Sisimito III--Topoxte

by Henry W. Anderson

  I hesitated to answer, not knowing why. He stared at me. “We have to go,” I said. As soon as we have some time, maybe with some real fokin k’uutz, I’ll tell you the whole story. You’ll need k’uutz to believe. Now, we need to get to the target, the hill with the plume of smoke. Let’s join the other Warriors.”

  I remembered how Parham had easily scaled a tree during Expedition Bold so I shouted out to him, “Parham!”

  “Kaloonte’!”

  “Get up the tallest tree and tell us what you see.” He quickly selected a cuyche189 and in short time was disappearing into the canopy. As quickly as he had gone up, he was back down.

  “The spur descends to the north until it reaches the flood. That should take us about a k’ab or two. From there we travel west through the flood to the smoking hill. That will probably take another two k’abs. Climbing the hill will not be too difficult as it is not very high above the water; probably another k’ab. We should be there in about five k’abs, just before Kinich Ahau begins his night journey,” Parham informed us.

  “Ko’one’ex,” I ordered and we began walking down the spur, facing the dense undergrowth once more. Thankfully, we were no longer slipping and falling, but even though we were walking along the top of the spur, there were gullies we had to traverse. Again, luckily, they were not steep. We moved relatively quietly, the only ones having some difficulty being those carrying the rafts.

  After about two k’abs we met the water once again. Ahead of us was the flood plain, dotted with trees and mounds. The flooded waters spread for about five miles to the north and there was nowhere we could see the actual river. The current was stronger, not having many trees and much undergrowth to slow it down. Usually a valley plain would be full of waha,190 ix-anal,191 and other shrubs and bushes. I supposed that the unusually heavy flood had stripped away many of those or they were simply mashed flat and under water. The hill was to our left and we were on schedule so should reach the base in about two more k’abs. We entered the water, going west, and within a short time I knew that it would be more like three k’abs. I noted, however, that the water level had fallen as, at times, the water was above my waist and below the shoulders of most of the Warriors. A canopy was non-existent, only a tall tree here and there, and remaining shrubs, bushes, and the fronds of tall grasses were beginning to show above the water. When we reached the base of the hill, our target, Kinich was just one hand, one hour, above the mountains. I called Yochi, the Nacons and their Ukabs.

  “We will go directly up the hill. I am sure they are aware we are here, so we will not proceed with stealth. That does not mean we will not be vigilant. If there are Warriors amongst them, I doubt that they had time to move many weapons as they fled the floods. We will approach in a column of four files, three long bate’s apart. Place the rafts above the water line and arm yourselves. Nacons, get into your formations.”

  “Kaloonte’!”

  We climbed as I had instructed and in less than a k’ab approached a makeshift village on the summit. The area had been hurriedly cleared as the stumps of small trees and bushes remained everywhere, the branches and trunks piled up in several areas of the periphery. There was a fire in the central area and the plume of smoke we had seen was rising from it. There were attempts at building huts, but those were more like lean-tos than huts. By the number of the makeshift huts, I estimated about fifty villagers, including women and children. All was quiet. There were no villagers in sight. I walked up to the fire, Yochi by my side. My Warriors had encircled the village, alternating facing inward and outward, thus able to see in all directions, both ground level and into the trees that surrounded the target area. I began to speak.

  “I am … Chiac. I am Nabe Kaloonte’ to Ajawinel K’an II of Ox Witz Ha who is K’ojol192 of Ajawinel Yajaw Te’ K’inich II and Lady Batz Ek’. These are my Warriors. We have travelled far and on dangerous paths as we journey back to Ox Witz Ha. We need canoes to travel to Quiriguá. They will be returned to you, and Ajawinel K’an II will reward you with q’aq’-puaq, jewelry, cloth, and other precious things. Shall we speak?”

  There was absolute quiet in the waning light, the jungle already dark, then a young man, about sixteen, walked from out the bushes and stood outside the perimeter my Warriors had formed. He was armed with a long bate’ made from a tree branch, and dressed only in a loincloth, but he stood upright, no fear on his face, defiance in his eyes.

  “Let him pass,” I instructed. The Warriors moved away then closed back the perimeter. The young man walked with even stride towards me.

  “I am Eztli,193 Nabe Ajch’o’j194 of our village. My father was Xichipepe,195 Nimalaj Achi196 of our village. He was taken by Ah Puch197 in the Qas Nim Wo-ja’, as were many of our people.”

  “We are passing through. No harm will come to you or your villagers from me, my Ukab, or my Warriors. Tell us about the Qas Nim Wo-ja’.”

  “Chac sent storm after storm upon us for many k’iins. Eztli took his bate’ and marked on the ground two points with a line underneath meaning seven.198 We never saw Kinich Ahau blaze during that time then, as Kinich journeyed to the Underworld, the water became swift and rose quickly. It covered and destroyed every kool and also rushed into our huts. It was dark and we couldn’t see. We hurried to the canoes with our women and children and paddled towards this hill. Many were lost. We were a village of many, now there are only few. We have no food except for the animals that took refuge with us on this hill, and the birds that land in the trees. The water continues rushing to the land of Hobnil in the lak’in.199 When it finally leaves us, there will be nothing. No kools, no huts. All we will have are our canoes.” He turned his head a little askance. “And you want to take those from us, Nabe Kaloonte’ to Ajawinel K’an II of Ox Witz Ha?”

  I was taken aback at his eloquence. I also did not expect the conversation to end so abruptly, and the matter of the canoes to be hurled at me.

  “Shall I call my people?” he asked. I nodded. He raised his bate’ into the air and over fifty people walked out of the jungle between my Warriors, from a deeper perimeter they had formed. They all carried bate’s made from tree branches, even the children. Some of the men were naked, others wore loincloths. Most of the women wore short úúks. I felt Yochi tense beside me. I couldn’t believe what had happened, that I had allowed my Warriors to be surrounded so easily. Bate’s, even roughly made from branches, could have taken out or injured many of them. There was no way the villagers would have defeated my Warriors with such rudimentary weapons, but they were ready to fight and had placed themselves in a position to do so. I was angry I had allowed that to happen, but I didn’t show any expression of my disquiet.

  “Your canoes will be returned to you and I will send gifts, including food, from Quiriguá. Until the water goes down, there is little you can do. Even when the waters go down, you will need to rebuild your homes and clean your fields, replant every kool. What we send will help you until your crops grow again.” I felt the ground move under my feet and a murmur rose from the villagers. Eztli lifted his bate’ and the murmurs stopped. He showed no reaction to the tremor and I kept my countenance expressionless.

  “It seems that Cabrakan gives assent to your proposition. I will speak with my people. He walked into the jungle and the villagers followed him into the darkness.

  “How did that happen?” asked Yochi, disbelief in his voice. “We made ourselves believe that we approached a defenseless village.”

  “It should not have happened.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Perhaps we are not as great Warriors as we think we are.”

  “It is not that. We are tired and hungry, Chiac. Tired and hungry and we let our guard down.”

  “Well, there’s no food here, but there will be enough to fill our bellies once we reach Quiriguá.”

  “It is not only the belly, Chiac. It’s also the tutuchci. The Warrior must chakuj tutuchci often or he becomes weak.” I looked at Yochi, wondering if he were joking. He w
as serious. I hesitated, as I was not sure what to answer, but I didn’t have to as Eztli returned with a younger man, well built, strong, defiant as he was.

  “This is Tlilpotonqui,200 Ukab K’ojol201 to Xichipepe. He is Ukab Ajch’o’j, but will be Nabe Ajch’o’j until I return.”

  “Return?” I asked, puzzled.

  “I am going with you, Kaloonte’. We have enough canoes to take you and your Warriors. I will also take enough men to bring back our canoes and the food and gifts you promised us in barter. I will also inform Ajawal K’awiil Yopaat202 of Quiriguá of the destruction of the villages along the Ja’-nima’. He will need to send help to all farming villages, and the mining villages so that the mining of ya’ax-chich can continue, so that the ya’ax-chich trade with the cities on the Nohoch Atz’am Ja’ and the great cities in the lands of Can-Tzicnal in the xaman203 and Hozanek in the nohol204 continue. There will be no trade in kakaw and q’än-jal.205 The Qas Nim Wo-ja’ has taken them all.”

  I stared at Eztli. He was smart. He would be a good Nimalaj Achi for his village. Nabe Ajch’o’j? I did not know. I wondered at the term because the village could not have had an army. Perhaps a few men were responsible for the village security and the Nimalaj Achi had given his Nabe K’ojol the name. Being basically farmers, fishermen, and miners, I wondered where they would have been trained as Warriors, if they ever were. The ground shook again, this time even stronger. Eztli still did not respond. He just kept staring at me and I then noted ambition in his eyes.

  “It is agreed,” I said. “What is the name of your village?”

  “My village is no more. It has taken its name with it. We have no food or water to give you, but your Warriors may hunt and use our fire. There may be a few kaans and wuch’s206 left. Water can be found in vines, but only a few remain. My people will sleep near the fire. You and your Warriors may sleep where you wish. You and your Warriors will not chakuj tutuchci with our women.” He paused. I nodded. “We leave for Quiriguá after the haunting whistle of the kolol.” He turned and walked away from Yochi and I, Tlilpotonqui following behind. My Warriors opened the perimeter and they disappeared into the jungle.

  “What the fok was that?” I murmured. “The fokin upstart. I should have cut out his u-ye’el-toons.” I heard Yochi chuckle beside me. I shook my head and smiled. “I like him.”

  “He does have the makings of a Warrior as long as his u-ye’el-toons don’t weigh him down.”

  I chuckled too, not wanting to laugh out loud, not wanting to upset the young Nabe Ajch’o’j. I looked around. “I will call this place Sib Juyub.”207

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MARCH TO QUIRIGUÁ - DAY FOUR

  THE JA’-NIMA’

  BEYA’ (Montagua River Valley)

  K’iin 16 - The Uinal of Yaxk’in’

  Tuesday, May 15, 1973

  I became conscious of Yochi shouting at the Warriors to wake up. I sat up. Eztli and Tlilpotonqui stood beside the dull fire with a-group of men. A woman came and added a few branches to it. I counted the men, assessing the danger they could bring on the trip should they decide to become a concern. There were nineteen men plus Eztli.

  I headed to the bushes, pissed then walked over to Eztli. He looked at me and nodded. I nodded back. “How many canoes?” I asked.

  “Sufficient,” he answered, as if it were an unnecessary question.

  I stared at the little upstart, the flames reflecting on his face. He turned his head, looking away from me. Tlilpotonqui and his men, however, stared menacingly at me, firmly gripping their weak bate’s. “I need to know how many,” I insisted. “My army is ordered and disciplined … and strong.”

  “How strong are you, when you must use women for Warriors?” he said with derision.

  I will cut out your fokin u-ye’el-toons. Just continue. I ignored his question. “I will divide my Warriors into groups according to how many canoes there are. I also need to know if you and your men will be travelling in one canoe. I want an answer.”

  He looked back at me and in his defiant face there seemed to be very slight awareness of his lack of discretion, perhaps, that he had gone too far. “We will take nine canoes. I will have three canoes. You and your Ukab will travel with me.” He looked to his men and nodded at a young, muscular, proud looking young man wearing a scant loincloth. The young man stepped forward, holding firmly onto his bate’, which was a real bate’ with an obsidian tip, a blue-green feather tied just below the tip. “This is Matlalihuitl.208 He is my Ukab Ajch’o’j on this trip. He will travel with me. Now, you and your Wariors, follow me.” He marched away with his men, taking a rough path that led down the northern hillside.

  “Eztli,” I shouted. He stopped, but did not look around. “Except for a little meat and water my Warriors had while you slept, they have had nothing else for three k’iins. My Warriors need to eat and drink before we start the trip to Quiriguá. Yochi, my Ukab Kaloonte’, has told me that we may not reach Quiriguá before Kinich Ahau enters the Underworld. We may not reach Quiriguá until Kinich Ahau comes to U Wach Ulew once again.”

  “Then you have no Warriors,” he retorted and continued down the path.

  “Why don’t you let me deal with that madafok?” offered Teul.

  “Fokin tutuchci,” I murmured. Eztli paused, momentarily, then continued downward. I was sure he heard me. “Ko’one’ex,” I shouted and we all scrambled to get our weapons and follow the upstart. I shook my head.

  When we reached the water line of the flooded Ja’-nima’, Eztli’s men were already in their canoes. He had seven men in one of two canoes, eight in the other. In the third, were four of his men and the Ukab Ajch’o’j, Matlalihuitl. Eztli stood beside that canoe, a töt,209 conch shell, in his hand. He looked at me.

  “Do your Warriors know how to canoe?” I was taken aback by the question, realizing that I didn’t know. I am sure all of us had paddled a canoe when we went fishing, or just for fun, but under the flooded conditions, I just didn’t know. “You don’t know!” He shook his head. “Achaq!210 Get you Nacons together. The nim-ja’ is swift and dangerous. If a canoe goes over, there can be no rescue. The nim-ja’ is too swift.” I called over my Nacons. Eztli continued. “Find out who your best paddlers are. Place the most experienced at the stern and one other at the bow. The paddler at the stern corrects the direction of the canoe. With each forward stroke, the canoe wants to turn in the opposite direction. The paddler at the stern controls that. The paddler at the bow will also help the paddler at the stern keep the canoe moving forward in a straight direction. They paddle on opposite sides and they must co-ordinate their paddling so that they do not switch sides excessively. The paddlers in the middle will alternate their paddling, but must paddle in unison or they will lose power and become tired. Each of your canoes will carry eight paddlers. There are eight paddles in each canoe, bailers as well. If a paddler loses his paddle, he is of no more use. Let him follow his paddle.”

  I glared at Eztli. “I will order no such thing.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Let them know that they are just baggage without their paddle. A true Warrior would know that and go over the side.”

  I looked Eztli straight into his eyes. “Well,” I retorted, “Let’s hope you do not lose your paddle.”

  Somehow, deep inside those stern black eyes, I thought I saw a dim light of humor. “I won’t,” he said. “Warn them about fallen trees that may be floating or submerged as those will flip a canoe. Remember, there will be no rescue.” He held up the töt. “Tell them also that when they hear the call of the töt, they are to come to my canoe.” He turned away.

  “I do have a name,” I said. He stopped. “It is Chiac.” He simply nodded. “When do you think we will reach Quiriguá?”

  “If we paddle well, when Kinich Ahau leaves U Wach Ulew.” I felt the ground move again.

  The long dugout canoes easily took eight Warriors in single file, with some space available. As Eztli had said, eight one-b
laded paddles were in each canoe. There were also two bailers carved from wood in each. Yochi worked with Iztali, Ichik, Ikan, and Teul, quickly dividing the platoon among the remaining six canoes, giving them the instructions Eztli had given, except for the going over the side bit. Each Nacon and seven of his Warriors shared one canoe. One of the last two canoes was taken by two Ukabs and six Warriors, the other by the remaining two Ukabs and five Warriors. In total, seventy of us shared the nine canoes. Yochi and I climbed into Eztli’s canoe, as instructed. Eztli jumped in and we were off.

  As we drew away from Sib Juyub, the current increased and we began to feel the effects of the brisk moving current of the flooded Ja’-nima’. There were no problems with Eztli’s three canoes, but I saw our canoes having some difficulties. I did not fear much for the Warriors safety, however, for although the current was swift, it was not turbulent and I knew, hoped, they would soon master the rhythm needed.

  It was difficult to estimate how fast we were being carried. Yochi had told me that the journey would take about twelve k’abs and that coincided with what Eztli had said. Yochi had also warned, however, that it would probably be longer. If we were canoeing at ten miles an hour, that would put Quiriguá about a hundred and twenty miles away. It seemed a long distance to cover in one day, but we were being forwarded not only by the paddling of the Warriors, but also by the swift current of the flooded Ja’-nima’.

  We proceeded without incident and with very little talking. I spoke with Yochi, from time to time, and, occasionally, Eztli spoke softly with Matlalihuitl. Our sections’ canoes were keeping an almost straight forward motion, with how much difficulty, I didn’t know. As Kinich Ahau reached six hands, I began to feel soreness in my knees which pressed against the bottom of the canoe, slight cramps in my thighs from the low kneeling position I was in, and tiredness in my arms from the paddling. I could march or run for miles, climb mountains, and would not have cramps, but the confined position in the canoe and not being able to shift much was very different. My Warriors were probably suffering the same torment. Up ahead, on the right