by Guillou, Sue
Bahlum looked at me stupidly. ‘Well, aren’t you going to open it?’
I did not wish to seem unintelligent, but I could not find the opening and fervently hoped the King would take charge. To my dismay, he realised my stupidity and actually began to smile.
‘The secret to this box is to see what isn’t there.’
I cringed. He was talking in riddles to confuse me.
‘Look closely, my boy. This box was crafted by my forefathers and the secret of it has been passed down through the royal family for as long as there are records. We use it to keep our private goods safe from prying eyes.’
I gazed at the outside panels for what seemed like an eternity until my eyes fell on a slight irregularity. It was like the faintest silvery strand of a spider web wrapped just below the edge of the upper surface. Using my sharpest fingernail, I ran it along the line, surprised to discover that the lid lifted quite easily. I removed the lid with the care deserving of a piece of craftsmanship made to a standard I had never witnessed before, only to discover that a second box lay inside. This one was unmistakably carved from obsidian, only this time there was a series of five octagonal spinning disks lined up together through the centre of the box. There was a long count figure engraved on each of the eight fascias of each disk. The first disk represented baktun, the second k’atun, the third was tun, the fourth winal, and fifth was k’in.
I looked at Bahlum Paw Skull quizzically.
‘It’s good, isn’t it’
‘Yes,’ I replied ’but what is it?’
‘Ahhh …’ mumbled Bahlum, his eyes lighting with enthusiasm for the first time. ‘If you want to open it, you first must know the correct combination of figures or you may never break the code. In this case I have used my birth date.’ Bahlum spun each disk until the figures of his birth date were aligned. A faint click was heard.
I was totally agape in awe of this amazing box and its creator. It was superbly clever and I could easily understand how hard it would be for someone to open it. The combination of figures was incalculable, making a chance opening as unlikely as a personal visit from the gods.
At the King’s bidding, I removed the lid to find a bed of jaguar pelt with a number of the King’s jewels laying on top. There was his jade and obsidian ring, a necklace with shells, a rare red stone and a small jade engraving of his likeness. My attention was drawn to the tiny obsidian container and lid sealed by tree sap.
‘It is my life’s flow,’ answered Bahlum Paw Skull before I even questioned him as to the contents.
I nodded, understanding the value of keeping such a priceless substance.
‘If you are unable to succeed in stopping Kaloomte B’alam from creating a child of his blood, you must infuse that child with this vial. The goodness of my life flow will override his and the child will become mine. But this is a last resort’
I lowered my eyes in acknowledgement as a rustle was heard just beyond the door.
‘Go, my son. Go with my blessing and that of our gods.’
I grabbed the box and raced for the secret exit, making the escape just before the guard entered the room.
It was also the last time I saw my King as his ch’ulel chose that evening to shed itself of its ailing earthly body.
***
The passing of a king is an event to be celebrated, but for the first time, I was unable to share in the joy. My mind was in conflict as it tried to counteract the sense of loss with the happiness I knew I should be experiencing, but somehow I felt burdened. The kin ahead was going to be challenging and I knew without a doubt that there were going to be problems.
Lady K’in had been given the role of guardian until Lady Tikal could reach the status of ahaw at six cycles of the haab. This allowed further opportunity for Kaloomte B’alam who revelled in the added power this brought.
The burgeoning army and people of our great city gradually took to following Kaloomte’s lead and I soon felt the tide of the faithful move in his favour. Yok Chac as usual took the more sensible approach and entwined himself in this new society by ensuring he stayed in favour with royal family. To his credit, he dragged me along with his activities and I discovered the fruits of his endeavours allowed me continual access to Lady Tikal. It was only in my later years that I realised what a debt of gratitude I owed to my friend who forced me to keep focus of the path that I had to follow.
Yok Chac would always tell me: ‘The truth lies in your heart. Use whatever means you have to follow that truth’.
The ensuing cycles of the haab passed quickly. Lady Tikal became queen, but she was merely a figurehead in favour of her mother who took the rule until she passed to the gods six haab cycles later from an undiagnosed illness. She had named Kaloomte B’alam as her co-successor, a decision that greatly angered her daughter.
Although a gentle and beautiful child, Lady Tikal was also strong of body and spirit. Her strange, blue, almond eyes shone brightly and her long black hair grew thicker with age. She was slim but curvaceous and had an affinity with children and animals. Her way was an eagle and she was as fierce and determined as the legendary birds in everything she did.
We spent much time together and it was I who would walk with her through my place of peace and reflection – my glorious gardens. I would listen to her hopes and dreams and hold her hand when she needed someone to confide in. It was I who was there to explain what it meant to become a woman and how to cope with the release of the blood every cycle of the tun-uc and it was I who listened to her feelings about her mother and Kaloomte B’alam.
Early in life, Lady Tikal had desired love and nurturing from her mother, but it had remained largely unrequited. Her mother had fallen foul of her high status and easily passed the care of her daughter to those who served her. As a result, their relationship always carried the unfamiliar politeness reserved for neighbours or two people passing in the street. Neither really knew each other and Lady K’in made no effort to change it. If she had known her daughter better, she would have realised that she was quite capable of running this great city herself.
Angry at being overlooked, Lady Tikal did not want to attend her mother’s funeral.
‘This is a mistake. The people need to see you, to know that you have taken over in your mother’s stead.’
‘I have been queen for six cycles of the haab, yet I have never attended a ceremony, funeral or anything of concern. I have been totally unseen in favour of that man for my entire life. I see no reason, nor do I care to show her my respect.’
‘Butterfly (my childhood nickname for Lady Tikal), it’s not about showing respect to your mother, it’s about letting the people know that you are their queen. That you count just as much as him.’
‘I wouldn’t even know what to do.’
‘Yes, you do. I have spent my entire life grooming you for such a moment.’
‘Yes, you have. You have always been there for me,’ she said as she batted those large eyes at me with an innocence of a doe. I sighed inwardly. She was only twelve cycles of the haab but was already learning how to use her female attributes.
The following period until the sun rose into the centre of the sky was taken up in preparation for the great event. Food was supplied in vast quantities, dancers and entertainers were in abundance as was the amount of pulque drunk by the population. The atmosphere was of excitement and pleasure as the celebrations offered a break from the usual daily routine and time to intermingle with friends and family.
The weather was warm and sticky although the brisk breeze assisted in keeping the sea of noisy people from becoming too hot. They spread as far as the eye could see, an abundance of colour, size and age, all determined to take as much advantage of the festivities as possible. They were loud, excited and having fun, becoming silent only when Yok Chac amplified his voice by calling through the hollows inside the tower.
The fervour ceased, but a ripple of awe filtered through the crowd as Kaloomte B’alam was the first to arrive at the temple p
eak. The people fell to their knees in respect, quickly learning that Kaloomte chose not to perform the standard ritual of sacrifice but instead opting for the more important ‘birth of a new era’.
Suspense could be felt as high upon the platform of the great tower, Kaloomte B’alam placed his manhood into his hands and inserted the needle of the stingray. His blood fell readily onto a cloth which was burnt as a symbol of his life blood spreading to the home of the gods. The crowd cheered as Lady Tikal also climbed the stairs. Despite not being of the age to marry, she too was required to perform the same ceremony but was allowed the cover of a shield to protect her childhood. Whilst her cheer was not as loud, it was at least given with a resemblance of respect. It was a start and I was satisfied that the people of our great city may learn to accept her in time.
Once the ceremony was completed, the body of Lady K’in was removed to the sacred cave of our people and buried beside Bahlum Paw Skull.
In passing I placed fresh wheat and a young jaguar pelt on the coffin of my one true king and father.
‘I have not forgotten your request,’ I whispered as I passed my soft words, heard only by Yok Chac who lowered his head in respect.
Two cycles of the haab had passed before my Butterfly came to me with fear in her eyes. At my urging, she had continued on her path of recognition and slowly the people came to acknowledge her. I easily recalled the time the first citizens bowed to her in respect as she passed. She was so excited that she ran to find me like a child discovering the wonder of its surroundings. Today she also ran to me but not in joy.
‘What has happened?’ I asked as Lady Tikal handed me a cloth she had been carrying in her hands. On it was the stain of blood.
‘Did you hurt yourself?’ I questioned with concern.
She shook her and pointed between her legs. I grinned in amusement but inside, my stomach felt as if it had been punched.
‘You have become a woman just as I explained to you.’
‘Am I to have the ceremony?’
I nodded. All children were required to show their reverence to the gods and thank them for allowing them to pass safely into adulthood. It was the end of one life and the beginning of another.’
My Butterfly looked as if she was withered and died as we both knew what this moment meant. She would soon be ready to marry and undoubtedly Kaloomte B’alam would waste no time in claiming his prize.
It was now time for me to hold true the promise I had made to my King.
***
I had been planning this for so long that I knew each and every step backwards, but still I scoured the details for fear that I may forget something.
Yok Chac patted me on the shoulder in understanding. ‘My dear friend, I understand that what you are about to do will burden you for the rest of your life, but you are bound by the blood of the king and your word.’
‘If only she had shown interest in other boys, then I may have been able to use my power to insist on a marriage between her and another,’ said Kinix.
‘You kept her too occupied with all of your study,’ laughed Yok Chac before taking on a more serious note. ‘It would not have mattered anyway. She has never shown any interest.’
‘But what if it fails? There are so many aspects of this scheme that can go wrong.’
‘You know as well as me that it is unlikely. Anyway, I will be there with you to perform the operation.’
‘I know … but this does not feel right,’ replied Kinix uneasily.
‘We have been over every possible scenario and there is no other way we can get to Kaloomte before he takes her to his bed. Should we allow that to happen, it will be all over and we will have no chance of keeping our word,’ said Yok Chac.
‘But is deceiving him the right option?’
‘We all know that Kaloomte B’alam had an illegitimate child with the daughter of a farmer. He knows that he can father children and by not allowing him to think he is the father of Lady Tikal’s children will only put her life at risk.’
Kinix sat down before replying, ‘But everyone will still believe they are his children.’
Yok Chac frowned at his friend. ‘You of all people know that it’s only what the gods see that is important. Bahlum Paw Skull will know that we have fulfilled his request and when our time comes, we will join them with honour.’
Kinix smiled for the first time that morning as Yok Chac readied his kit of surgical tools, placing them on the wooden bench against the door. He looked at me with a steady determination, his darkened eyes glimmering with an unshakeable conviction that we were doing the right thing.
True to our prediction Kaloomte B’alam announced his intention to marry my Butterfly immediately after her ‘coming of age’ ceremony, seven kin from today. It was tradition for royalty to marry each other, so it did not bring about any surprise from the vast population although it did cause my feelings to fall to an all-time low. I admit to holding a thin thread of hope that Kaloomte had other objectives, but as we had suspected, it was not to be.
The kin passed far too quickly for my liking and before I had time to convince myself that our actions were not for the best, the moment had arrived.
It was too late to change our minds.
Nervousness forced me to rise from bed long before the sun had chosen to grace us with her presence, but the quietness of the morning only allowed me to dwell on my fear of failure.
What if we were caught in the act? Shame would befall us and Kaloomte would sacrifice us as an example to the population. I could envisage our hearts being ripped from our chests and our heads rolling down the stairs whilst people laughed and pointed at our humiliation.
If there was another option, I would surely take it, but my heart was lighter with the knowledge that my Butterfly had been informed of our plan and agreed that it was for the best. How I loved and admired her. If I was ever asked to describe kindness, grace and beauty, I would merely mention her name. Unknowing and perhaps unwilling, brought on by the years I had spent by her side, raising her, knowing her as intimately as I knew myself, I realised that I had loved her from the moment I had delivered her from the womb of her mother.
She was a part of me like my dear friend Yok Chac … a part of my soul … a part of my body.
‘Are you worried, my friend?’ Yok Chac patted my shoulder as he passed.
‘No!’
He smiled. He knew me better than that. ‘It is time,’ he said, his voice gentle and brimming with compassion.
I nodded and followed him out the door and down the path I had walked many times before.
The transition into adulthood was performed close to the life flow of our city and involved walking a considerable distance down into the darkness of her bowels. The many steps and coldness of the ancient rocks and earth were not noticed as we wound our way deeper and deeper until I could hear the blessed tears of Chac flowing steadily beneath us.
It was not long before the grand temple precariously situated on an island in the fast flowing river became visible. It was a beautiful sight.
Built by our ancestors, it had been carved out of solid white rock and transported piece by piece through the treacherous tunnels by the labourers until it was completed three haab cycles later. Five large, rounded pillars stood atop a series of steps on which was an ornamental altar. Above this was a square, stepped roof positioned so that the uppermost point reached the ceiling of the cave. On each of the pillars and lower square panels of the roof were many scenes depicting ceremonies that held great importance to us along with the images of our gods and the life tree.
As always I was momentarily overwhelmed by the importance of the occasion, forgetting to breathe as I took in the awe-inspiring sight.
Kin Kawil summoned me. I moved quickly to the front of the line as he pointed to the fifteen holes in the wall.
I nodded in acknowledgement.
To access the island, five fingers needed to be placed in the appropriate holes and a small lever pressed.
This released a series of steps below the water which rose slowly and allowed the procession to cross without falling into the water. Unfortunately, placing your finger in the wrong hole or slipping into the water would spell instant death, so a mistake could not be made.
I used the secret code passed from priest to priest since the beginning of our time and waited for the bridge to rise.
It took only a few moments before the clicking could be heard and we were allowed to pass safely over.
The ceremony itself involved invoking the spirits of our gods and in particular Ix Chel to ensure Lady Tikal’s fertility. I cringed involuntarily. The new name was not given, but Kin Kawil placed my Butterfly on the altar and spread her legs apart so he could insert a fine obsidian needle through the inner part of her genitals. A small amount of blood was collected which we burnt and prayed for the future health of our queen.
She was quickly pronounced ready to marry at which time Kaloomte immediately took her hand and advised that the wedding would be this afternoon. I was not surprised as it was well known that Kaloomte had pre-organised a celebration to a size never seen before. It was this that I was counting on.
***
Every person had dressed in their best outfit, creating a vast sea of colour split into sections according to the status of the wearer. The wealthiest of our people wore the brightest colours of the gods and sat separate from those who were less fortunate. This spread out until the colours dulled and we reached the slaves dressed only in the tones of the dirt.
As per Kaloomte’s orders, all people of this great city were allowed to feast on the many meats, fruits and vegetables that had been prepared for this occasion, although too much drink would eventually involve widespread riotous behaviour, but for once, I did not really care.