The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque (23 page)

The sound of footsteps approaching the courtyard interrupted Yohl Ik’nal’s musings. She smiled as her husband Hun Pakal entered with two companions, trusted advisors from the royal court. She was expecting them, anticipating their report of a recent surveillance trip around the B’aakal polity. Gesturing that the men be seated on nearby mats, she called for Sak K’uk’s nursemaid.

The girl tumbled into her mother’s lap as the nursemaid approached. The determination of the little body to stay put was communicated immediately to Yohl Ik’nal. She sighed and waved the nursemaid to remain nearby, but did not try to dislodge the girl. It would only be asking for a scene, one she did not want exposed before the men. Stroking the girl’s hair, she whispered:

“You may stay if you remain quiet. I must speak of important things with your father and our friends. Will you be good?”

“Yes, mother,” Sak K’uk whispered back with a colluding smile.

“It is good to have you back, and to be with you all again,” Yohl Ik’nal said warmly to the men. She reached to touch Hun Pakal’s hand and their eyes met in fond acknowledgement. His fingers entwined briefly with hers, then he became businesslike.

“This we have seen, the general mood of the cities of B’aakal, is one of calmness and content,” reported Tilkach. The middle-aged noble was among her most trusted court advisors, a man whose large hatchet nose and severe mouth belied his good-humored character.

“It is thus, the year’s crops have been bountiful, festivals were provided for the people by their Sahals and Ah Kuch Kabs, and calendar ceremonies performed as ordained by village Ah Kinob,” added Itzam Ik, a young pleasant-featured man whose acumen in building trust among village leaders made him an indispensable asset. He was included in the inner circle of court advisors.

“When people’s bellies are full, their work close to home, and their homage to the Triad deities enacted correctly by those entrusted to assure continued good fortune, then comes a time of satisfaction. The people and the city ahauob are less inclined to follow those who agitate for something different,” commented Hun Pakal.

Yohl Ik’nal nodded in acknowledgement, then queried:

“In regard to the city of Usihwitz and of Ek Chuuah, what have you found?”

Fourteen solar years had passed since the flower war in which Ek Chuuah had been injured and required to give service to his victor’s city, Usihwitz. Although he could have returned to Lakam Ha after his hair re-grew, the embittered warrior had stayed. There was little doubt that he held deep grudges against the family of Kan Bahlam, and would seek to avenge this dishonor in some way.

“Ek Chuuah has insinuated himself into favor with Joy Bahlam, ruler of Usihwitz,” Tilkach responded. “After recovering from his wound, he befriended the young warriors and taught them new strategies, for he is a clever combatant. He believes his wounding in the flower war was deliberate, and thus his anger simmers. Gaining respect as a tireless worker and fearless warrior, after a few years he was so favored by the ruler that his marriage to a royal daughter was approved. Now he has a son and his position among the leadership in the Popol Nah is assured.”

“Joy Bahlam was my father’s good friend,” mused Yohl Ik’nal. “Strange are the ways of rulers to become fickle. Surely he must not trust Ek Chuuah, knowing the basis for his service and understanding the dark motives propelling this warrior. To give him such favor seems ill-advised.”

“Holy Lady, the esteemed ruler Joy Bahlam is an old man. His hand upon the city is no longer strong. To protect his heir, to keep the rulership in his succession, he needs every alliance among the ahauob he can cultivate. There continues an undercurrent of dissidence among younger ahauob, slyly fed by the devious plans of Ek Chuuah. Although none said it openly, I suspect continued contact with Kan,” observed Itzam Ik.

“We will not see Ek Chuuah back here in peace,” observed Hun Pakal darkly.

“Were observed by you any hints, any signs of plotting against Lakam Ha?” asked Yohl Ik’nal.

“Much did I speak with merchants, warriors, courtiers and carvers but gained no specific information about such plotting,” added Itzam Ik. “There was a trading group in the past two years from Kan, but none knew of a continuing relationship or of excursions from Usihwitz to the Ka’an polity. It seems that the Great Snake of Ka’an is busily occupied with its campaigns to the south. When Uneh Chan became Kan ruler, that was seven years ago, he directed incursions beyond Mutul—much is our sadness that the polity of the Jaguar lineage is so humbled and dispossessed. These incursions were carried to Uxwitza, where Uneh Chan assumed a supervising position in ceremonies done by Yujaw Te’Kinich, ruler of Uxwitza. It is spoken of much in Usihwitz, this bragging by the Kan dynasty of its exploits in the south.”

“Spoken of with admiration, especially among the circle headed by Ek Chuuah,” observed Tilkach.

“But nothing is said of more solid actions,” Hun Pakal added.

“Then will we wait and watch events at Usihwitz,” said Yohl Ik’nal. “Now I would know of our other cities, of Popo’ and Yokib, of Sak Tz’i and the smaller villages around them.”

The men described at length details of their observations in these cities of B’aakal. In Popo’ the rulership had passed seven years ago from Zotz Choj to his son Chak B’olon Chaak. This transition went smoothly and the young ruler appeared well favored by his people. Shortly after his accession, an upsurge in artistic expression and new water works occurred. In Yokib, the venerable ruler Cauac Ahk continued his long, stable reign with widespread support. He had weathered foreign influences early in his tenure, absorbing into local expression both the agents and cultural icons of the distant superpower Teotihuacan whose influence was felt throughout the Maya lands. Succession was in place with his heir formally acknowledged. Even in the small city of Sak Tz’i, the tenor of contentment and abundance pervaded.

Yohl Ik’nal stroked Sak K’uk’s hair as she listened intently, noting nuances in the scouts’ voices that might indicate something needing further attention. The girl nestled comfortably and kept silent, her intelligent eyes appearing to shine with understanding as she nodded now and then. Hun Pakal smiled inwardly at his precocious daughter, and wondered what her little mind comprehended. Perhaps he would find it surprising.

Attendants brought refreshing fruit juices while the ruler and her closest advisors discussed the types and amounts of tribute expected in this period of prolific crops. After both the first and second harvests, ahauob and prosperous villagers would bring offerings to the Lakam Ha court consisting of fruits, vegetables and nuts, pottery and fabrics, jewelry and body adornments. Farmers brought a portion of their dried maize. It was this tribute that sustained the royal court and nourished the workers who carried out the building projects that communicated in grand scale the greatness of the ruling dynasty and its May Ku city.

As the courtiers rose to take their leave, Sak K’uk catapulted herself into her surprised father’s arms. The strategy session came to an inglorious end as father and daughter tumbled on the ground, laughing hysterically.

Later that day, as the sun dropped toward the horizon and ignited the underbellies of streaky clouds with golden shafts, Yohl Ik’nal and Hun Pakal strolled the western plaza edge overlooking the vast plains below. From this huge, nearly empty plaza close to the royal residence complex, the mountainside dropped precipitously into craggy foothills where stunted trees struggled for a foothold. The Bisik River plunged rapidly down, breaking into cascades far below. The river and steep hillsides kept this far western part of Lakam Ha isolated from numerous complexes nearby, perched on terraces between three rivers: the Bisik, Tun Pitz and Ixha.

Sunrays deepened and trees cast long shadows across smooth plaster plazas. The temple situated halfway between the Bisik and Tun Pitz rivers blazed into color. Later called Templo Olvidado by archeologists, it rose above a base of four platforms spanned by a wide staircase. The north-facing front had three doors of equal size, with square stone roof and tall roofcomb. The red-orange paint gleamed in the setting sunlight.

Turning her back to the plains, Yohl Ik’nal gazed at the glowing temple. It was recently built as her father Kan Bahlam’s funerary monument. To her eyes, it was not finished.

“It is time to build,” she murmured without shifting her gaze.

Hun Pakal turned to face the temple.

“What is it that you think to build?”

“My father’s temple requires adornment and monuments. There must be frescoes on the roof and carved panels beside the doors. The roofcomb must bear figures, shapes to remind all who look that Kan Bahlam was the bodily form of the Triad Deities, and is now an ancestor who brings wisdom and guidance to his people.”

Hun Pakal nodded. The art of carving stone into fine shapes and glyphs was advancing under the ruler’s patronage of outstanding carvers, not the least being young Uxul whom she had brought from his village. The large terrace upon which the temple sat seemed to call for other structures to complement and extend its grandeur. His eyes swept farther east and north across the long ridge upon which Lakam Ha was based. Beyond the Ixha river there was little construction. Ridge upon sub-ridge undulated in an ocean of green.

“Much land remains upon which Lakam Ha can expand,” he observed.

“So it is, the city will expand to cover the entire range of ridges.” In the waning light a vision swept before her gaze; a magnificent city in red-orange and white with countless temples on mountain summits, a unique palace on an immense plaza, ceremonial and residential complexes draping the hilly terrain and cascading down the far eastern slope.

Glancing at her transfixed expression, Hun Pakal almost imagined what she saw.

“May the gods will it,” he said.

“They do.”

4

The royal court of B’aakal gathered in an administrative complex across the Bisik River from the royal residences. A raised pathway spanned the narrow part of the river not far from where it emerged from the mountain as a burbling spring. Water management with aqueducts, squared bridges, walled pools, drains and conduits traveling under buildings were important features of Lakam Ha. These water features channeled the rivers through residential complexes for easy water access. A technique of gradually narrowing the stone conduits created water pressure. In some places the conduits had vertical channels forcing water to surge upward as fountains, or flow into vats serving as water reservoirs for elite homes. Household water structures also provided for waste removal, the equivalent of small stone toilets.

The royal court building, the K’uhul Ahau Nah – House of the Holy Lord, was a long low structure with five doors. The central door was largest, giving visual access from the plaza into the throne room. Interior doors on either side of the throne room opened to smaller antechambers with exterior doors. The final two exterior doors opened into lateral waiting rooms with no interior doors. Here stone benches lined the walls where visitors waited to progress to the antechambers.

No furniture occupied the antechambers; visitors would stand, squat or sit on floor mats waiting to approach the ruler. The throne was a wide platform elevated to waist level; the double-headed jaguar throne with pedestal legs ending in paws and a Witz monster mask on the front panel. Luxurious woven blankets and a jaguar pelt covered reed mats. Glyphs painted on the wall behind the throne declared the pre-eminence of the B’aakal Triad Deities. A pedestal beside the throne held an open-brimmed wicker basket with chevron and beehive designs; it served to receive offerings. At the opposite edge of the throne was the scribe’s square table made of firm, tightly woven wicker. When the scribe sat with crossed legs, the table was at knee level for ease of writing.

The Court throne room was quite different than the Popol Nah, where the ruler sat in council with ahauob and city leaders. The Popol Nah throne was smaller and less ornate, flanked by wall benches slightly below throne level. The K’uhul Ahau Nah throne was not only more impressive but it stood alone in the room. As visitors approached the ruler seated on this throne, they sat or knelt on floor mats, scooting forward to take their turn making offerings and speaking with the ruler. The architecture and spatial arrangement of the rooms powerfully conveyed the ruler-subject, higher-lower dynamics. Visitors became supplicants, acknowledging the divine elevation of the ruler and their dependent status upon his or her intercession with deities and natural forces.

The K’uhul Ahau Nah was the place of formalities, of courtly discourse. The refined art of the courtier in bodily attire and habitus, in ritualized behaviors and conventions of speech, and in the all-important procedures of giving tribute created an ambiance in the court that was particular to Maya high culture.

The main plaza of Lakam Ha buzzed with activity on mornings when the royal court was in session. Ahauob, city leaders and prominent commoners such as merchants and traders congregated in the plaza. As they waited, the hum of conversation mingled with flutes, drums and rattles of musicians. Servants stood beside their masters, holding baskets full of tribute. Many noble women were present, attired in richly woven huipils and fantastic feather headdresses.

On this clear, sunny morning an air of excitement mingled with steam evaporating as the stoned warmed. The sahals of Popo’, Yokib, Usihwitz and Sak Tz’i were present, bringing their first harvest tribute, along with the Ah Kuch Kabs of numerous smaller villages. The taking of tribute was a public ceremony, and commoners of Lakam Ha crowded around the plaza edges, waiting an opportunity to glimpse their K’uhul Ahau seated on the throne. They gloried in this social affirmation.

The stately cadence of royal drummers announced the ruler’s procession. Silence fell upon the crowd as standard-bearers entered the plaza, followed by the royal guard in full warrior regalia. Scribes and artists were next, then the priests and priestesses. A long sigh escaped hundreds of lips as the ruler appeared, regal in her magnificent costume. Her impossibly tall headdress of woven bands, feathers and ceramic effigies was removed after she took the throne, replaced by a simpler though still ornate headdress of rulership. Behind her came members of the royal family and household.