The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque

by Leonide Martin

  As the vision was ending, a tiny part of her consciousness formed the question that was all-important to her:

  “But wait, tell me, who is the father of my children?”

  Clouds swirled across her inner vision. She focused intently, trying to hold back any hopes about who this might be. Her consciousness settled toward acceptance and openness. A face was forming in the clouds, unclear at first but resolving into newly familiar features. The eyes, the lips and shape of the body she seemed to recognize. Hun Pakal. Surely it was him. Or was it? The ephemeral features blurred and distorted. Her eyes scrunched and forehead wrinkled to make the image sharper. It was Hun Pakal . . it must be him.

  Gratitude flowed from her heart with intensity that surprised her.

  She became aware of breath and body. Consciousness was shifting, drawing inward from its vast expansion, condensing into the physical. Discomfort in her back and knees made her realize the vision had ended. She stretched out her legs and moved her shoulders, changing position. Opening her eyes and glancing around, she noted that the sky was still completely dark and full of stars. The Moon and Venus hovered on the opposite horizon; many hours had passed. Only a few coals remained in the fire, giving little light to the opening in front of the cave.

  Before moving, she thanked the Moon and Venus for their visions and bid them farewell. Standing stiffly, she went to gather additional branches for the fire. As she squatted to pick up branches, a rustling movement nearby made her freeze. Breath bated, she listened and looked into the darkness beyond the woodpile. At first she saw nothing, but her vision adjusted enough to detect light reflected off a pair of eyes no more than two arms-lengths away. Large, tawny eyes at a height denoting a sizeable animal. A faint grunt was all she needed to know she was facing a jaguar.

  Hair rose on her neck and arms as her heart pounded. She remained crouched, not moving, staring into the jaguar’s eyes. Forcing herself to breathe slowly and deeply, she countered feelings of fear with respect for the powerful animal, a symbol of mastery. She murmured soothingly:

  “Greetings, Noble One. Welcome to this night of vigil. Have you done vigil also? Have you watched me for long? Come in peace, come in love, come in friendship. You are the uay of rulers, keeper of the greatest power, and it is fitting that you are here this night. For this night I have learned about my destiny, that rulership will pass through me and into my children and their children. I bid you bring strength and courage and determination to me as my path unfolds.”

  The jaguar remained still, unblinking. Yohl Ik’nal waited until she felt completely calm and at peace. Then she took several branches, moving slowly, and backed toward the firepit. The jaguar’s eyes followed her every movement, but it remained in place. Soon the branches burst into flames, casting light to the periphery and she saw a fine, large female jaguar with two sleeping cubs. Settling onto the mat, she kept eye contact until the jaguar blinked and looked away. A short time later, the jaguar yawned and firelight glinted off her fangs. She nuzzled her cubs, waking them and leading them back into the jungle.

  YOHL IK’NAL – III

  Baktun 9 Katun 6 Tun 18 –

  Baktun 9 Katun 7 Tun 0

  (572 CE - 573 CE)

  1

  The city of Lakam Ha was buzzing with activity. Households packed bags of clothing and bedding, cooking implements, food supplies, and decorative gear. When a large bag was full, both men and women used tumplines across their brows to carry burdens that rested on their backs. The Maya had no pack animals; deer and tapir could not be domesticated for such purposes. Musicians and dancers arranged their instruments in similar bags, merchants their goods, and warriors their weapons and cloth armor. Older children walked and toddlers were carried on women’s hips in a cloth sling. Nearly the entire populace was preparing for a journey, one that would keep them many days away from their homes. They were going to the lol pisba’h, the flower war.

  The household of Kan Bahlam made preparations more elaborate than most. The ahauob would make the journey in a ch’akte, a palanquin with wood platforms on horizontal poles carried on the shoulders of four strong men. Palanquins were adorned according to rank and wealth; the finer had vertical poles supporting cloth sides and roof decorated with embroidered designs, fringes, ribbons, bells or chimes. The palanquin of Kan Bahlam was the largest and finest of all, and bore a standard in front with the glyph of the B’aakal polity – for now he was ruler of Lakam Ha.

  Two years previously, his brother the former ruler Ahkal Mo’ Nab died. The ruler’s deteriorating health caused postponement of the flower war they had planned. Then an elaborate burial and a year of mourning were required before Kan Bahlam could formally accede on 9.6.18.5.12 (December 3, 572 CE). These events commanded his attention and absorbed the people of Lakam Ha, and put on hold the personal lives of the new ruler’s family.

  Now, as the K’altun approached, it was a fortuitous time to schedule the flower war. The K’altun or stone binding ceremony was performed at the end of the katun that consisted of 20 tuns (19.71 solar years). According to Maya calendars, these 20-tun periods each had certain qualities that could bode ill or well, and that repeated cyclically. When the ruler conducted a suitable ceremony for the K’altun, and offered the proper god-bundles, favorable qualities could be augmented and unfavorable ones mitigated. More than seven moon cycles would elapse before the katun end in the winter season. Now it was spring, the season of flowers.

  Kan Bahlam considered the timing of the flower war carefully. By his thinking, having this long-anticipated event preceding the K’altun ceremony would amplify the energies, especially as he fully expected Lakam Ha’s warriors to be victorious. During the previous tun, he sent messengers to Yokib, Popo’ and Usihwitz announcing that the Holy B’aakal Lord was calling the lol pisb’ah-flower war. Using stately Maya protocols the messengers “invited” these cities to participate, but actually it was a royal summons that was rarely, if ever, ignored. As expected, these cities were now sending their warriors and most of their people to the plains below Lakam Ha.

  Stretching between the mountain plateau of Lakam Ha and the K’umaxha River were broad plains with little brush. It made a perfect site for large encampments, had nearby water from tributaries, and provided grassy space for the competitions. Already streams of people were converging upon the plains, selecting areas for temporary shelters and setting up places for cooking. When all had arrived, there would be more than 5,000 people at the flower war.

  In the third palanquin serving Kan Bahlam’s family, Yohl Ik’nal braced herself for the bouncing rhythm of the bearers’ footsteps. She drew back side flaps to better see the surroundings during this daylong journey. Leaving the palace and passing through the city, the procession began a steep descent following the course cut downhill by the Bisik River running northward. City workers had long ago created a wide path alongside the river. The path surface was even and covered with finely crushed sahcab, white calcareous sand found beneath limestone caps. Sahcab was used to bind building stones, and for the sakbe—white way—forming raised roads through the jungle. On the path it bonded into a firm layer making walking easier. Each year after the heavy rains, more sahcab was applied and flattened with rolling logs. The path had many switchbacks to compensate for the steep hillside, and descent was slow. Lovely cascades, pools and waterfalls draped by lush foliage and lianas graced the view and soothed the ear.

  When glimpses of the plains appeared between trees, Yohl Ik’nal could see wisps of smoke from hearth fires far in the distance, and a stream of travelers from her city wending their way over gentle rises. Lulled by the steady motion of the palanquin, she drifted into daydreaming. Images of her father’s splendid accession ceremonies were followed by memories of the previous ruler’s difficult final days. She remembered his urgent need to caution Kan Bahlam about containing dissident forces within Lakam Ha, and consolidating support for succession passing through his brother’s family. Which meant her, she thought with a tin
ge of apprehension. She knew her father was building this support among priests and nobles. He was also training her in k’uhul ahau skills needed by the ruling lord of a polity.

  Drowsing in the warm sun and steady movement when the bearers reached the level plains, these weighty concerns slipped away. Her reverie moved to more intimate considerations: the anticipated father of her children. She had seen little of Hun Pakal in the past few years, primarily in ceremonial circumstances. Though it saddened her, this situation was completely normal within the requirements of her royal status and she accepted it without question. Her personal desires must be subjugated to her duty to the ruling succession, the needs of the people, and ultimately the Triad Gods.

  But now a fresh opportunity presented itself in the flower war. The ahauob of Lakam Ha would be living in close proximity making interactions easier, more casual. Instead of palace walls, she would dwell in a tent-like structure with four poles supporting a canopy and hanging fabric walls with a door flap. Her mother and female attendants would share the tent, which was richly adorned with woven designs and feather fringes. Her father stayed in a separate tent, even more elaborate and containing an adjoining “throne room” with open sides, where he would receive homage from visiting nobles.

  Soft rain began falling just after Kan Bahlam’s tents were set up, as rulers and leaders from the assembled cities gathered in his portable throne room. Rituals of greeting and honoring were followed by review of flower war rules and establishment of the sequence of contests. Priests from each city would officiate the contests to assure impartial judging of winners and application of penalties. It was understood that competitors would be matched by status, and that losers were bound to work for the winner’s city during the months it took their hair, topknot cut at the moment of victory, to re-grow. In some cases, tribute would be accepted in place of work time, if the man served his city in a crucial capacity and could not be spared. For group competitions not involving one-on-one contests, awards would be given to those who excelled. The priests jointly would make such decisions.

  The night rain was sparse, dawn heralded by golden shafts of sunlight breaking through rapidly clearing clouds. The day promised to be warm and bright, the grass fresh and damp until trampled down underfoot. Yohl Ik’nal woke early, intent upon being present from the start. She ate lightly of their morning meal of maize porridge, papayas and melons. Sounds of people moving, laughing and talking filtered into her tent and she impatiently urged her mother to dress.

  When the royal women were properly attired, hair prepared and simple headdresses attached, they walked through the tent city to the place of honor prepared for the K’uhul Ahau’s family, giving a central view of the field. The women settled to seated positions on reed mats covered by soft woven fabrics. As the mats were large, Yohl Ik’nal signaled her friend Sak Nicte to join her.

  “Now comes something special,” exuded Yohl Ik’nal after her friend’s formalized greeting to the ruling family. “Much have I anticipated this flower war, the first in my lifetime. See how many contestants are gathering!”

  “Indeed it is so,” Sak Nicte replied. “This day will hold group competitions, yes?”

  “So it is planned. Competitions for running, spear throwing, blowing darts, and swinging clubs. The next two days will offer one-on-one contests.”

  “So many handsome young men!” Sak Nicte spread her hands toward the milling group. She smiled mischievously. “It may happen that among so many are two for us.”

  Yohl Ik’nal laughed as she scanned the group, seeking a familiar shape.

  “Should that be so,” she retorted, “we shall shortly be confined to home with babies at breast, as are our friends Na’kin and Tulix, and miss such exciting events.”

  Xoc Akal turned toward her daughter, unable to resist the young women’s conversation.

  “It is best not to set your heart on a particular man, for the arc of necessity and the wind of fate may not hover there. The greatest satisfaction comes from embracing the destiny given by the Triad Gods of B’aakal. Such has been my life and I am content.”

  Xoc Akal knew her husband was planning a match for their daughter. Recently this topic was the focus of a discussion in which several advisors joined the royal pair. The man chosen must serve critical purposes: He must bring a loyal following by kinship and fellowship who would support succession through Yohl Ik’nal, he must be a respected warrior-leader and he must be of appropriate blood-lines. Part of the flower war’s purpose was to watch the competitors, to see which young men stood out in prowess and charisma. While preference was for men of B’aakal well-linked to the founding lineage, it was not out of the question that a younger son of another city’s ruling lineage might be the most opportune match.

  Watching her daughter’s face carefully, Xoc Akal searched for a fleeting expression that might hint of feelings. But the young woman maintained a placid countenance, even as their eyes met. She has been well trained, thought the mother. For she suspected—no actually intuited for there was no evidence, that her daughter had a suitor.

  “Well spoken, my mother. As always, your words are the expression of pure wisdom. Long shall they be my model and guide.”

  Yohl Ik’nal turned her gaze toward the field and continued light chatter with Sak Nicte as the crowd gathered around the sides of the open area. Though she had revealed nothing, her heart was pounding and her thoughts swirling. Had her vision been inaccurate? Surely she had followed the rituals precisely and purified her body and mind to receive the vision clearly. But now doubt crept in. Perhaps the yearning of her heart had shaped the appearance of a destiny that she desired, instead of the one ordained by the gods.

  The sound of conches interrupted her musings. These large seashells blared like mournful horns, honoring the Lords of the Four Directions as priests waved smoking copal and chanted incantations. Her father Kan Bahlam led the procession of rulers, highest-ranking nobles and priests from all the gathered cities. Solemnly they marched around the field then stood at attention. From the center he spoke the welcoming and officially opened the flower war.

  First came the races. Men who served as messengers, whose work was running long distances between cities, excelled in the foot races. There were races of speed, then of endurance as runners circled the field many times. Yohl Ik’nal appreciated their graceful limbs and agility and was pleased to see Lakam Ha’s runners win several races. But she knew that Hun Pakal would not be racing, that was not his skill. Perhaps he would throw spears or use the dart pipe.

  Targets were set up at one end of the field for dart blowing. Wooden birds covered with cloth to which feathers were sewn served as targets, placed on branches of tall trees cut for the contests and shorn of leaves. The dart pipe was a special skill cultivated by the Maya, used primarily for hunting. In the story of the Popol Vuh, one of the Hero Twins, Yax Bahlam (Xbalanque) crouched at the base of a ceiba tree and blew a dart to knock off the proud usurper Wuqub’ Kaquix (Seven Macaw). This arrogant macaw had proclaimed himself the Center of Creation as the north star of the polar region, while in truth it was the underbelly of the Celestial Caiman—the Dark Rift of the Milky Way—that that led to this center. In unseating the false center, Yax Bahlam set the stage for creation of proper humans. The macaw lost his teeth from the dart and was sentenced to having a wrinkled featherless face.

  Straining to see as she might, Yohl Ik’nal could not detect Hun Pakal’s form among the contestants. Finally she relaxed into enjoying the display of marksmanship. In the final rounds, effigies of the red macaw were set atop tree branches. Contestants crouched at the tree base in the stance of Yax Bahlam, depicted in many works of ceramic and codex art. Each time a dart hit home on the bird’s head, the crowd cheered enthusiastically.

  As the bright sun reached mid-sky, food and drink were brought around. Both observers and contestants moved about, mingling and attending to personal needs. Canopies were set up to shield the rulers and ahauob from the sun. Yoh
l Ik’nal and Sak Nicte strolled among tents of their city, followed dutifully by attendants. Walking around they greeted many from Lakam Ha and some strangers but not the object of Yohl Ik’nal’s interest. By mischievous glances, Sak Nicte revealed her awareness that her friend’s perusals were not as casual as they appeared.

  When the contests re-convened it was for spear throwing. Yohl Ik’nal riveted her attention and soon was rewarded by the appearance of that body, so familiar yet so unknown, of Hun Pakal. Dressed only in a loincloth and neck collar, his strong muscles rippled as he dashed forward several steps, spear balanced in right hand. Ending in a leap, he heaved the spear in a long arc. The large flint point glistened in the sunlight with feathers fluttering from the shaft. She was close enough to hear the swooshing sound and solid “thunk” as the point embedded in the ground near the final marker. It was an excellent throw, farther than any spears yet hefted. Did she only imagine that he cast a glance in her direction as he retrieved the spear?

  Quickly she lowered her eyes and turned to make conversation with Sak Nicte, hoping her mother had not detected any particular interest in this spear thrower. But her friend picked up subtle cues, raising an eyebrow as she remarked that this was the best throw so far.

  There were several rounds with eliminations, and in the final throws again Hun Pakal exceeded all others. He was awarded the grand prize, with lesser prizes for all finalists, a good number from Lakam Ha. A group of young men gathered around Hun Pakal, cheering and lifting spears. They stomped in a spontaneous victory dance that brought them in front of Kan Bahlam’s mat. The ruler stood and touched each on the shoulder, praising their abilities.

  Suddenly Hun Pakal was standing before Yohl Ik’nal. He knelt and offered her a feather from his spear, smiling into her eyes. She reached to accept the feather, breathlessly silent as Sak Nicte congratulated him. Other men came to bow in honor of the royal women and he disappeared into their midst.