The Mayan Priest

by Guillou, Sue

  I sat fearful as my beautiful Butterfly appeared vulnerable at the top of the temple, splendid in a stunning white gown, offset by a rare feathered headpiece and large strings of jade and gold that extended from her glossy black hair down over her shoulders to her waist. She wore long gold and shell earrings and to my delight, the exquisite luminous blue stone set in a simple gold setting and chain around her neck that I had made for her many cycles ago. Purchased from a passing merchantman, I recalled being enthralled by the rare object to such an extent that I did not even quibble when he requested a rare obsidian knife and two jars of salt in return. To see it on her now was a delight, but it was her vacant expression that gave me the greatest relief. Just before the ceremony, she had approached me for something that would calm her nerves and I was pleased to note that my remedy was working!

  I did not want her to be worried, considering a large portion of our success relied on her keeping a clear head.

  Suddenly the crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer of approval as Kaloomte appeared beside Lady Tikal. I cringed in disgust. He was strutting about like a bird, too overconfident and sure of himself as he looked to the skies. He was revelling in his position, high above those he considered his inferior.

  My stomach churned as I watched him devour my Butterfly with his greedy eyes, instantly confirming my fears that the life my Butterfly had to look forward to was anything but pleasant.

  How I wished I could protect her, but the basic piercing and joining of blood followed by Kaloomte announcing her as his wife occurred before I could contemplate the union of my beloved to the one I hated.

  ‘It’s time,’ said Yok Chac, interrupting my train of thought as I subconsciously squeezed the small bag firmly concealed in the palm of my hand.

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed as I moved quickly to the kitchen where the preparations for the vast feast were underway.

  Initially I had worried that my intrusion into the kitchen would be questioned, but to my relief, I was both trusted and respected beyond reproach. I was not interrogated when I requested that the large quantity of powder I was placing in the cup of pulque was to ensure wellbeing and fertility of the king, nor was I questioned when I immediately requested it to be served.

  Amongst the hundreds of eager hands required to serve an entire city, my little jaunt to the kitchen was quickly forgotten and I was soon able to rejoin the party without anxiety.

  I caught the eyes of both Yok Chac and Lady Tikal, nodding to advise them of my success.

  Within moments Kaloomte began to sway and seemed somewhat disorientated. It was as I had hoped, but it was now out of our hands.

  Yok Chac and I watched and waited for Lady Tikal to keep her end of the agreement, noting that she had whispered something in his ear and that his face had lit with delight. Even in his confused state, he clearly understood her intentions and rose eagerly from his chair without advising the guests of their departure.

  It was my signal to leave and I hurried to the secret palace door using all of my strength to remain calm.

  I waited patiently until my Butterfly greeted me with a grimace on her face. She was frightened and I could understand.

  I ushered her into the tunnel whilst Yok Chac came up behind her, surgical tools in hand.

  ‘We ask that you wait out here. We will let you know when we have finished,’ I whispered.

  Lady Tikal nodded wordlessly as we closed the panel behind us and turned to our subject.

  Kaloomte lay spread out on the bed, drugged and totally oblivious to his surroundings. He had been stripped naked and lay on his back with his hands crossed over his chest. His gentle breathing and roll of the eyes indicated unconsciousness and total lack of sensation.

  It was as we had hoped.

  ‘Are you ready?’ he muttered his voice barely audible for fear of alerting the guards.

  I nodded and quickly felt between his legs, instantly locating the tube that contained the male essence.

  Yok Chac passed me the tiny but exceedingly sharp needle which I inserted unwaveringly into the back of puckered flesh.

  Kaloomte did not stir, so I removed the needle and had Yok Chac pull the flesh until the perforation had stretched enough to allow me to pass a small but equally sharp knife into the incision.

  It was an operation I had performed many times before on slaves who Kaloomte had wished to become infertile without their knowledge. The aim was to make a tiny hole behind the sack that was undetectable and stretch it to allow a sharper knife to pass through. Once I had cut the tube I could use the same small needle to pass a stitch through the now separated tube and allow the hole to close naturally.

  It had never failed and this was no exception.

  Yok Chac afforded his first grin for the day which I returned with enthusiasm.

  ‘Do you want to clean the wound?’

  ‘No. It will seal itself shortly,’ I offered as I pressed a cloth against it until the tiny droplet of blood had dried and no evidence of our crime could be found.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Gillian looked at her watch. She had reached a separate small scroll that intertwined inside the main script. It was not written in the usual neat writing so typical of Kinix and it caught her unawares. She gazed at it thoughtfully, studying the tilt of the hand and slant of the words, noting that it was consistent with everything she had read previously.

  She was confused. ‘Adam, what do you make of this?’

  He laughed, receiving a frown of annoyance as a reward.

  ‘I’m not joking. This doesn’t look like Kinix’s writing,’ she persisted.

  ‘Yes it does. The joins, size and length are the same. It just looks scrawled, as if his hands were shaking,’ replied Adam.

  ‘Hmmm,’ mused Gillian in deliberation.

  Adam coughed loudly. ‘Look, I’m no archaeologist or anything, but surely the fact that it is written in Medieval Latin means it was written by Kinix.’

  Gillian’s brow furrowed in anger. Adam had stated the glaringly obvious and she felt silly. She scowled at him, only receiving a look of satisfaction.

  ‘You only have fifteen minutes before we need to leave, so unless you want to spend the next day or so wondering who the author was, I would suggest you get a move on.’

  Gillian did not reply, knowing Adam was grinning widely at her expense.

  She unrolled the smaller sheet of paper. This one had a short sentence on the top left side, prior to the body of work.

  It said:

  Manuscript part 4

  If these following words were not such an important part of my life, I would never have written them for the shame I feel. Please do not judge me, for without this event, the wishes of my King would never have been met.

  My Butterfly hung onto me with tears in her eyes. She was worried about the discovery of the wound and Kaloomte’s lack of memory, but I assured her of our success. We had used a very strong mix of pulque and I reminded her of the time she had lost her memory to the same liquid.

  My butterfly smiled and I held her close to me, her smell bringing about the memory of the first time I saw her naked after she lost the boyish looks of her childhood.

  I easily recalled the glorious firmness of her newly developed breasts, the tender, rounded curves of her buttocks and stomach and the inviting softness between her legs. There was also a change in her scent and I had felt suddenly overwhelmed. She was my child, yet I had felt a stirring that shamed me so deeply that I had to walk away, leaving her care to a trusted attendant.

  It was not a memory I had wanted to keep, yet here I was again, faced with the same problem only this time it was going to be far worse.

  ‘I love you, Kinix. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, not truly sure what she meant. Did she love me as a man or as her father? I presumed it was the latter, but I did not have the luxury of time to dwell on the subject. Time was a precious commodity that we had little of and I was fully aware that the g
uards would check on Kaloomte as soon as the partying was over.

  I could feel my arms stiffen around her until she began to squirm. ‘Kinix,’ she moaned uncomfortably as a hardness quickly formed in my pants. I was suddenly ashamed of myself and pulled away. This was going to be much harder then I realised.

  ‘It’s all right, Kinix.’ My Butterfly looked at me with a sudden calmness and surety that took me by surprise. ‘We both know that there is no other option for us. If I do not have a child, Kaloomte will become suspicious and there is no other man that we can trust with our secret. It must be you, Kinix … my dear Kinix … whom I love more than anything else.’

  I cupped her face in my hands and she smiled at me.

  She was right, even if I did feel like a common criminal.

  I lowered my eyes in embarrassment, but Lady Tikal ignored me and placed her lips tenderly on mine. I needed no further encouragement.

  Her skin smelt like fresh flowers and her almond-shaped eyes deep and affectionate. I drew in her scent and lost myself in the depth of her soul, quickly forgetting where I was. I had loved her for so long and the realisation of that was almost more than I could bear.

  I began to lose control, fighting valiantly against my better judgement until Lady Tikal ran her hands brazenly between my legs. It was too much for me and any self-control I had evaporated as quickly as water in the sun.

  Without thought I grabbed her more roughly than I had wanted, but she did not seem to care as she helped to unwrap her white gown and dropped it to the ground.

  I could not breathe as I gazed at this beautiful girl who had become a god before my very eyes. The fine legs, flat stomach, beautifully rounded breasts were beyond what the finest craftsman could fashion and I knew that any attempt to paint her would only fall short. No one could do her justice.

  I touched her with affection, relishing the feeling of her soft skin as I moved my hands along the fine curves, softly, feeling until she began to gasp and placed my fingers between her legs. The inviting warmth and dampness of her desire caused my knees to weaken and a hot flush unlike anything I had ever experienced spread throughout my body.

  I felt a longing that had never been matched, but I resisted the urge to take her until I had lowered her softly on the ground, using her dress as a cushion. My desires had taken a second place to her comfort and wellbeing.

  She smiled in encouragement as I lowered my pants and gently opened her legs using my fingers to create pleasure until she began to moan softly and reached for my manhood. My willpower collapsed like a crumbling wall as I suddenly and forcefully pushed myself into her softness.

  She muffled a cry which was quickly followed by a gasp of pleasure as she began to relax and move to meet my every thrust. Pleasure overtook my very soul and I let myself go with an abandon that almost frightened me with its intensity.

  She moaned in her joy and my own release came soon after, leaving me wanting for more, not only of her body but also of her mind and soul.

  What was I to do? I had found the woman that I loved realising too late that I should have been the one to marry her. I could not believe my stupidity, for she had been in my care since her birth and I had failed to see the affection I had for her, losing her instead to my enemy. I knew that I would bed her many times to come, but suddenly that was not enough for me. I wanted her more often. I wanted to sit with her in our garden when the sun set of an evening and see her face next to mine when it rose in the morning.

  I had been a blind man, only waking now to the reality of my actions. I had thought I was acting on the wishes of my King when really I was condemning myself to a life without my Butterfly. I knew that I would be tortured by the fleeting moments I would have with her, only to watch her return to the man to whom she belonged.

  The pain will be mine.

  Tears ran down my cheeks as I helped her dress and escorted her to the secret door.

  I was thankful that the shadows hid my sadness.

  *

  ‘We’re leaving!’ yelled Adam as he ran through the front door, stopping short when he noticed the red patches around Gillian‘s eyes. ‘Have you been crying?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Yeah, right!’ His grin widened in realisation. ‘I reckon someone in the manuscript has died.’

  ‘Of course not! Even if they did, it would be no laughing matter,’ Gillian scolded, her attempt at fury falling short when Adam patted her shoulder softly.

  ‘Only joking!’

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Sean struggled to come to terms with a strange mix of emotions. For the entirety of his life, his parents had drummed in the responsibility of family, that he was an integral part of their lives and ultimately responsible for an income, no matter what size. This was all he knew. He had strived to please them, to help as best as he could, but his monotonous days and small earnings seemed insignificant to the task he had been delegated. For the first time, he understood why men would risk their lives to save comrades at war. How the bond of these experiences created lifelong friendships. He experienced this with Dale. Dale’s life and those of thousands of innocent people, relied on his success and Sean felt inspired by a sudden camaraderie and responsibility that did not allow failure. His pain was a side issue which he pushed away with ease, in favour of a new found determination to not allow this ‘Arun’ to win.

  With willpower born from poverty and a need to better himself, Sean took the first tentative steps to the back door. His body ached and his shoulder was numb with pain, but he raised his head, straightened his back and strode out into the side lane with purpose. The view to the left revealed a row of back steps, a glut of rubbish bins, old boxes and long outgrown clothes. He was not the quickest of boys, but the years of living in the slums, battling gangs, vagrants and thieves had made him streetwise. Today though, Sean’s surveillance was for his life.

  A slight movement behind a nearby rubbish bin caught the corner of his eye, but a glimpse of a furry tail proved it was no threat.

  Sean continued to swagger along until he reached the main road a few seconds later, but he could not locate his ride. He did, however, see a small silver car parked on the opposite side of the road and the driver pull out what appeared to be a map. Blessed with twenty-twenty vision, Sean could easily see that the map was in the shape of Australia. He almost laughed at the man’s stupidity.

  Sean weighed up his options. He had to buy some time, and a quick evaluation of his injuries confirmed that he would not be able to outrun any adversary. He had little alternative but to hope that the attacker did not recognise him. Common sense told him that the person in the silver car would be looking for an older man, someone who would fit the profile expected of a navy or army personnel. They would certainly not suspect a pimply, unwashed and scruffy teenager.

  Sean lowered his pants so they hung just over his hips, quickly tore a few holes in the bottom of his top and ruffled his hair, although it was already greasy and disastrous. He lowered his shoulders and shuffled along, scowling with a look of dissatisfaction and anger that he hoped was indicative of the vast majority of youths. Just for the effect, he kicked a bottle out onto the road and crossed the street, dodging a couple of bikes on the way. A quick glance at the car told him it was working as the grey-haired man glowered at him in disgust.

  Sean had trouble disguising his smile as he continued along the path away from the silver car, stopping only when a battered Triumph rolled up beside him. To his delight, it looked like it had just been pulled from the tip, matching his persona exactly. It could not have been organised any better if it had been planned.

  The long-haired man who resembled a downtrodden gang member paused to consider the time on his equally filthy watch.

  It was Sean’s sign and he approached cautiously, taking note of a wink and nod of the head.

  He jumped on as the unknown driver propelled them down the road, leaving the driver of the silver car to soak up the fumes and smoke from the dirty
exhaust.

  Sean felt like whooping for joy at his success, but his elation was short-lived when a large black Dodge Viper loomed up behind them.

  The Triumph accelerated but was no match for the thumping V10 engine and was easily run down.

  Sean hung on for dear life. He closed his eyes and tried not to watch as his companion unexpectedly ripped the Triumph into a severe right-hand turn and forced the old machine over a green nature strip and a number of flowerbeds before leaping across a small embankment. The Dodge Viper followed but crashed awkwardly onto the pavement, losing speed as the driver struggled to gain control. The Triumph responded admirably to the request for added speed, coughing and wheezing like a sick child but forcing past the obstruction and roaring away down the two-way street.

  ‘Ah ha! I knew she still had it in her. Faithful to me, she is!’ yelled the man in satisfaction.

  Sean did not reply. He wondered if he treated his wife with more respect than he showed his bike.

  The man turned as if reading his mind. ‘It may be rough on the outside, but it will get you to safety.’

  Sean wasn’t convinced, particularly when the Viper raced up behind them.

  ‘Hold on!’ yelled his companion as he forced the bike up a steep incline until they arrived at the summit and began to descend. On the opposite side, crawling its way upwards like a caterpillar, was a slow-moving tractor followed by a large number of vehicles, many impatiently swerving as they looked for the opportunity to overtake.