Feathered Serpent, Dark Heart of Sky

by David Bowles

  “Ah!” she exclaimed. “What sort of fruit is this? It simply has to be sweet. If only I could pick one and not be killed or banished. Just one.”

  Then the head of One Hunahpu spoke from the fork in the tree. “Come, you’re not really interested in these round things hanging from the branches. They’re just skulls. You can’t possibly want one.”

  “But I do,” answered Lady Blood.

  “Alright, then. Stretch out your right hand.”

  “Fine.” Lady Blood reached toward the source of the voice, and the head squirted a bit of spit into her palm. Startled, the maiden drew back her hand and stared at it closely, but the saliva was gone.

  “The spittle I’ve given you is a sort of symbol,” explained the voice of One and Seven Hunahpu, for they had merged and spoke with a single mind. “You see, my head here has been stripped bare: all that’s left is just the bone. But that’s the way it is even with the head of a great lord. He only looks decent because of the flesh on his skull. Once he’s dead and rotted away, though, people shrink in fear from that naked bone.

  “His sons, now…they’re like his saliva, which still contains his essence even after leaving his mouth. Whether they be the sons of a lord or a wise man or an orator, they preserve the basic nature of their father. His face isn’t wholly lost, but passes to the children he leaves behind. That’s what I’m doing through you. Now abandon this land of fright. Go to the surface of the sea-ringed world before they kill you. Find my mother, Ixmukane. Trust in my words.”

  The skull gave her many more instructions before she was on her way. By the time she reached her home, the saliva had sparked life in her womb, and she conceived twins, sons of One and Seven Hunahpu both. But instead of leaving the Land of the Dead, she remained in her father’s house.

  When six months had passed, Lord Blood Gatherer noticed that his daughter was pregnant. He went to the council chambers and addressed his king and queen:

  “That daughter of mine is with child. A bastard.”

  “Very well,” said the queen. “Question her. If she refuses to reveal the truth, you must punish her. Have her taken to some distant place and sacrificed.”

  So Lord Blood Gatherer confronted Lady Blood. “Whose child is in your belly, girl?”

  “There is no child, lord father. I have not known the face of a man.”

  “I see. So you have given yourself to the pleasures of the flesh without my leave.” He summoned the Royal Guard, and when those four fearsome owls arrived, he gestured at his daughter. “Take her away for sacrifice. Bring back just her heart, in a gourd, and surrender it to our king and queen this very day.”

  The Royal Guard departed, bearing aloft in black talons Lady Blood, a gourd and the council’s bone-white blade, with which they were to sacrifice the maiden. Once they had traveled far from the center of the Underworld, the owls alighted and reluctantly readied themselves to complete the task.

  Lady Blood begged them to reconsider. “It is not right that you should kill me, messengers. There is no disgrace carried in my womb, but a miracle, begotten when I went to visit One Hunahpu’s head there beside the ball court. There is a greater power at work here, respected friends. You must not sacrifice me.”

  The owls looked upon her unblinking for quite some time. They had known her all her life, had watched her grow into a delightful young woman. Deceit was not her nature. And even if she were lying, they realized with a start, they did not wish her to die.

  “But what can we take in place of your heart, Lady Blood? Your father demanded we bring it to the king and queen today.”

  “My heart will never belong to them. And you, friends, must no longer call this place your home. Never again let them force you to kill someone unjustly. There, upon the sea-ringed world, you can harry true villains. From now on, let the King and Queen of Death taste only blood, sap, resin. No more hearts burned in their presence. Not mine, not anyone’s.”

  She placed her palm on a cochineal croton tree. “Drain the sap from this plant. Collect it in your gourd.”

  They used the blade to slice the trunk until sap dribbled out. The red resin congealed in the makeshift bowl, forming a lump like a heart surrounded by what appeared to be clotted blood.

  “On the surface of the world you will be blessed,” said the maiden to the owls with a happy smile. “You will have all you desire.”

  “So be it, Lady. We will accompany and serve you. But go on ahead while we present this false heart to the dark lords.”

  When the Royal Guard arrived in the council chambers, the fell aristocracy of the netherworld had already gathered.

  “Has it been done?” asked the King of Death.

  “Indeed, Your Majesty. Here is her heart in this gourd.”

  “Very well. Let us see.” The king lifted out the coagulated sap, which looked for all the world like a heart glazed with ruddy gore.

  “Excellent. Stir up the fire—let us set it among the coals.”

  Once the resinous clump was thrown upon the fire, the dark lords delighted in the aroma of its burning. They stood near, leaned into the smoke, delighted at the sweet smell.

  As they watched it bubble and hiss, the owls slipped away, overtaking the maiden and leading her up through caverns, out of the bleak Land of the Dead and onto the surface of the earth.

  And that is how the dark lords were first defeated, every one of them tricked by a maiden.

  Their Birth and Childhood

  Following the instructions she had been given by One and Seven Hunahpu, Lady Blood finally arrived where Ixmukane lived with One Monkey and One Artisan. She carried sons in her womb—soon they would be born, twins named Hunahpu and Xbalanque.

  Standing before the grandmother, the maiden announced:

  “Here I am, Lady Mother—your daughter-in-law, your own sweet child.”

  “What?” demanded Ixmukane. “Who are you? Where are you from? How can you be my daughter-in-law when my boys have both died in the Land of the Dead? Look upon these two: One Monkey and One Artisan, their true blood and heirs. Now go. Get out!”

  Wincing at the shouts, Lady Blood did not move. “Regardless, I am still your daughter-in-law. I belong to your sons. One and Seven Hunahpu are not dead, Lady Mother. They live on in what I carry. They have turned dark tragedy to brightest hope, as you will see for yourself in the faces of my sons.”

  The other woman scoffed. “Daughter-in-law indeed. No, you lying wench, I have no need of you or the fruit of your disgrace. My sons are dead, I tell you. You are clearly an impostor!”

  Lady Blood remained where she was, head high. After a few moments, Ixmukane frowned. “Right. You claim to be my daughter-in-law. If that is true, then go bring food for these boys. A netful of ripe ears of corn from our milpa.”

  “As you say,” the maiden replied. She walked along the road that One and Seven Hunahpu had cleared until it opened onto the family milpa. One lone clump of cornstalks stood in its midst, with a single ear dangling from it.

  “Oh, I am but a sinner, a debtor!” Lady Blood cried. “Where will I get the netful of food she has demanded?”

  Then she remembered who she was, a noblewoman from the Land of the Dead, powerful and commanding. Lifting her hands, she called out to the guardians of food:

  “Arise now, come, O Lady of Tribute, O Lady of Maize-Gold, O Lady of Cocoa Beans, O Lady of the Shameless Day! Come, you guardians of the food of One Monkey and One Artisan!”

  Then, seizing the cornsilk at the top of the ear, she yanked upward. Though she did not pick the corn, it multiplied magically, filling her net till it overflowed. Calling to the animals of the field, she enlisted their help in transporting the load back to the house. Once they had arrived, the creatures brought her a carrying frame, and she made herself break out in a sweat so her mother-in-law would believe she had brought the net alone.

  Ixmukane emerged from the house and was astonished at the mound of food. “Where did you get that corn? Did you steal it? Let me go
see if you have stripped the milpa bare!”

  She rushed to the field to find the clump of cornstalks intact and the impression of the net sunken deep in the earth. Something miraculous had occurred. And where there was one miracle, there could be others. She hurried back home and spoke to Lady Blood.

  “This is surely a sign that you are, in truth, my daughter-in-law. I will keep watch over all that you do. Those grandchildren of mine you carry must already be as magical.”

  The day at last arrived, but Lady Blood was on the mountain, so Ixmukane did not witness the birth. Labor came upon the maiden suddenly, and the twins were born: Hunahpu and Xbalanque.

  When their mother finally brought them down to the house, they could not sleep and made quite a fuss.

  “Take them back to the mountain and leave them there,” Ixmukane told her other two grandsons. “They just will not stop screaming.”

  So One Monkey and One Artisan dumped them on an anthill, hoping they would die, but the babies slept soundly and were not harmed. The jealous half-brothers then threw them in the brambles, from which their mother soon rescued them. Neither had a scratch.

  In the end the older boys simply would not accept their half-brothers or Lady Blood into their home. The maiden had to raise her sons in the mountains, aided by animals and other beings. Over the years they learned to harness the divine energy that was their birthright, to communicate with the animals, to hunt with a blowgun, to coax melodies from the flute, and, above all, to play ball with such skill as to make their fathers very proud.

  When they were able to fend for themselves, Lady Blood left them, knowing their destiny could not be fulfilled at her side. Once their mother was gone, Hunahpu and Xbalanque spent their days shooting their blowguns and felling prey. Though they had never received love or food from their fathers’ family, the boys began to visit their grandmother’s home again, avoiding mealtime in order to minimize conflicts. Silently, understanding their low rank in the family, they suffered the rudeness of their grandmother and older brothers, making a gift of fowl each day with the full understanding that they would never have a bite from the fruit of their own labor, which was devoured by their older siblings without a word of thanks.

  One Monkey and One Artisan had suffered greatly from the loss of their father and uncle, but they had grown in stature through the years, becoming in many ways the equals of One and Seven Hunahpu. However, though as talented and wise as their father, the brothers felt such envy of the twins, their half-brothers, that their hearts were filled with hate, keeping them from showing true wisdom. Their natural foresight told them that their young brothers were destined for greatness, but they did nothing to encourage those abilities.

  Finally, Hunahpu and Xbalanque decided to put an end to their siblings’ cruelty. “We’ll just turn their beastly nature against them. It’ll be a fitting payment. If they’d had their way, we would’ve died as babies or been lost as little kids. They treat us like slaves. To their minds, we’re nobodies. Time to make an example of them.”

  That evening they arrived at their grandmother’s house empty-handed.

  “Why have you not brought any birds?” she demanded.

  “Well, grandmother, we shot some birds, but they’re stuck in the top branches of a tree. We’re pretty clumsy and can’t climb up there, so we were hoping our older brothers would come help us.”

  “Very well,” said One Monkey and One Artisan. “We will go with you in the morning.”

  The next day the twins led their brothers to a large madre de cacao tree replete with countless singing birds. They loosed a barrage of darts, but not a single bird fell to the ground.

  “See? They’re getting stuck. Climb up and fetch them here.”

  “Fine.” One Monkey and One Artisan clambered up into the very top branches of the tree, looking for the birds. As they did so, the twins caused the trunk to swell and stretch toward the sky until it was monstrously big. When their brothers realized what was happening, they tried to get down but couldn’t.

  “Little brothers!” they called down. “Take pity on us! What can we say? This tree is frightening to behold.”

  “Look, it’s your loincloths that are keeping you from moving freely. Loosen them and then retie them so the long end sticks out behind you. You’ll be able to get down easier.”

  One Monkey and One Artisan did as they were told. The moment they pulled out the long ends of their loincloths, these instantly became tails. The spell had been triggered. Within seconds, the older brothers were transformed into spider monkeys. They leapt from the gigantic madre de cacao into the branches of smaller nearby trees and then went swinging their way into the dense mountain forests, chattering and howling wildly.

  And so One Monkey and One Artisan were defeated by the divine magic of Hunahpu and Xbalanque. The matter of their grandmother still remained, of course. When they got home, they immediately called to her.

  “Grandmother! Something’s happened to our brothers! Their faces have changed: now they look like animals!”

  “If you have done something to them, boys, you will break my heart. Please tell me you have not worked your magic on them!”

  “Don’t be sad, Grandmother. You’ll see our older brothers’ faces again. They’ll be back. But this is going to be a test for you. You can’t laugh at them, okay? Now, let’s see what fate has in store.”

  They sat down outside the house and began to play the flute and drum, singing a song they called “Hunahpu Spider Monkey” in which their brothers’ names were repeated. Soon One Monkey and One Artisan approached, excited, and began to dance to the music. When she saw their ugly little simian faces, Ixmukane could not contain her laughter. Her guffaws startled the monkeys, and they scampered off into the forest.

  “Grandmother! Didn’t we say not to laugh? Look, we’re only going to try this four times. Three more. You simply have to keep yourself from laughing next time.”

  They started up the tune once more, and their transformed siblings rushed to the patio to dance with wild abandon. Ixmukane struggled not to even giggle, but the monkeys had truly funny faces. Their little potbellies jiggled and their genitals were showing. Their grandmother could not help herself: she burst into gales of laughter that made them run off toward the mountains.

  “What else are we supposed to do, Grandmother? Here goes attempt number three.”

  Again the song. Again the dancing. Now, however, their grandmother kept her composure. So the monkeys clambered up the wall, making foolish expressions. They puckered up their red lips and snorted at the twins. It was too much. Ixmukane cackled and howled, and her grandsons left in a hurry.

  “This is the last time,” Hunahpu and Xbalanque warned, and they struck up the melody again. But the monkeys did not return. They stayed in the forest instead.

  The twins shook their heads in disappointment. “We tried, Grandmother. They’re gone. But don’t be sad. You still have two grandsons, right here with you. You can give your love to us. Our older brothers will always be remembered, you know. For they were given names and titles. Down the ages, musicians and artists and scribes will call on them for inspiration. Yes, they were prideful and mean, and their cruelty brought ruin on their heads. But people will always remember that One Monkey and One Artisan accomplished great things, in a distant time, when they lived with their grandmother in a small house near the mountains.”

  Their Journey to the Realm of Fright

  And so Hunahpu and Xbalanque took their rightful places as their fathers’ heirs. For a time they tended the family milpa, enchanting axes and hoes and animals to do the brunt of the work while they went hunting with their blowguns.

  After a while, however, they found their fathers’ rubber ball in the rafters. Strapping on their siblings’ gear with great joy, they headed down to the ball court. For a long time they played there alone, sweeping the field of their fathers.

  The dark lords of the Realm of Fright could not help but hear. “Someone has
started a game again there above our heads. Are they not ashamed to be stomping about like that?” the King of Death asked. “Did not One and Seven Hunahpu die precisely for this reason? Just like these knaves, they wanted to prove their importance. Go, then, messenger: summon these fools as well.”

  Hurricane’s falcon, who had watched many of their fathers’ games, winged his way to the surface to call the twins before the nether council. As he approached, he cried out, “Wak-ko! Wak-ko!”

  “What’s that sound?” Hunahpu exclaimed, dropping his yoke. “Quick, grab your blowgun!”

  They shot the bird out of the air, a pellet impacting against his eye. When they went to grab him, they asked why he was there.

  “I’ve a message for you, but first heal my eye.”

  They took a sliver of rubber from their ball and used it to cure his wound. As soon as his vision was restored, he spoke the words in his belly:

  “You are commanded by the King and Queen of Death to present yourself in the Realm of Fright in seven days. Bring your kit, for you will be playing ball against the dark lords of the netherworld. They promise it will be great fun.”

  The twins went to their grandmother, who was devastated by the news.

  “We’ve got to go, of course,” they told her. “But first let us be your advisors. Each of us will plant an ear of unripe corn here in the center of the house. If one dries up, you’ll know that grandson has died. But if they sprout up, you can be sure we’re alive.”

  After the planting, the twins took up their gear and their blowguns and departed. They wended their way down toward the Realm of Fright, over the rim of the world, along the canyons, through flocks of strange birds. They came to the river of pus and the river of blood, intended as traps by the dark lords. But the brothers caused their blowguns to swell as they had the madre de cacao tree and simply floated across without a care.

  Then the brothers came to the crossroads, but their mother, the Lady Blood, had taught them about the roads: Black, White, Red, and Green. Hunahpu plucked a hair from his knee and with a whispered spell transformed it into an insect he called mosquito, the perfect spy.