The sun! Suddenly her mind was sharply focused. Pakal loved the sun; he sought it and often danced in sunbeams. In fact, his first word was “k’in” as the Maya called the sun. He must be in search of the sun, trying to get closer. That meant climbing a hill or temple pyramid. Someone would see him climbing a pyramid, but brush on a hill would easily conceal his small form.
Her legs pummeled as she raced toward the nearest hill, rising just west of the palace complex, the beginning of foothills that soon soared to cresting heights. Racing through the west plaza and crossing the footbridge spanning the Bisik River, Tunsel marveled that no one sighted the child on his excursion. Though his legs were long for his age, it was surprising that he could cover this distance. How she knew with such certainty that he took this path she did not question.
She sighted the trail wending across the hill, but saw no small form along its path. Sandals crunching on pebbles, Tunsel bounded up the trail with pounding heart. She gasped for breath, cursing her laziness from soft palace life. That life she would soon lose, or perhaps all life if she did not find Pakal soon. The hill summit was just ahead and she called inwardly for the goddess Ix Chel’s largesse: let the boy be there!
Salty sweat mingled with tears as she ascended the final rise and spotted the boy. He was standing on a small boulder, arms lifted to the sun, singing in a high sweet voice. She rushed up and grabbed him into her arms. The surprised boy thrashed momentarily then relaxed into her embrace as she dropped to the ground. He reached to wipe away her tears and smeared her dusty face.
“Tunsel cry?”
“Tunsel happy Pakal is safe. Can we go home now?”
He studied her face solemnly and nodded. Then he turned his face toward the sun and burst into a huge smile. His almond eyes shone and he pointed at the sun.
“K’in Ahau. K’in Ahau loves Pakal.”
“Yes, and Pakal loves his Father Sun.” Tunsel in turn studied Pakal’s face. “You are k’inich, sun-faced. We must call you K’inich Janaab Pakal. That is perfect, let us tell your mother and perhaps she will forgive us.”
“Mother wants Pakal now?”
“Yes, let us go home now. Your mother waits. I will carry you, your legs must be tired from such a long climb.” Rising with renewed vigor, Tunsel held the child tightly as she descended, silently thanking Ix Chel and resolving to never let Pakal escape her sight again.
Torchlight flickered from walls of the dining chamber in Sak K’uk’s quarters. Dusk settled over the plateau of many waters as attendants served bowls of bean and squash stew seasoned with peppers and green herbs. Only two dined this evening with Sak K’uk, her father and husband. She regaled them with Pakal’s latest adventure, his quest to reach K’in Ahau-Sun Lord on the hilltop.
“Tunsel conferred a new title on him, calling him k’inich, sun-faced. The cadence of this pleases me – K’inich Janaab Pakal.”
“It is most fitting for the royal ahau of Lakam Ha,” Hun Pakal said.
“So it is. We are descended from Hun Ahau, the son of the Sun Lord who we also call K’in Bahlam, the Sun Jaguar. The Bahlam family and the Sun are inseparable.” She smiled at her father, while noticing how he had aged since her mother’s death. Strange that only two years could reap such havoc; but he and Yohl Ik’nal had been exceptionally close and he missed her terribly.
“You should dismiss that girl,” Kan Mo’ Hix opined. “Tunsel does not watch Pakal closely enough, the boy is always running off. It makes me concerned.”
“Hmmm,” murmured Sak K’uk. She dipped maize cake into her bowl of stew and chewed thoughtfully. She disliked contradicting her husband, they had enough issues already ripe for conflict, but she had decided to retain Pakal’s nursemaid.
“That I have considered,” she replied. “Pakal is very fond of her. Think on it, I must.” Quickly changing the subject, she asked her husband:
“What transpired in Council today?”
“More debate over extracting tribute from Usihwitz. That testy contingent of our ahauob cannot let go of our defeat in the ballgame. This sully on the reputation of Lakam Ha seems more important than our prosperity and peaceful life. And Aj Ne Ohl Mat does little to deflect their criticisms, I doubt he has one creative political thought, devoting all his talents to poetry and music.” Disdain fairly dripped from Kan Mo’ Hix’ voice, and his hand sign conveyed dismissal.
“Peace and prosperity indeed are the problem,” observed Hun Pakal. “They are bored, they have not enough to occupy their small minds. Warriors want to ply their skills in more than flower wars or ballgames. Some ahauob thrive on conflict, their lives lack spice without it.”
“Aj Ne cannot manage this situation,” Sak K’uk said flatly. In her heart she believed she could, but her brother was ruler.
“We must find ways to divert this wave of discontent,” said Hun Pakal.
“Is not the artist Uc Ayin among the circle of opposition? And also frequent courtier in Aj Ne’s artistic gatherings?”
Sak K’uk’s eyes caught her fathers’ in unspoken caution. They knew the questionable role Uc Ayin had played in Usihwitz’ unsuccessful raid several years earlier. Only by leaving the city had he escaped death.
“Uc Ayin could be a source, yes, if we can obtain his cooperation, for he does move among camps,” said Kan Mo’ Hix.
“If he can be trusted,” Hun Pakal noted.
“He rides the winds of advantage. I will cultivate him; that will be flattering. He did spend much time in my father’s house but comes less often now that the ruler includes him as a fellow artist. What need have we of artists as leaders? Warriors, men trained in skills of strategic attack and managing resources make the best rulers.” Kan Mo’ Hix gestured toward Hun Pakal. “You or I would be a better ruler for Lakam Ha. This designation of Aj Ne Ohl Mat as heir, his selection for succession was a mistake. Not to imply disrespect for our late ruler, your honored mother.” He nodded toward Sak K’uk.
It took great determination for Sak K’uk to withhold her caustic remarks. She chewed a piece of maize cake furiously. Kan Mo’ Hix was oblivious to both the embedded insult and exposure of ambition in his remarks. It was becoming apparent that her husband aspired to rulership. “Fine ruler he would make,” she thought, “with such lack of diplomacy.”
Hun Pakal’s face was clouded, but he said nothing.
Their meal finished with cups of cocoa laced with chile. They agreed to meet again once Kan Mo’ Hix obtained information about the opposition’s objectives. He left first, bowing and touching fingertips with Sak K’uk in a gesture of affection. She responded as expected, reaching toward his fingers with hers and smiling, though her true feelings dictated a slap.
When her husband disappeared through the door drape, she sank down with a sigh.
“Often it is, he is insufferable,” she whispered to her father.
“Insufferably ambitious. That he would make an admirable ruler, I doubt. This situation we have is not good. Aj Ne is weak and distracted, discontent is mounting, and Pakal is years away from being capable of acceding. Were it not so disruptive, I might even support the idea of Kan Mo’ Hix as ruler.”
“Father, this is not wise. He would bring difficulties to us, for he is rash and lacks judgment. He is too reactive about the Usihwitz situation. Can you imagine him spreading the cloak of reason and calmness over our nobles?”
“Ah, no . . he would create quite the opposite effect. There is trouble gathering in our recalcitrant subordinate city, however. Never believe that Ek Chuuah is finished with his lust for revenge. It is certain he has used these years to perfect his plans, even if the defeat he suffered in the first raid diminished his status in Usihwitz. Would that our intelligence were better.”
“Lack of information about neighboring cities is a major detriment,” agreed Sak K’uk. “We cannot be prepared without some knowledge of hostile intentions. It appears we must work with the leadership situation we now have, faulty as it may be. Can we not give more support to
Aj Ne?”
“Perhaps we can. I will again try to interest him in court rituals and council strategy, though he shows little aptitude. Your mother was a master at courtly arts; it is regretful that he inherited so little of it from her.”
Hun Pakal cast his eyes down, but not before his daughter caught the shadows of sadness in their depths. After a few moments, he said wistfully:
“The poetry of Aj Ne is quite good, think you not?”
Sak K’uk placed a hand on her father’s shoulder.
“Mother was a great ruler. I also miss her presence, her strength and vision, so much. Yes, Aj Ne does write poetry well.”
They sat in silence, sipping cacao. Sak K’uk cared little for her brother’s poetry, but she yearned to give comfort to her father, some acknowledgement of his son’s value.
“You are intelligent and determined.” Hun Pakal simply stated facts with no hint of flattery. “Perhaps you can improve your husband’s judgment and hone his leadership abilities.”
Caught by surprise, Sak K’uk laughed aloud. Seeing that her father was serious, she conceded:
“So it might be possible. Yes, I will try applying my intelligence to this daunting task.”
They embraced warmly and Hun Pakal left. Sak K’uk reflected on how different her parents’ marriage was than her own. By custom, Maya nobles each had private sleeping chambers and different sets of attendants. Her parents, however, slept together more often than not. Their closeness was remarkable, something she admired but did not understand. In her own marriage, Kan Mo’ Hix visited her sleeping pallet often enough, but never stayed with her through the night. She enjoyed the physical contact, but could easily remain alone for long periods. It was not correct timing for them to conceive another child, and she was taking herbs to prevent pregnancy, so frequent intercourse was not necessary.
The Maya were sexually continent people. They viewed male and female sexual union as a sacred act, one that combined powerful creative energies and augmented inner spiritual processes. It was undertaken consciously and deliberately, treated with honor and respect. To overindulge sexually was to squander one’s life force, the itz that permeated all existence with sacred essence.
Sak K’uk was not troubled that her husband might lie with other women. This was not common practice among Maya ahauob, especially those in the highest positions. He was too focused on building personal power to waste any on such frivolities. She was troubled about his ambitions, his self-focused perspectives that fell short of true dedication to the welfare of the B’aakal polity and Bahlam dynasty.
Her thoughts returned to her wandering son. He was already precocious, walking and speaking early, exuding a magical presence that entranced those around him. Everyone basked in the radiance of his loving nature, kind and comforting. He certainly exhibited qualities of Yohl Ik’nal, his visionary grandmother, including the ability to elude attendants and explore other dimensions. Tunsel said he was communing with the sun on the hilltop; often he related to this deity as though he were actually the son of K’in Ahau.
“As indeed he is,” she mused.
Sak K’uk often brought Pakal with her on visits to the underground chamber, the most sacred shrine of Lakam Ha, the Sak Nuk Nah or “White Skin House.” When he had just passed his third solar year, she visited the shrine to honor her grandfather Kan Bahlam’s voyage to the celestial realms. Seated on the altar-throne in the hidden sanctum, she meditated with closed eyes while Pakal sat on a mat at her feet. After a short time of silence, the boy’s gleeful giggles interrupted her reverie. Too curious to concentrate, Sak K’uk peeked under lowered eyelids at her son.
Pakal was dancing in small circles, waving his hands furiously in the air. He lunged and swatted with one hand, then the other, and burst into a ripple of laughter. Next he jumped backward, danced in more circles, and repeated the gestures.
Sak K’uk could not contain her curiosity.
“What are you doing, Pakal?”
He glanced at her, but continued his movements.
“See, mother, see!” he exclaimed, pointing into the air at his chest level.
She focused where he pointed but saw nothing except wavering torchlight.
“Dearest, I do not see anything. What do you see?”
“The Baby Jaguar, see he plays with me.”
“The Baby Jaguar? Unan K’awiil in his baby jaguar form?”
“Yes, yes, do you see him? His paws, he paws at me, I jump away.” Pakal swatted again in the air and laughed. “He will not get me, I am fast!”
Sak K’uk frowned, squinting to bring ephemeral forms into sharper contrast, but was unable to see her son’s playmate.
“Much to my regret, I cannot see the Baby Jaguar.”
Pakal stopped his movements and stared at his mother, his surprised eyes conveying confusion.
“You cannot see him? He is here. . . oh, he has gone, mother you made Baby Jaguar go away!”
“Truly I am sorry, dearest,” she enjoined. “What did he look like?”
“Like Baby Jaguar!” Pakal said with annoyance, then softened and hugged his mother. “He has black spots, many spots, he lays on his back and waves his paws and wiggles his tail. He smiled at me, I saw his little fangs, but he was careful not to bite. He wants to play. He is very cute. I am sorry you cannot see him.”
“Perhaps I will see him the next time he comes to play with you. Does he come often?”
“Yes, often when we are in the White Skin House. First he watched me, today he played the most ever. Can we come here tomorrow? I want to play with Baby Jaguar.”
“Of course, my love. We can come very often.”
Sak K’uk was eager to discuss Pakal’s experience with the High Priest. To her knowledge, never before had such a young child with no training been visited by a Triad God – and been able to clearly see and interact with the deity.
2
Pasah Chan, High Priest of Lakam Ha, contemplated the significance of what Sak K’uk told him about her son. Although holding the exalted office as head of his city’s priesthood for less than five solar years, his lengthy preparation in calendric and occult arts and the rigorous selection process leading up to his nomination gave him confidence in his spiritual leadership. He searched his memory for similar scenarios in which very young children demonstrated unusual psychic and inter-dimensional abilities, but could not recall anything similar. Of course, Pakal’s grandmother Yohl Ik’nal was known for her skills at journeying since her middle youth and for her prowess as a seer later in life. As ruler she clearly embodied the Triad Gods in rituals and communicated with various deities. But at such an early age, to become playmate to Unen K’awiil? Of this he had never heard.
Tall for a Maya with sinewy limbs and slender frame, Pasah Chan came from a minor noble family fortunate enough to cultivate favor with the former High Priest Wak Batz. Through gifts and tribute that stretched the family’s resources, the eldest son gained admittance into priestly training. There he excelled, using his keen memory and natural intelligence to advance in studies. His aptitude for ruthless competition played no small role in his progress, and he became the old High Priest’s favorite acolyte. Partly through admiration for his command of esoteric knowledge, and partly due to his intimidating personality, the Council of Priests nominated Pasah Chan upon the passing of Wak Batz. He underwent the series of trials required of High Priest candidates to demonstrate his mastery over emotions, body functions, elements of nature, and spirit world assistants. In all tests he exceeded expectations.
The face of Pasah Chan resembled a bird of prey. Beaked nose overshadowed thin lips drawn tight against jutting cheekbones, half-lidded eyes held the penetrating glare of a hawk. Over his small-domed crown, dark hair crested from his narrow forehead, pushed upward by a feathered band with a long braid falling down his back. Although the crest was intended to mimic the elongated skulls of high-ranked elites, it did not conceal his defect. His parents had failed to apply the headboards u
sed to elongate the skull properly during his infancy. Of this defect he was quite self-conscious.
His eyes narrowed into slits as he concentrated. Again he reviewed his conversation with Sak K’uk and her father, Hun Pakal.
“Surely this means Pakal is favored by Unen K’awiil, perhaps destined for rulership?” Sak K’uk tried to keep her voice tentative, but Pasah Chan could sense her conviction.
“The Baby Jaguar, designator of royal lineage, would not appear to such a young child were it not significant,” added Hun Pakal.
“Perhaps, perhaps,” Pasah Chan murmured, rubbing his chin. “Yes, it is most unusual, and the child is advanced for his age. Yes, this bears contemplation, to discern the hidden meanings and the intentions of the deity. I must reflect, seek precedence and spiritual guidance.”
Sak K’uk persisted.
“Would it not seem an indication to begin Pakal’s training early? His abilities are unfolding naturally, these must be shaped by adepts in the priesthood so the proper skills are developed.”
“And to keep him safe,” said Hun Pakal, thinking of Yohl Ik’nal’s untutored travels and the risks involved.
“Indeed, indeed, these are important considerations,” the High Priest replied. “It is highly irregular for a child not yet attained of four tuns to enter shamanic training, when the normal age for elite boys is seven tuns. His abilities are advanced for his age, of course, and this brings other elements into the situation. As you both note his own safety is a concern. And he is of ruling lineage with no heir yet born to the ruler, although that might change soon.”
Sak K’uk and Hun Pakal exchanged surprised glances. Pasah Chan gloated that he possessed information the two royals did not have. Just two days ago the Chief Priestess of Ix Chel informed him that Aj Ne Ohl Mat’s wife Hohmay was pregnant. After years of barrenness, the arts of the healing priestesses had finally succeeded in bringing about a conception. It was a precarious pregnancy founded on extreme measures, secrets the healers would not reveal. They had great concern over the outcome and planned ceaseless surveillance of Hohmay and a rigid protocol of diet, herbs, spiritual ritual and careful activity.
The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque Page 29