The K'awiil scepter was made of carved obsidian as long as her forearm, portraying the Triad Deity Unen K'awiil who was patron god of the ruling lineage. A smoking knife protruded from a mirror on his forehead, and one leg became a serpent that represented his uay (animal spirit). K'awiil was the serpent-footed lightning god, who connected the sky and earth, gods and humans, and whose vision was infinite. He gave power to the K'uhul Ahau – Holy Lord, the god-ruler, for visioning and communicating with deities.
The K'in Ahau shield featured the face of the sun god with square eyes and swirling pupils, long nose and a forehead mirror, placed on a four-petaled flower that was the sun glyph. Maya rulers were the embodiment of Father Sun, K'in Ahau-Sun Lord, for they maintained proper relations with solar forces and sunlight.
The Holy B’aakal Lord was the only person who normally could touch these accoutrements of office. It was a high honor for Yohl Ik'nal to carry them, and she trembled inside. It was not fear, but the magnitude of what she was about to do. Next she would walk the entire periphery of the plaza, carrying the K'awiil scepter and K'in Ahau shield, displaying these powerful symbols of rulership to the people of B’aakal. It would mark her forever as someone apart, different, not simply noble but of the sacred lineage descended from the gods. Through her body and blood, future rulers might be born. It signified her role as priestess and visionary, as holder of the memories. The people would respect her at a distance, elders would consult with her, and nobles would come to her for spiritual guidance and dream interpretations. Her future was being set, and it would not be ordinary.
She had passed over a threshold. The ritual had indeed transformed her and she felt the difference. Strength and confidence soared through her, evaporating fears and doubts. She turned slowly, feeling jolts of lightning coursing up her arms from the symbols of rulership. Her body felt ablaze with power. Catching her father’s eyes, she rejoiced in his obvious joy.
“This is your gift.” Her eyes held his like an embrace. “I have done this for you.”
The drums took up a brisk tempo, joined by lilting flutes and accented by mournful wails of long wooden horns. Yohl Ik'nal lifted her head high, making feathers of her headdress sway and bobble, and descended the platform stairs to the plaza floor. Her parents and the High Priest and Priestess followed. Eyes straight ahead, she walked the plaza at the crowd's edge, holding the symbols so they were clearly visible.
From the nobles’ platform, two different pairs of eyes watched her closely with new feelings—one with admiration and the other with jealousy. Both were young men, not much older, and both were distant relatives. The eyes of Hun Pakal observed her as if he had never noticed her before, which in fact he hardly had. Busy with the physical training of young men involving mock combat, races, ball games, hunting and contests of strength, his path seldom crossed that of the palace women. He did know who she was and might even have exchanged a few words at social gatherings. But she certainly had not made much of an impression. Today all that changed. He was struck, taken by her graceful movements, strong presence, and radiant beauty. Why had he never noticed this before? Her irresistible mix of strength and gentleness captivated him.
The other young man’s response was completely opposite. The eyes of Ek Chuuah narrowed as he observed the high ritual, a ritual he coveted for himself. His family also claimed sacred bloodlines, but not pure enough to give him rights as a lineage holder. From early childhood, however, he had yearned for power and position. He observed the Holy B’aakal Lord with intense respect and modeled himself after the ruler. He dreamed of assuming such revered leadership, receiving the people's adulation, holding counsel with nobles and priests as he dispensed wise advice and strong edicts.
Inside he burned for this power. And now he watched his distant cousin, a young woman of no particular distinction, undergoing the ritual of lineage bearer. That title he wanted fiercely for himself. Hot toxins of jealousy exploded through his body. He boiled with resentment. All his stifled rage erupted at Yohl Ik'nal and he hated her. She became the symbol of everything that stood between him and his ambition.
"I will find a way." Powerful jaw muscles bulged as Ek Chuuah ground his teeth. His mind reasoned coldly despite erupting emotions. "Lineage succession is not indelibly set. Sacred blood courses through my veins, and it is hotter and stronger than hers. Our ruler Ahkal Mo’ Nab has no children. At his age, if he has produced none, he is unlikely to have any. His brother's family, and especially Yohl Ik'nal, be cursed! There are ways to discredit them. Now is coming the time for another part of the lineage to take over. My part."
2
Lakam Ha overlooked the broad plain across which the K’umaxha – Sacred Monkey River coursed. The plain fanned north to the Great North Sea – Nab’nah whose waters were grey. Several waterways led to this distant sea, but the K’umaxha was used most for travel. The setting sun was swallowed by the blue waters of another great sea though few had visited this distant place. In the east was K’ak-nab the fabled azure sea, color of precious jade, where traders obtained red spondylus shells and stingray spines for sacred ceremony. Lakam Ha was truly a place of many waters, its small rivers cascading from upper slopes through ravines and limestone boulders, pausing in quiet pools cloaked by lush greenery. The small rivers connected to large arteries leading to the seas that surrounded the turtle carapace holding up the lands of the Mayas.
From the narrow, irregular shelf of land on which the city perched, high escarpments ascended to steep mountains in the south. Many rivers cut through the mountains and offered transportation through the dense jungle. Farther south the mountains rose exuberantly to impressive peaks, home of highland rain forests perpetually bathed in cold mists. Here lived the prized quetzal bird whose feathers adorned regal headdresses. Reports by traders told of a narrow isthmus far to the south that could be traversed in less than a day’s travel. Beyond that, another immense land arose with a river as wide as a lake and mountains reaching so high that they must put the traveler into the Upperworld.
The polity of B’aakal was under the oversight of Lakam Ha. Close relationships existed with nearby cities. To the north were ally cities of B’aak and Nab’nahotot. Within the polity along the Sacred Monkey River were the cities of Yokib and Pa’chan. Tucked into the hills was Usihwitz, an artistic center with accomplished muralists. Popo’ sat on the banks of a tributary flowing south, isolated by nearly impassable jungles. Beyond these cities to the southeast began the territory of another polity, the powerful Mutul, among the oldest and greatest of Maya cities.
Toktan was a legendary city cloaked in mystery. It was the birthplace of Lord K’uk Bahlam, the first fully human ancestor of the ruling lineage. None could say exactly where Toktan was; perhaps it existed in another dimension.
Yohl Ik’nal was expected to learn about the geography and politics of cities in the B’aakal polity. Now that she was designated as bearer of royal blood, it was her responsibility to study governance. She would soon attend her first Council meeting, and sit upon the mats at the Popol Nah. Much to her delight, her father Kan Bahlam, a seasoned statesman, undertook her instruction.
“The basis of our social organization is cooperation.” Kan Bahlam fully enjoyed the mentor role with his daughter. “There is hierarchy, yes, for each is born to a certain status with implied roles. The spirit comes into a body perfectly formed for that status. This shapes our destiny, ordained in all wisdom by the deities. Society also follows its destiny, following patterns given by the gods to maintain harmony and order. As long as people keep these sacred laws, they attain personal satisfaction and we continue in peaceful coexistence with other cities.”
He explained to her the may cycle, a venerable tradition given by the gods. Mayas, the people of the may, were keepers of calendar knowledge that included the may cycles. These cycles shaped the political landscape of B’aakal polity, as they had formed the sociopolitical substructure of Maya society from long distant times. This way of organizing socie
ty was a brilliant gift of the gods, who in their wisdom understood the limitations of humans, their tendencies toward selfishness and acquisition and lust for power. In the may cycles, authority, power and prestige were rotated among different Maya cities in a clearly defined and timed process.
The may cycle followed the numerology of 13 by 20. This was based on the Maya 360-day “year” called tun. One may cycle lasted 260 tuns (256 solar years), consisting of 13 katuns of 20 tuns each. It was divided into two parts of 130 tuns each (128 solar years). The city selected to be the seat of the may became the spiritual, ritual and political center of its region. Called the May Ku, this city built plazas and temples to hold regional ceremonies and was considered the crossroads, the navel of the world. Using creation symbolism, the city denoted a sacred ceiba tree (yax che), a sacred grove (tzukub te), and a sacred well (ch’en).
Yohl Ik’nal had studied Maya calendars and knew the most important ones: Tzolk’in of the sacred numbers 1-13 that interwove all the others; Haab the 360-day calendar of 18 months having 20 days and one short 5-day month (uayeb) to follow the annual course of the sun; and calendars tracking the movements of Venus, Mars, the Pleiades and the moon. Many calendars shaped the lives of Maya people, guiding every aspect of daily, seasonal, cyclic and ritual activities. So intricate and complex were these calendars, whose number approached 60, that special calendar priests—Ah K’inob—had emerged to interpret them.
“What is very important,” Kan Bahlam said, “is that the May Ku city controls political and economic functions. It decides tribute requirements, manages land apportionment, makes appointments to public office, and sets schedules for ritualized ‘flower wars’ and ball games to demonstrate prowess of leaders and warriors.”
“Have we had a flower war?” asked Yohl Ik’nal.
“Not in my lifetime, so far,” her father replied. “We have not needed one. Now listen closely to this. The may cycle consists of 13 katuns. Each katun is ritually seated in a different city in the region, determined by the May Ku city. Thus every 20 solar years another city is honored and recognized, holds subsidiary rituals and selects its katun priests and katun spokesman/prophet (Chilam). This katun city makes local political and economic decisions independently. Do you see the beauty of this strategy?”
Yohl Ik’nal thought for a moment.
“The katun city feels important. It exercises local power and this satisfies the ahauob. Leaders of the city have much to occupy their attention.”
“Yes, very well said. The most significant strategic result is ensuring cooperation with the May Ku city. There is little motivation to oppose or rebel against the political hub of the region. Each city knows it will get its turn as katun city. How wise are the deities who constructed such a system.”
When the may cycle approached midpoint, a council of leaders and priests took place to select the next May Ku city. The current seat and the forthcoming one shared ritual and ceremonial functions during the second half of the cycle. The current seat gradually decreased its building programs and rituals, until at the end of the cycle the major ceremonial areas, roads, and idols were ritually destroyed and the city was “abandoned.” Not everyone left the city; most commoners and many nobles stayed. Often the ruling dynasty and their retinue left to found another city. New ruling families emerged to launch the city’s next phase. The new May Ku seat began its building program in preparation for increased duties.
“The may cycle was modeled on cosmic cycles,” Kan Bahlam concluded. “It reflects a sacred pattern, beloved of the gods, and prevents disruption of the social order. Power and prestige are shared predictably, according to the calendar, and the chaos of political upheavals is avoided.”
Thus the Maya people kept the laws of the gods, counted their days and honored their names in an orderly pattern – as did the celestial bodies of the cosmos.
“When did Lakam Ha become May Ku?” asked Yohl Ik’nal.
“We were chosen as seat of the may at the beginning of Baktun 9 (436 CE). At the half-way point the May Council met and again selected Lakam Ha for the forthcoming may seat. Though not usual, it is acceptable for the same city to serve as May Ku for two consecutive cycles. That decision was made at the turning of Katun 13 (564 CE).”
Yohl Ik’nal calculated dates. This May Council had taken place four years before she underwent the transformation ritual into adulthood and was designated bearer of the sacred blood.
3
“Now comes something important.”
The messenger’s sonorous words echoed off the plaster walls of the Popol Nah, the Council House of Lakam Ha.
Ahkal Mo’ Nab, Holy Lord of B’aakal, moved his regal head slightly and eyed the messenger. His slender body straightened but remained relaxed in the customary posture, one leg tucked under the other that dangled from the low stone throne covered with a jaguar pelt. He motioned gracefully with one hand, signing for the messenger to continue.
Yohl Ik’nal was all attention. Eyes wide, she surveyed the rectangular room, walls lined with benches slightly lower than the ruler’s throne. The benches were covered with woven mats, cushioning the stony hardness. It was her first time in the Popol Nah, and she sat proudly beside her parents as an adult of the sacred blood.
Kan Bahlam studied the messenger with experienced eyes. This messenger was a well-respected noble, a seasoned runner and traveler who had visited many cities. He had relayed numerous important messages before, and was not prone to exaggerate. Clearly the messenger was excited, his black eyes sparkling and his body taut.
Kan Bahlam could read men. More than once this keen insight had steered his brother Ahkal Mo’ Nab away from hasty or inopportune decisions. He was concerned about his brother, noting traces of fatigue around eyes and mouth of the thin face. It seemed the ruler had lost yet more weight, and his skin appeared sallow, despite his wardrobe attendant’s efforts to mask these. Few appreciated how the ruler disguised his sickness, but Kan Bahlam knew well the cost of these efforts.
His mind wandered for an instant to the dank swamps of their adolescent quest. The two royal boys, born only one year apart, entered the transformation rites at the same time, companions facing the challenge of surviving in dangerous terrain while pursuing their jaguar prey. Young men of royal blood who were potential heirs must hunt and kill a jaguar, bringing back the pelt to signify their victory over fear and their mastery of the most powerful jungle beast. Only then could the jaguar become their uay to guide and counsel them in matters of power and the Underworld. They would earn the right to sit upon the jaguar-skin draped over the ruler’s throne.
Both succeeded in their quest, but Ahkal Mo’ Nab brought something else home beside a jaguar pelt. A few weeks later he was seized by a ferocious fever, sweating and shaking with bone-rattling chills, struggling with a fierce opponent who brought him to the edge of death. Priestly ministrations and rich offerings by his father ameliorated the Death Lords and the boy survived, but was severely weakened. His body was never again strong although his mind recovered its sharpness. Now in middle age, he was weakening steadily as the minion of the swamp was hard at work again
Kan Bahlam had long believed that this sickness, this life-sucking swamp fever that robbed his brother of so much strength was at the root of his childlessness. Though married to a robust woman, Ahkal Mo’ Nab had failed to produce offspring in their 20 years together. Given his declining health, it was doubtful an heir would be brought forth. Thus the lineage succession would fall to Kan Bahlam and his family—to be precise, his only living child, his daughter Yohl Ik’nal. This troubled him; male succession was preferred although Maya custom did not dictate patrilineal descent.
The messenger’s resounding voice pulled Kan Bahlam back to the present.
“There is discontent among the ahauob of Usihwitz and Yokib. It is said, they speak of it, that the May Council decided unjustly. Why should it be, they ask, that Lakam Ha becomes the May Ku again? Is it not enough, is it not just that Laka
m Ha now luxuriates in the honors, the tributes, the construction of many new buildings? This is what is just, they say: it is enough for Lakam Ha to prosper for 260 tuns enjoying the katun celebrations and the dispensation of katun privileges. Some other city should be the next May Ku. Let us share this bounty, why keep it there? So they speak, so they argue, in Usihwitz and Yokib.”
Indignant murmuring filled the Popol Nah. Various nobles gestured and signed each other their surprise and concern. All waited for Ahkal Mo’ Nab to speak.
“So they spoke ill.” The ruler emphasized each word. “The May Council was fairly constructed and represented all the cities in the B’aakal polity. On the Council sat priests and ahauob of every city, Usihwitz and Yokib included. Why do they complain?”
“So say they, that the men of their city were weak,” answered the messenger. “They who now complain were not at the Council and are angry they did not have a say. It is a long time, beyond their generation, until the next may seating and they covet the prize now.”
The ruler gestured for others in the Council House to speak, turning from long habit toward his brother.
“More is to be seen here, the roots go deep,” Kan Bahlam said. “Sahal, speak of what you learned in other places you visited.” He nodded at the messenger.
“My travels also took me to Popo’. This city in our polity, far from the river, we think about as a slow-moving place isolated by the vast jungle. But in fact there is much foment in Popo’, much movement, much involvement that is surprising. When I was there, several ahauob had recently returned from Kan, in the Polity of Ka’an, the Snake.”
Murmurs of surprise rippled through the Council House. Kan was the name of the ruling dynasty of a distant polity called Ka’an. Their primary city was Dzibanche, but frequently the dynastic name was used instead. Many days of travel were needed to cover the terrain from Popo’ to Kan.
The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque Page 4