The boy was born a short time later. He was small but perfectly formed and appeared healthy, crying loudly. The bruise on his left shoulder would resolve in a few days. As Yohl Ik’nal rested and the child was swaddled, plans were set afoot to conceal the actual date of his birth. The Tzolk’in day was 11 Kimi, the number of chaos and imbalance joined with the day of death, finishing, disappearing. The Haab was 2 Pax, the number of duality-polarity that combined with energies of knocking off course or deviating.
Not an admirable combination of traits for a future ruler. The calendar priests and Kan Bahlam agreed to report that the birth took place in the hour before dawn. All involved were oath-bound to pronounce the prior day as the birth date of Aj Neh Ohl Mat, firstborn son of Yohl Ik’nal and Hun Pakal.
Aj Neh Ohl Mat was now in his fourth solar year, a boy of pleasing countenance and form but shy and fearful. He still ran to hide behind the skirts of his mother or nursemaid when anything new entered his world. Yohl Ik’nal worried that he would not do well when separated from the palace women. Boys began male socialization and study with solar priests when they reached their seventh solar year. As the heir apparent of the royal family, he would face special pressures for bravery and self-assurance, two traits that seemed sadly lacking in his infantile character.
Now she was pregnant with a girl, carefully planned and conceived according to guidance she received from the Triad Gods through visions. The solar priests argued for another boy—as men were wont to do—but she was not swayed by their reasoning. Her relationship with the B’aakal patron deities had deepened through frequent ritual communications, and she took her guidance directly from the Cosmic Realm of the Upperworld. So strong was her surety of this guidance, so evident the deities’ presence in her aura that the priests refrained from challenging her decisions. Hun Pakal had an uncanny resonance with his wife and unconditionally supported her.
This girl child was special. Yohl Ik’nal knew that her unborn daughter would be the keeper of the succession, as her visions at K’ak Lakam Witz had revealed so long ago. How and why this must be so, and what would happen with her son, she did not understand. But neither did she question the will of the Deities. It would be so, as it was ordained.
The baby kicked vigorously, summoning her mother back to the present. Yohl Ik’nal patted her belly that showed the distinct contours of pregnancy entering the final trimester. Several more kicks greeted her touch, and Mat Ek’ noticed the movements. The women’s eyes met in mutual accord that this pregnancy must go well.
“See, she is strong and healthy,” Yohl Ik’nal observed.
“We must keep her that way. Was this trip to the village truly necessary?” Mat Ek’ wrinkled her brow disapprovingly.
“This is without doubt necessary. A blight upon the corn fields would be disastrous for my people. It is something I cannot turn away from, for such a request is not made except when the village priests and shamans have tried all in their power. Something is happening with this farmer Nohpat that is outside their realm of experience. They are appealing to the highest power, even to the Triad Gods through me. It is my sacred duty as K’uhul B’aakal Ahau to resolve this difficulty.”
The conviction in Yohl Ik’nal’s voice and her calm certainty silenced Mat Ek’. Glancing surreptitiously, the healer marveled at the mantle of divinity that hovered around the ruler when she spoke of such sacred obligations.
The palanquin bearers turned from the main path and soon the thatched roofs of many huts came into view. The ruler’s entourage—three palanquins and about 20 people on foot—came to a halt in the village square as the Ah Kuch Kab stood stiffly alert, flanked by his kuchte’el headmen and shamans. The entire village gathered around the edges of the square, their excited murmuring fading as the palanquins were lowered. Yohl Ik’nal’s palanquin rested next to the raised platform in the center of the square, the only plaster structure in the village. It was used for the most important announcements and ceremonies, and had been decorated with flowers and incense burners in honor of the royal visit.
The ruler had ordered minimal ceremony, but some was required in due course. The small group of palace musicians began a solemn drum cadence while the shrill bone whistle commanded attention. Court nobles in modest attire, by the ruler’s orders, surrounded her palanquin and opened its drapes, assisting the ruler to step out onto the low platform. She moved gracefully, for her pregnancy although obvious was not heavy, and she proceeded to the center of the platform. There she was joined by the High Priest and High Priestess who occupied the other palanquins.
The Ah Kuch Kab and important villagers paid homage to the B’aakal ruler by bowing deeply, clasping left shoulder with right hand in the Maya salute. A short ceremonial welcome speech was given, then the problem with Nohpat’s cornfields described and the village leaders’ attempts to resolve it enumerated. Although all this was well known to everyone, protocol required a formal public pronouncement to set the parameters of this important occasion.
Yohl Ik’nal listened graciously, nodding to acknowledge each fact. When the villagers had finished, and all eyes were riveted upon her, she said simply:
“Bring forth the farmer Nohpat, that he may lead me to his hut and his ailing cornfields.”
The crowd of villagers responded simultaneously with a surprised in-breath. From among the crowd Nohpat emerged, head bowed as the Ah Kuch Kab introduced him to his Holy Lady, K’uhul Ixik. He scarcely glanced upward, avoiding her gaze as though it might cause him to burst into flames, and gestured hesitantly in the direction of his hut and fields.
“Lead the way, Nohpat. We will follow you there,” she said gently.
Though she would prefer to walk, Yohl Ik’nal knew that both her pregnancy and her status required she ride in the palanquin. The three palanquins, 20 court nobles and most of the villagers slowly followed Nohpat along a narrow path bordered by trees and fields. The distance was not far, and soon his family compound came into view; the thatched living hut made of thin branches with clay fill in-between, the cooking hut of the same branches with open areas between so heat and smoke could escape, and a smaller clay and wood structure for domestic animals. A couple of small dogs and koatimundis roamed in the open area surrounding the compound. Turkeys gobbled inside their pen. The sun was high in the sky and heat waves shimmered.
Yohl Ik’nal observed the cornfields close to the compound, noting the stunted ears and lethargic leaves. Even the complementary plants seemed to lack vigor. It was as though some vital energy was lacking, and the plants languished. Closing her eyes, she sensed into the plants’ interiors, feeling the fluids moving through cell membranes, the leaves capturing sunlight and converting it into energy, the roots twisting through soil taking up water and nutrients. All these systems were working, but not very effectively. The plants seemed to lack motivation, to be low in life force. She did not detect a toxic substance, or an opportunistic organism, or an evil force sent to harm the plants. What was wrong, why were they not flourishing?
Immediately an answer flashed into her mind: The plants were unhappy.
Acknowledging this communication, she probed further into the plants’ essences for why they were unhappy. She reached an understanding, from profound unity with the plants, that their care-taking family was unhappy, and this feeling permeated the plants that depended upon the family. It was a deep-seated and problematic unhappiness, not readily solved, and persistent for some time to have such severe effects.
Mentally thanking the plants, Yohl Ik’nal re-directed her attention to the people around her as she descended from the palanquin in front of Nohpat’s living hut. Two women and a young man emerged from the hut and stood wide-eyed before the noble entourage. The village leader explained these were Nohpat’s wife, daughter and son. His son helped him in the fields, and his wife and daughter maintained the household. It was a typical farming family, from a long tradition of successful farmers.
The daughter was soon to be married; by cus
tom the son-in-law would live with Nohpat’s family for a year and work the fields. After that, they would move and add their hut to the son-in-law’s family compound.
The son of Nohpat was young, strong and capable of carrying on the farming traditions. He was not yet seeking a wife.
Yohl Ik’nal focused her intuitive senses upon each family member, seeking a source of unhappiness. It came to her immediately and strongly: hopeless discontent in the son, heart-rending sorrow in the mother, confused irritation in the daughter and simmering anger in the father, Nohpat. An unhappy family indeed. A family that did not understand the source of the problems, felt unable to cope with the issues, and saw no solutions. The son appeared to be the key in this conflicted family.
Yohl Ik’nal asked the names of the family members: Halil the wife, Tz’un the daughter, and Uxul the son. She began in friendly conversation with Halil, asking about her tasks and how she spent the day. The worried-looking woman began hesitantly but soon warmed to the subject, basking in the Holy Lady’s interest. After a while, the ruler asked Tz’un about her upcoming marriage and her hopes for a family of her own. The young woman was eagerly anticipating the creation of her own family; she seemed relieved to talk about a pleasant future. When the ruler addressed Uxul, the atmosphere had relaxed somewhat. He began by describing his work in the fields, but without enthusiasm. Yohl Ik’nal asked if he enjoyed doing any other activities. A spark lit his eyes, but he hesitated and glanced toward his mother. She nodded almost imperceptibly.
“To carve wood and stones, this is something I enjoy,” the young man said.
“Carving is a fine skill and a talent not possessed by many. Have you carved for very long?”
“For as long as I can remember, Holy Lady.”
“He began almost before he could walk,” his mother added. “His fingers knew how to use the flint knife sooner than he could speak many words.”
From the side, Nohpat grumbled: “He wastes many hours making useless decorations. Better he should make traps or spearheads for hunting.”
Tension immediately surged in the family and the spark in Uxul’s eyes dimmed. Halil’s face took on an expression of profound sadness. Tz’un looked off into the distance as if she wished she were far away.
“Have you here some of your carvings?” asked Yohl Ik’nal.
“Yes, Holy Lady,” Uxul answered, avoiding his father’s sullen gaze.
“Then bring them forth. I would see your work.”
Uxul disappeared behind the hut and soon returned with several pieces of carved wood and a few small stone figures. He carefully laid them before his ruler. One of the court nobles lifted the pieces for Yohl Ik’nal to examine. She turned the carvings between her hands and traced the graceful curves with her fingers. Here was the work of an untrained master, exquisite in proportion and detail. Jaguars, quetzal birds, turtles, bats, peccary, snakes, crocodiles, hawks nearly leaped from wood squares with intricate borders of vines and flowers. Faces of men and women in profile graced squares bordered by geometric patterns. Figures of gods and goddesses in full regalia and classic postures enlivened smooth rock. The young man had obviously visited frescoes and tablets in Lakam Ha and made drawings from which to produce such exact reproductions. Perhaps he had also seen codices, though how he managed that was a mystery.
“Uxul, you have been called by the gods to be a carver,” Yohl Ik’nal said in measured voice that carried across the compound. “Rarely have I seen such perfection even among carvers long trained in major centers. This is indeed a rare and special gift. Your work in this life must be that of carving the glyphs and painting the frescoes of Lakam Ha. Is such a work in your heart?”
The young man was dumbfounded. His most secret yearning, his impossible dream had just been clearly stated by the B’aakal K’uhul Ahau, the earthly presence of the B’aakal Triad Gods, as though it was simply evident. He stared in dismay, unable to respond and acutely aware of his father’s disapproval.
The tension in the air was palpable, a suspended screeching silence.
“You may answer without fear, Uxul. Is it in your heart and your dreams to be a carver in Lakam Ha?”
He swallowed, trying to moisten his throat. Words would not form on his lips, so he simply nodded. His eyes were wild with hope long suppressed but clouded by bewilderment.
“You shall return with me to Lakam Ha, and begin training with the master carvers in the palace. You will learn to read and carve the glyphs that immortalize the events of our city in the sacred calendars of the cosmos. The gods will be pleased by the fine works you will create to honor them.”
Yohl Ik’nal looked around at the gathered crowd that was too awed to make a sound. Such a thing had never happened in their village.
“Halil, woman of this home, do you release your son to become a royal carver?”
Shock and amazement marked Halil’s face, and tears of relief streamed down her cheeks. For years she had understood her son’s artist soul, and watched his skill blossom, but felt helpless to support his talent. She knew his spirit was dying and she could do nothing to change the situation. Now all had changed, in an instant, like the sudden thunderbolt of a goddess. Despite the consequences for herself, she responded:
“Yes, Holy Lady, it is my joy to release my son for your carving works.”
Yohl Ik’nal turned to Nohpat who appeared struck by lightning. He was stiff with shock, disbelieving what he had just observed.
“Nohpat, man of this home, do you release your son to become a royal carver?”
His body shook as he forced his mouth to respond:
“He is my only son. I am not a young man, I need his help in the fields. What am I to do if he is not here to help?”
“For a year you will have your son-in-law,” Yohl Ik’nal responded. “After that, the Ah Kuch Kab of the village will provide a young man, perhaps the second or third son of another farmer, who will be glad to work good fields for himself and his sons.”
She turned to the village leader, her eyes commanding his reply.
“Yes, Holy Lady, this man of course we can find, there are many farming families with sons in our village,” he replied breathlessly.
“People of the village, hear this. Family of Nohpat, hear this.”
Yohl Ik’nal seemed to become taller and more powerful, her aura sparkled in the noon sun and some would swear later they saw Unen K’awiil—the serpent-footed deity of royal lineage—hovering above her shoulders.
“The corn of Nohpat is sick because the plants are unhappy, they cannot thrive. The plants are unhappy because the family of Nohpat is unhappy, they are not thriving. Uxul has been called by the gods from an early age to be an artist, a carver of wood and stone. He yearned for this and learned to carve without formal instruction. His works are masterful. But he could not fully express this calling, this god-given talent, because of family duty and tradition. This is killing his spirit, making him sick and making the family sick. His mother Halil knows this, has known this for years, but felt helpless to do anything. His father Nohpat knows his son is unhappy, but does not understand his son’s soul and calling. Nothing in Nohpat’s life could help him understand this, it is not a failing or a fault. The sister Tz’un also suffers from the family conflicts and hopes to escape by marriage. This is not good for a family. The family has become very unhappy, and their crops have suffered because plants are sensitive, they can feel the emotions of their caretakers. The cornfields of Nohpat will only recover and thrive when the family restores its happiness and harmony.”
She turned again to Nohpat and willed his eyes to meet hers. Unable to resist, he looked upward into dark pools of mystery beyond his comprehension.
“Nohpat, you are asked to make a great sacrifice for the good of your family and the health of your cornfields. You are asked to release your son to a calling that takes him away from you. His work in your fields will be replaced, but it is not the same as having your own son follow in your steps. This I u
nderstand. You will see him but not as often. His life will change and he will be different, he will experience things you do not understand. It is a great sacrifice, and I call upon you as your K’uhul Ixik to make it bravely.”
Moments passed while Nohpat was allowed to let the significance of what was transpiring sink in. Yohl Ik’nal kept his gaze locked with hers, using psychic forces to bring his mind into acceptance. It was a critical moment.
Ultimately the farmer had no choice but to comply. His sacred ruler, incarnation of the gods, commanded his agreement. But in truth he was swept up in powerful forces that made all this seem the natural progression of things, as extraordinary as it might be.
“Yes, Holy Lady, I release my son to your service.” Nohpat spoke more distinctly than anyone expected.
2
The baby gurgled, pursing pink lips to blow cascades of bubbles over the strong brown hands tenuously supporting its head. Gnawing a tiny fist, it belched and then began hiccupping. The baby’s father drew his brows together in an expression of grave concern.
“Is he sick? What is he doing?”
“He has hiccups, it is common in new babies. Lift him over your shoulder and pat his back.”
The father awkwardly raised the baby and flopped him against a burly shoulder. This added loud wails to the hiccups.
“Why is he crying? Did I hurt him?”
“No, but you must move him more gently,” laughed his wife.
“Here, you take him. I fear hurting him, he is so small.”
She crossed the chamber and received the squirming, wailing bundle offered eagerly by her husband. A few moments of cooing and backstroking returned the baby to gurgling and fist chewing.
“Perhaps he is hungry, you should feed him,” her husband suggested hopefully. “Ummm . . There are people I must meet, aaaah, to discuss matters with.”
The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque Page 19