I headed back to sit with Josh, but Barb pulled me into her seat. "Kat needs to listen too."
Nando scoffed. "She doesn't care. To her, Mexico is all about swimming. Getting a tan."
I rolled my eyes. This guy really etched his grudges into stone.
"But Kat loves your story." Barb pulled my travel journal out of my backpack. "She's always drawing pictures about it and everything." Before I could snatch my journal back, the pages flipped open to a drawing of how I imagined Snake. Nando tilted his head to see it, but I snapped the book closed, whacking it against Barb's arm—hard—before shoving it deep into my backpack.
"Little brat of a traitor!" I growled.
Barb squirmed away from me and slipped into Nando's seat. But Nando didn't acknowledge her, still staring at me, his forehead furrowed. "Okay, I'll tell you about the rain ceremony," he said, looking at me the way I'd stared at those complicated Mayan carvings, trying to figure out what was there.
***
THE DAY 4 BEN
Protector of Growing Corn
Muluc felt as if she were swimming through the bodies flooding the Great Plaza on the day of the Lords' rain ceremony. Thousands of men, women, and children crowded between the temples, each vying for the best view. Balam weaved through the crowd, as agile as a jungle cat racing through thick underbrush. Macaw and Mol went to stake out a place near the Temple of the Warriors to see the end of the ceremony, but Balam wanted Muluc to see everything. Holding hands, they twisted through the crowd toward the Temple of the Jaguars to see the ball-game procession.
The hot sun and crush of bodies made Muluc dizzy as they stood waiting all afternoon; the smell of sweat mixed with the sweet clouds of pom incense nauseated her. She'd eaten so much during their feast last night that she worried she might get sick. Leaning against Balam's shoulder, she sipped water from a small gourd he had brought. Muluc had never attended a ceremony as a commoner—she had always sat, wearing newly embroidered clothing, with the elites. Smoothing her plain white cotton dress made her long for her old status in Cobá. She licked her finger and rubbed a bit of spit on her lip plug to make the stone shine.
Priests, wearing cloth woven with red for blood and blue for sacrifice, climbed the steps to the high chamber in the Temple of the Jaguars that overlooked the ball court. Balam told Muluc that they sat at a table held up by small statues of a dozen men representing all the different priest classes at Chichén. Dishes piled high with exotic foods for the gods covered the table.
Muluc stood on her tippy-toes, craning her neck. "I wish I could see it!"
"Just wait until you see the ballplayers," Balam said.
Musicians standing along the top of the high stone walls played long wooden trumpets, rattles, flutes, and conch shells and beat turtle drums with deer antlers. Like trees blowing in the wind, the entire crowd moved to the rhythm of the music. Muluc closed her eyes, absorbing the drumbeat as Balam put his hands on her hips. The music grew louder, and royal guards parted the crowd.
A Lord dressed in a cape of thousands of shimmering green quetzal feathers walked to the temple. The crowd hushed as he climbed the narrow stairway, but the musicians rapidly beat their drums. With his feathered cape glittering in the afternoon sun, the Lord sat on the red jaguar throne between two columns, each one carved with creation gods standing on Snake Mountain.
Muluc peeked over people's heads and looked at the mural on the wall of the temple, trembling at the sight of the losing ballplayer falling back against a ball, a stream of blood shaped like a snake shooting out from his neck while the victorious ballplayer hovered over him. Lower down on the mural, warriors cared for another dead body.
"The Lord makes my skin prickle too, sometimes." Balam rubbed Muluc's arms. "Wait until you see the warriors."
Saying nothing, Muluc sipped some warm water, trying to swallow her fear as well. Why hadn't she stayed back in the jungle, safe in Macaw's hut?
Balam pulled Muluc closer to the procession, where men blowing conch shells led the parade. An old priest carrying a small offering bowl followed behind. Shouts rose as the ballplayers strode past wearing headdresses with layers of colorful feathers. On their chests they wore wooden yokes, carved with images of the gods, over thick padding to protect their bodies from the heavy rubber ball. Thick leather skirts covered their groins. Padding also wound around their forearms. Some carried small carved handstones for hitting the ball. The warriors' backs glittered with tiny mirrors as they entered the ball court.
A large man, damp with sweat and smelling of fermented corn, crushed Muluc's foot as he tried to get a closer look. She cried out, but no one heard her. Even Balam cheered so loud that Muluc covered her ears, as a warrior, wearing an elaborate headdress of quetzal feathers, ended the procession of ballplayers. The warrior's skirt flamed with a huge red-feathered snake emerging from a tortoise's shell, and he wore a glittering yoke studded with gems and carved with symbols of Kulkucan, the Great Vision Serpent. Muluc's whole body went cold. She edged backwards, but Balam held her.
"He's the greatest warrior in all of Chichén!" Balam shouted. "The great Kan!"
"Snake," Muluc whispered.
Snake gazed into a gold mirror in his hand, as if he were a sorcerer peering into the Otherworld.
"He has great powers—l ike a priest," Balam said, not taking his eyes off Snake.
Muluc tried to hide her face in Balam's neck, but he shrugged her off.
"Watch," he said.
Muluc looked up just as Snake stood next to them. In spite of the heat, she shivered. Snake glanced over; his eyes met hers and widened; his mouth curved upward into a leering grin. He raised his mirror, and the crowd cheered. Muluc leaned against Balam.
"I feel dizzy," she said.
"Kan has that effect on girls," Balam teased, handing her the water gourd. "Let's head over to the show." Balam pulled her through the waves of people. "Why are your hands so cold?"
Looking back, Muluc saw Parrot Nose's—no, Quetzal's—brother, dressed as a ballplayer. Did he have a chance against Snake? Her breath caught as she also saw the bloody image on the mural—painted with so much red.
Balam bumped through the mass of bodies, making his way to the small platform near the temple of Kulkucan. "Hurry," he said. "They've already started."
Muluc held Balam's hand, allowing him to lead her like a child, no longer wanting to even glimpse bits of the ball game. Would Quetzal ever know his brother's fate? Who would tell him?
Cheers from the royal crowd watching the ball game erupted over the noises of the commoners in the plaza. The elites chanted, "Kan! Kan! Kan!" Snake. Muluc felt the lightning in her blood that quickened her step, even though her foot still throbbed. If only she could run from the plaza and find a quiet place in the jungle. No longer like one kernel of corn in a whole field, she'd been recognized. But she couldn't bring herself to tear her hand from Balam's.
They stopped near the front of a small stage where performers dressed in warrior costumes tossed corn into the crowd.
"Do you know the Hero Twins story?" Balam asked.
Muluc nodded.
"I love this part," Balam said. "Where the Lords of Death challenge the Hero Twins to a ball game in Xibalba."
"Hurrah!" people in the crowd yelled as the actors drank pulque and then spit it out into the crowd. A few drops of the sweet-smelling liquid landed on Muluc's hand. Rather than wipe it off on her clean dress, Muluc stuck her fingers into her mouth. The smoky, peppery pulque prickled her tongue. Balam laughed at the expression on her face, then drew her close, folding her into the curve of his body, making her forget Snake. Losing herself in Balam's affection, Muluc only half watched the familiar story unfolding onstage. Again and again the Hero Twins tricked the Lords of Death, escaping the Razor House, the Cold House, the Jaguar House. Could Muluc ever be so clever? She hadn't even tried to escape her enslavement in Chichén. And now Snake had seen her!
Children dressed as fierce bats swarmed the stage as the
Hero Twins spent the night in Bat House. "Eeek, eeek, eeek," they squealed.
"Come on, let's go," Balam said. "Let's find my mother and Mol."
"But I love the part when the boys are burned, thrown into the river, and return alive three days later." Muluc stopped walking. "Can't we stay?" She did not want to go anywhere near the warriors. Snake. Could he steal her again? Or worse?
"Let's go. Trust me," Balam said.
Somehow Balam found Macaw, who had secured a spot close to the Temple of the Warriors. Muluc looked up the long flight of stairs at the Chac Mool statue reclining between two great pillars of Vision Serpents whose red mouths gaped open onto the platform on either side of him. Images of jaguars and eagles devouring hearts, as well as other ritual scenes, covered the temple—nothing like the staid depictions of royal families at Cobá. Then Muluc remembered the carving of Cobá's queen standing above a group of prisoners. Did they represent actual people like Quetzal's brother? Like herself? Would Balam be treated like a prisoner in Cobá? A shiver ran through her body.
Heat radiated from the stone buildings as everyone waited for the biggest part of the ceremony. Muluc's head ached, and she longed to rest in the shade, but the ball game went on and on. The intense sunlight hurt her eyes; the sound of squalling babies exploded in her ears; and the smell of sweaty bodies and incense made her queasy. She felt a little better after drinking the sweet coconut milk Balam brought her, and Macaw insisted that she eat a few tortillas as well.
As the sun slid toward the Otherworld, cooling shadows crept across the plaza, yet the ball game continued. The throng grew quiet but restless. Men dressed as monkeys roamed among the crowd, dancing, playing tricks on people, taking their food, mimicking them, making them laugh. One came and put a tortilla on Mol's head, and Balam laughed so hard he tipped over backwards. Muluc tried to help him sit up again, but he pulled her down next to him. A cottony cloud stretched across the sky as Muluc and Balam, lying next to each other, held hands.
At last, as the sun disappeared behind the trees, a final cheer roared from the ball court.
"It's time," Balam whispered to Muluc, brushing his lips against her ear.
Sitting up, Muluc looked behind her and watched a procession part the crowd. People stood, but they did not cheer. Mothers quieted their children, reminding them to be respectful. The warriors came first, battle weary. Muluc saw Snake, but he did not search the crowd. He wore a somber expression and walked with a heavy step; still, Muluc felt like she couldn't take a deep breath, as if heavy stones pressed against her chest. Her heart pulsed in her stomach as the warriors climbed the steep stairway and flanked the platform. From the small doorway, the Lords of Chichén emerged, but the crowd remained quiet.
Balam stared straight ahead.
Resembling extravagant jungle birds, the Lords wore long, fluttering feathered capes, headdresses, and loincloths. Girls came out and spread white cloths at the feet of the Lords while servants carried out trays. Lifting long stingray spines from the tray, the Lords each pulled their loincloths away from their bodies and pierced their privates so that blood dripped onto the white cloths below. The servants collected the cloths, placed them in a large bowl in front of the Chac Mool statue, and dipped a torch to the fabric, lighting it in flame. Just like the Hero Twins' bodies. Muluc watched the smoke drift into the sky to feed the gods.
Next, the royal women appeared, wearing elaborate embroidery, their limbs heavy with jewelry. Servants spread more cloth and carried trays with slender vine ropes. The queens kneeled on the white cloths while more servants appeared with goblets, from which the women drank. Then the queens pulled the vine ropes through their tongues, spilling their blood in sacrifice to the gods. Again the servants burned the cloth.
Warriors emerged from the small room between the snake pillars, leading two men who were naked but painted with thick blue dye, and presented them to the Lords. The Lords sprinkled the captives with the ashes of their blood sacrifice. Then the captives drank from a cup.
People cheered when Snake presented the captives to the crowd.
"Sons from the kingdom of Cobá, you have been defeated on the Great Ball Court of Chichén," Snake called out.
Balam raised his fist and shouted along with everyone else.
As she tried to discern the features of the men through the thick blue paint, fear exploded into Muluc's heart like thunder breaking into a burst of rain. Quetzal's brother was the taller one. Her head pounded in rhythm with her heart. The men stumbled as the drink numbed them, but the warriors held them standing.
The Lords began uttering a prayer to the gods, hushing the crowd again. Priests entered the stairway from the hallway below, chanting a song to the gods of rain and maize as small boys scattered corn kernels on the steps of the temple.
A servant appeared, carrying a long knife across his open palms. The warriors took the shorter captive and lay him across the Chac Mool. Then a priest dressed in a cape of blue feathers raised the knife and plunged it deep into the captive's flesh. Red blood ran in purple rivulets as it mixed with the blue paint. The priest worked quickly, lifting the man's heart to the sky.
Fear roared through her body, but Muluc could not look away. Warriors lifted the man's lifeless form and tossed him down the stairs, as if into the Otherworld. As the priest placed the heart in the dish held by the Chac Mool statue, Muluc focused on Quetzal's brother. His eyes had closed, and two warriors supported the weight of his body as they led him to be sacrificed.
Muluc tugged Balam's hand. Briefly their eyes met. Muluc tried to speak. Couldn't. Balam wrinkled his forehead.
"What?" he asked.
Muluc's mouth felt tight and small.
"Come on," Balam whispered.
Muluc allowed him to lead her away—she did not want to see more here. She wanted to return to the jungle and cry until her sleeping mat looked like it had been left in the rain. If only she could wrap herself in her mother's arms and weep like a child with a skinned knee.
With the crowd crushing against them, Balam led Muluc to the white road running from the Great Plaza past gardens wilted from lack of water. Why weren't they heading back into the jungle? The road reminded Muluc of the great white roads radiating from Cobá, and she began to cry, filling her mouth with the taste of her salty tears. Balam didn't notice as he pushed Muluc through the people clogging the road until they reached the edge of a deep cenote. Sheer rock walls surrounded a huge pool of water shimmering dark green in the dusky light—the portal to Xibalba. More priests and warriors led a group of men, women, and children, all painted blue, toward the cenote.
"From Cobá?" Muluc asked with a squeaky voice.
"Most from Chichén," Balam said. "It's a great honor to be wanted by the gods and a good way for the poor to win the gods' favor."
Muluc looked down at the deep green pool. What would the cool water feel like? How would it feel to be embraced by the gods? She stepped closer. Closer. Balam pulled her back. The priests chanted prayers and gave the sacrificial victims long drinks from a painted vessel. The potion acted quickly. One small girl fell to the ground, and the priest lifted her in his arms, like a father picking up an injured child, but then he tossed her into the cenote, where she landed with a soft splash.
"We will see you in three days," he called.
Like the Hero Twins. One by one the others fell into the cenote.
"Do they really emerge again?" Muluc asked as the bodies began to sink.
"Sometimes, but usually as newborn souls," Balam said. "In rich royal families."
People came forward to make their own offerings: clay figures, corn, incense, pottery, wooden statues—all the things that feed the gods. Balam threw in one of Muluc's best figures of Chac.
"Sure to bring rain," he told Muluc.
Muluc took a stone out of her earlobe and tossed it into the cenote to ensure that Quetzal's brother would return to life. A good life.
As night fell dark, the plaza drained of people. In the
sky, the Great Vision Serpent loomed over the ball court. Muluc held Balam's hand tight as they walked the long dark road home. A single cloud obscured the moon.
***
CHAPTER EIGHT
EL CASTILLO, CHICHÉN ITZÁ
Hi! I climbed this pyramid today (even though I kind of wasn't supposed to—guess I'm turning into a rebel. LOL). All the guys nicknamed me Mountain Goat.
Swam in a gorgeous cenote (75 feet down). Long jungly Vines hung into the water. So exotic! the guys are all definite tens! Must be a requirement to get in the country.
Barb is driving me crazy with her treasure hunting!
Love, Kat
***
I wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and squeezed a blackhead on my chin.
"Kat, get out of there." Barb pounded on the door. "I have to get ready too!"
"Go use Mom and Dad's."
"I'm not going in there."
"It's been cleaned," I said.
"You said it wasn't clean enough for you," Barb said. "So it's not clean enough for me either."
Fine. I opened the door. Barb ran in and turned on the shower.
"What do you think Muluc will do next? I can't believe we have to wait two more days."
"I really don't care," I said.
"You do too," Barb said. "I saw you listening, and then I totally saw you drawing. So there!" She stepped into the marble shower. "Do you think Nando is still mad at you? What if he doesn't want us to come to his sister's party now? You should have never, ever—"
"Shut up," I said. "What you should have never, ever done was show him my journal. And I don't even care about the stupid party. Nando obviously hates me."
"He does not. I think he likes you. Not like, like, you know, because of that pretty girl at lunch, but—"
"Whatever." I left the bathroom, turning off the lights just long enough to make Barb scream, before flicking them back on again. "I totally don't care."
I flopped on the bed. Truth? I couldn't stop thinking of Nando and the girl at lunch. After swimming, we'd gone to this restaurant a few miles away. Barb stalked Nando all the way to a table near the back, hoping to hear another installment in "Days of Muluc's Life." Max and Josh invited me to sit with them, but then Talia brushed past me, dragging Luc along, and stole my seat, so I sat next to Barb and Nando. While Barb unsuccessfully nagged Nando, I pulled out my journal and added reason number 50: Talia, Talia, Talia!
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