Hun Pakal glanced toward Yohl Ik’nal sitting on the adjacent mat. Their eyes met briefly but long enough that he caught the glisten in hers, whether from tears or excitement he could not tell. He sat obediently at the back of the ruler’s mat and relaxed into the attendants’ ministrations.
Kan Bahlam had one more important thing to observe: the fate of Ek Chuuah. So far the young man had fought well and subjugated two opponents. He was strong and wily; it was regretful that his ambitions made him an opponent and not an ally. After a drink on the sidelines, Ek Chuuah returned to the field for his third opponent. Immediately a burly man from Usihwitz presented the challenge to fight, multiple scars marking him as experienced in battle. How fitting that Mut Yokte would set this up as the third contest, when Ek Chuuah was tired and the likelihood of defeat the greatest.
It was a well-balanced fight, however, despite the veteran’s experience. Ek Chuuah was quick and made surprise moves that almost brought the decisive cut, but his opponent recognized every strategy and avoided injury at the last moment. Perhaps the veteran was fresher or had incredible stamina, but his energy held as Ek Chuuah began to flag. The young man moved awkwardly to avoid a slash, his right foot coming down on a slippery area sending him off balance. As he struggled to recover footing he momentarily dropped his guard, and the veteran moved in targeting the slipping leg. He made a vicious slash behind the right knee, obsidian blade cutting deeply and partially severing one of Ek Chuuah’s hamstrings.
Ek Chuuah screamed as his leg gave out and he collapsed onto the muddy ground. Blood gushed profusely as the referee declared victory and the veteran cut off the ponytail with a flourish. Two priests noted the serious injury and quickly carried Ek Chuuah to the sidelines, applying pressure to stop blood flow. They discussed the injury with the referee who shook his head disapprovingly.
Usihwitz observers nearby gasped, while Ek Chuuah’s cadre gathered around, murmuring angrily. Several observers from Lakam Ha hooted and signalled an infraction of rules. The veteran insisted the deep cut was accidental, expressing regret for the injury. After some heated argument among referees, they decided in favor of an unfortunate accident, and service to Usihwitz was required of the loser.
Kan Bahlam smiled to himself, observing these happenings from his mat at a distance. Some of Ek Chuuah’s men came over and pleaded with their ruler to intervene. Kan Bahlam explained patiently that he must support the priestly referees in their decisions, and indeed it appeared to him an accident, albeit unfortunate. Such things sometimes happened in the heat of struggle, as everyone knew.
In the end, there was nothing but to accept it as an accident.
Kan Bahlam was pleased. Yohl Ik’nal was grateful that Hun Pakal escaped from such an accident. Xoc Akal read her husband too well, regretted that such tactics were necessary, but would never speak of this. He did what he must.
The sun had passed zenith and started its afternoon decline when the last combatants finished. Clouds were gathering again in the west, and a cooling breeze swept across the plains. Conches called to the four directions as priests circled the combat field carrying incense burners with smoking copal. They used these sacred copal fumes to cleanse and purify the area, to remove all anger, aggression and suffering so that the land might be restored to harmony. The Maya lived in balance with nature, honoring the ways of their Earth Mother, always restoring what they had disturbed.
The final ceremony was conducted by Kan Bahlam, assisted by his wife and daughter. Each recited salutations to the four Chaaks, Bolons and Pauhuatuns that kept the energies of the directions. Honorific phrases were offered to K’in Ahau, Lord Sun and Hun Ahb K’u, Creator of Movement and Measure, all forms and beings upon the earth. When these rituals were complete, Kan Bahlam spread his arms and made hand signs for an important announcement.
Murmurs from the crowd dissipated quickly into silence.
“People of B’aakal, we have seen these magnificent contests, we have appreciated the skill and prowess of our warriors in this flower war.” Kan Bahlam spoke in his commanding voice that carried easily to all edges of the gathering.
“Much am I pleased by the warriors of our cities, and much have I found happiness in the presence of so many friends and citizens of our polity. In this we re-affirm our associations and solidify our cooperation. It is in keeping with the ways of the gods that humans live in harmony and order, as we do in Holy B’aakal.”
These political statements were pointed reminders that the cities present owed allegiance to Lakam Ha, as the May Ku seat and as the dominant city of the polity. That this allegiance meant tribute in both materials and labor was understood; and for this tribute the Holy B’aakal Lord, K’uhul Ahau Kan Bahlam, would keep relations in good stead with the gods and assure peace and abundance. Such was the social-political-spiritual contract of the Maya.
“Now comes something very important, very dear to my heart,” he continued. “This has been weighing upon my thoughts, the marriage for my daughter and heir, Ix Yohl Ik’nal. In anticipation of this flower war, it became clear that the man suitable to become her husband would appear. That man with great prowess, courage and strength, that man who excelled in his victories and won admiration of many followers, he would be the match for my daughter. That man of the sacred and noble blood, of ruling lineages beloved of the gods. That man has come forth to me.”
Yohl Ik’nal was frozen, stunned as she stood just behind to her father’s left. Her eyes widened and her breath stopped as she struggled to maintain a calm façade. But the pounding of her heart made her neck-collar quiver, sending sparkles of sunlight across her chin. She forced herself to breathe regularly but could not unclench her fists.
“That man, who has come forth through his victories in this flower war, is Hun Pakal of Lakam Ha.”
The crowd roared, especially Hun Pakal’s contingent. Yohl Ik’nal felt faint with relief, but instinctively drew herself up to her full height and lifted her chin firmly.
“Hun Pakal comes from a noble family of Lakam Ha, from both mother and father’s sides there is sacred B’aakal blood whose descent is traced to the Triad Gods.” Kan Bahlam continued reciting Hun Pakal’s pedigree and qualifications, signing the young man to approach. Hun Pakal bowed with arms crossed on his chest, the gesture of highest honoring. Kan Bahlam placed his hands upon the young man’s shoulders in the greeting of kinsmen. Their eyes met in mutual acknowledgement. Then Hun Pakal approached Xoc Akal, who gave the kinsfolk greeting. Last he stood before Yohl Ik’nal as she placed trembling hands upon his shoulders, hoping only he would see the glistening tears of joy in her eyes.
2
Lakam Ha was in a festive mood. The city’s warriors had excelled during the flower war and the daughter of their K’uhul Ahau Kan Bahlam, Holy Lord of B’aakal, was soon to be married. The ruler’s choice for her husband, Hun Pakal, was a popular one with most of the nobles and common people. Hun Pakal was well-connected among elite circles, had a large following of young men eager to support his goals, and was greatly admired by commoners for his congenial nature and recent victories. Indeed, he had brought honor and recognition to Lakam Ha and reinforced its right to continue as the May Ku center of political and ritual power in B’aakal.
Preparations were underway for a grand ceremony with a lavish feast, to be enjoyed by all in the central plaza. The farmers did not grumble that they must provide huge amounts of corn, squash, peppers, and fruits for the feast. Nor did their women complain about the hours of food preparation and cooking, or the labor they would give in serving the feast. They relished the opportunity to prepare special honey-maize cakes, filled with chopped cashew nuts and dried berries that traditionally were offered at weddings. The priests anticipated brewing great quantities of balche; they enjoyed partaking of the intoxicating beverage as much as the townspeople. Musicians practiced new melodies and created sweet songs to celebrate love and fecundity.
Xoc Akal, the bride’s mother, supervised the most skilled weavers in making the
wedding dress. Although she was a competent weaver, on this occasion she preferred the oversight role, freeing her imagination for design. She selected a dark blue fabric of soft cotton, on which white starburst patterns would be embroidered. White patterned borders with star glyphs added dramatic accent. The bride’s headdress was a work of art, with indigo and white feathers, woven lotus flowers of pale rose and yellow, and the beaded tiara from the market at the flower war. Its pale blue jade and rosy pink beads complemented the dress perfectly.
Several days before the wedding, Yohl Ik’nal sat in consultation with the priestess of Ix Chel, Mat Ek’. An imposing middle-age woman with silver streaks offsetting coal-black hair, Mat Ek’ was the primary teacher of the goddesses’ healing arts in B’aakal. Her herbal knowledge was legend in the region; people traveled long distances even beyond the polity’s borders to obtain treatment. The focus of her meeting with the ruler’s daughter was conception—or better, the prevention of it. The Maya possessed extensive knowledge about reproductive physiology, including herbal remedies for menstruation, conception, pregnancy and childbirth. There were herbs to both prevent and to enhance conception.
Maya elites planned conception to assure particular characteristics for the child. This was done through understanding how stellar configurations affected life on earth, how one’s qualities, consciousness and destiny were shaped by patterns of stars, planets and constellations. Maya astrology interacted with celestial realms, using potent rituals to invoke cosmic influences and direct them to people or places. This was the domain of the calendar priests and priestesses.
The birth date of Maya rulers was of utmost importance. The celestial forces it invoked would have beneficent or malefic consequences for the entire people. Maya ruling families usually had few children, often spaced several years apart. This was a deliberate strategy, for rulers often led long lives and wanted to both assure the succession and avoid contentious factions. It was not unusual to wait five to ten solar years before having the first child.
Since birth date is determined by time of conception, the planning of conception was key. The Maya knew pregnancy usually lasted 260 days, a sacred number that was one basis for the Tzolk’in 13x20 = 260 day calendar. To plan conception accurately, they had to identify the time of ovulation. This was accomplished by detailed knowledge of menstrual cycles and physical signs of ovulation that included changes in the quality and quantity of cervical mucus. Methods of divination and herbs to induce ovulation were additional tactics, if necessary.
It was this information that Mat Ek’ taught Yohl Ik’nal. At present, Yohl Ik’nal must follow instructions to prevent conception. For this, the priestess used Ix Ki Bix, the female Cow’s Hoof vine that grew in the wet forests, looping around tree trunks. Under its dark bark, the thorny vine was mahogany-red. Many plants used for women’s conditions had reddish tints, the colors of womb membranes and menstrual blood. A handful of chopped vine was boiled in three cups of water until a dark red color appeared. Taken for three days before the woman’s menstruation, it would prevent conception for five cycles. Then another treatment could be used to continue the contraceptive effect.
When conception was desired, the woman ceased taking Ix Ki Bix for one solar year so fertility would be restored. However, to carefully regulate conception according to the dates determined by the calendar priests, a short term contraceptive was used made of cedar bark tea. Taken three days before menstruation, the effect lasted only one cycle. During the cycle when conception was desired, no tea would be taken at the preceding menses.
For Yohl Ik’nal and Hun Pakal, the optimal time to have a child was still several years away. Even before the marriage, calendar priests began their complex calculations, based upon birth constellations of the couple and desired star patterns. Determinations to assure the sex of the child were based partly on stellar configurations, combined with specific coital positions. To guarantee dynastic succession without dissent, Kan Bahlam had commanded the calendar priests to plan that the first child be a son.
“Here is much information, Lady Yohl Ik’nal,” said Mat Ek’ as she finished her teachings. “Is this clear to you, need I explain more?”
“It is most clear, you have taught well,” replied Yohl Ik’nal. She hesitated, not sure how to frame her question.
“Will the drink of Ix Ki Bix, that I will take tomorrow in anticipation of my moon flow, have any undesirable effects?”
“This drink may at first cause the digestion to be unsettled,” Mat Ek’ replied. “But that should go away after the first use. Your digestion should be normal before the marriage takes place, and undisturbed when next you take the drink.”
“Does it affect the reproductive system in any adverse way?”
“No, your moon flow will be the same amount and quality. Nothing will be noticeably changed.”
“The, ummm . . . response to . . .” Yohl Ik’nal blushed and hesitated, but Mat Ek’ perceived quickly the gist of her question. Smiling, the priestess replied:
“This drink will not affect your passion or enjoyment of your husband. Many times have I given this to our women, and none has told me of such problems.”
Yohl Ik’nal nodded, feeling the blush fading. Mat Ek’ would be her advisor and healer over the coming years, at her side during childbirth, her consultant for concerns about the health of her family. Many confidences would pass between these women. Their eyes met in acknowledgement of this special relationship.
After Mat Ek’ left, Yohl Ik’nal fingered the maroon-colored woody twigs, sensing the potency of their earth medicine. She was grateful that Lakam Ha had such expert healers to guide people’s lives according to the great cosmic plan. Putting the herb away in a covered quartz jar, she reflected how her life was changing. Soon her time would be taken by the duties of a wife and the political and social requirements of the ruler’s daughter. That such requirements were increasing she had no doubt. The time to establish her leadership was at hand, and she greatly desired to meet the challenge well.
A childhood memory had returned to her in recent days, not thought of in several years. She felt her special place calling her. Was the clearing with its quartz-crowned rock cluster by the waterfalls still hidden, undiscovered? Or had it been removed for building, the quartz used by gem-workers, the stones chiseled into blocks. A deep yearning stirred to re-visit this place of early visioning, of adventurous journeys to other realms. After her marriage there would be no opportunity to disappear for such adventures.
She waited until nearly dusk, then stealthily slipped through less-used palace passages. Once outside, she drew a shawl close around her head and shoulders to avoid recognition. Wearing the plainest clothing she possessed, the ruler’s daughter managed to pass through the central plaza without notice. Few people were about, as most were gathered around evening cooking fires in family compounds, sharing meals and friendship. The path down the eastern cascades was wide and often trod, with buildings clustered at intervals. It bore little resemblance to the narrow forest path of her childhood. She passed a large housing compound of noble families near a wide pool. The amount of new building surprised her. She feared that the clearing no longer existed.
Staying at the path’s edge under trailing lianas, she remained in deepening shadow. Although she could hear voices from the plaza, no one noticed her. Soon the path narrowed and descended steeply. It appeared little used and the jungle closed in. The murmur of a small waterfall drew her onward. She hoped it was the cascade marking the opening for the path to the clearing. Standing beside the cascade, she could not detect any opening in the dense forest foliage. Disoriented, she strove to recall which direction led to the clearing. It must be opposite the cascade. Approaching the foliage, she made several test pushes into leafy walls to no avail.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated upon finding the path. Only intuition would lead her to the clearing. She pictured the natural outcropping of boulders, the flat stones on which she sat, and the clear qu
artz that burst into brilliant flames when struck by morning sun. As if drawn by a magnetic force she moved into the jungle, pushing aside branches and lianas. Although some thorns caught her shawl and scratched her arms, she kept her direction and soon found the foliage less dense. Remnants of a path led into the clearing.
It was as she remembered. The irregular mounded stones loomed less tall but still bore the quartz, although small bushes found footholds in the surrounding flat stones. She located the place where she used to sit and wait for sunrise. Now it was dusk, the sky taking on a greenish glow in the waning light. She had never tried to make the journey at night, but always used brilliant morning sunrays to propel her consciousness across dimensions. Why not simply imagine this? Surely the inner vision would accomplish the same results, especially as she was now trained in visioning.
Sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, she slowed her breath and focused inward. When body and mind were still, she summoned the image of herself as a young girl sitting in this place, waiting for the sunrise to ignite red sparks behind closed lids. When this image was strong, she imagined opening her eyes to the blazing sunrays shooting through the quartz. With strong intention, she projected her consciousness into the quartz. Instantly she felt herself propelled along flaming pathways into that other world.
She was in the cold windy place, the hilltop surrounded by vast meadows of grass. It was the deserted place where she met the strange girl of corn silk hair and blue eyes. Drawing her shawl tight against the cold, she walked to the edge of the hilltop, smelling the pungent brush now devoid of purple flowers. The grass was brown, the sky clouded and gray. It seemed the season of dormancy was approaching, plants falling into their period of sleep. No bird sounds came to her ear, no animal calls or smells, only the sighing wind as it rippled across the grassy plains.
She called to the girl, Elie. Mentally she sent a summons, a request for Elie’s presence. For some time all was stillness, her vision empty. Then a scene formed that was impossible to interpret. A golden-haired woman stood beside the rail of a large wooden boat, so huge that it was incredible. It was like a modest mountain, deck rising the height of three men above the water. Tall straight-limbed trees with billowing white cloth for leaves stood in a row along its center. Clusters of ropes were attached to them. Whole tents could be made from one piece of this fabric, so great was its size. Many men scurried around tending to the fabric and ropes. Two better-dressed men of commanding stature were observing the work. The men seemed hard and intent.
The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque Page 12