The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) (10 page)

“Beloved, I have missed you so!” Sak K’uk exclaimed. “Tell me everything. What you are learning, what you are doing, how it is going for you.”

They sat on mats as rain pounded the roof and plaza, bringing a pleasant coolness. Attendants brought maize cakes and fruit drinks, while fanners continued their duties.

“It is most remarkable, Mother,” Pakal began. “This world we live in every day, that seems ordinary, is actually full of magic. Hiding behind the surface are wonderful things! I am learning about them and how to see them – which you cannot do with ordinary eyes. Pasah Chan has taught me how to change the way I see, how to change my energy and consciousness so I can communicate with nature, animals, plants, birds, waters, even the rocks. Only a few days ago I was able to bring a small deer to eat from my hand. It was able to overcome its fear.”

“How did you do that? The forest deer are very timid and fearful.”

“It is done with a meditation technique,” he explained. “I must become perfectly quiet in body, mind and emotions. Every part of my being must be in harmony, and also I must attain harmony with the forest and plants. It is becoming one of them, so the deer sees me as another growing thing in nature. Then the fruit in my hand is like fruit hanging from a plant, and the deer feels safe to take it.”

“That is so, that I can imagine,” Sak K’uk murmured.

“But what is most important, Mother,” Pakal added, “is to be in a state of complete peace. No shred of anger or aggression or tension can be present in your being. If there is any, the deer will sense it and will be frightened and run away.”

He nodded solemnly, almost to himself. Sak K’uk frowned slightly as she wondered if teaching Pakal to be so peaceful was good for a future ruler who would face opposition and potential attacks. But she sensed no weakness or reticence in his energy; on the contrary, he felt to her exceptionally confident and strong.

“What else have you done? Tell me again about calling the wind and rain,” she entreated.

Pakal dutifully recounted these stories, emphasizing the necessary states of consciousness to interact with deities of the elements. Sak K’uk basked in shameless pride and genuine wonderment over her son’s accomplishments. It mattered not that only servants were present to listen, for she knew it was the talk of the city. For her, it was enough simply to be with him, to share moments from his life, to revel in his presence.

When these stories were finished, she asked what came next in his training.

“In the coming time, Pasah Chan will prepare me for entering the Sacred Mountain Cave,” Pakal said.

“The K’uk Lakam Witz?” Sak K’uk recalled childhood stories of her mother Yohl Ik’nal doing vision quests at the mouth of this cave, high on a southern peak bordering the city.

“Already have I done vigil at K’uk Lakam Witz,” Pakal replied. “This is a different cave, one that is more difficult to find. It is a cave with a hidden opening that only those capable of attaining a certain state of consciousness can find. It is called the ‘Cave of Immortal Wisdom’ and leads into Xibalba. Only when all fears have been overcome, even fear of death, can you enter this cave.”

“A cave into Xibalba?” Sak K’uk was alarmed. Surely her son was not old enough to begin encounters with the Underworld. This was dangerous territory, only skilled shamans attempted to work with Death Lords.

“Just so. One who has not overcome fear of death cannot be truly alive. This is an important step, Mother. Remember that the Hero Twins had to face and outwit the Death Lords in order to resurrect their father the Maize God, Hunahpu. If I want to have the most advanced skills, I too must face Death Lords and bring to life the creative force of resurrection within myself. To embody the Maize God for our people.”

“But now? You are so young to take this advanced training. Might it not be best to wait until you undergo transformation rites into adulthood?”

“Pasah Chan will decide when the time is right for me.” Pakal reached to place his hand upon his mother’s arm, radiating compassion and soothing her with his touch. “You are worried, this I can understand. There is certain timing for entering the Cave of Immortal Wisdom. It only opens one time each year, and only for those who can find its entrance. An enormous amount of spiritual energy is needed to open this entrance. My next phase of training will be to build up my capacity for this enormous energy. Both body and mind must be prepared, because the energy moves like lightning through blood and nerves, and can cause serious burning if not channeled properly. Pasah Chan will not let this happen. He will not have me attempt this cave until he is convinced I am ready.”

“So it might not be this year?” Sak K’uk felt shaky simply thinking about the risk Pakal would be taking.

“Possibly not. Possibly yes. I do not know the time of opening, but from the planned training it is many moons away. Ah, Mother, through this many things will become accessible to me. Through the Cave of Immortal Wisdom I gain access to many masters, many ancestors who have become deities of our people: Itzamna, Xaman Ek, Ah K’in, Ix Uc, K’ukulkan. From them I will learn much wisdom.”

“Yes, yes I see.” Sak K’uk took a deep breath and tried to appear at ease. She had brought on all this training; she bore the responsibility if harm came to Pakal.

Pakal smiled playfully and stroked her arm reassuringly.

“Do not worry, Mother. It was shown to me by Unen K’awill, Baby Jaguar, that I am destined for these things. He told me in the Sak Nuk Nah – White Skin House where I visit with him whenever I have time. You remember our visits there, how he would play with me? He told me a secret; only those who are pure in heart can enter this cave. So if my heart is not correct, not purified, I will not be able to enter. And if it is pure, then I am ready to enter. All is in alignment in the domain of our Deities. ”

SAK K’UK/MUWAAN MAT – III

Baktun 9 Katun 8 Tun 14 –
Baktun 9 Katun 9 Tun 0
(610 CE – 613 CE)

1

Uc Ayin had to admit that he was no longer a young man. Although the passage of years had been kind to his body, which still remained slender and straight, it took a toll upon his mind. Somehow, his life felt unfulfilled. It was not that he failed in attaining goals, for he had few of these. Nor that hopes had been dashed, for the only strong hope he could recall was the desire to stay alive. And while he was undeniably living, his seemed a pointless life. He regarded his status mercilessly. Here was an aging courtier in the city beloved of the Triad Deities, blessed with peace and prosperity, in the upper echelons of artists in the ruler Aj Ne Ohl Mat’s intimate circle, who had done absolutely nothing significant in his life.

Except to survive the traitorous attack made by Ek Chuuah and warriors from Usihwitz. Nearly every other man involved in the insurrection had been killed. The insurrection leader Yaxun Zul had been spared, obviously part of a greater strategy to co-opt the rebels and keep the Bahlam family in power, since his son was quickly married to the ruler’s daughter.

Uc Ayin had no delusions about his survival during the attack if he had been in Lakam Ha. He would not now be contemplating his lack of fulfillment; he would be cavorting with the Death Lords in Xibalba. Although he was not among the close circle of plotters, just having knowledge of their plans was enough implication to cost his life. Anticipating the worst, he decided to visit his sister in Sak Tz’i, a short distance southeast along the Chakamax River. There he remained for two moon cycles, giving time for Lakam Ha to re-settle after the attack.

His sister Manik now wanted him to come for another visit. Only two days earlier a messenger arrived bearing her request, a matter she considered urgent. Her health was declining and he felt obliged to leave immediately. Perhaps time away from the royal chambers and vacuous arts of Aj Ne Ohl Mat would clear his head and bring perspective on his discontent.

Travel during the rainy season was always a challenge, and quite risky when heavy rains cascaded down mountains to swell rivers into angry, boiling serpents hungry to devour trees and boats alike. The long canoe’s paddler waited until the rains slackened and rivers fell from turbulent heights. They embarked early while mists hovered over the plains and draped Lakam Ha’s mountaintops. The first day was spent on the Michol River that passed just below Lakam Ha, followed by a day over land through a well-cleared jungle trail to connect with the Chakamax River to the south. Another four days were necessary traveling with the current, past the small village of Nututun to reach Sak Tz’i.

Seated on a bench in the canoe with a deerskin canopy overhead, Uc Ayin was reasonably protected from the constant drizzle that persisted during their voyage. He wrapped a damp cotton shawl more tightly around his shoulders, shivering in the cool breeze. The hard wooden bench bruised his thin buttocks and his toes had congealed into numbness. Feeling perfectly miserable matched his dour mood. The river swirled in gray eddies and shimmered in slate expanses, the sky echoed grayness with its low cloud cover and intractable rain. Dripping water and the rhythmic slap of oars were the only sounds, not even a bird or monkey chattered to break the gloomy monotony.

Days of seamless repetition on the river gave small impetus to Uc Ayin’s life review. He found himself always in the same loop of what he was beginning to identify as self-pity. It was not his fault he was born a two-spirit,
xib’il-x-ch’uup
, known among the Maya as a male-female. The two-spirits comprised a third gender group, different from men or women that blended qualities of both sexes. Children were identified early as two-spirits because of their interest in dress and activities of the opposite sex. Most had an androgynous appearance and character, and often took sexual partners from both sexes. Ultimately, sexual preference was based on their primary gender identity.

Maya society clearly recognized and accepted this third gender, based on a well-established place in mythology. Primordial and creator deities were often androgynous, the “changing ones” with special shamanic powers who brought many inventions and technologies for the benefit of humanity. The androgynous persona of the Maize God, who represented First Father and wore feminine symbols of the net skirt, earth associations, flowers and ix-woman face with the Ik’ marking, created a powerful context for mixed-gender expressions. The Moon Goddess, while feminine, was often conflated with symbols of the Maize God. Twins often represent the combined male-female qualities, repeating the Maize-Sun God and Moon Goddess complementarities, seen in the
Popol Vuh
creator couple Xpiyakok and Xumkane and the Hero Twins, Hunahpu and Xbalanque who became the Sun and Moon. Two-spirit humans often received their powers from one of these androgynous deities.

Uc Ayin regretted that even in this, his two-spirit nature, he had not attained anything of note. He was not called to spiritual leadership, possessed no shamanic abilities, was not a seer or prophet, not even a dream or vision interpreter. In the arts he had a modicum of talent, both with poetry and vase painting, but when these abilities were carefully scrutinized he had to admit his products were mediocre.

His life as a male-female two spirit was of the mundane type. With an inward grimace, he reflected again that the “shameless couple” dance often depicted on pottery or murals perfectly captured his character: An old man cavorts with what appears to be a young woman wearing an entirely feminine costume, but without breasts. The younger is a male two-spirit enacting a woman’s role. The explicitly sexual postures and leering expression of the old man make it clear theirs is a profane act, having nothing to do with spiritual or transformational ceremonies.

Although this cross-gender role was accepted within Maya society, Uc Ayin felt a subtle discrimination. He had never married, finding he preferred male sexual partners exclusively. This set him apart, for he had no family and children as did most two-spirits. And because his life had produced nothing particularly useful for others, nor had he received much artistic recognition, he perceived a muted judgment among his peers.

Dissatisfaction crept more deeply into his bones with the evening chill.

Camping on the wet banks along the river further darkened his mood. The small campfire built by the paddler barely warmed his hands, and the cold maize cakes offered little satisfaction. His sister needed to produce a very good reason for requesting this visit.

The next day the canoe arrived at the modest town of Sak Tz’i as daylight began to wane. Paying the paddler, Uc Ayin hoisted his damp pack over his shoulder and trudged up the bank along muddy paths lined by wooden-walled, thatched huts until he reached the central plaza with surrounding stone buildings and a modest pyramid temple. Across the plaza he recognized his sister’s form hurrying toward him. After their initial embrace and greeting, he was surprised to see how she had aged. She clasped his arm and led him to her modest dwelling several lanes distant from the plaza.

“How many times has the sun made its passage since last we met?” Uc Ayin asked. Now that he was in dry clothing and finally the chill had left his limbs, his mood improved as he sat sipping hot maize laced with cacao at his sister’s hearth.

“Ten, perhaps twelve sun passages,” replied Manik. Her family house was small, having three interconnected rooms with the entrance facing a shared patio. It was a typical stone and plaster one story structure that served the modest needs of minor ahauob families. Manik’s husband had died several years earlier, but Uc Ayin did not attend the transition rites, for which he felt a twinge of shame. She now lived alone, her only daughter’s husband having fulfilled his marriage obligation by working several years for his wife’s family. Now the couple lived in Nututun in a house built adjoining the husband’s family structure. Manik lived alone, a marginal widow given occasional assistance by cousins.

“Are you well?” Sliding his eyes toward his sister, Uc Ayin gauged her age was approaching 60 solar years, quite elder for most elite Mayas. Her hunched posture and loose skin bespoke advanced age, though her deeply sunken eyes still sparked with life.

“As you see,” she said, spreading her hands. “I am old, but my health is good. You are looking well. Has life been good for you these years in Lakam Ha?”

“There is little of which I can complain,” he demurred, surprising himself with the truth in this statement. A meaningless, disappointing life with little to complain about.

“Tell me things of your life, your city, your holy rulers the K’uhul B’aakal Ahauob.”

Uc Ayin spun a few tales about court life, the ruler’s art and music interests, the precocity of the only Bahlam descendent, Janaab Pakal. He off-handedly mentioned his solitary existence, understanding that his sister knew of his two-spirit nature. Having passed an appropriate time in such pleasantries, he asked about her summons.

“It appears all is well with you and your family, sister, so why have you requested this visit from me?”

She smiled secretively, making a puzzle hand gesture.

“That it is good to see you after such a long time, for my years here are surely few to come. Is this not enough reason? Truly I am happy to see you again, brother. But the request came not from me, I regret to admit. It is from one who knew you well in the past, and now has important business with you. His name I do not now speak, for his business is secret. He will come here after darkness has established its cover; he desires not to be seen or spoken of. Rest from your long journey, and then we will eat. You will know soon enough.”

After a hearty meal of turkey stewed with taro roots, tomatoes and herbs, Uc Ayin and Manik drowsed in silence around the glowing hearthstones. A wall torch flickered, casting dancing shadows across the stucco walls. Hot maize drink laced with cacao and chiles bubbled in a clay pot, awaiting the visitor. Steady raindrops beat softly upon the patio and small rivulets coursed down the sides of the entrance, pooling on the doorway before trickling outside. The sound of footsteps sloshing through puddles across the patio brought both to instant alertness.

Manik stood, holding the door-blanket aside for the visitor to enter. A muscular man of middle height removed his cloak, giving it to Manik to hang as he settled onto a floor mat next to Uc Ayin. The two men exchanged looks, finding both recognition and the alterations of age in each other’s faces.

“Ek Chuuah?” Uc Ayin’s voice sounded breathy with surprise.

“Speak softly,” the man replied. “And do not say again my name. Good it is to see you, Uc Ayin, after so many years.”

Uc Ayin shot a puzzled glance at his sister, who whispered, “He is the one who requested your visit, for very important purposes of which I know not, nor do I seek to know. Now I leave you to talk. Keep your voices low.”

After pouring each man a cup of maize-cacao drink, she took a cup for herself and disappeared behind two sets of door-blankets into the farthest room. The heavy blankets reduced the men’s voices to an indistinct murmur. Humming softly, Manik knelt on her floor mat and poured out the contents of a leather pouch. Wall torches glinted off shiny black obsidian blades and brought out the warm glow of amber. She caressed the golden chunks of amber, some light as honey and others mysteriously dark as dense cacao drink. She carefully stroked the sharp blades and admired their precise workmanship. Finally her knobby fingers slid toward two lovely jade beads, green as the jungle in early spring when new leaves sprang forth.

Manik felt no remorse for accepting this small fortune from Ek Chuuah for summoning her brother. She thought of it not as a bribe, but as a gift from the gods to sustain a poor widow. Happily she contemplated the ceramic pots and pure white cotton cloth she would buy at the next market, already creating designs for the hem of her new huipil. Her sustenance needs were assured for a long time, maybe more time than she required. Why the visitor from Usihwitz wanted to meet her brother troubled her not. Men had their intrigues and manipulations; women wanted only a comfortable life.

Ek Chuuah sipped thoughtfully, remarking in a low voice,

“You are looking well for your age. We are of similar age, if I recall rightly.”

“Hmmm, yes that is so,” replied Uc Ayin. Although he maintained a calm exterior, his mind was racing with memories of the controversial times when he and Ek Chuuah joined in the plotting of Yaxun Zul to overthrow the Bahlam dynasty. Since then, he heard nothing of Ek Chuuah’s activities or even if he was still alive. Yet here he was, looking older but vigorous, and seeking something that made Uc Ayin’s heart pound.

“Are you living in Usihwitz still? Politics have been of little interest to me, I have not kept abreast of events between our cities.”

“Yes, now my son Yax Chapat is co-regent of Usihwitz, married to the ruler’s daughter, his only heir. Of you I do know some things, although my sources in your city are not as good as they once were. That your interests lie in arts, and not politics, a mirror of your ruler Aj Ne Ohl Mat, of that I am aware. But now I must draw you into politics, because things of immense import are about to happen. There is a role for you in this, a role that will bring you great rewards.”