Jungle Crossing (12 page)

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T
HE
D
AY
4 A
HAU

Sun, Lord

Many cycles of the Great Star passed, and Muluc grew used to her work with the potter's family. She helped Balam in the
milpa
by weeding the field while he planted seed corn in the ground using a pointed digging stick. The thin soil barely covered the rocky earth, so they could not plant in neat rows—only where there was enough soil to cover a seed. Around the corn, they planted squash and beans, then prayed for rain.

They watered their plants with their nighttime waste and sometimes hiked deep down into the earth near the sacred river—where Macaw gathered clay—to bring pots of water to the corn. Muluc hated going down to the deep cenote, so close to the Otherworld Xibalba. In the evenings they burned incense at the family altar and offered small portions of their meager meals to the rain gods. The corn would feed no one if the gods did not give rain.

Muluc also helped Macaw make pots, incense burners, bowls, and sometimes little figures of the rain god Chac. Rain had not fallen for many cycles, and the Lords of Chichén called on the craftsmen to make figures for a ceremony in the plaza on the day 4 Ben.

They worked until the sun left no trace of light in the sky, and because Macaw did not have oil, they sometimes worked in the yard near a small fire so they could have some light. Many nights they fell into exhausted sleep on their mats, but with only ten days until the ceremony, they worked hard to craft a crowd of Chac statues.

One night Muluc formed the long, curling snout of the reptilian Chac figure.

"You do that so naturally," Balam said. "Are you sure you're not the monkey craftsman from Xibalba?"

Muluc enjoyed using her hands to create images of the gods. Now she understood why Parrot Nose always lingered around her father: to make those beautiful books full of stories and color would feel like walking with the gods.

"We could paint them," she said, thinking of all the pots of dye and paint in her father's studio.

"Nothing to trade for dye," Macaw said.

Muluc looked down at her Chac and pinched two little fangs so they curved into his mouth. Using the quill of a feather, she carved his eyes into the soft clay before adding clay to form his body and sturdy little legs. Last, she carved clothes onto his body with the quill and added a small ear of corn to his leg above the glyph for Chen, the date of the Lords' big rain ceremony.

Balam pointed to the glyph. "What is that?"

"The date sign for the ceremony," she said.

"How do you know?" he asked.

"What are you doing?" Macaw asked.

"I added it for luck," Muluc said. "Maybe we could sell some at the market."

Macaw walked over to the other side of the fire, where Muluc and Balam sat. She peered at Muluc's figure.

"How did you learn to read?" she asked.

"I'm only copying something I saw somewhere once," Muluc said quickly. "I thought it looked pretty with its three little moons inside."

"Let's keep them simple, but I like the idea of selling them at the market." She sat back down next to Balam's little brother, Mol. "With your help, Muluc, we will have more than the Lords' share." She nodded toward the small cornfield. "And if no rain comes, we could use some dry corn to eat." She paused. "I know you must not be used to ramon tortillas."

"Your tortillas are good," Muluc said to be polite.

"You lie," Balam said, nudging Muluc with his elbow. "But we'll have corn soon. The gods will be pleased with our work and the Lords' ceremony."

"You are kind to me, my little raindrop," Macaw said, smiling at Muluc.

Muluc carried the figure to the clay box in the pit where the figures and bowls were fired. She was not used to working hard, but she found satisfaction in making things with her hands and using her body to work for the gods. Alhough she still missed her family, waited for someone to rescue her, and sometimes thought of escaping, she wasn't afraid anymore. And she had not dreamed of owls since that first night. Now she dreamed of making small figures or weeding between tiny emerging corn plants—all repetitive dreams, reliving her repetitive tasks, but happy.

Sometimes she dreamed that she was Macaw's daughter. Once, she even dreamed that she was Balam's wife and the yard sang with the laughter of children.

***

T
HE
D
AY
5 I
MIX

Crocodile

Early the next morning, Muluc slipped out of the hut, quiet as a cat, creeping through the jungle, staying close to the trail leading to the cenote but veering far enough to find wildflowers. She collected pink impatiens in her skirt, always leaving one or two flowers on the plants for the gods. As she walked, she tried to remember how her father's workers made the blue dye for the bark scrolls. A red-breasted quetzal with long green iridescent tail feathers landed on a branch above her and began to sing.

Listening, Muluc closed her eyes. The image of her father working in his studio flashed into her head, and she knew she would be able to make paint.

"Thank you," Muluc whispered to the bird. She gathered more flowers and berries and raced back to the yard.

Singing as if to imitate the bird's song, Muluc burned the flowers in a small clay bowl until they turned a shade of light turquoise, the color of seawater. In other pots she made red and yellow paint.

With wet clay Muluc began to form a figure with her hands, larger than the others she had made—an incense burner that looked like a ball-game warrior. Thick plugs in his lips, huge sun disks dangling from his ears, a cape flowing behind him, a grand shield hanging across his chest, and a heavy leather skirt: the figure emerged from her hands as if the gods spoke through her.

Muluc painted the figure bright colors. On the shield she wrote the name of the maize god; on the skirt she drew the maize god emerging from the Otherworld during the fourth creation. She painted the sun disks yellow mixed with red, adding turquoise snakes. She painted more blue streaks across the warrior's cheeks.

"How—" Balam asked.

Not shifting her focus, Muluc continued to paint as she had seen her father do when he got that look on his face, as if his thoughts were in the Otherworld.

"A bird spoke to me," she finally said.

Muluc worked all day, creating figures and painting them with elaborate designs to honor the rain gods, the maize gods, and the ballplayers. Painting the symbols from the stories her father and mother told about creation made her feel connected to Cobá. Finally, she painted the stories that all could read in the sky.

***

T
HE
D
AY
2 C
HUEN

Monkey—the Great Craftsman,
Patron of the Arts and Knowledge
A good day.

Before sunrise Muluc and Balam gathered the best of the figures to bring to market. They walked all the way to Chichén, carrying the figures in baskets on their backs or hung from their foreheads by tumplines. Mol had gathered leaves in the jungle to cushion the figures on their journey.

"The baskets are so heavy." Muluc's neck strained under the load, and her shoulders ached the longer they walked. Now she knew why so many old slaves walked with bent backs.

"Nothing compared to stone," Balam said.

"I shouldn't complain," Muluc said, not wanting to insult Balam.

"You will get used to it. Look how strong you have become."

Muluc smiled, although she feared that her body would grow misshapen and ugly before she even married. Her cocoa-colored skin had already darkened with too much sun; her slender arms had grown thick as a stonecutter's; her feet had toughened to a texture resembling tree bark; and her hands...

Other families joined them on the road, taking their wares to market. The Lords had proclaimed 2 Chuen as an auspicious market day before the rain ceremony to honor the Chacs, and the Great Plaza flowed with people. As sellers set up their goods on rows of mats, Muluc saw as many different kinds of people as she had seen on the island. Women with feathered gowns clustered around merchants selling turquoise from a land far north, where the red men lived. Other people shopped for exotic food to prepare for the family feasts before the ceremony. Even Macaw told Muluc to trade for some corn, cocoa beans, and pom incense. And maybe some meat.

"Please get something for yourself," Macaw said. "Something to remind you of your home, maybe."

Muluc knew that she had grown distant from Macaw and Balam; sometimes Mol couldn't even make her smile. Painting had reminded her of her father more than ever, and her mother had become a constant companion, whispering encouragement into her dreams. Even Parrot Nose popped into her thoughts, and she had started thinking of him by his real name, Quetzal. She missed home with a longing as fierce as the jaguar's hunger for meat.

A small crowd gathered as Balam spread their thin reed mat on the stones and began to unpack Muluc's figures and incense burners.

A woman with beautiful embroidery on her dress picked up a warrior incense burner. "Fine work," she said to Balam. "Who is your father?"

"He lives with the gods in the Otherworld," he said.

"He taught you well," she said.

"Actually—"

"Actually, Balam does very fine work indeed," Muluc said. "He is too modest."

The woman gave Balam a small obsidian knife for the incense burner and a few smaller pieces.

"You're going to make us rich," he whispered to Muluc.

By midmorning they had sold most of the bigger pieces. Only a few small, unpainted bowls, glazed with plain red clay, remained scattered on the mat.

"I'll trade the rest of these," Balam said. "Why don't you take some of these cocoa beans and find something for yourself?"

"I don't know," Muluc said. How could she buy something trivial when it would cost so much? "I can't think of anything."

"Go look around." Balam touched her arm. "You can at least buy us something special to eat. I've never had so much to trade."

Walking down the long rows between the merchants selling everything from avocados to rare sea creatures used for medicine, Muluc finally stopped and traded for two tamales stuffed with roasted peccary, for herself and Balam. She carried them back to the mat with coconuts to drink.

"Such a fancy lunch," he said. "Fit for a Lord."

Muluc enjoyed the best meal she had eaten in days, although the tamale was a little bland. At Cobá, she would have complained to the cook and demanded another, but now it simply tasted good.

"Go look around some more," Balam said, licking his fingers. "We only have three small bowls left to trade."

Her appetite awakened, Muluc said, "Maybe something sweet?"

"Wonderful," he said.

Muluc wandered farther from the mat. Passing a seller with baskets of feathers, she chose a single red feather for Macaw; at another place she traded some cocoa beans for two small carved wooden warriors for Mol, which she tied into the hem of her skirt; and at the end of the row she spotted a small painted jaguar perfect for Balam. She blushed as she handed the cocoa beans to the vendor.

Holding the small jaguar in her hand, Muluc headed down the next row, toward the sweet smell of honey and fried tortillas. She walked past several women selling flowers, shells, and feathers used in making dye, and paused in front of some purple sea urchins. Fingering the sharp spines, Muluc imagined the color she could create.

"Ahh, is it really you? The girl with the spirit of thunder?"

The blind market woman from her mother's chamber! A shock of lightning flamed through Muluc's limbs.

"I feel your presence," the blind woman said. "The jaguar guards you."

Muluc looked at the jaguar in her hand. Could the woman
see
it? Muluc held the small painted jaguar up, but the woman's cloudy eyes did not blink. She spoke again in a low voice. "Remember your spirit is thunder, but the jaguar guards you."

Muluc wanted to turn and run, but her feet stuck to the stones in the plaza. Words spun loose on her tongue. She needed to ask, but she feared the question would emerge as a wail.

A group of royal women stopped to look at the urchins. Pushing Muluc away, a bejeweled woman asked, "How much?"

"What do you have?" The blind woman negotiated.

Head pounding with memories, Muluc stepped away.

The woman reached her gnarled hand toward Muluc. "Not yet."

"I'm talking to you," the royal woman said. "Ignore the common girl."

"Common?" The blind woman shook her head. "She is a queen."

Muluc felt another shiver in her blood.

The royal woman laughed. "She's so common the gods wouldn't even take her for sacrifice." The woman stared at the stone in Muluc's lip for a moment, shaking her head slightly. "Do not be rude to me, you blind fool, or I'll get a guard."

"No need," the blind woman said. "Please take an urchin, my courtesy."

Eagerly snatching her prize, the woman passed the urchin to her slave. "That's more like it," she said with a huff.

"Dark spirit." The blind woman shook her head. "Chills my bones. But you, you—"

Muluc kneeled down at the edge of the mat, pretending to examine an urchin.

"My mother?" she whispered.

"No fear. The warriors protected the royal compounds. Few were captured."

"Tell her—"

"I'll not return." The woman rubbed her eyes. "I feel it." Again the clouded eyes stared at Muluc. "But you will."

"I can't—I don't know how. Please tell my mother—"

"Listen, and you will know." The blind woman folded her arms and seemed to sleep.

A firm hand clasped Muluc's shoulder. Guards? She stiffened.

Balam looked down at the urchins. "Pretty expensive, don't you think?"

"I was just—"

"I traded the last pieces and came to help you with the sweets," he said. "Something smells good down this way."

The blind woman sat as still as the stone trees carved by the Lords' craftsmen, more a distant memory than a living person. Balam pulled Muluc's arm, taking the small jaguar from her hand.

"For me?" he asked.

"Yes," Muluc said, walking a few steps with Balam while looking back at the blind woman, who now rearranged her urchins on the mat. Had she imagined the whole thing?

"I like it," Balam said, slipping his arm around Muluc's waist.

Muluc enjoyed the warmth and weight of Balam's arm around her. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she inhaled the scent of coconut on his skin. She looked up into his eyes: warm with happiness. Desperately she wanted to feel the same way, but the blind woman's premonition echoed in her mind. How could she return to Cobá when it felt so far away and Balam felt so close? Balam squeezed her gently and rested his head on top of hers for a moment, making Muluc feel like liquid chocolate. Maybe she could send a messenger to her mother. Maybe Balam could come to Cobá. Or she could simply stay in Chichén. With those thoughts, the good feeling evaporated and Muluc pulled away from Balam's embrace.

"Something is wrong," he said. "Did that old woman frighten you?"

"She knows me," she whispered.

"She's just some old witch," Balam said. "I will protect you. I am fierce like the jaguar of my name." He held up the little yellow spotted carving and roared.

Even though her blood still tingled with lightning, Muluc laughed. Maybe if she ignored the bad feelings, they would go away.

She and Balam bought honey tortillas and gobbled them while walking arm in arm through the market, shopping for their feast.