I was still unaware who the Warriors from the south engaging Coatl’s platoon were and which kingdom they were from They were no more than two sections, but Coatl must have thought they were only the beginning of a larger army, why he had led a platoon to engage them. The two sections fought fiercely and, with the power and blessings of Ek Chuah, were soon making a definite turn in the battle.
There had been ninety of us. I doubted there was a full platoon still fighting. Coatl’s company had also taken a beating and was being further devastated being attacked on all fronts. We had estimated Coatl to have one hundred Warriors and, as I quickly reviewed the troops, he had lost more than half his Warriors and the remainder were becoming tired, were being enveloped, were being slaughtered. It was not a good decision by Coatl to immediately engage us after running his company all the way from Tulam Tzu. Yet, they fought on, showing no fear, showing no hesitation, being the Warriors they were, even in death. I was proud of them, proud of my brothers, proud of the Warrior that stood before me trying to get his short bate’ below my to’bal-rib and into my groin, proud as I sank my bate’ into his neck, bathing myself with his blood.
We were shoulder to shoulder as we closed in on what was left of Coatl’s company. I did not see Coatl, but I knew that he would never desert his Warriors, so he was either dead or severely injured. As we pushed forward to finish the bloodbath there was a voice beside me.
“Good to see you are still alive and fighting, Fuck,” shouted Bas. “And the gold’s still there.”
I stood with Bas on North Hill, overlooking Chay Abaj, holding on to his Green Scapular as it gave out a soft green glow, both of us watching as the giant funeral pyre burned. My gold skin had returned to normal immediately after the fighting. I still did not fully understand the purpose for the gold skin, a blessing from Ek Chuah, so I simply accepted it. The luminosity did seem to have confused the síina’ans at the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans and often caused an enemy Warrior to hesitate just a little, giving me the advantage I needed to send him on his way to Xibalba. Perhaps that was all it was meant to do. I had noted that it was no longer as pronounced as it used to be, appearing only when my emotions were deeply aroused. I hoped that meant it was going away. The green glow of the Green Scapular came when I called on it, or sometimes when I held it in deep thought. I believed that it was a reminder that it was I, Eutimio Chiac, who had seen the image of the Mother Of God at the Hidden Valley Falls and that image had called out to me. I delved no further.
The central shed had been broken down and a funeral pyre made in its place using wood from the shed and neighboring buildings. The dead Warriors from Tulam Tzu along with the guards from Chay Abaj were placed on the southern end, as that was where Tulam Tzu lay. Our Warriors were placed on the northern end, as that was where Ox Witz Ha lay. A slight breeze blew from the southeast, bringing the smell of the burning Warriors and their weapons towards us. I no longer regarded the smell of a burning Warrior as a horrible thing. It was a tribute to the greatness of the Warrior, and I was one of them.
To the east of the large burning pyre were two smaller pyres. The southern one held Coatl, Nabe Kaloonte’ to the Ajaw of Tulam Tzu, and his weapons; the northern one held Kish, Kaloonte’ to Ajawinel K’an II of Ox Witz Ha, and his weapons. Moving from pyre to pyre were my Warriors that had survived the battle, hitting their chests in tribute and honor, both to our Warriors and to those of Coatl. We had all taken off our loincloths, or whatever dress was worn during the battle, and thrown them into the fire, for the cloth contained the blood and flesh of the Warriors and that blood and flesh should travel along with them to the Underworld and the city of Xibalba. That was the Way of the Warrior.
I looked to the west. Kinich Ahau was at six hands below its zenith and just getting ready to become the Jaguar God of Fearsome Aspect. “Soon,” I said, “Pakal, Batab to the Ajaw of Tulam Tzu, will see the brightness from our flames light up the night sky, as we will break apart ever building and keep our pyres burning all night. What we do not use we will burn to the ground. When we leave, there will be nothing but black stones left in Chay Abaj for the Ajaw of Tulam Tzu and his Warriors as they arrive in the morning. There will be no trace of weapons, or sweat, or slaves, or suffering, or Chay Abaj, only the dying embers of the funeral pyres.” The green glow of Bas’ Green Scapular began to fade.
Bas was quiet then he spoke. “What’s happening to us? We are talking like them. We are thinking like them. We are living like them. We are becoming them.”
“These are our people, Bas. I have always been one of them.”
“I worry about you, Stephen.”
I looked at him, my brow furrowed. “I do not use that name any longer, Bas. You know that.”
He smiled then sighed, saying, “I worry that you will not be able to go back … even after we find Molly. I worry that if you go back, you’ll never be happy. Even with Molly.” I kicked the harsh ground with my bare foot, but said nothing.
Bas and I remained on the summit of North Hill, not talking much, watching the funeral fires, smelling the burning Warriors, until late in the night
when the chill of the cold mountain air caused our naked bodies to shiver, making us realize that we would soon have to take the path down to the warmth of the fires below.
“Well, back to the business of the day. What now, Eutimio?” asked Bas. I did not answer. “With Yochi’s help, I did a body count.”
I looked at him. “Thanks Bas.” He nodded. He had been in Xibalba for just a year and he was a Warrior. “What does it look like?”
“With respect to us, fourteen of our sections survived the Nim-ja’ Ti’ Síina’ans and Ja’ Xakanul. During today’s battle, we lost two of those Warriors. One died in the battle. The other was too seriously injured to live. We gave him the death of a Warrior. With respect to Chay Abaj, of the former slaves, forty-four died. Of the twenty-five remaining, seven are women and eighteen are men. They all have injuries. There is a total of fifty of us left, including the one captive. Yochi said that our troops totaled just over one hundred. We have lost fifty percent of our Warriors. A costly victory.”
“But a necessary one. Coatl lost all his Warriors,” I countered.
“It was still a costly victory,” he insisted, adamantly. “What do we do now?”
“We sleep then we awaken with the haunting whistle of the kolol and leave before aq’abil. Dawn. We get weapons and arm ourselves. Everyone must have lej-xajäbs. The women have already replaced their bloody úúks with wrap-arounds or anything they could find. If any loincloths are available, distribute them. We will get more at Quiriguá. Whatever food there is, we will carry among us. There are no slaves. We will continue to the large Ja’-nima’ Beya’134 then canoe to the east and to the Nohoch Atz’am Ja’.”
Bas chuckled again. “Yes! You talk like them, but now you’re talking to me. It’s the Caribbean Sea, Eutimio. Not the Nohoch Atz’am Ja’.”
He laughed and I shivered. It was the laugh of us as boys hunting and fishing in our jungle near Santa Cruz. “I can’t use names they don’t know, Bas. And there will be questions I can’t answer.”
“You’re talking to me.”
I sighed. “You are more one of them than I am. This is now your home.” I saw pain mark his face. “I’m sorry, Bas. I didn’t mean to cause you pain. I love you Bas and I missed you very much.”
He chuckled. “Same here, my friend.”
We were quiet for a while, looking at the fires below us then I continued. “Kish had told me that there are several scattered villages along the
Ja’-nima’ and we can get canoes from there.” I paused reflecting on Kish then threw him from my mind. “Yochi knows those villages.”
“Will they be friendly?”
“They are farmers and fishermen. There are some mining villages also as the river has ya’ax-chich.” Bas raised his eyebrows. “Yes! Jade. Those people take their produce and jade to Quiriguá. If they d
o not want to give us the canoes, I will take them, telling them that Ajawinel K’an II will send them many treasures as payment.” Bas chuckled. “What?” I asked.
“They are fishermen, farmers, and miners. Their canoes are important to them if they take their wares to Quiriguá. I do not think they will give them up freely.”
I remained silent, almost angry that Bas had brought up an additional possible problem, knowing how difficult the journey to rescue Molly had become. “If force is necessary, I will use it.” Bas looked down, but said nothing. “From there, we travel downstream to Quiriguá, turn north, cross a large lake … Qas Nim Ha’”
“Lake Izabal,” interjected Bas.
“… and continue to Pusilhá, then Naj Tunich, then to Ox Witz Ha. Yochi will be my 2IC. He is a great Warrior and he knows the land.”
“What then?”
“We gather a company of the best of K’an II’s Warriors, find Mahanamtz, his Kechelaj Komon135 and his Kechelaj Jupug,136 kill them all and rescue my woman.”
Bas kicked into the dust. “How many canoes do you think we’ll need?”
“As you said, there are forty-nine of us plus the captive. Most war canoes can carry fifteen to twenty Warriors, but those belonging to villagers will not be war canoes.”
“The canoes will be large enough to carry goods to sell or exchange. They will not be empty when returning and will need enough men to paddle against the downstream current. That will take at least four men,” suggested Bas. “They may be longer than the canoes used for fishing that carry only one or two men.”
“What figure should we use?” I asked.
“I would use eight persons per canoe, so we’ll need seven.”
“Eight would be better. I will discuss that with Yochi,” I advised. I paused, mulling. “Do you think Yochi expects to be Platoon Commander?” I asked.
“No. Yochi told me that he wants you to be in charge. And the captive?” Bas asked. I shrugged my shoulders.
We remained quiet for a while then I spoke. “It is good to have you stand beside me again, Bas.”
His face expressed tenderness. “Even when you could not see me, Eutimio, I always stood beside you.”
I looked at him and suddenly felt the warmth towards him I always felt when we were boys and young men growing up. “We must spend more time together. I miss our friendship. We have been given a second chance.”
He looked at me and grinned. “With all that’s happening, my brother, that may be difficult.” He kicked at the ground, again. “You need to spend some time with Taat. You need to spend some time with the rest of us, as well.”
I remained silent for a while. “I will try, but with all that’s happening, my brother, that may be difficult.” He laughed, nodding his head. “Teul spends a lot of time with Taat. I think Teul has become his second son.” I chuckled. “That’s funny. When they first met, I don’t think Taat liked Teul. He thought Teul was a little upstart. But that’s good that they are now friends. My other men? They seem to have found their slots as Warriors.”
“You are Taat’s son. The other men, they are still your men. And don’t forget that Choco is your cousin. You’re his family and he’s proud of you.”
I was quiet for a while then spoke. “Talking about family, do you know what day it was yesterday?”
“I don’t know, Eutimio.” Bas smirked. “I guess I’ve lost track of time in this world. As people say, one day at a time.”
“Well, I force myself to keep tract. Even with all that’s been happening, I kept thinking of Nah’. She must be worried about me … and Molly. She and Molly got along well.”
“She must be. You are her only son.”
“Yes, Bas. Yesterday was Mother’s Day. May tenth.”
Bas’ eyes looked pained, then I saw tears fall from his eyes. “I will never see my nah’ again.”
I put an arm around his shoulders as we watched Kinich Ahau disappear behind the mountains and volcanoes in the west, fiery volcanic plums marking the restlessness of the land and its people. “Yes, Bas. You won’t see your nah’ again … and it was I who put you here.”
CHAPTER FIVE
MARCH TO QUIRIGUÁ – DAY ONE
K’iin 13 - The Uinal of Yaxk’in’
Saturday, May 12, 1973
The kolol had whistled about an hour ago and my platoon waited before me as I stood under the yaxché tree in the near darkness. Lighted torches surrounded us making the early morning scene sacred, the carnage of the day before burnt and black like the ground on which we stood. The captive
was beside me. The pyres still threw sparks to the northeast wind that was taking the smoke and smell of the pyre away from us. I began to speak.
“I am Kaloonte’ to Ajawinel K’an II of Ox Witz Ha, Nabe Kaloonte’ of this platoon. I am also T’oit’ik-jolom. Yochi is Ukab Kaloonte’. There will be four sections, each commanded by a Nabe Nacon. Three sections will have twelve Warriors, one eleven. There will be no difference shown between men and women. The four Nabe Nacons are, Iztali, Ichik, Ikan, and Teul. The Nabe Nacons will select their Ukabs and Warriors from among you. Before they do that, however, there is the matter of this captive, a trained Warrior of Tulam Tzu.” I looked at him, his hands bound, his head held up proudly, his eyes black and without fear. “Release his bounds.” Yochi looked at me, frowned, then walked up and cut the captive’s bounds. The captive did nothing except putting his hands to his side, standing erect and proudly. “What is your name?” I asked.
“Chimalli,”137 he answered, looking directly into my eyes. “Nacon to the Ajaw of Tulam Tzu, Nabe Kaloonte’!”
“Chimalli. Should I sacrifice you to Ek Chuah as tribute for our victory?”
He stared at me showing only a momentary glimpse of fear, then resignation. “It is the Way of the Warrior, Nabe Kaloonte’, and you are blessed by Ek Chuah. He will accept your sacrifice for I too am a great Warrior.”
“Too many Warriors have died. Chimalli. I do not wish to kill another, even in sacrifice to Ek Chuah.” His expression did not change. “It is the Way of the Warrior not to accept defeat, but to take death and the journey to the Underworld city of Xibalba instead. It is also the Way of the Warrior to fight, to live to fight again in glory.” I saw a momentary furrow on his forehead. “I give you the choice. Do I send you to Xibalba today, or will you choose to fight along with the great Warriors who journey to attack Mahanamatz, his Kechelaj Komon, and his Kechelaj Jupug?” He raised his eyebrows just a little. “It is for the battle against Mahanamatz that I hunger. Mahanamatz has stolen my woman, Xch’úup Xma’ K’aaba’, and I will rid this land of Mahanamatz, his Kechelaj Komon, and his Kechelaj Jupug, kill them all. Will you fight with me as the Warrior you are, or do I send you to Xibalba before Kinich Ahau has blessed us fully?”
Chimalli hesitated only momentarily then hit his chest three times. “Nabe Kaloonte’!” he shouted.
I looked at the Nabe Nacons I had selected. “Who will take Chimalli?”
“I will,” answered Teul. I nodded.
Iccauhtli walked up to me and hit his chest three times, then he knelt before me placing a short bate’ on the ground before him. “What is it, Iccauhtli? Haven’t I told you that no one kneels before anyone in Ox Witz Ha? K’an II is our Ajawinel and we follow his commands.” He looked up at me, but did not stand. I saw a trace of fear in his eyes and his brow was covered with sweat.
“Nabe Kaloonte’ Kish is now making his journey to the Underworld and to the great City of Xibalba. He had commanded me to march with him should he die in battle.” Iccauhtli reached down and picked up the bate’ and held it towards me. “Nabe Kaloonte’. Do me the Warrior’s Honor and take this bate’ and pierce my heart so that I may journey with Nabe Kaloonte’ Kish. That was his command. That is the Way of the Warrior.”
I stared at Iccauhtli, slack jawed. Fok! I don’t need this now. I took in a deep breath, thinking. Fok the Way of the Warrior. I wasn’t going to sa
crifice Iccauhtli. “Rise, Iccauhtli.” He stood up, holding his bate’ beside him. “I am now Nabe Kaloonte’. You are my Warrior. You will journey with me on U Wach Ulew and your mission will be to fight and kill Mahanamtz, his Kechelaj Komon, and his Kechelaj Jupug. That is my command. Do you acknowledge my command, Warrior?” He knitted his eyebrows then his countenance became stolid. He hit his chest three times then moved back among the other Warriors. I exhaled heavily.
I looked back at my platoon. “It has not been many k’abs since we fought here in Chay Abaj. Many Warriors have been sent to Xibalba. Let’s not forget those who died as we escaped Xibalba, the guards of Chay Abaj, the Warriors of Tulam Tzu, and our Warriors of Ox Witz Ha. Of just over one hundred Warriors, we have forty-nine remaining. Seven times seven. With Chamilli, we now had fifty. All our Warriors fought bravely, as is the Way of the Warrior, some not only to kill the enemy, but to protect those of us who come from a distant land. There was Tototl who was Robertson’s mate, Quauhtli who was Choco’s, Huitzilli who was Teul’s. There was Kish, Nabe Kaloonte’ to Ajawinel K’an II, and his woman Eme who also marches to Xibalba. Let us honor them.” Immediately, we all hit our chests three times and the ground shook as Cabrakan gave tribute to the dead. “Now, Nabe Nacons, select your Ukabs and Warriors, for we must be on our way to Quiriguá. We will need to have a sk’op fireteam. Iztali will be Nabe Nacon of the sk’op fireteam. Since we have Chimalli with us, each section will have twelve Warriors.”
It was not long before the selections were made and I called out to each Nabe Nacon, beginning with Iztali.
“I have chosen Clarke, Anderson, Choco, Huehue, the trained Warrior Necalli.138 Of the former slaves, the two women Coszatl139 and Ixtli140 and the four males Cualli,141 Itztli,142 Ihuicatl,143 and Ollin.144 They have selected their weapons. Huehue, Necalli, and I will also carry sk’ops. My Ukab Nacon is Huehue.” I nodded.
Sisimito III--Topoxte Page 10