“How many times has the sun made its passage since last we met?” Uc Ayin asked. Now that he was in dry clothing and finally the chill had left his limbs, his mood improved as he sat sipping hot maize laced with cacao at his sister’s hearth.
“Ten, perhaps twelve sun passages,” replied Manik. Her family house was small, having three interconnected rooms with the entrance facing a shared patio. It was a typical stone and plaster one story structure that served the modest needs of minor ahauob families. Manik’s husband had died several years earlier, but Uc Ayin did not attend the transition rites, for which he felt a twinge of shame. She now lived alone, her only daughter’s husband having fulfilled his marriage obligation by working several years for his wife’s family. Now the couple lived in Nututun in a house built adjoining the husband’s family structure. Manik lived alone, a marginal widow given occasional assistance by cousins.
“Are you well?” Sliding his eyes toward his sister, Uc Ayin gauged her age was approaching 60 solar years, quite elder for most elite Mayas. Her hunched posture and loose skin bespoke advanced age, though her deeply sunken eyes still sparked with life.
“As you see,” she said, spreading her hands. “I am old, but my health is good. You are looking well. Has life been good for you these years in Lakam Ha?”
“There is little of which I can complain,” he demurred, surprising himself with the truth in this statement. A meaningless, disappointing life with little to complain about.
“Tell me things of your life, your city, your holy rulers the K’uhul B’aakal Ahauob.”
Uc Ayin spun a few tales about court life, the ruler’s art and music interests, the precocity of the only Bahlam descendent, Janaab Pakal. He off-handedly mentioned his solitary existence, understanding that his sister knew of his two-spirit nature. Having passed an appropriate time in such pleasantries, he asked about her summons.
“It appears all is well with you and your family, sister, so why have you requested this visit from me?”
She smiled secretively, making a puzzle hand gesture.
“That it is good to see you after such a long time, for my years here are surely few to come. Is this not enough reason? Truly I am happy to see you again, brother. But the request came not from me, I regret to admit. It is from one who knew you well in the past, and now has important business with you. His name I do not now speak, for his business is secret. He will come here after darkness has established its cover; he desires not to be seen or spoken of. Rest from your long journey, and then we will eat. You will know soon enough.”
After a hearty meal of turkey stewed with taro roots, tomatoes and herbs, Uc Ayin and Manik drowsed in silence around the glowing hearthstones. A wall torch flickered, casting dancing shadows across the stucco walls. Hot maize drink laced with cacao and chiles bubbled in a clay pot, awaiting the visitor. Steady raindrops beat softly upon the patio and small rivulets coursed down the sides of the entrance, pooling on the doorway before trickling outside. The sound of footsteps sloshing through puddles across the patio brought both to instant alertness.
Manik stood, holding the door-blanket aside for the visitor to enter. A muscular man of middle height removed his cloak, giving it to Manik to hang as he settled onto a floor mat next to Uc Ayin. The two men exchanged looks, finding both recognition and the alterations of age in each other’s faces.
“Ek Chuuah?” Uc Ayin’s voice sounded breathy with surprise.
“Speak softly,” the man replied. “And do not say again my name. Good it is to see you, Uc Ayin, after so many years.”
Uc Ayin shot a puzzled glance at his sister, who whispered, “He is the one who requested your visit, for very important purposes of which I know not, nor do I seek to know. Now I leave you to talk. Keep your voices low.”
After pouring each man a cup of maize-cacao drink, she took a cup for herself and disappeared behind two sets of door-blankets into the farthest room. The heavy blankets reduced the men’s voices to an indistinct murmur. Humming softly, Manik knelt on her floor mat and poured out the contents of a leather pouch. Wall torches glinted off shiny black obsidian blades and brought out the warm glow of amber. She caressed the golden chunks of amber, some light as honey and others mysteriously dark as dense cacao drink. She carefully stroked the sharp blades and admired their precise workmanship. Finally her knobby fingers slid toward two lovely jade beads, green as the jungle in early spring when new leaves sprang forth.
Manik felt no remorse for accepting this small fortune from Ek Chuuah for summoning her brother. She thought of it not as a bribe, but as a gift from the gods to sustain a poor widow. Happily she contemplated the ceramic pots and pure white cotton cloth she would buy at the next market, already creating designs for the hem of her new huipil. Her sustenance needs were assured for a long time, maybe more time than she required. Why the visitor from Usihwitz wanted to meet her brother troubled her not. Men had their intrigues and manipulations; women wanted only a comfortable life.
Ek Chuuah sipped thoughtfully, remarking in a low voice,
“You are looking well for your age. We are of similar age, if I recall rightly.”
“Hmmm, yes that is so,” replied Uc Ayin. Although he maintained a calm exterior, his mind was racing with memories of the controversial times when he and Ek Chuuah joined in the plotting of Yaxun Zul to overthrow the Bahlam dynasty. Since then, he heard nothing of Ek Chuuah’s activities or even if he was still alive. Yet here he was, looking older but vigorous, and seeking something that made Uc Ayin’s heart pound.
“Are you living in Usihwitz still? Politics have been of little interest to me, I have not kept abreast of events between our cities.”
“Yes, now my son Yax Chapat is co-regent of Usihwitz, married to the ruler’s daughter, his only heir. Of you I do know some things, although my sources in your city are not as good as they once were. That your interests lie in arts, and not politics, a mirror of your ruler Aj Ne Ohl Mat, of that I am aware. But now I must draw you into politics, because things of immense import are about to happen. There is a role for you in this, a role that will bring you great rewards.”
“A role for me?” gasped Uc Ayin. His hands shook as he lifted the cup to sip, hoping the peppery drink would clear his mind.
“Let me cut to the central issue. Usihwitz is allied now with Kan, the most powerful polity our region has ever seen. Uneh Chan, K’uhul Ka’an Ahau, has ambitions to dominate this region south and west of the K’umaxha River. Already Usihwitz, Pa’chan, Pakab, and Yokib have formed alliances with Kan. The strength of Kan reaches far to the south with its ties to Uxwitza and their mutual defeat of Mutul. Kan plans to form an empire, and the next target is Lakam Ha. Once Lakam Ha falls, the other cities in the B’aakal polity will succumb to the power of Kan. Tribute and wealth will flow to Kan and its allies.”
Uc Ayin stared, shocked and confused.
“How can I possibly have a role in such power struggles among cities?”
Ek Chuuah glanced around, signaling to keep voices low.
“You possess a piece of information that is key to the Kan attack on Lakam Ha,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Information that I do not have, despite my years in your city. With this information, the plan to defeat Lakam Ha is certain to succeed.”
“Surely you are mistaken. What could I possibly know that is helpful to warriors? Even if this is true, why should I give you information to defeat my city? You are thinking of that ill-fated conspiracy many years ago. I was never in favor of it, and did not stay to learn all your plotting. Those that knew are all dead now. There is no reason for me to be part of another plot against Lakam Ha.” Uc Ayin’s whisper was more of a hiss.
“There is a very good reason for you to join with us,” retorted Ek Chuuah. “Why are you still alive, when all other plotters from Lakam Ha were killed? Because you fled to stay here with your sister. Are you surprised that I know this? I know many things. I know how to destroy your current life in Lakam Ha, or…”
>
Ek Chuuah let this threat hang heavily in the air between them. He slowly lifted his cup and drained the thick liquid in several swallows. Setting the cup down and wiping the back of a hand across his lips, he shifted into a relaxed, open posture.
“Let us not become antagonists. In truth, our interests are aligned. You are not satisfied with life in Lakam Ha, is this not so? Your ruler is weak and distracted and lacks inspiration, and even though you are in his close circles you find this discouraging. It is time for major change; change for you and for Lakam Ha. Your help in accomplishing these changes will lead to a new, promising life for you in Usihwitz or another city in the Kan alliance. You can begin anew, without the set attitudes your colleagues now hold. Uneh Chan will owe you a huge favor, and he wields influence widely. Consider this well, Uc Ayin… what do you owe Aj Ne Ohl Mat and Lakam Ha? Would not a new life well-positioned with support from the most powerful men in the region outweigh any such obligation?”
Embers sparked as Ek Chuuah added wood to the hearth fire. Smoke wafted lazily around the two men, wrapping them together like floating rope. Uc Ayin stared into the nascent flames, watching them come to life, grow and dance. Mesmerized, he observed a flicker of hope kindle inside him, the image of his new persona emerging as a sudden flame. It was possible, it could happen; he could have a new life. A satisfying life.
“What must I do?” he whispered, nearly inaudible. But Ek Chuuah heard and smiled.
“Tell me one thing, a closely guarded secret among the upper elite in the ruler’s confidence at Lakam Ha. I am certain that you know this, because you are close to Aj Ne Ohl Mat. Where is the entrance into the Sak Nuk Nah?”
“The White Skin House? Did you not know when you lived in Lakam Ha?”
“No. Remember my status there; my family was not among the higher echelon.”
“How will this knowledge serve the Kan attack?”
“It is critical to our success. Simply an attack to destroy structures, take captives and loot the city’s coffers is not Kan’s goal. Our goal is to break the portal that connects Lakam Ha with the Triad Deities, to desecrate this sacred space, so they cannot provide gifts and sustenance to the gods. Then the gods will no longer support B’aakal, and the power of the Bahlam dynasty will be ended. Lakam Ha will be axed, chopped down, brought low never to resurge again. To accomplish this goal, we must know how to enter the Sak Nuk Nah quickly.”
Ek Chuuah’s voice trembled with passion. Uc Ayin stared blankly as if not comprehending, his eyes wide and unblinking. He also trembled, but from fear.
“Desecrate the Sak Nuk Nah? Destroy the portal to the Triad Deities? Surely I would be struck dead by the gods for being part of such a horror!”
“No, understand this well, Uc Ayin.” Ek Chuuah spoke deliberately, each word falling as a prophetic stone from his lips. “There are deities more powerful than the Triad, I have encountered them, and they guide us in this attack. We have secured the assistance of the Death Lords through a devastating spell created by Kan’s most accomplished shaman. You have no idea of the forces that will be called into play, forces that will overcome any other deities. Your life is in greater danger if you remain loyal to Lakam Ha, and not just from warriors. Their curse will fall upon you for not cooperating. You will die a thousand horrible deaths in Xibalba, and never escape.”
Uc Ayin was terrified. He thought Ek Chuuah looked like a Death Lord himself, the fire etching every line in his face with dark shadows while red flames glowed on his cheekbones and lightning sparked from his eyes. Drawing his lips taut over his large teeth filed into points with jade insets, Ek Chuuah’s mouth seemed huge as the Witz Monster maw that opened to caves leading into the Underworld. Hypnotically the monstrous mouth moved forming words that Uc Ayin felt as vibrations more than heard.
“Tell…me…the… location… of… the… entrance.”
Teeth chattering, Uc Ayin could hardly form the answer he was compelled to give. All volition had been sucked away by the Underworld forces emanating through Ek Chuuah. With clacking noises from chattering teeth punctuating his words like a stone-carver’s mallet, Uc Ayin gasped the answer.
“It… it is in the Ix Chel Temple, in a storage structure…you enter from a chamber within the Temple. The door is concealed behind a… a panel with… Ix Chel’s serpent carved on it. The panel swings open leading to a stairway… goes down into a tunnel…to the sacred shrine underground.”
Uc Ayin burst into a bout of coughing and sputtering, his body wracked with intense tremors. Ek Chuuah firmly placed a hand on each of the trembling man’s shoulders, squeezing and willing him to be calm. Eyes locked, the men stared in silence. Ek Chuuah smiled and nodded, resuming again the guise of an aging human.
“This is well done, brother. When you are able, let us discuss more details. You are one of us now, in the great alliance of Ka’an polity. It is best that you remain in Sak Tz’i with your sister. Send word back with your paddler that your sister is ailing and needs your assistance indefinitely. The attack is planned for the dry season, only a few moon cycles from now. Stay here, remain silent, and you will be safe.”
2
The dry season arrived near the time of spring equinox, when the sun reached halfway in its journey along the horizon from the position farthest north to its southerly point. The jungle came to life as rains diminished and longer sunlight warmed treetops and soil. Rivers began to flow more gently and currents became less dangerous, encouraging travel and trade once again. Farmers burned dead corn stalks and plowed the carbonized nutrients back into the fields to mingle with rich muddy sediment deposited by over-flowing rivers during the heavy rains. The people of the mountain cities brought their lives outdoors, glad to cook and clean and gather in plazas instead of staying inside their stone residences.
Sak K’uk strolled in the interior courtyard of her chambers at the palace, face lifted to the sun’s warmth. Tender yellow-green leaves sprouted from ficus trees and buds swelled on hibiscus bushes, soon to unfold their opulent yellow and red blossoms. She smiled at various bird calls: the sibilant vocalizations with trills and twitters of the azure tanager, the metallic plihk or soft hu-oi of the yellow-white-black grosbeak, the high thin tsiu or tseeip of the lovely pink warbler. Looking quickly at the treetop, she sighted the tiny warbler with its silvery-pink head and chest, dark red back and brown eyes. From an adjoining courtyard that served the royal kitchens came the bongo-like bass tones of male ocellated turkeys, calls which quickened and rose to a crescendo, followed by a high-pitched but melodious series of chops.
She was glad that the dry season had arrived after a long period of extremely heavy rainfall. It had been a difficult season for her, not simply because of the weather, but rife with family conflict. Her personal frustration over the lack of purpose in her life added an undercurrent of dissonance. Her strong will and leadership abilities could find no suitable outlet since she avoided the Council House and court and had given over her son’s training to the High Priest. Gathering with her women courtiers to weave and paint on gourds and ceramic pots failed to provide enough challenge to satisfy her. Surely her parents had trained her for greater things, and her ultimate destiny must be more than being a secondary member of the ruling family.
Now she felt happy, however, because early the coming morning she was to meet with the High Priest Pasah Chan for an update on her son’s training. And what made her happiest was anticipating a visit with Pakal, the sun-faced-K’inich who always brought joy and the sun’s warm glow with his presence.
The footsteps of her steward echoed before him as he approached through the long corridor between the entrance and her courtyard. She looked up quizzically, not expecting anyone for audience today. He bowed low and spoke softly. “My Lady, your esteemed husband Kan Mo’ Hix approaches to speak with you.”
Sak K’uk frowned slightly then signaled acceptance to her steward, but before he could turn around her visitor entered the courtyard. Giving a slight shrug and apologe
tic smile, the steward left. Kan Mo’ Hix was not known for his politeness.
She offered her husband her hand and their fingers met momentarily as he nodded slightly then strode restlessly across the courtyard, returning to face her. Clearly he was agitated. She did not bother to invite him to sit on a mat.
“What troubles you?” she asked.
“Your brother, our illustrious ruler, has completely taken leave of his wits!”
She laughed softly. “Have you not said this before? What particular foolishness has he accomplished?”
“The dry season is upon us. Chakab as Nakom-War Chief wants to begin warrior training and conduct mock field battles. It is some time since our men have seen any serious battle preparations. They are becoming soft, slack from easy living. Our defenses are weakened and we live in uncertain times. Does this not sound reasonable to you? To conduct battle training?” Kan Mo’ Hix spoke so forcefully that the veins on his neck stood out.
“Yes, you speak wisely. This sounds both reasonable and necessary. What is the problem? I assume Aj Ne is creating a problem.”
“Aj Ne is both stupid and a complete fool! He does not support Chakab in his desire to train the warriors. He has other more important things in mind! Lakam Ha cannot spare the men for battle training because he needs them to organize a grand festival of arts for all the cities of B’aakal. The warriors must travel to other cities to bring his summons and organize groups for travel and supervise building a new structure for these performances and keep order in Lakam Ha during this arrogant folly! What is he using for a mind? He will put our city at risk, keep us vulnerable and less able to defend ourselves, to give himself a platform for self-aggrandizement.” He stopped to catch a breath, shaking his head vigorously.
“The Council in the Popol Nah is giving support for Aj Ne’s plans?”
The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) Page 9