The Ugly One (8 page)

“Life in the convent was very, very good. The Maidens ate the finest of delicacies the land could provide, served upon plates of ornately carved gold. They slept on raised beds filled with the soft wool of baby alpacas. Their clothes were woven of richly dyed cloths and adorned with beautiful feathers and shells. Four mighty fountains flowed forth from the four corners of the empire, so that each Maiden might bathe herself in waters from her home province. It is said that such waters helped to maintain the beauty and softness of the skin.” Here Uncle Turu fluttered his eyes and delicately rubbed his cheek with his fingers, and the people laughed to see such a strong-faced man pretending to be beautiful.

“Of course the Sun Maidens' hearts had to be pure. They couldn't attend to their duties properly if they didn't devote themselves entirely to the emperor and to Inti. So they were carefully guarded. Maidens were allowed to leave the convent only in pairs, and they were questioned and inspected upon their return for hidden mementos or charms, a sure sign that a Maiden had allowed herself to fall in love with a man. Such a Maiden would be buried alive for turning her heart elsewhere.

“Several years passed, and Chuguillanto became known as the most beautiful young woman in all the empire. One day she and another Sun Maiden wandered far from the convent and came across a handsome young herdsman napping under a tree, his llamas grazing on the
ichu
grass. As the Maidens approached, the scent of their perfume awoke the youth. When he saw them, he scrambled to his feet and bowed low, for he was certain he was gazing upon goddesses.

“Chuguillanto's companion laughed and assured the herdsman that they were mortal. Chuguillanto, however, was quiet, for already the llama herder had captivated her. The other Sun Maiden asked the herdsman's name, and he told her he was called Acoynapa, but it was to Chuguillanto that he truly spoke, for he was as captivated by her as she was by him.

“The three passed the afternoon together, enjoying one another's company. Acoynapa wore an unusual silver
campu
, a pendant, on a thin silver chain about his forehead. Chuguillanto asked to see it, and when Acoynapa leaned closer toward her so she could do so, they both were overcome by the closeness and pulled away quickly.

“Acoynapa offered the pendant to Chuguillanto as a gift, but she refused, for she knew if the guards discovered it, she would be slain. Acoynapa would be in danger as well. If he was found guilty of capturing a Sun Maiden's heart, he would be hung from his feet until the blood rushing to his head made it burst from the pressure.” Here Uncle Turu placed his hands on the sides of his head and pulled the hair away from his face, grimacing horribly. He paused to let the image sink in, then went on with the story.

“Back in the Acllahuasi that night, Chuguillanto tossed about, unable to sleep, for she was in love with the llama herder. Although she was a wise and sensible girl, she resolved to find his home and see him again. Acoynapa also didn't sleep that night, for he, too, had fallen in love and knew the terrible consequences if he should be found out.

“The week that followed was full of suffering for the pair. Chuguillanto wandered the hills with her companion, going from home to home looking for Acoynapa. Acoynapa lay in his
wasi
, unable to sleep or eat. Finally, his mother came to visit him. When she saw the state her son was in, she knew he would die from his lovesickness if she didn't help. Fortunately, she was a woman of much magic. She shrank her eager son and placed him inside a finely carved wooden staff.

“The day arrived when Chuguillanto and her companion knocked on the door of Acoynapa's home. The mother answered and told the Maidens that Acoynapa had died. She handed Chuguillanto the wooden staff, saying it had been his favorite and she should take it as a way to remember him. Chuguillanto thanked the mother and, clutching the staff to her chest, walked back to the convent with her companion. The guards allowed the staff inside, for it wasn't concealed and was the property of a dead man who could be no threat.

“That night, Chuguillanto placed the wooden staff in her room and began sobbing. As the tears flowed down her cheeks and landed on the staff, it began to tremble and transform right before her eyes. Suddenly, kneeling before her was her beloved herdsman! The two embraced with much joy, and Acoynapa explained about the magic powers of the staff.

“It was in this way that the two lived together in the most heavily guarded convent in the empire without being discovered. By day, Acoynapa hid himself in the staff, and Chuguillanto would walk about holding the stick close to her. At night, once they were safe within the walls of her room, he would transform into his human self.

“But, as is always the way, these good times did not last. Famine and plague struck the empire. The dead outnumbered the living, and there weren't enough hands to bury the bodies piling up in the roads.”

Uncle Turu clutched his belly in hunger. He mopped his brow in fever and held his head in agony.

“The Sapa Inca consulted his wise men and was told it was time for a human sacrifice. This was to be Chuguillanto's moment. Her death would be painless. Filled with the magic of the
koka
leaves and aca, she wouldn't feel the fingers wrapped around her throat to stop her breath forever. She would be a messenger to Inti and dwell with him forever as a representative of her people. There was no greater glory.

“But Chuguillanto knew she was an impure sacrifice, for her heart belonged to Acoynapa. The entire empire would suffer if she was offered to the Sun God, and the Sapa Inca would be cursed. Ignorance was no excuse. She couldn't allow herself to be sacrificed, but to confess would lead to her death and that of her beloved. What could she do? She and Acoynapa devised a hasty plan. In the middle of the night, they fled to the east, hoping to be taken in by the people of the jungle.

“But their escape was not meant to be. The gods themselves intervened. As the two were about to reach the jungle, they were turned into stone pillars, one on either side of the road. Neither in the empire nor in freedom, neither together nor apart, they stand for eternity for all to see.”

Uncle Turu held up his hands in a question. “Did the gods do this in honor of the great love shared by Chuguillanto and Acoynapa, or as a punishment because they broke the laws of the empire? No one is certain. So it was and ever shall be.”

The people repeated, “So it was and ever shall be.”

“They were turned to stone in glory!” someone yelled.

“No! The gods did it because they were insulted!” another responded. Immediately, the debating began, but it was all in good nature. Chasca and I smiled at each other. We had our own disagreement about Chuguillanto.

“She was a fool,” I whispered. Chuguillanto could have been sacrificed to Inti, could have spent eternity in his constant presence. She gave this up for a mere llama herder. Chasca knew my arguments. I did not need to repeat them.

My sister answered, “She was courageous in life and lucky to be in love.” Here was one of our greatest differences. Chasca preferred a man. I would choose no less than the Sun God himself if I could. I traced my jagged scar lightly with the back of my fingers. The faraway jungle was closer to me than Chuguillanto's unblemished beauty.

Chasca seemed to know my thoughts. “Come,” she said. “Let's dance the
aymaran
.” My sister especially enjoyed this ancient dance because of its fast spinning. Several other women were already rising to the beginning sounds of the drums. This was part of the celebration, that the women would dance without the men.

Although it is true that I was changing, I couldn't bring myself to dance with anything more than small, careful steps. Sumac clutched my shoulder, his claws digging in tightly so he wouldn't fall off. To move too quickly might expose my scarred cheek to the people, and I wasn't prepared to do that. But Chasca quickly abandoned herself to the now rapidly beating drums. Her feet flew in a quickening circle, her hair flowing in an arc behind her as she leaned her head back and reached to Mama Killa with open arms. I stopped dancing and watched, as many others did. My sister was beautiful and free and open. Mama Killa and her children, the stars, shone down on Chasca in gladness, kissing her pure, smooth skin as she laughed and twirled under their magical glow.

I left the dancers quickly, although I hesitated at the edge of the fire circle to watch. The drums beat more loudly, with a pulsing intensity. Their insistent voices converged into the one pounding sound of
dance dance dance
. But I was the Ugly One, and the
aymaran
was not meant for me. Patting Sumac on the head, I turned and made my way back to the
wasi
alone.

***

That night in my dreams, I again visited the heart of my
huaca
, my spirit rock. I stood inside the cave. The air was filled with the whispers and echoes of ancient spirits, and on the rock wall I could see a faint carving of my brother Hatun's face. It was frozen in a moment of horror and fear.

Two jaguar cubs snarled at each other in play as they frolicked on the dirt floor. I thought to join them and dropped to my hands and knees. Such fun they were having! I inched my way forward, hoping they wouldn't stop their play before I could pounce on them in surprise.

A large padded foot suddenly blocked my path. It was the mother jaguar. She studied me with yellow eyes and an open mouth. I wasn't frightened of her sharp teeth, for I knew she wouldn't hurt me. Her breath was hot and animal on my face, and a delicate rainbow snaked its way slowly from deep within her throat and out past her lips. I inhaled it into my own being and held it deep within my chest, where it tingled warm and magical. I didn't want to release it, but my chest was burning for fresh air. I opened my mouth with a roar. The rainbow rushed toward the cubs in a swirl and wrapped them in its misty colors. They froze, one of them in midpounce, then dried up and quickly disappeared into the ground.

“Look,” Mother Jaguar said.

Crawling closer, I studied the spot where the cubs had been. Something creamy and delicate burst forth from the dark earth and began to grow. It was a tiny, perfect toadstool.

“Soon,” Mother Jaguar said. With great tenderness, she scooped up the fragile toadstool in her mouth and was gone in one mighty leap.

I awoke. The
wasi
was very dark, and I pulled my blanket tightly around my shoulders to keep out the cold air. I knew the dream was an important message, but now that I was awake, I could remember none of it. It was a gift, to have the spirits speak with me in such a manner. They honored me with their presence. To forget their message was a failure that further convinced me I was not the right and true apprentice to the shaman. I had listened, but still the voice of Beyond was silent to my straining ears. I had watched, but my eyes were blind to its sacred vision. My timid feet couldn't even dance the
aymaran
.

Lying there that night, I made a decision to follow what my heart told me was the sad but steady path. I would end my studies with the Paqo. I would tell him in the morning.

11

E
ARLY
the next day, I went to my
huaca
. This was my favorite place to greet Inti each morning. As I sat there, the night's cold seeping from the rock's strong body through my thick woolen cloak, I had a vague sense that somehow the
huaca
had been a part of the dream that danced in the dark just out of memory's reach. I tried to call it forth, concentrating on the sacred stone and what it might have to say, but there was nothing. No
huaca
voice. No language from Beyond. I would visit the Paqo after the greeting to tell him of my decision.

Sumac perched erect on my shoulder as if he were standing guard, awaiting the rising of the Sun God. The remaining clouds in the sky were thin and deep red. Inti would soon show himself. I rose and held my arms to the sky. “Oh, Inti,” I chanted.

“Inti, Inti, Inti,” Sumac mimicked in his bird voice. He had begun copying many sounds lately, and “Inti” was the first word he had learned.

I kept my focus on the Sun God. “Great Father of the Inca. Shine glory on us in safety. Shine glory on us in peace. Shine glory on us in wisdom. Keep our minds clear in light. Keep our hearts young in warmth. Keep our feet straight on the light path, for we are your children. Inti, Inti, Great Father of the Inca.”

Here I added my own personal prayer to the sun. It was perhaps selfish of me to do so, but every morning I implored, “And please, Mighty Inti, remove my scar.” I knew he could do it if he so chose. But how was an ugly, scarred girl to convince the Sun God she was worthy of such attention? I kissed my fingers and bowed to the sky, the mountains silent witnesses to my worship.

The cool wind blew my hair this way and that as Inti first appeared on the horizon. I smiled at him, gladness radiating from my heart. I should have been praying for rains, yes, but the warmth of Inti's rays on my face brought me much joy. How could I ignore such happiness? It was a true mystery to me, how the Sun Maiden Chuguillanto could choose a short life with a llama herder rather than eternity with Inti. Watching his fiery body rise between the distant mountains, I could feel him in my own beating heart, spreading love throughout my chest and warming my entire being. He was our father, the most powerful of the gods. And he shone on me as if I were just as worthy as the beautiful Chuguillanto.

The greeting done, I sat to enjoy a light breakfast alone with Sumac. The moment I removed the pouch of cold cooked corn, he jumped to the ground and squawked in delight. The Handsome One favored the golden corn above all else, a sure sign he was a true bird of Inti and not of the faraway jungles. He took a kernel in his beak and ate it hungrily, flipping the soft discarded casing onto the dirt.