The Mayan Codex (53 page)

There was a hiss from the crowd, as of a vast expulsion of breath.

The Halach Uinic turned his back on his people and made as if he would hide himself amongst the other priests. But the priests pushed forward and gathered themselves around him. No word was said, but the Halach Uinic was left with no option but to return to his place at the head of the assembly. He lowered his head and nodded, as if a burden had been placed on his shoulders, and a tumpline attached to his forehead with which to carry it.

Without pausing for thought, you chose this exact moment to walk to the very forefront of the pyramid. You stood beside the Halach Uinic and you looked out over the crowd.

These Maya were not your people, but you felt a kinship with them. Guarding their book had given you this feeling. As if the book, which you were unable to read, nevertheless held within it the distilled spirit of the people you saw below you.

‘The Halach Uinic says that this book is mine. And that I may do with it as I please. That it is worth great sums of money to the gringos in the north, and that I will be a rich man when I sell it. I understand why he is doing this – why he is offering me this choice. But what the Halach Uinic says about the ownership of the book is not true. This book is not mine to give. For it is already yours.’ You drew yourself up, scared in case you had angered the priests. Scared that you had pushed yourself forward without merit.

The Halach Uinic opened one hand to you in a sign of encouragement. Then he moved the hand out in an arc to encompass the people below him.

You nodded. The Halach Uinic’s intentions were clear. He wished you to address his people.

‘Now I, too, must tell you a story.’ Your ears were hurting with the tension of your position. You had never in your life spoken to so many people at one time. In fact you had never spoken to more than a gathering of four. ‘Many, many years ago, one of your people was escaping from bad happenings here. What happenings, I do not know.’ You hesitated, unsure how to continue.

The Halach Uinic stepped forward to help you. ‘It was during the time of the Caste War between the Maya and the Yucatecos. This war occurred between 1847 and 1901. The Chilan protecting this book was the
ak k’u hun
– the “guardian of the sacred books”. He was caught up in the uprising at Valladolid, followed by the great revolt of the Maya people in the spring of 1848 and its aftermath. He writes all this on the back leaf of the book. Here. You can see.’

The Halach Uinic was excited – you could see the tension in his face. He was clearly moved, also, by the confidence the other priests had placed in him. He had been prepared to sacrifice his own position in order to give you the freedom to act as you saw fit. For this reason
you realized that it was up to you to continue with the story, even though it was a difficult thing to do. Up to you to convince everybody here that the book was, indeed, rightly theirs – rightly what the Halach Uinic claimed it to be.

‘This Chilan was pursued by those who wished to steal the precious book in his charge. He fled as far as Veracruz. His enemies caught up with him there, and wounded him – wounded him so badly that he knew that he would soon die. He found my ancestor working in a clearing. With his last strength, he approached him. The father of my father’s father saw what the Chilan’s enemies had done to him and he felt sorry for this man, and hid him in his hut. He risked his life for this man. He was a good Catholic. He knew the parable of the Good Samaritan. When the Chilan was on the very verge of death, with no hope of survival, he told my ancestor of this book. Of its importance to the Maya. He asked my ancestor if he would swear an oath to guard this book until such time as our great volcano, the Pico de Orizaba, would choose to come alive again. Then he or his successors must then take this book to a special place and give it to those who were there. My ancestor did not wish to do this. He could not read. He did not know what the book might contain. It might have been evil. It might have contained magic. But the Chilan called upon him to honour the wishes of a dying man. This my grandfather had to do, according to the custom of my people. And the Chilan seemed a good man. Upon hearing my father swear the oath, the Chilan pricked himself with a thorn on the tongue, then on his cheek, his lower lip, and his ear. He wrote things in his own blood, both on the blank pages of the book, and on a separate leaf he had about his person. This leaf was a map.’ You held it up. ‘And this map took me to you. So you see, I have no right to the book. It is truly
yours. Now that my task is done, you must let me return home to my mother and to my work. I have been away for far too long.’

‘Well stone me – we’ve got ourselves an honest-to-God ragged trousered philanthropist.’

Abi was tucked into the lee of one of the more extreme of the ruined buildings. It was situated outside the main Ek Balam tourist zone, on a raised tump, thick with ancient scatterings. Athame was standing beside him. The Glock was tucked into the back of Abi’s trousers, disguised by the Guayabera shirt that he had bought for exactly that purpose in Veracruz. Athame was carrying her Walther P4 in the backpack she wore at all times. Given her diminutive size, the backpack made her look like Dopey, from Walt Disney’s
Snow White
.

‘I don’t think you should do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Go against Madame, our mother’s, wishes.’

‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, Athame. And I don’t intend to blunder into that crowd over there, six-shooters blazing. I’ve got a more subtle approach in mind.’

‘She could simply cut us all loose. Without a penny to our names.’

‘So what? We can always steal. We’ve spent the past fifteen years being trained in every damned knavery known to man. And for what? To baby-sit the man who
killed our brother? And the policeman who harried him to death? Calque and Sabir aren’t leaving Mexico alive, I can tell you that much. And if I have to do them myself, I will.’

‘And Lamia?’

‘I know you’ve always had a soft spot for her, Athame, but she’s in with Sabir now. She’s given herself to him. And she’s not the sort of woman who goes off half-cocked, if you’ll forgive my pun. She burned her bridges back at the chateau, and as far as I’m concerned that puts her out of the running for Barbie Doll of the Year Award. If I get my hands on her I’m going to use her to wring whatever I can out of Sabir. And when I’m through with her, she dies. Straight into the cenote with the rest of them. Christ, she’ll have six men all to herself down there.’

‘You’re sick, Abi. You know that?’

‘Are you going to stand in my way when it comes to it?’

Athame shook her head. ‘No. She burned her bridges, as you said. But I won’t let you abuse her. You can use her, fine. Threaten Sabir all you want. But I won’t see her hurt more than necessary. We were sisters once, remember.’

‘Does she remember that, do you think? Does she think as kindly of you as you do of her? I doubt it somehow.’

Up on the pyramid, the Halach Uinic was making way for one of the other priests.

‘Looks like we’re about to get the straight guff from the mestizo’s book. This, I want to hear. Think what that damned thing’s worth, Athame. One of only four remaining Maya codices. And with an attribution, to boot.’

‘What do you mean, an attribution?’

‘The mestizo’s got a mother, hasn’t he? And she knows all about the book his family have been guarding for hundreds of years. We get hold of the thing and we can work on him through her.
Cherchez
la femme
. Isn’t that what the English tell us we French say all the time? They’re right, of course. Achilles’s problem wasn’t with his heel. It was with Briseis. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her and lost the plot, he would have survived the Trojan campaign and probably lived to a wise old age. Instead he let that bastard Paris skewer him in the foot. The same thing is going to happen to Sabir. Only his foot will be the last one of his body parts I’ll focus on.’

‘Listen, Abi. The priest is starting to read from the book.’

‘I can’t wait. I love bedtime stories.’

The Chilan bowed first towards his master, the Halach Uinich, and then towards his audience. He raised the codex briefly to his forehead, and then kissed it. Carefully, even tenderly, he opened the manuscript and began to read.

‘I, Akbal Coatl – which the Spaniards would translate as “night serpent” – Chilan and
ak k’u hun
– which is priest and chief guardian of the sacred books – write this on the evening of the twelfth day of July in the year of our Lord 1562, which is the worst day the world has ever known. I write this to bear witness against Friar Diego de Landa, because such must be done. I write this in the last remaining of the Maya holy books, using the backs of the holy leaves, and for this blasphemy may Kukulcan, who is the true God, forgive me.

‘For three months now Friar de Landa has travelled throughout our country, a few days behind his soldiers, enforcing the orders of the Franciscan monks. As Provincial of the Franciscan order in the Yucatan, Friar de Landa has the full backing of the Judge of the High Court of Guatemala and the Confines, Tomás Lopéz. It must be added here that Judge Lopéz is also a friar of the Franciscan order, and that Judge Lopéz has directed, in this capacity, that any and all Maya towns still remaining outside the Franciscan remit be turned over instantly into Franciscan hands.

‘In addition, Judge Lopéz has given Friar de Landa full Imperial authority, using the Papal Bull
exponi nobis
as his justification, in respect of what is called “the regimentation of daily and social life”. Judge Lopéz also stipulates that any violations of the Friar’s rights in this matter, and all infringements by the native Indians in misguided support of their previous rights, “be punished as by the Inquisition”. Here is the full text of the Ordinances of the Royal Audience of the Confines, promulgated by Judge Lopéz in 1552:

“Coming from the Royal Audiencia in Guatemala, at the request of the Friars in Yucatan, and decreed for the conduct and treatment of the Indians.

In exercise of the power of our Emperor, vested in me, I command you, the caciques, chief men and people, as follows:

No cacique shall be absent from his town, save for the temporal or spiritual good, or as called by the padres, for over 50 days, on pain of loss of office.

The Indians must not live off in the forests, but come into the towns together, in good strong houses, under pain of whipping or prison.

To avoid difficulties in doctrination, no Indian shall change from one town to another without permission of the local Spanish authorities.

Since many of the chiefs and older men, in the respect they hold by their ancient descent, call the people into secret meetings to teach their old rites and draw them from the Christian doctrine, in their weakness of understanding, all such actions and meetings are prohibited.

The caciques shall not hold gatherings, nor go about at night, after the bells are sounded for the souls in purgatory.

Every cacique or chief of a town shall carry in mind the list of all the people. Every man of the common people absenting himself from his town for over 30 or 40 days, save in public service or with the padres, even with permission from his cacique, shall be punished by 100 blows and 100 days in prison.

Every town, within two years, must have a good church, and one only, to which all may come. Nor may any cacique build any other church than the one, under pain of 100 blows.