“They are the three stars dangling below the feet of the peccary constellation, Am Kitam,” Pakal replied without hesitation. “The three stars are called osh-lot, three together and their names are Tunsel – little woodpecker (Rigel), Mehem Ek – Semen Star (Alnitak), and Hun Rakan – One Leg (Saiph).”
“Ah, yes, that is so. You have remembered well. Now let us consider the infinite structure of the Long Count calendar. On what date did the current creation begin?”
“On 4 Ahau 8 Kumk’u, the birth of the Fourth Sun and creation of the True People, Halach Uinik.” This date combined the day number from the 1 - 13 numeric Tzolk’in calendar, the day name of the 20-day uinal (month), and the numeric sequence of the day within one of the 18 months.
“Yes, that date marked the end of the previous age, when the 13 bundles were completed. And now tell me how to calculate 13 bundles.”
Pakal frowned, drawing his eyebrows together as he concentrated and tried running mental calculations. The mathematical poetics of the Maya 13 x 20 = 260 day Tzolk’in-sacred calendar interacting with the 18 x 20 = 360 day Haab-seasonal calendar intrigued him and he worked hard to commit these to memory. The 13 bundles were the baktun count; made up of 20 katuns, and the katun count was comprised of 20 stones or tuns, the year count. He understood that 18 uinals of 20 days made up one tun, and one tun was 360 days or kins. He also knew that the solar year was 365 days plus a few hours, but the Maya preferred the elegant numerology and sacred symbolism of 260 x 360. But beyond the count of baktuns, he was lost. Then he shrugged and lowered his eyes, admitting his confusion.
“Further I do not understand, Master. From Pasah Chan I learned how to count with the dot and bar system, where a dot is one and a bar is five. It is a 20-base system, with increments at each level of 20 times the previous number. From the lowest position up to the fifth there are increasing numbers. First level equals one, second level equals 20, third level equals 400, fourth level equals 8000, and fifth level equals 160,000.
“But you taught me that the calendars are counted differently. Each day has the value of one at the first level, but at the second level of the uinal the increment is only 18. That brings the tun at the third level to 360 days. Then the system reverts back to 20-base so there are 20 tuns to make one katun of 7200 days. The baktuns are formed by the count of 20 katuns for each baktun, to complete the baktun count at 144,000 days. But when baktuns become 13, the calendar makes a great shift and all five levels return to zero. This is said to signify completion of an era, the time when a new Sun is born. What happens with the remaining baktuns up to a count of 20? Why do not baktuns follow the same pattern as the other levels of the count?”
“Ah, this is part of the mystery and magic of calendars. Can you be more than one thing at the same time? Are you not both a boy and a son? Can a jaguar be beautiful and dangerous and loving of its cubs? Do not limit your mind to believe there is only one explanation, a single quality, an exclusive meaning given to the wondrous creations of the gods. Time is divine. It flows eternally without beginning or end. Nothing exists without time, and space is the platform on which the divine expressions of time play out. Deities acting within different spaces are the changing faces of time. You have studied the face glyphs for numbers, and the face glyphs for the five levels of the Long Count. Those are our artist’s depictions of the gods of numbers and time. But consider this mystery: the numbers and measures of time are Gods themselves. Gods have will and volition, they choose to create and craft their manifestations in our world. Do you understand?”
Pakal was not sure he did understand, but made an attempt.
“The calendar can be different things, or can be understood in more than one way. There can be a progression to the next level at Baktun 13 and different progressions at other levels. The mathematic counts can use 20-base while calendar counts use different bases. It is all dreamt in the imagination of the gods. Is this understanding correct?”
“Excellent! The Long Count calendar allows you to express an infinitely large number by writing a long string of 13s continuing in positions above the fifth level. Now recite to me what that count would say.”
“Zero kin, zero uinal, zero tun, zero katun, 13 baktun, then 13 – 13 – 13 – 13 – 13 – 13 – for as long as you wanted?”
“It is so. And if you wanted to express a specific and accurate amount of time that has elapsed since the last creation began, how would you say it?”
“You would recite the exact numbers for each of the five positions, such as 6 kins, 14 uinals, 2 tuns, 9 katuns, 10 baktuns. But what happens after you reach 13 baktuns?”
“Then you must use higher value positions, new gods of time. These do exist but most calendar keepers do not know them. Not all minds can grasp such large time periods, and in practical use these greatly exceed many human lifetimes. Now comes important and occult information, not taught to many. I shall tell you some of their names. Above the baktun comes piktun, above that comes kalabtun, then kinchiltun and then alautun. When next you come, I will show you the codex with their god face glyphs. Can you imagine how immense the day count would be if continued through the alautun?”
Pakal reflected upon the endless possibilities of numbers and calendars. His mind swirled and tumbled with numbers beyond expressing. He shook his head.
“This is impossible to imagine. You would multiply 144,000 days by 20 to get 1,872,000 days, then multiply that by 13 and the result by 13 and that result by 13 and . . . oh, the number of days is beyond calculation!”
“Just so. The Long Count goes back to the very beginning of time, when no one was present to do the counting that led to the original placement of the hearthstones. So for practical purposes, we counted backward from a later date during the early times of our people to establish 4 Ahau 8 Kumk’u as the seating of the hearthstones for the current Sun. So we say the new creation began on completion of the 13 bundles.”
Pakal scrutinized the old priest’s wrinkled face. Ah Kuy waited patiently to see where his pupil’s mind was going.
“The lifetime of a man is 3 katuns, so has Pasah Chan taught me,” the boy began. “Three katuns equals 60 tuns, the time in which Father Sun completes his journey from south to north 59 times in the solar year. Yet a single baktun is 360 tuns, more than six lifetimes. It is not surprising that few people trouble themselves to think beyond a baktun.”
“That is so. Few are the 5 Katun Lords, rulers who live beyond 80 tuns.”
“Honored Elder, have you attained to Katun 5?”
Ah Kuy chuckled and nodded, touching his copious wrinkles.
“So testifies my face. Perhaps I shall see Katun 6, should the gods be willing. But let us return to your lesson on the divinatory almanac. Come sit here beside me.”
Pakal climbed onto the raised platform and sat beside the old priest. Settling on the mat cross-legged, he was now able to see the fan-folded codex with its colorful glyphs, drawings and dot-and-bar numbers. Ah Kuy pointed to a complex drawing of a woman with an intricate headdress seated on a raised dais receiving offerings.
“Here we have Ix K’in Sutnal, she of the sun’s place of return. She is the Lady of the House in the constellation of Itzam Huh – Iguana. This is one of 13 constellations of our zodiac, whose stars are situated at the autumnal equinox, the place where the sun comes around again, when day and night are equal. In this depiction, she sits on her throne made of the Star Band, the vault of the sky. Her headdress has the face of the iguana, its breath curling upward from elongated nose, its back fin fanned out above her shoulders. In one hand she receives offerings of food, drink in a vase and a smoking censer. The other hand rests by her side, fingers pointing behind her.”
The boy studied the drawing carefully, identifying all the elements mentioned by the old priest. Several other drawings and glyphs were nearby and the priest pointed to them.
“These two drawings are the spirit uay of the Lady of the House, they are frogs. See that one frog appears to be swall
owing the sun. This signifies that the sun has entered the part of the sky occupied by the constellation Itzam Huh. The other frog is facing downward and raindrops are pouring from its body. This depicts the onset of rains as the rainy season begins in our locale at autumnal equinox. Soon will be time for planting corn.
“There is another very important message in these figures, when we study the calendar glyphs next to them. This codex makes predictions about astronomical events that will take place a long time in the future. Here in this group of glyphs are interval numbers projecting to the end of the current creation, when Baktun 13 will be completed and the Long Count will reset to all zeros. This will be on the date 4 Ahau 3 Kank’in (December 21, 2012). The 260-day sacred calendar will stand at the same place it did when the hearthstones of the Fourth Sun were set in place, but the solar calendar will be in another uinal, Kank’in instead of Kumk’u. Then the sun will be in the middle of the Milky Way passing by the constellation T’zek – Scorpion, and the three hearthstones of Am Kitam – Peccary will rise at dusk and reach meridian at midnight.”
“So will begin the Fifth Sun,” Pakal concluded.
“It is so!” Ah Kuy beamed happily at his student. “At that time, the Lady of the House will soar at meridian as the dawn comes. The divinatory pronouncement of this stellar configuration is that the new era will have a feminine character. This will be a good time for planting, for creating anew and for new beginnings.”
4
The small group of noble women continued their chatter as an attendant escorted them through an arched portico leading back to the palace entrance. Red and yellow borders of their bright white huipils swished as they walked, jewelry clinked at wrists and dangled from elaborate braids piled atop their heads. Heavy earspools and neck collars of jade, turquoise and serpentine completed their everyday attire when in attendance to royalty in the palace.
In the reception chamber of the ruler’s sister, they played board games with colored beans and gambled using bone dice marked with the Maya dot-and-bar numbering system. Frequently they worked together weaving fine patterns on cotton fabric, using backstrap looms. Today’s activities had focused on painting dried gourds in delicate designs, each woman trying to outdo the others with creative images of family, ancestors or deities. Their normal time was cut short, however, and many had to leave work unfinished.
Alone in the reception chamber, the ruler’s sister, Sak K’uk, brushed a strand of hair away from her face absently. She held a round, hollow gourd carefully by its upper rim where the top was cut away. Turning it slowly with care not to touch the wet paint, she evaluated her handiwork. Two women danced in unison, arms outstretched and fingers upward, feet following the heel-toe pattern. Their elaborate costumes identified them as royalty. Around the other side of the gourd, monkey and macaw musicians played drums, rattles and clay flutes. Twining vines circling the entire gourd formed borders above and below the scene, sprouting lilies and pads.
Only a few more dabs of paint were needed. Sak K’uk wanted to finish her work and set it on a circular stand of twisted reeds to dry. Surely she had enough time before her visitor arrived. With a sigh, she reached for the tiny feather brush, dipped it in blue dye and added deft strokes to the macaw’s feathers.
She had dismissed her group of women courtiers early because of the visitor. Why had her sister-in-law Hohmay requested a private audience? This both annoyed and troubled her.
Sak K’uk and Hohmay were not close, and infrequently saw each other. There was an underlying tension between them, due in no small part to Sak K’uk’s frequent criticism of her brother’s performance as ruler of Lakam Ha. In recent months, Aj Ne Ohl Mat seemed more withdrawn and presided less often in the Popol Nah-Council House. When the ruler was absent, their father Hun Pakal assumed the throne position. Or worse, Sak K’uk’s ambitious husband Kan Mo’ Hix took the leadership bench. Although she deliberately stayed away from this governing council, she was acutely aware of the dissonance and discord simmering among the ahauob.
Finally satisfied that the gourd painting was completed, Sak K’uk set it upon the reed stand and rose to wash her paint-stained fingers, summoning an attendant with a hand gesture. As she finished drying her hands, footsteps in the hall alerted her to the visitor’s arrival.
“Here comes Ixik Ahau-Holy Lady Hohmay,” intoned the steward.
“Ma’alo K’in – good day,” said Sak K’uk.
“May this day be well for you,” replied Hohmay.
Sak K’uk dismissed her steward with a small hand wave and signaled Hohmay to be seated on nearby mats. As they settled down, Sak K’uk was struck at her sister-in-law’s thinness, bordering on emaciation. Despite the best efforts of Hohmay’s face painter, dark circles accentuated both eyes and the very skin of her face seemed to hang listlessly from high cheekbones. Her lips were drawn tight and thin over teeth too large for her delicate face. The flatness of her stomach proclaimed her conceptive failures.
Hohmay had never recovered from her last miscarriage. The pregnancy was difficult and the ministrations of Ix Chel priestesses could not control her nausea. She steadily lost weight and strength as the pregnancy sucked life force from her body. Then the miscarriage at six moons with ensuing hemorrhage sapped the ix from her very blood stream, leaving her pale and wan. Worst of all was the emotional trauma, the loss of yet another potential heir, this one a tiny and perfectly formed boy whose immature lungs failed within moments of birth. Hohmay’s grief knew no bounds, and she continued without appetite or motivation for life.
Sak K’uk was almost embarrassed by her own strength and vitality. But not enough to wish Hohmay and her brother an heir.
“To what purpose is this private conversation?” Sak K’uk asked, not knowing how to enter the topic more gracefully.
Hohmay fixed an angry stare upon her husband’s sister.
“There is much talk concerning your son Pakal.” She almost spat the words. “That he has called the wind, and even that he commanded Lord Chak to bring rain during the dry season. Of these things have I heard, not just in the palace or among the ahauob. The most humble of my attendants bring stories of Pakal’s feats, lauded at the market and around the hearthstones of the villagers.”
“Well, yes,” replied Sak K’uk, trying to keep pride out of her voice. “He has indeed shown advanced abilities in his training.”
“Why has he even been trained by the High Priest?” exclaimed Hohmay. “He is only now attained of eight tuns, and they say he began training at five tuns. This is unheard of!”
“He showed abilities so early, it was for his safety. He could have entered realms of danger or used these abilities unwisely.”
“You are not telling the entire truth! You pushed his training forward out of your own ambitions. I know you believe Pakal will be the next ruler of Lakam Ha.” Hohmay’s bitterness blazed from sunken eyes.
“We must be prepared. The royal heir may not come from my brother.” Sak K’uk could not summon compassion as her own anger swelled.
“I will conceive again!” Hohmay cried wildly. “We will produce an heir, unless your spells are preventing a successful pregnancy.”
Sak K’uk narrowed her eyes and shot an energy bolt that caused Hohmay to recoil.
“I cast no spells. This is the product of a sickened mind, Hohmay. Seek council with the High Priest, bring yourself into mental balance.”
“Pasah Chan is your ally! You both are plotting against me…” Her voice trailed off into stifled sobs.
“Hohmay, listen. I bear you no evil intentions. Surely such events, such recurring patterns are the will of the deities. We cannot always know their intentions, what they decree for our lives and our destinies. You must see that Aj Ne has little interest in ruling our polity. Perhaps your desire for a dynastic heir is not shared by your husband. His art is his first love, and could be his greatest contribution to our city.”
Both women sat in silence for some time.
“I ha
ve failed in the most sacred duty of a royal wife,” Hohmay whispered. “I have produced no sons, no heirs. Aj Ne must take another wife. My life is over.”
Sak K’uk could indeed believe that the fragile, emaciated woman might die momentarily. A wave of pity swept over her and she tapped upon a ceramic bowl to summon attendants.
“Bring warm fermented maize drink,” she ordered. After Hohmay sipped from a finely decorated clay cup, her color deepened slightly. Sak K’uk attempted to bring some comfort to the distraught woman.
“Aj Ne loves you deeply, and you can encourage his creativity,” she suggested. “I have seen how you inspire his poetry. He expresses no interest in another wife, or dynastic succession. What ensues in the governance of Lakam Ha is the purview of the Triad Deities.” For a moment it appeared that Hohmay slipped into acceptance. Then suddenly she threw her cup of maize on the floor and sprang to her feet. Eyes blazing fury and hatred, she pointed a scrawny finger at Sak K’uk and shouted,
“You are deceiving me! You wish me to give up, to admit defeat, to resign myself that Pakal will become heir designate for the Bahlam dynasty! Never, never will I succumb to your spells! You and your shaman mother, you think you can control the future of rulers and cities. I curse you both, and your precious son Pakal the magnificent! Much suffering and misery I call down upon you, even such as I have known!”
Sak K’uk reeled at the powerful energy blasting from Hohmay, who appeared as a shimmering apparition with daggers for eyes in a cadaverous skull, teeth bared in a death grin. Staggering momentarily, the thin woman spun and rushed away in a cascade of ghastly howls.
It took Sak K’uk some time to recover her composure after the encounter with her sister-in-law. She was deeply disturbed by the prophetic nature of Hohmay’s last utterances. An underlying sense of danger had been forming in her subconscious, now brought to the surface. Something was amiss, something beyond the continued dissention in the Council House and the tension between her family and her brother. Now she wished ardently that she had paid closer attention to her mother’s teaching, had concentrated more on techniques for visioning and divination. Yohl Ik’nal would seek a vision in such circumstances to discern what forces were at play. But Sak K’uk did not possess similar abilities and had not enacted a visioning since the last time with her mother, when they both foresaw her marriage to Kan Mo’ Hix.
The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) Page 7