Deity (25 page)

“Perhaps
the Twin story was created in Izapa,” Peet offered.

“That’s
quite possible considering, in all likelihood, the Long Count Calendar was
developed here too. We are currently approaching the thirteenth Baktun in the
Long Count Calendar. The earliest stelae found in Izapa date back to the
seventh Baktun.”

John
stepped up to the throne to look down upon its carvings. “However, when I first
discovered the writing on this throne, I thought it might be a stela from the
eighth Baktun instead. In fact, I still can’t help but wonder if this isn’t a
stela that was removed from Izapa’s Group F and taken here to be converted into
this throne. But a couple things don’t seem to adhere to that thinking.”

“Such as?”
Peet asked.

“No
other throne platform in Izapa is carved like a stela and stelae are intended
to stand erect. Also, the stelae in Group F each depict a single scene. But
here…” He swept a hand over the throne’s carved surface. “Here we have two
separate episodes on the same panel—the defeat of Seven Macaw and the rebirth
of One Hunahpu.”

“But
again, it’s a story,” KC argued. “Who really cares in the big scheme of
things.
”

“Actually,”
John said, “The Courageous Twin story ties perfectly into the big scheme.”

KC
looked doubtful.

John
smiled. “There is far more to the Twins than just a story.”

Mythology

John
loved sharing knowledge. If that knowledge had anything to do with Mesoamerican
cultures, he loved it even more. Teaching had once been his passion and
watching the light come on in his students due to something he’d just presented
was the highest joy of the profession. So when the opportunity arose to head
the Effigy exhibit at the Museum of Anthropology in Mexico
City, he jumped at the chance. But entertaining
curious tourists wasn’t nearly as satisfying as delivering academic instruction
and so, for the first time in ten years, he’d begun to seriously consider
reinstating his emeritus professorship to the classroom.
Part
time, of course, and if the university could offer such a position.

He
was still waiting for them to respond to his petition.

In
the meantime, he needed to fulfill his stint in Mexico, including this small
interruption presented by Matt Webb. Ordinarily, John wouldn’t consider such a
last minute request to take on a baseless venture into the field. But Matt had
intrigued his curiosity when he mentioned a revisit to an old site John had
worked on seventeen years ago – John’s most favored site in all of Mexico.

Izapa.

This
was the place where early Mesoamerican theology was compiled, perfected,
manufactured and distributed across some of the most fascinating pre-Columbian
cultures in the New World. This was the
birthplace of Mayan mythology. This was where the brilliance of the Long Count
Calendar was conceived.

“Izapa
is home to the Twin Boys,” he said.

“Don’t
tell me these twins were real people,” KC said.

“Oh,
they are real,” John said. “They just aren’t people. You see, the Twin story is
a brilliant representation of the astronomical observations made during the
seventh Baktun. In fact, using my astronomy software, I believe I’ve pinpointed
the exact date of the Twin Boys’ conception.”

“I
don’t follow,” KC prodded.

John
smiled. He knew he’d captivated his audience and he was anticipating their
hunger to learn more.

“You
see,” he began, “the skywatching priests of Izapa developed a brilliant
mythology around the different bodies moving within the night sky. The First
Father, One Hunahpu, was represented by the December solstice sun, which makes
sense considering the December solstice was considered a time of creation and
renewal. It’s the time when the sun passes through the shortest day of the year
and begins renewing its strength. Basically, the December solstice is the Mayan
equivalent of new year’s day.”

“So
if One Hunahpu is the solstice
sun, who are
the
Twins?”

“Jupiter and Venus.”

Peet
snapped his fingers. “I see. This is similar to the way the feathered serpent,
Quetzalcoatl, was represented by the star group, Pleiades, to the Toltecs and
Aztecs of central Mexico.”

“Exactly,”
John said. “Now, when we read the mythology recorded in the Popol Vuh we learn
that One Hunahpu was defeated by the Lords of the Underworld and his head was
hung in the crook of a tree. When Blood Moon Woman discovered him, his skull
magically impregnates her and thus the Twins were conceived.”

“Now how in the world did the Maya read all
that in the stars?”
KC asked.

“It’s
simple when you know how to decode them. In the Mayan world, the great Milky
Way represented the tree of life, and the dark rift within the Milky Way was
the womb of all creation. When I read about the conception of the Twin Boys, I
see an astronomical conjunction occurring.”

“An astronomical what?”

“Conjunction.
It’s the coming
together of different heavenly bodies. In other words, I believe the Twin
conception story explains the observance of the moon, Jupiter and Venus coming
together in one point in the night sky—the dark rift of the Milky Way. When I
consulted my astronomy software, I discovered that such a conjunction did in
fact occur in the dark rift during the seventh Baktun.”

“What
day was that?” Peet asked.

“On the December solstice, 165 BC.”

Silence
slipped between them as John watched that light come on in the minds of his
audience. He took pride in that.
Another job well done.
Only Matt seemed unaffected, but he knew the story all too well. To him, this
was nothing but a re-run. However, John could see the man had fallen deep
within his own thoughts. He looked confused, as though he’d found a piece to
the wrong puzzle.

“This
complicates my working hypothesis considerably,” he murmured.

* * * *

The
last thing Matt Webb expected was interference from One Hunahpu and the Twin
Boys. Maybe interference wasn’t the right term for it. Whatever the term, he
saw no room for their association with Jesus. Even more irritating was the fact
that their presence on the throne had distracted Dr. John Friedman from their
original task.

“I
don’t see how this throne ties into the pillar,” Matt said aloud.

Father
Ruiz straightened from his post at the stone pillar as everyone’s attention
turned there. It stood slightly taller than the priest and less than ten yards
from the throne, itself cleared of vegetation with only a leafy mat of
undergrowth lying between them. Peculiar lines were chiseled down the pillar’s
cylindrical length and the top was flat with a hole carved three inches deep
into its center. A gear shaped hole.

“So
this is what brought you to Izapa,” Peet said, stepping around the surveying
equipment that hadn’t moved since Matt left John with it nearly a full week
ago.
Further evidence that progress on his project had
ceased.

“We
came all this way for a chunk of rock?” KC asked.

“It’s
not so much the rock itself as it is its location,” John explained, abandoning
the throne alongside Matt. “There are dozens of pillars like this throughout
the Izapa complex. It’s peculiar that this one stands alone.”

“That,
and the fact that it has a hole in the top,” Matt added.

“The
others don’t have holes?” Peet asked.

“If
they do, we don’t know about it,” Matt said. “They have balls sitting on top of
them.”

Leave
it to the woman to ask the uneducated question. “Can’t you just remove the
balls?”

“We’re
talking about bulky pillars with stone balls too big to wrap your arms around. That’s
several tons of rock you’re talking about. Certainly not something you just
pick up and set aside.”

“Unless
it’s a small pillar with a smaller ball,” Peet added, giving the top of the
pillar a tap with this finger.

“That’s
right,” Matt said. He stepped up to the pillar as he fished the Kin artifact
and a length of kite string from his pocket. “And just as I suspected, the Kin
piece we found in Yucatan
fits perfectly.”

He
demonstrated by stretching the string out over the top of the pillar and gently
placed the Kin piece at its center, letting its weight pull the string down as
it slipped into the hole. The piece filled the gap snugly with the two ends of
the string protruding from opposite sides. However, the hole was deeper than
the thickness of the Kin piece, resulting in a slight recess that remained with
the piece completely inside.

Matt
gave Peet a moment to observe the fitting before he pulled on the two ends of
the string and popped the Kin piece back out of the hole. “We discovered that
string makes it a lot easier to retrieve the piece than digging it back out
with a knife blade,” he explained, catching Peet by surprise as he flipped the
Kin piece at him. The anthropologist still managed to catch it with as much
care as he would a falling crystal vase.

“Great,”
KC snorted irritably. “That’s just great. You mean to tell me we came all this
way and lost my plane over two men playing with rocks?”

John’s
face fell with a blank expression. “What is she talking about, Anthony?”

Peet
stepped away from the pillar looking suddenly sheepish. Perhaps he too was
losing the rational for their trip.

He
cleared his throat as he turned to John. “The reason I’m here is, well…you.”

John’s
round face contorted with confusion. “Me?”

“And Martha.
She’s worried about
you.”

“What’s
to worry about? I told her I would be in the field for a while. I fully expect
to be home in time for Christmas.”

“I
don’t think she was worried until the FBI came knocking on her door.”

John’s
eyes widened with surprise.
“The FBI?
What were they
looking for?”

“You.
And the Effigy.”

“What
does the Effigy have to do with anything?”

Peet
mindlessly fidgeted with the Kin piece as took a seat on the throne. Feeling
suddenly troubled, Matt shuffled quietly around them, hands in his pockets,
eyes to the ground but his ears fully tuned in as Peet explained the theft of
the Effigy of Quetzalcoatl and its unlikely recovery from the cathedral chapel.

This
was getting too complicated.

“They
believe the Effigy was taken to deflect attention from another artifact that
was stolen at the same time,” Peet was saying.

“And
what could that possibly be?” John asked.

“A pillar ball.”
Peet retrieved his
cell phone from his vest pocket and powered it up. “You might recognize it,” he
added. “It looks like…” He paused.

As
Matt expected, the phone struggled to find reception. “It looks like this,”
Matt finally interrupted, kneeling over his pack. He buried his hands deep into
the canvas bag and when he lifted them back out, they held between them a round
stone just slightly larger than a bowling ball. Handprints were chiseled on
each side.

It
was none other than the museum’s missing pillar ball.

A
flabbergasted grunt escaped Peet’s throat. “
You
 
stole
the pillar ball?”

Matt
didn’t care for the accusatory tone in Peet’s voice. In fact, he was beginning
to regret the man’s presence all together. The operation had been moving along
smoothly until Matt made the heroic rescue from the Zapatistas. Ever since
then, he’d faced one question after another, having to explain himself each and
every step of the way. Now, the issue with the pillar ball was taking an ugly
turn and it was up to him to clean it up.

Who
would have thought Peet knew anything about the museum breach?

“I
didn’t steal it, exactly,” Matt said. “John sent me to get it.”

“I
sent you to get a research loan from the museum,” John retorted. “What exactly
did you do?”

Matt
rested the pillar ball on the throne where Peet had vacated his seat. “I went
to the museum just like you told me to but the curator wasn’t there,” he
explained. “They said he would be gone until after the
new
year
.”

“You
couldn’t wait two weeks?” Peet asked.

“No,”
Matt said matter-of-factly.

“But
how did you get access without…” John’s face went blank. He stepped over to his
own pack spilling a collection of tools and mapping equipment near the base of
the pillar. He knelt down to rummage through the pack only to stand up again
empty-handed. “You took my museum pass?”