Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  I swung my machete in an upward swing taking that Camazotz between the legs and far up into its torso, as far as the strength of my swing could take it. His eyes widened in surprise and Sotz’ Ja was quiet except for the echoes of my war cries. I stared at the Camazotz, not believing what I had done, then he started falling towards me as I stood mesmerized. I was just about to pull my machete and step back against the wall when he lunged forward, bringing his crystal talons across my back, sinking them, tearing them into me, pulling me forward, and as he continued to fall, I felt his fangs rip across my abdomen. The Camazotz fell to the floor, his wings spread out above him. I kept looking at him, my eyes held by the dying creature … the Bat God … ignoring my pain, disregarding the warmth of my blood flowing over me. Perhaps, my pain was so intense that it had numbed me, or I still had the effects of the drink Kish had given me. Do not allow them to distract you. I looked up quickly pulling my to’bal-rib, protecting my left flank. Beyond the body of the fallen Camazotz, stood two more of the Bat Gods, their wings convulsing in anger, hatred, and shock, their fangs retracting and extending, spittle gushing in and out of their snout with every rapid breath, their eyes focused on me. I ran.

  I reached the corner and raced along the northern wall until I was at the door, disregarding both Anderson’s and Kish’s warnings, neglecting my feet and all the harm I was doing to them, not hearing the turbulent crazed outcries. I had seen two more Camazotz and perhaps there were more. I had to keep them away. I had to think. I had to control my rapid breathing. I had to save myself. I had to stop whatever bleeding was occurring for I was beginning to feel weak. I had to do something for my feet. I had to remember. The light will also help you to keep them away as they do not like light. Your breath and sweat will carry the smell of the herb; your piss will have high concentrations of the herb itself.

  I looked to my right and saw the two Camazotz approaching, walking slowly, deliberately, towards me. I could not fight them. I was too weakened. I pulled the fang from my loincloth and without hesitating stabbed the front of my left thigh. The pain was so excruciating that as I cried out, I almost fell into unconsciousness. The drink I had been given by Kish did not help me that time. I fought to come back and although dazed, I collected my blood in my right hand and poured it on the quartz crystal. Immediately, the crystal began glowing and it continued increasing quickly until the whole of Sotz’ Ja was infused with star-like brilliance, so strong that I had to close my eyes. Terror and pandemonium reigned in Sotz’ Ja. Sotz’ and chikoops were flying everywhere, flying into each other, screaming constantly, as they tried to find crevices in the ceiling in which to hide from the powerful light. The Camazotz were nowhere to be seen.

  I slid down to the floor. I did not know how long the crystal would continue giving its light, but I knew that there was little else I could do. I placed my machete and knife beside me then took off my loincloth. I cut it into pieces, bandaging my feet, my abdomen, and my thigh. I put a piece of cloth across my back, knotting it over my chest. The wounds on my head had stopped bleeding. I could not exercise, in order to sweat, because of the wounds and my complete exhaustion, so I cupped my hands and started to piss. I washed my body in my piss then curled up as small as I could and pulled my to’bal-rib over me. I held onto Bas’ Green Scapular and waited for what was to come. After a while, the crystal’s light began to fade and as the effects of the drink began to wear off, I cried out. I screamed in pain until I fell asleep, or fell into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  JAGUAR HOUSE: BALÄM JA

  FOURTH TRIAL HOUSE - FIFTH TRIAL

  K’iin 4 - The Uinal of Yaxk’in’

  Thursday, May 3, 1973

  Waach! Are you ready to leave Sotz’ Ja, the House of Trials that carries the glyphs of the yellow god Hozanek of the South?”

  I felt I was dreaming. Surely, I did not survive Sotz’ Ja. I tried to answer, but felt too weak.

  “Waach! Are you ready to leave Sotz’ Ja, the House of Trials that carries the glyphs of the yellow god Hozanek of the South?”

  I heard myself whisper. “I am, I amready to leave, leaveSotz’ Ja. Waach has won, wonthis trial.” I was surprised when the door slowly opened.

  I could not move and the pain in my feet was severe. I looked up at Kish. “Help me, Kish. My feet are badly cut. I cannot use them. My whole body is torn.”

  “I can’t, Waach. I can’t enter a House of Trials again or you will fail the trial. I helped you yesterday. You have to come out on your own. If not, you fail.”

  “Let Teul and Choco help me.” Please Kish,” I begged, not caring if a soldier shouldn’t beg, not caring if a Warrior shouldn’t beg. I had to go on. I had to win the trials.

  “They are not here. Their discipline suffers because of their emotions. Now crawl, Waach!” he ordered. “You are T’oit’ik-jolom. Crawl, but come out of Sotz’ Ja.”

  I began pulling myself along the floor, dragging my legs behind me. The pain was increasing and my vision was becoming blurred. “I can’t, “I whispered.

  “You can! Waach! Come out of Sotz’ Ja.”

  I tried to move, but I couldn’t. I took my right hand and reached for my neck until I felt the fine chord. I moved my hand downward until I felt it. I crushed the Green Scapular in my hand, searching for its warmth, its strength, searching for Bas. Then Bas was there with me, urging me on, comforting me, cussing me, strengthening me, and I crawled painfully, inch by inch, my face sliding on the ground, my legs dragging behind me.

  “You’re almost there, Stephen. Keep going,” urged Bas.

  Then I heard Kish say, as if from a far-off mountain peak, “You’re out of Sotz’ Ja.” I vomited, unable to move my head, and felt myself going away into a dark and lonesome valley as Kish picked me up in his arms. I was in that dark and lonesome valley I had travelled through after my men were brutally murdered on the summit of the mountain by Sisimito. The hymn I sang that night, a year ago, came back to me, the one Father Stiobhan forced me to learn at his Catholic school. It was about Jesus walking a lonesome valley, walking alone as I was. As I sang that night, hundreds, maybe thousands, of voices sang with me and our voices rose above the dark rushing and flooded waters; and there were peeniwali and more peeniwali, and they all became little angels encouraging me on. Then the chorus had suddenly stopped and I was in darkness in that lonesome valley, like Jesus, walking it by myself … and, once again, for me there was only darkness and I was gone.

  Kish picked up Chiac and hurried up the passage towards the chamber of the Council Place of the Lords. He moved with the grace of a Warrior, not breaking out in sweat, not becoming short of breath, not varying his pace. He was soon within the red glow of morning, rushing up the steps to the chamber. He walked across the wide corridor, through the side door, then over to the pedestal in front of the statues of the Death Gods. He placed Chiac gently on the floor then took his place on the short pedestal. He bowed to the Lords of Xibalba. The chamber was absolutely quiet, all eyes from the dais and the seating tiers focused on Chiac. The Lords sat with apparent grim satisfaction.

  The Ahau Can Mai stepped through the elaborate arched doorway. He walked hurriedly, yet calmly and gracefully, until he stood in front of the Death Gods and the Demon Lords of Xibalba. He bowed exuberantly to Hun-Came and Vucub-Came saying, “My Lords. Waach has won his fourth trial. Waach spent the night in Sotz’ Ja and has emerged” … he stretched out his hands … “as you see him here at the feet of your living images.”

  Vucub-Came stood. He smiled sadly, holding his head askance. “Chief Guard.”

  “Yes, My lord.”

  “Is he dead or alive? He does not move and he is obviously torn and broken.”

  “He breathes, My lord.”

  “Very shallow, Chief Guard.”

  “Yes, My Lord, “but he breathes.”

  Vucub-Came frowned, staring directly at Kish. “Do I detect ‘Hope’ for Waach in your voice, Chief Guard?


  “I am a Warrior of Xibalba, My Lord. I do not suffer the emotion of ‘Hope’.”

  “It is good that you do not, Chief Guard.” Vucub-Came once again looked at Chiac then threw himself back into his seat. “He will die. What a pity. There will be no ballgame unless the Great Death God Hun-Came intervenes with his blessings; and that ballgame was going to be so … exciting. The best we’ve seen in Xibalba in many haab’s363 I predict. How disappointing! Guards! Take him away and prepare him for the Ceremonies of Torture and Death.”

  “My Lord!”

  Vucub-Came looked startled. “Yes. Chief Guard.”

  “I speak on behalf of Waach. He will do the fifth trial. He will enter the fourth House of Trials, Baläm Ja.” Murmuring began in the crowds.

  Vucub-Came laughed out loudly, but Hun-Came remained silent and stern. “He breaths his last breaths, Chief Guard,” reiterated Vucub-Came. “How would he be able to do the fifth trial? He is not even able to accept.”

  “Because, My Lord, he is a great waach. He is T’oit’ik-jolom.” Immediately, the murmurings grew loud in the tiers. Vucub-Came raised his hand to quieten them.

  “If he were such a great waach, Chief Guard, why is he lying at your feet?” Vucub-Came looked to the crowds and a hesitant giggling began.

  “Waach is lying at my feet, alive, not dead, torn but not vanquished, and that is because, My Lord, Waach has the wit, cunning, trickery, and strength of Hunahpu and Xbalanque.” The crowd erupted into dark shouts of indignation at what Kish had said.

  Vucub-Came jumped to his feet, shouting, “How dare you, Chief Guard, speak to me, your god, like this? I should have your head ripped from your shoulders and used at the next ballgame.” He glared at the crowds and they immediately became silent.

  Hun-Came spoke quietly, “Be calm. Sit, Brother.” Vucub-Came threw himself onto his throne.

  “Chief Guard,” began Hun-Came.

  “My Lord,” replied Kish, giving a very deep bow.

  “I will listen to your words, Chief Guard. You have served us and Xibalba faithfully as required of your status here. Are you willing to accept the fifth trial on Waach’s behalf?”

  “I am, My Lord.”

  “And when you do, Chief Guard, when Waach fails, are you willing to accompany Waach and be part of the pains, the tortures, and the terrors of failure?”

  “I am, My Lord.”

  Hun-Came gaped at Kish. “It is strange that a Chief Guard of Xibalba will do this.” He continued staring at Kish. “It is a pity we will lose you. I must ask, Chief guard, why would you do this for Waach?”

  “It is an act any Warrior would do for another Warrior. It is also because Waach has shown not only that he is a great waach, but that he is a great T’oit’ik-jolom. He has fought bravely and lived.” Kish bowed his head. “May you bless him, My Lord, with the opportunity to continue his trails?” There was not a sound from the tiers, not a sound in the Chamber of the Council Place of the Lords.

  “Ahau Can Mai,” called out Hun-Came.

  “My Lord.”

  “Proceed with the Chief Guard’s wish. Waach has my blessing to continue with the trials.” Kish bowed again. The tiers exploded in cheers. Vucub-Came raised both his hands so that the audience could continue their cheering. He dropped his hands and the heartiness in the chamber immediately stopped.

  “Yes, My Lord,” replied the Ahau Can Mai, giving a deeper bow, not to be outdone by the Chief Guard. He turned and faced Kish. “Tonight, Waach will enter Baläm Ja, the House of Trials dedicated to our own Great Death God of Xibalba, Hun-Came.” The Ahau Can Mai opened his arms to the crowds who immediately stood and bowed to Hun-Came. “Lord Hun-Came’s Sacred Baläms have already crossed over from Kaán to the Underworld; they accompanied Kinich Ahau on his return to Xibalba this morn.” The crown erupted in shouts then sat again. “Take Waach, Chief Guard, to his room below.”

  “And his Warrior, My Lord?”

  “He awaits below.”

  Kish nodded, saying, “Thank you, Ahau Can Mai.” He then bowed to the Lords. “Thank you, Lords of Xibalba.”

  The Death Gods rose and that prompted everyone on the tiered seating to rise. The Demon Lords then stood and the usual procession took place, the Death Gods first, then the Demon Lords, followed by the Ahau Can Mai. Once they had disappeared through the arched doorway, the citizens of Xibalba raced, almost stampeding, to the chambers to place their bets.

  Kish, his face expressionless, stepped down to Chiac, picked him up and carried him to the room below where he laid him out, almost tenderly, on a mat. Chiac lay unmoving, eyes closed, his breathing labored and irregular. Teul, Choco, and Choc stood around the mat, silent, in disbelief, watching Kish who had oiled his hands and were removing the bandages Chiac had put in place. He was covered with dark purple bruises, dried blood, pieces of his flesh hung, deep gashes were in his head. There was a deep laceration in his right thigh, several across his abdomen, others on his shoulders and back. When Kish removed the bandages from his feet, the men could not take it anymore.

  “What the madafok happened to him Kish?” cried out Teul, loudly, angered by what he had seen, his voice swollen with fear, sadness, and disbelief.

  Choco walked over to the wall, beating it with his fists, shouting over and over, “Madafoka! Madafoka! Mada …” Then he was in tears.

  Choc brought his chin upwards, placed his hands on his head, closed his eyes, moved his body from side to side.

  “He has been bitten and poisoned by Camazotz. And he’s lost a lot of blood.” Kish took the small jar of oil he has used and handed it to Teul. “All of you, cover your hands with this oil then take all the bandages and put them in the shit-jar. They are full of poison. Cleanse him with this oil. Even if he screams out, clean him. Not all the blood is his and you must get rid of all the blood as it is infected. Clean out the deep wounds carefully as we don’t want to precipitate any more bleeding. He has already lost too much blood. Wrap the wounds in clean cloth, if there is bleeding. Kish looked around him. “There’s no cloth in here. He quickly went under his skirt and loosened his loincloth. Cut this. Use it to clean him, and bandage him, if needed. I am going for help and if anyone comes and asks for me, tell them that I have gone to rest. A guard will come to replace me; you will have no problems with the guard.” He stared at the three men. “Start cleaning him.” He paused. “I will return. You must keep him breathing.” Kish left.

  “Keep him breathing?” fumed Teul. “How the madafok am I supposed to do that if he stops breathing? Kish! Kish!” Kish did not turn around.

  “Let’s do what we have to do, Teul” demanded Choco, oiling his hands. “I’ll get rid of the contaminated cloths. Choc. Cut three pieces from the loincloth so that we can begin cleaning the wounds.”

  They poured oil on the cloths and began cleaning Chiac, carefully, removing the blood from each limb, trying not to hurt him as they worked. They concentrated on the smaller wounds then started on the deeper wounds, watching constantly that his chest was moving, and that there wasn’t too much bleeding. Chiac continued breathing, irregularly and shallow, not making a sound. The men worked, not even noticing that a guard was standing at the door, looking in on them. When they were finished, they threw their cloths into the shit-pot, oiled their hands then sat beside Chiac, not talking, waiting for Kish to return.

  Shortly after, Kish returned with the same two women, both carrying baskets. Kish carried a bowl containing burning coals and a jar, and two pots of burning incense. The women shoved the men aside and took over. They took new pieces of cloth and a jar of thick oil from their baskets and began doing additional cleaning on the wounds, using stiff feathers they had brought.364

  “Give me your knives,” said Kish. “They will work better than ours.” The men got their knives and handed them to Kish who promptly placed the blades in the pot of coals.

  “What will you do?” asked Teul. But he knew what Kish and the women were going to
do. He held his head. “This can’t be madafok happening,” he cried out, bitterly.

  “We know what to do, Teul,” Kish barked. “Go and kneel by the sacred incense and pray to Ix Chel that it works. I will call you when I need you.”

  Teul looked to Choco and Choc. “Pray to Ix Chel?” He laughed loudly, scornfully. “Before I came to this madafok place, I couldn’t have even remembered the last time I prayed. All of a sudden, I’ve prayed twice.” He looked puzzled. “I don’t even know who the madafok is Ix Chel, anyway.” He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I have heard that name before, but pray to Ix Chel?” He shook his head.

  “I don’t know who Ix Chel is, but it doesn’t matter a madafoka. There can be no harm in doing it so let’s kneel and pray as our Ancients did,” ordered Choco. “After all, look where we are. Let’s do it.” The three men went over to the burning incense and knelt between the burners and the wall keeping Chiac in view, their lips unmoving, their faces looking lost, bewildered, and molded by agony.

  The women clapped their hands and Kish retrieved the pot with the coals, knives, and jar. “Come here,” ordered Kish. The men jumped up and came to him. “You are to hold him down. He will move. He will fight. He will cry out. He will scream in terror and pain. Hold him down.”

  The men moved into position, Choc at the right shoulder, Choco at the left, and Teul hugging Chiac’s feet with his arms and body. Kish took out the hot jar with a piece of tapestry and placed it down before the women. Each dipped a large feather into the hot oil and then pushed it into the hole on Chiac’s thigh. His muscles started to go into spasm.