she asked with exquisite courtesy.
Chitam grimaced. Breakfast. The thought itself … “I’m fine,” he said, perhaps a little curtly, but by all the gods, he was the husband and Prince. “Thank you for your concern, my lady.”
“May I remind you that we’re having a banquet tonight for our good friend K’inich and his wife. We delayed this a long time, and they are in town today to pay their respects to the King.”
Chitam’s expression darkened. K’inich was the ruler of a small vassal settlement a few miles outside the city limits of Mutal, at least as far as one wanted to grant him the title of a “King” at all. So close to the mighty Mutal that his position was no more than that of a glorified governor. K’inich regularly came to pay his respects and to renew the bond with Yax Mutal, usually right after the first harvest. That was all well and good, but the governor’s wife was an old acquaintance of the honored Lady Tzutz, and so it was customary for them to have a banquet. The “good friend” was an old-fashioned landed nobleman, and considered himself something better than the current dynasty of Yax Mutal, which was ultimately attributable only to Chitam’s grandfather, who had been used by the Teotihuacán usurpers as a front. The old royal family of Yax Mutal, whose history went back much further, had been excluded from rule. One more reason for Chitam’s father to establish a new, his own genealogy with a clear reference to local traditions. K’inich, of course, was not easy to wrap up. He could look back to an unbroken line of predecessors and that made him – at least in his own eyes – something special. It really had to make this man very angry that his expanded village had to pay tribute to the mighty Yax Mutal so that he could continue this tradition with his head remaining on his shoulders.
Anyway, he wasn’t a good friend, and the yearly banquet a most unpleasant business. Of course, Chitam as heir apparent had to uphold etiquette. K’inich was officially a loyal vassal who always fulfilled his obligations completely and punctually. So he enjoyed the respect of such, and of course that was also for the corresponding good behavior of the Prince.
But Chitam didn’t feel like good behavior today. He just wanted to sleep.
Lady Tzutz didn’t seem to be prepared to liberate him from this social obligations – otherwise, she wouldn’t have bothered to remind him immediately on the morning of the important day.
“I didn’t think about anything else the whole day,” he lied to his wife. In fact, last night he drank so much because he wanted to suppress the memory of the impending banquet. And Tzutz knew that, of course, as her fine smile signaled all too clearly.
“I’m glad, my husband,” she said, bowing again, and then darting away gracefully across the paving stones of the square toward her palace. Chitam looked after her for a moment, refusing to shake his head – both because of the spectators and because of his severe pain in this area – and apparently devoted himself to the construction work again. As expected, on this front everything went very well. The tomb would become a wonderful temple, bigger than the one next to it, and a worthy addition to the acropolis. Mutal wasn’t just any city, and no matter how much Chitam wished that he wouldn’t become king to soon, he knew that the current expansion in both population and production would soon make it possible that tribute wouldn’t only be paid by village chiefs like K’inich. No, there were more rewarding goals, and Chitam already had very precise plans.
In return, it would be worthwhile to become king.
The hammer that drove the obsidian bits into the stone really got on his nerves. He decided that he had fulfilled his duties and, with some servants in attendance, he returned to the palace where his father resided and waited for his report. Chitam was well-known in Yax Mutal, and anyone who crossed his path was respectfully keeping his distance, making the expected signs of reverence and not bothering him with unnecessary conversation. Chitam, on the other hand, was free to stop and address anyone, a privilege he used extensively in young women. He had already fathered many children in his life, and although this offspring didn’t automatically lead to the mothers being promoted to a higher social rank, the royal house was also responsible for the illegitimate children, as long as legitimacy played a role. As long as the King was well, his children didn’t have to suffer; the same was true for the crown prince. The population of the city grew steadily. After recovering from the invasion two generations ago, the upswing was unmistakable. Other parts of the forest constantly were cleared to make room for new fields and buildings. The city center grew more and more beautiful every year, as more and more aristocrats created grandiose structures, and the King led them all the way. Trade flourished. The upper class was covered with jewelry made of green jade, the most valuable of all gemstones, and the often magnificent presentation especially on feast days blinded the simple man. But that didn’t mean that the simple peasants suffered. Farming had been refined, yields became bigger and bigger, especially with the food that formed the basis of everything: corn. The royalties paid to the ruler were enough to feed his own family. If one paid attention to all the holidays and paid homage to the King in the prescribed manner, opportunity to participate in the military campaigns arose – which in the case of Chitam’s father didn’t mean much, since his activities were directed more inward than outward, a circumstance his son endeavored to end in time. Everyone in Mutal lived a good life, as a citizen of one of the most powerful cities of the corn people.
Chitam stopped.
Another passerby, a man of nobility, as one could see from his retinue, had a servant hand him a cup of quill, a coffee made from roasted corn. Although the Prince did not really want to eat, he felt the need for liquid as the pleasant scent of the freshly-heated drink reached his nose. It mingled with the freshly baked corn patty, which the servant unpacked. It was certainly the privilege of the Prince to demand his own share, but at the same time it was extremely rude, because as a member of the royal family he wasn’t a beggar. Chitam’s eyes narrowed. The man was somehow known to him, but he was turning his face away. Had not he even bumped with him last night? At some point they had been so many, because he had lost track of everything, and some details of that merriment he could remember only vaguely anyway.
“Tell me, who is this gentleman?” Chitam quietly asked the servant closest to him. “I should know him … By Naal, I’m getting old.”
His servant bowed and made a negative gesture. “It’s hot, sir. The sun obscures our thoughts. The young master there is Tek’inich, the son of the high priest of the Naal.”
Chitam’s memory cleared. Tek’inich was an important man. He would become high priest before Chitam became king, and that was a significant detail, for it was Tek’inich who would direct and bless the Prince’s coronation ceremony.
He definitely had too much chi last night.
Tek’inich looked up, recognized Chitam and smiled at him. He beckoned to him, exactly what the Prince had hoped for.
Moments later, he drank a particularly hot quill, and he felt the warmth and strong taste spread through him, helping clear his head. He even laughed at a remarkably bad joke on Tek’inich’s part. He almost even accepted the offer to try one of the corn patties.
But he didn’t want to get cocky.
Chitam knew that it would be late again tonight.
They talked for a while. Tek’inich was not a man of special ambition, but he was considered wise and sensible. He would be a support to Chitam, someone whose help the young king might one day depend on. He was not a particularly likable man and was not one of Chitam’s close friends, but the noble lady Tzutz pointed out to her husband every week that it would be helpful to have a nice word with him, to be friendly and polite, because you never know.
Tzutz knew a lot about all these things. She
