Читать книгу The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun - Dirk van den Boom, Emmanuel Henné - Страница 12

Chitam saw his father arrive and how the Palace Guard began to clear the place. Many of the people were only too willing to gain as much distance between themselves and this apparition as possible, so that their efforts were quickly crowned with success.

Siyaj stood next to his eldest son and followed his gaze, which lay constantly on the massive object. The King turned his broad face to the ruined temple with piercing black eyes. Chitam couldn’t discern if he was particularly worried that his own tomb was now a podium for … something that had completely crushed the half-finished point with its weight. Although his death might be imminent, it was typical of Siyaj that he was more concerned about the city as a whole than his long-term salvation.

“What’s that thing made of?” the master of Mutal muttered. “Is that black obsidian?”

“Possible,” Chitam replied. “But who knows? Nobody has ever seen such a construction. Look at it. It is wet.”

“It came from heaven?”

“Right above the pyramid.”

“Then the gods sent it.”

Chitam nodded. This conclusion was indeed very obvious; in fact, it was the only possible explanation. The big picture with the bright sun painted on the black walls of the object suggested that it was a vehicle of Hunapù who, as sun god Kinich Kakmó, was watching over the Maya. His father had evidently come to this conclusion, for he had two priests armed with parchments at his side, ready to consult ancient scripture. If Chitam recognized it correctly, it was rituals for the worship of the sun god. He nodded in satisfaction. With luck, they could do everything right and prevent further destruction.

“What does Hunapù intend to do with this apparition?” the King asked one of the priests. Chitam just had to take a quick look into the man’s eyes to see that he had no idea. He was an old man, familiar with all the rituals since his earliest youth, and therefore no one who was afraid of the King – except that Siyaj was considered a very mild man anyway, who in no way tended to punish others for their ignorance too harshly.

“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.