Treasure of the Mayan King (2012)

by Alehandro

The work on the temple progressed swiftly. The international team worked with few snags, each one

  accomplished in their specialty. Except for the paleontologists; they waited on the sidelines for their opportunity to analyze the Mayan king’s skeleton, if and when it was found.

  In the meantime, Dr. Sova spent much time with the translators as they attempted to decipher the writings on the temple stairs. It was evident to Chauncy that the relationship between Dr. Sova and the other translators was anything but amicable. They frequently engaged in heated discussions regarding the proper translation of the Mayan glyphs.

  Chauncy noticed a distinct change in the doctor’s disposition. He began to distance himself even more from his colleagues more and more as the days passed.

  Chauncy tried to follow the discussions, but he quickly lost track. All he could get out of them was that Dr. Sova insisted his translations were more accurate than those of his colleagues. During one particularly heated debate, while they were in Sova’s’ tent, Chauncy was about to make a quick retreat when the fabric of the conference tent shuddered and a worker ripped apart the opening flaps and entered.

  “Dr. Sova, we have located the flagstone covering at the top of the pyramid!”

  Immediately the team of translators forgot their argument. They all knew what that announcement meant: they now had access to the bowels of the temple.

  It took only moments to get to the temple. Their excitement was held in check as the workers slowly lifted the flagstone.

  The flagstone cover was lifted up and placed aside; the workers raised their arms triumphantly as they yelled in a victory cry that reverberated throughout the camp. One of the archaeologists atop the pyramid, a Russian, shined his flashlight inside the dark opening as cheers erupted from the crowd. Their cheers were short-lived, however.

  “Arrgh,” Dr. Sova exclaimed. He was looking down the tunnel alongside the Russian worker, Chauncy beside him. The triangular tunnel was small, barely large enough to fit a human. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the abrupt stop a few feet down.

  “How do you like that?” Dr. Sova continued. “The ancient Mayas filled the tunnel with debris. How inherently rude of them! It will take quite some time to remove this material from the temple.”

  He then turned to Chauncy. “Due to the new state of affairs, the project has been woefully delayed. I’m afraid there isn’t much for you to do here. I want you to come with me to Merida for a week or so.”

  “Merida? Why do you want me to go up there?”

  Dr. Sova chuckled as he spoke softly so as to be out of earshot from Estlund. “I own a Hacienda there and my wife will fix us some good meals. Besides, there is something very important I need to explain to you. Don’t worry about these men - they have much work to do here. As for Mr. Estlund, as far as I am concerned, he can sit here and examine his hands. Come Chauncy, let us go!”

  Chapter Three

  Through the plane’s window the lush green jungle far below contrasted beautifully with the clear blue sky. With a bit of imagination, the land far below could have been a gigantic stretch of green carpet interrupted only by occasional columns of smoke wafting skyward from the fires of local farmers. Up here with the air so clear and the land so far below one could almost feel free from the constraints of civilization.

  All too quickly reality rushed back upon Chauncy as the plane started its descent. The sky gave way to rapidly approaching ground. Chauncy spotted the small dirt runway as the plane banked toward it and a familiar feeling crept into his stomach. He hated landing. Thankfully the landing was uneventful. Stepping from the plane Chauncy saw a building near the end of the runway partially hidden in the jungle. As they walked closer he could see it was a large colonial-style house.

  Dr. Sova smiled as he guided Chauncy along, the pilot trailing behind with the luggage. “I bought this home a few years ago, when I first became interested in the Mayan language. I figured this would be a good spot from which to conduct my studies: close enough to several large temples yet secluded enough to allow me peace of mind. The original structure was built sometime in the late 1800s but it had fallen into disrepair. I have refurbished it and retrofitted the building with all the modern amenities, the best that money can buy.”

  “I would expect nothing less of you, Doc,” Chauncy joked.

  The ancient trees towering over the hacienda swayed majestically in the afternoon breeze. A cobblestone roundabout connected the patio to a dirt road that led to the airstrip, then disappeared deeper into the jungle. In its center a three-tiered waterfall gurgled and splashed. The breezes and the splashing of the waterfall created an effect of absolute tranquility. Chauncy’s survey of the landscape was interrupted as two young Mayan men approached smiling graciously. Dr. Sova introduced them. “Ah, Chauncy, these are my gardeners, Lucio and Jose.”

  Lucio and Jose greeted Chauncy softly in Spanish with a humble demeanor. Continuing toward the house Chauncy and Dr. Sova ascended a short flight of stairs to a veranda, an empty hammock in one corner. A closer look at the house took Chauncy’s breath away. In the muted sunlight beneath the jungle canopy that surrounded it, the place looked like it had been lifted straight out of a fairytale. The ancient stone construction, the wrought iron railings, the various pieces of pottery artistically strewn about - it was perfect.

  As he was looking around, Chauncy spied an old Mayan Indian sitting under a large tree out in the garden.

  “Who is that?” he asked.

  Dr. Sova turned and focused on the old Indian. “Oh, that would be Miguelito. He feeds the animals, watches the house while the other two men are gone on the weekends. The poor old chap is simple, but he is cheap labor. By hiring him I have saved myself a few pesos a day. Don’t waste your time attempting to converse with him. He can’t speak a word of Spanish; only understands the Mayan tongue.”

  Surprised, Chauncy asked, “You mean you hired someone who is mentally handicapped?”

  “Economics, Chauncy, I hate those who do not make full use of their brains, such as the morons of society. Those who cannot use their brains to full capacity, however, I do not hate. They do not understand because they simply cannot. There is a difference.”

  Chauncy nodded. He didn’t agree but he understood the man’s position. As Chauncy watched, Miguelito rocked slowly in a dilapidated chair. His wrinkled face was contorted in a permanent smile, and it appeared that he was talking to himself. How sad. What a pity. At least he has a job, Chauncy thought consolingly.

  Chauncy noticed that Dr. Sova had promptly he forgot about Miguelito as he called out for his wife. “Marie? Marie, Oue vous Marie?”

  A frail-looking woman came out and greeted Dr. Sova. Nearly the same height, she looked younger than the doctor. The flecks of gray just beginning to show in her hair did nothing to diminish her beauty. Something in her demeanor troubled Chauncy; something in her eyes that seemed to belie her smile.

  Marie moved over and kissed her husband, who introduced her to Chauncy. They all walked together into the spacious, expensively furnished living room. At Dr. Sova’s invitation, Chauncy sank into one of the recliners and for a moment feared that he would be devoured by the cushions. He couldn’t recall a single piece of furniture that had ever been so comfortable. A butler appeared and made drink requests in the French language.

  As they sat and chatted, he admired the impressive house; the Spanish colonial furniture, the soft terra cotta and brown of the walls. Chauncy was comfortable here.

  An hour later, they sat down for a sumptuous dinner of quail and wild turkey with vegetables. Servants kept serving generous amounts of expensive French wine. Chauncy found it hard to resist the excellent food and fine wine. When they finally finished and returned to the living room, Chauncy was certain that he would fall asleep in his chair.

  By now Chauncy had learned that Dr. Sova hated to be trapped in small talk; mundane conversation bored the doctor. Chauncy had seen him abruptly walk away in the middle of a co
nversation if a fellow archaeologist had changed the subject to trivial matters. If deep thinking was not involved the doctor would take his leave. So Chauncy was not surprised when Dr. Sova began pacing the room, immensely preoccupied, as he had in the tent.

  His steps grew increasingly faster and more agitated until he finally blurted out, “Chauncy!”

  “Yes, Doc?”

  “I want to show you something in my study - it is extremely important.”

  Marie stood and announced that she would retire for the evening, and said goodbye to her guest. Chauncy thanked her for the fine dinner and followed the doctor down a long hallway, and Dr. Sova’s wife disappeared down another.

  Halfway down the hallway, Dr. Sova turned and opened a door. He stepped inside and flicked on the lights before inviting Chauncy in.

  Chauncy’s eyebrows were raised in surprise: he had expected something grand, but the magnitude of the doctor’s study went even beyond his expectations.

  Dr. Sova, ever the dramatist, walked around in the study with his arms extended and a bright smile upon his face. “Welcome to my humble study! It is here that I do my studies of the Mayan language. Before the gathering of the international crew to Temple #22, I spent much time in here, attempting to decipher the hidden messages of the steps.”

  A large window, almost an entire wall, let in the fading sunlight. In the middle of the room was a table so large and thick Chauncy thought it looked like a good candidate for Dr. Sova’s runway. Set upon this table were pieces of ancient blocks, barely discernible Mayan hieroglyphs carved into them. A few knives and brushes lay beside the stone, thick dust and debris from the chipped blocks littered the table and floor. On one wall there was a large diagram with many sketches of hieroglyphs, most of which had handwritten notations and equations next to them.

  Surrounding the doorway they had just passed through was a bookcase completely packed with books. Chauncy tilted his head and read some of the titles out loud. “The Toltecs, the Aztecs, the Olmecs, the Mayans.” Chauncy turned and observed that the last wall was taken up by a bank of computers. On the wall above the computers were many photographs of Mayan temples and pyramids. “What a fantastic reference library and laboratory you have here!” Chauncy exclaimed as he walked around the room, touching and examining everything. “This is very impressive indeed!”

  There was a strange look in the doctor’s eyes as he spoke. Chauncy noticed he was trembling slightly. “I have spent much time here, examining the writings of this ancient civilization. As I have mentioned, I fell in love with this profession. But until Hurricane Sheila came a few months ago and exposed those steps, well, perhaps I spent a little too much time in here. My studies of the Mayan glyphs have become an obsession. The steps out there on Temple #22…they contain some wonderful information, information that is so astonishing that I tremble with excitement just thinking about it!”

  Continuing to examine the room Chauncy asked, “Are you talking about King Chac’s tomb? Well, maybe we will find his remains in the temple.” He leaned down and looked closer at a piece of stone that displayed an engraved jaguar’s head.

  Indignant, Dr. Sova objected, “No, no, not maybe! King Chac’s remains are in the temple. I know because I am the only person that translated the Mayan writings correctly! Soon you will see that to be fact. But that is not what I am referring to.”

  “Then what are you referring to?” Chauncy asked. He set down a stone he had been examining and turned to the doctor. “I would venture to say that finding the remains of King Chac, an unknown Mayan deity, would be earth-shattering news, but you speak as if there’s something more fabulous out there.”

  Dr. Sova’s eyes glistened as he continued his explanation. “I want you to listen to me, listen very carefully. I have told no one else what I am about to tell you, not a single soul. It is the reason you are here.” He walked toward Chauncy and waved a finger at the window. “On the steps of the Mayan temple, Temple #22, I found a secret code, a Mayan code. It was very subtle and I almost missed it, but once I knew what to look for there was no doubt in my mind. It was hidden within the syntax of the other message, the one revealing the details of King Chac and about his entombed body. It is simply art! It was so well hidden that if one read the normal message, the reader would not have a clue of anything amiss unless he dug further.

  “What we do know about this king is that he amassed a gigantic treasure from his many conquests against his rival kings. After his final victories, he became fearful that someone would steal his treasure, so he went and hid it out in the jungle. That is what I found on the temple steps, Chauncy, the location of that immense treasure!”

  “Come on, Doc! Stories of buried treasure are all over the place, rarely are they ever true, you know that. Besides, if it was that simple, why not just go and get it yourself?”

  Dr. Sova chuckled. “I never once said it was simple, my dear Chauncy, did I? The location is disguised as a blasted riddle, of all things. Allow me to demonstrate it for you.”

  Dr. Sova walked to a small desk in the corner of the study, leaned over and pressed a button on the side of the desk. A panel dropped in its front revealing a secret drawer. He gingerly took a large scroll from within and walked over to the large table in the middle of the room. Moving aside some of the debris, he carefully unrolled the scroll, placing some of the hieroglyph-carved stones on its edges.

  “These are the inscriptions from the temple steps, the entire description of King Chac’s dealings. See here the genius of King Chac’s code. A simple reading of this description yields no clue that anything is amiss, but look, look!”

  Pointing excitedly to a hieroglyph, he continued, “This appears to be part of the regular description, right? But it is not! It is a number, but it is a head glyph number. Mayans used dots, dashes and shells to represent numbers, but they also used glyphs that looked like the glyphs for certain deities. This number here uses a head glyph that looks like the one for the Mayan sun-god!”

  Chauncy had the impression he was expected to comprehend and be excited. Failing on both counts, he admitted sheepishly, “I don’t get it.”

  Dr. Sova read the glyphs slowly. “Allow me to simplify it. I translated the major Mayan words on the temple steps. The names of three major gods of the Mayans were clearly visible as follows: K” inich Aha, Quetzalcoatl, Xibalba.”

  “Keep talking,” Chauncy prodded.

  Dr. Sova continued. “K” inich Aha is the sun-god, Quetzalcoatl is the Winged Serpent. However Xibalba can have various meanings. It can mean the god of the underground or a cave.”

  “Which one is it?” Chauncy asked.

  “I am not sure yet. Once I translate the words in between the names of the deities I should have the complete translation. But the biggest clue is the word ‘treasure’. It is clearly found at the end of the riddle. In other words, the riddle is leading to his immense treasure!”

  “Okay, but where do I come in, why are you telling me these things?” Chauncy inquired with a mesmerized expression.

  “I need your assistance.” Looking Chauncy straight in the eye, Dr. Sova continued, “I want you to help me translate this Mayan code. That is the sole reason I had you come here to my hacienda. I want you to assist me. If you can aid me in deciphering this riddle we will have cracked one of the greatest of the Mayan mysteries. Imagine that, we will be the heroes of the archaeological world!”

  Chauncy swallowed hard. “But Doc, I know almost nothing of Mayan hieroglyphs. I’m a paleontologist. Don’t get me wrong, I love the idea of helping you, but it would take years of dedication and study to be able to catch up with you. I would only slow you down. Why not use one of those professionals in Palenque? What’s wrong with them?”

  “Idiots! All of them!” Dr. Sova bellowed as he waved his hand in a disdainful manner. “They are trying to fit square pegs in round holes.”

  Embarrassed for his colleagues, Chauncy asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Surely you ha
ve heard all the arguments that we have had? The main problem is that they have come from the university with preconceived ideas, Chauncy. They cannot see beyond what their books have taught them, they will not use their God-given brains. Believe me, I have argued with them to no end. They say I am not translating the writings properly. They claim the entire descriptions of King Chac are merely poetic and that few of the details should be taken seriously. Bah, imbeciles! No, I tell you, King Chac’s remains are in that pyramid, and there is a fantastic treasure out there, and I will prove it. You see, the majority of archaeologists out there working in the jungles are not translating the Mayan hieroglyphs properly, only I am.”

  “What makes you think that you are the only one doing it right?” Chauncy asked pointedly.

  Dr. Sova tapped his temple with the hand that held his cigar. “I told you already, I am a master linguist - that is why. I learned the Mayan dialect and lived with some Mayan people in their village for a while. Their priests and shamans have handed down a fantastic oral tradition that somewhat contradicts what the archaeologists are translating and teaching in the universities. By using my powers of deduction and comparing both schools of thought, I have come to understand the complex Mayan dialect and their meanings in a way that no university-taught linguist can understand.”

  “How did you manage to gain entry into their village and become their friend? That’s next to impossible.”

  Dr. Sova replied, “Of course, I had to lie to the Mayan Indians; they thought I was an anthropologist. They believed I was there to help them and their cause. You realize how downtrodden the Mayan people are in our modern times? Well, I pretended to be a liaison between them and the outsiders. Once they found out I was a Mayanist they kicked me out of their village. They have little regard for Mayanists or any outsiders for that matter. But I had learned enough to look at these temple writings from a different perspective, a different angle. That is one reason I have become successful in my understanding of the writings. Soon, you will see what I mean.”