of the gods, is now turning his eye. The last thing we heard today, delivered directly by messenger from one of my spies, is this: King Chitam of Mutal’s troops have set out to punish Saclemacal for participating in the attack on Mutal. And everyone agrees that this city will not be the last to fall victim to the campaign.”

“It doesn’t sound unusual. Saclemacal is actually owing tribute to Mutal and has committed treason. That’s how you would act, noble Bahlam, if one of your tributes should orientate himself otherwise.”