The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) (13 page)

Opening his eyes, Yax Chapat watched with amazement as the skull’s colors began changing, the swirling dark pockets morphing from black to rose to red, then two flashes of brilliant yellow light burst from its eye sockets. The dank air inside the chamber seemed to tremble and the warriors stood frozen in terror.

“Now! Begin the destruction now!” yelled Uneh Chan.

He moved first, striking an effigy with his obsidian sword and sending it crashing to the floor in pieces. Yax Chapat attacked a second effigy, then the men jumped into action, using axes to deface the walls. Four men lifted the slab and began removing offering bundles, as others took the bundles and chopped them with axes and swords. Grinning maliciously, Uneh Chan destroyed the third effigy as Yax Chapat continued to strike blows at the other two.

Upon their ruler’s signal, the warriors set aside their weapons and urinated on the broken Triad Deity figurines and the torn bundles with their crushed offerings. Those who could also defecated, especially around the throne and upon the effigies. The crystal skull’s toothy grin seemed to widen as the desecration of holy objects proceeded. Now it appeared to be surrounded by an angry red aura, pulsating rapidly.

“Set the bundles on fire,” ordered Uneh Chan. “Then we leave the skull to its work.”

Those men with torches quickly lit the cloth bundles, which burst into flame, soon filling the chamber with acrid smoke. Some men retched while others covered their noses as smoke poured forth, reeking with excrement odors. They gladly followed the leaders into the tunnel and away from the smoldering and desecrated chamber.

Sak K’uk was shaking with fear and outrage. From her high view, she watched as Lakam Ha warriors gradually grouped and made their way to the Ix Chel temple plaza. To her dismay, another contingent of Kan warriors burst into the wide plazas surrounding the palace complex, diverting much of the Lakam Ha counter attack. Clearly her city’s forces were badly outnumbered. Plumes of dark smoke billowed as the attackers set fire to wooden huts and lintels of stone structures.

Pakal stood beside her, transfixed with disbelief and shock. She turned to put her arms around him, but stopped as his expression changed. His eyes became fixed upon something in the far distance, pupils wide and unblinking. Pure terror as she had never seen blanched his face, and his mouth opened wide in a soundless scream. He raised both hands as if fending off a monstrous attacker.

“Pakal! Pakal! What is it?” she shouted, grabbing his wrists and holding them tightly.

His mouth worked soundlessly, his tongue trying to form words. The ghastly stare continued, now showing the whites all around his irises. He gasped and forced out choking words.

“Noooo! Noooo! The Wakah Chan… the Jeweled Tree is falling down! It is falling into the maw of the Underworld Monster! It is being swallowed, oh nooo! Mother, Mother can you stop it? Stop it from falling. Oh, this is terrible, oh Mother, see the portal is closing! We are lost! All is lost! We have lost our portal to the Triad!”

Tears streamed from Pakal’s eyes as he crumpled onto the plaza floor. Sak K’uk knelt beside his sprawled figure, afraid that he had died of shock. She scooped him into her arms and shook him, placed her ear on his chest and breathed again as she heard his rapid heartbeat. His head lolled for a moment, then his entire body stiffened and he thrashed out of her grasp. Rolling over, he sprang to his feet and looked around wildly.

“I must try to help!” he cried. “I must stop it from disappearing!”

Pakal bounded across the plaza and descended the steep stairs in leaps, taking several steps at a time.

“Pakal, come back!” Sak K’uk cried. “Don’t go to the plaza! There is nothing you can do. It’s too dangerous. Come back!”

He turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Sak K’uk ran toward the stairs, glancing back as Pasah Chan called to her. “Don’t leave, Sak K’uk! This is the safest place, stay here!”

“I must protect my son,” she called over her shoulder as she descended the stairs. She ran panting toward the Ix Chel Temple plaza, bumping into terrified women and wailing children who scurried around aimlessly. The sound of stone blades clashing, axes thumping and men groaning and cursing assaulted her from the plaza. Dodging struggling warriors and screaming priestesses, she swept the plaza searching for Pakal. At the temple entry, she saw her son in the grasp of a muscled warrior and threw herself upon the man, pounding his chest with her fists and kicking his shins.

The warrior grunted and used one arm to push Sak K’uk aside, and another warrior wrenched her arms behind her, bringing her down with his weight. Stunned by her fall onto the stones, her vision blurred and she could hardly breathe. The warrior’s hot breath on her neck felt repulsive and she squirmed uselessly. It was some relief when he tied her arms behind her back with rope and moved away. She saw that Pakal was similarly bound, along with the High Priestess. Many other priestesses huddled just inside the temple, guarded by two warriors. As the battle slowly ended in the plaza, Sak K’uk was overwhelmed by the number of Lakam Ha warriors lying dead or dying in the bright noonday sun.

The march of prisoners from the Ix Chel plaza to the central plaza of the palace was painstakingly slow, for many were wounded. The hot spring sun beat down mercilessly. Cries and wails filled the air along with smoke and the sickening sweet smell of drying blood. Victorious forces from Kan and Usihwitz spread unimpeded through the city, smashing ceramic idols, setting fires, axing delicate panels and colonnades, taking food and drink from emptied households, scooping up booty. Some warrior groups were assigned to collect younger women and strong children to bring back to their home cities as slaves. These were bound by their wrists with a long rope creating a cadre and guided to waiting canoes. Many women would become concubines of warriors, but Maya attitudes toward sex prohibited rape during an attack.

The main plaza of the palace complex was filled with Kan and Usihwitz warriors. Many bound captives crouched in the center. The captive group from the Ix Chel plaza was pushed along to join them. Sak K’uk and Pakal stood toward one edge, and noted that their ruler Aj Ne Ohl Mat, Hun Pakal, Kan Mo’ Hix and most Lakam Ha leaders were already there, and some were wounded. Many warriors were missing, however, including the Nakom Chakab.

Numerous townspeople were herded to the plaza borders by Kan warriors. Many others had fled into surrounding forests to hide out until the invaders left. The victory protocol required an audience of subdued people. They stood silently, disheartened and filled with remorse, fear and sorrow.

Drums and conches sounded the victory march for the invaders. A group of finely dressed warriors entered the plaza, carrying the standards of Ka’an polity and the Kan dynasty high in front. The Usihwitz and Wa-Mut standards followed close behind. Cheers arose from the other warriors in the plaza. The procession crossed the plaza, stopping at the stairs leading to the Lakam Ha royal throne. Uneh Chan proudly ascended the stairs and seated himself on the throne, to another round of cheers. Ek Chuuah, Yax Chapat, Wamaw Took the Kan Nakom, and the Wa-Mut ruler and war chief followed and stationed themselves on either side of the throne. The standards, embroidered cloth with emblems of each city attached to two long poles, were brought atop the stairs for all to observe. Lakam Ha’s standard had already been burned.

Uneh Chan rose to speak. He was adorned with the finest jewelry, feathered headdress and richly woven fabric. His handsome face glowed with satisfaction.

“Warriors of Kan, of Usihwitz and Wa-Mut, first do I speak with praise for your bravery and prowess. Today is a great victory for our cities, a further proof of the grand destiny of Ka’an and our alliances. None can withstand the force of this destiny. We will spread our rule through all the lands of the K’umaxha, and to the south and east. Let us celebrate and honor our gods!”

Roars and cheers resounded across the plaza, contrasting starkly with the silence of captives and townspeople. Drums, whistles and conches tried to fill out the sound, but still it was thin in the wide Lakam Ha main plaza.

“Bring before me the ruler of Lakam Ha and his chief advisor,” ordered Uneh Chan.

Warriors dragged Aj Ne Ohl Mat and Hun Pakal up the stairs, hands bound behind their backs and all clothing removed except a plain white loincloth. The hair of both men was cut short and rough ends bristled in an irregular chop. Both had bruises and blood trickled down Hun Pakal’s leg. Never had Aj Ne looked so small and pitiable, his eyes deep pools of terror.

“Kneel,” commanded Uneh Chan.

Aj Ne sank to his knees but Hun Pakal stood defiantly. A warrior shoved him onto his knees, and then pushed both men into a deep kneeling bow, foreheads to the floor.

“Aj Ne Ohl Mat, K’uhul B’aakal Ahau and Hun Pakal, you are to return with me to Kan. There you will be displayed in our victory march, the living symbol of a defeated city and tribute to Kan’s power. You will stay as prisoners, so the people of Lakam Ha will never forget who is their new master and leader.”

In the silence that followed, hot tears of fury stung Sak K’uk’s eyes. She quickly blinked them away, not wanting her captors to see any sign of weakness. In her heart she knew the fate that awaited her father and brother. They would be sacrificed for a katun-ending or other important ceremony at Kan. She stood tall seeking a glimpse of her father’s face, but was unable to see beyond the men nearby.

Uneh Chan waved for his warriors to remove Aj Ne and Hun Pakal. As they were taken down the stairs, Sak K’uk caught a side view of her father. He walked firmly with chin lifted and eyes ahead, showing no fear in contrast to the hunched and staggering Aj Ne. A mixture of pride and despair filled her, for she knew this was the last time she would see her father. Her heart was aching, and she silently projected her love toward him as she watched his form recede in the distance.

On the platform of the throne room, Ek Chuuah leaned toward Uneh Chan and whispered in his ear. The Kan ruler nodded and said, “Bring before me Sak K’uk and her son.”

She snapped to intense alertness. Why was she being called? She could not imagine that Uneh Chan knew much about her or Pakal. She looked upward and scanned the men on the platform beside the Kan ruler. An older man with a dark countenance appeared to be smirking, while the younger man beside him assumed a posture of pride. They stood next to the standard of Usihwitz. Quickly searching her memory, she recalled her mother’s concerns about a man from that city, the one behind the failed attack on Lakam Ha many years before. She could not remember his name.

Warriors yanked on her and Pakal’s wrist ropes and guided them up the stairs. They stood in front of Uneh Chan and he commanded them to kneel. Defiance blazed from Sak K’uk’s eyes, which she shot at both the Usihwitz men and the Kan ruler. Uneh Chan’s handsome face softened into a tiny smile, for he appreciated spirited women. But Ek Chuuah frowned and gave the hand sign to force her to kneel.

The warrior pushed Sak K’uk on both shoulders and forced her to kneel. Suddenly Pakal fiercely attacked the warrior, kicking and head butting the much larger man in the groin. Caught by surprise, the warrior lost balance and fell with a loud thump, causing a few chuckles among observers. Sak K’uk swiveled and rose up, her eyes commending her son’s bravery. Two more warriors closed in and shoved both mother and son roughly onto their knees. Sak K’uk remained still, but Pakal continued to struggle and kick and bite until more rope was wrapped around him and a rag bound his mouth.

“This royal whelp shows much courage,” observed Uneh Chan.

Ek Chuuah looked surly but held his council. He did not want to de-rail the plan that the Kan ruler had agreed upon as his reward.

“Sak K’uk, granddaughter of Kan Bahlam and daughter of Yohl Ik’nal, here I bring reparations for a wrong done by your ancestors to my ally from Usihwitz, Ek Chuuah. He was wrongfully wounded in a Flower War long before your birth, and exiled from his home city of Lakam Ha. This was by the command of Kan Bahlam. Now the balance will be restored, for Ek Chuuah shall preside over your city in my stead. The throne that wronged him will now acknowledge his superiority, his regency.”

Uneh Chan rose from the throne and stepped away, signaling for Ek Chuuah to take his place. Another fanfare of drums, conches and trumpets sounded. The older man took a deep breath and straightened to his fullest height, walking slowly and regally to take a seat upon the royal throne of Lakam Ha. From this perspective, he could look across the main plaza, see all its occupants and scan the buildings that bordered the other three sides. Forested green mountains rose beyond the city, reaching toward the cerulean blue sky. The sun hovered above the western range and cast lengthening shadows in rosy hues. The air never smelled sweeter, the day brighter or more potent with promise. Ek Chuuah felt the power of the double-headed jaguar throne beneath him. For a moment his deepest longing was fulfilled.

“Sak K’uk, look upon he who sits on your throne,” he ordered. “I am Ek Chuuah, perhaps your family spoke of me. Now am I vindicated for the wrongs done by the Bahlams.”

Despite herself, Sak K’uk had to raise her head. It was not that he commanded it, but her own amazement that he went to such extreme ends to fulfill a longing of his youth. She took in his dark countenance, narrow eyes, irregular features now wrinkled with age and hair showing streaks of white. Only years of deep-seated anger and resentment could carve such severe lines across his forehead and along the sides of his mouth. She wondered if he ever smiled, for his lips seemed to hold a permanent downward curve. Still burning in his black eyes was the heat of hatred that had propelled his drive for vengeance.

Her dark eyes bored into his, and she would not break the gaze. Conviction surged within that she would never succumb to his command. By whatever means he had placed himself upon Lakam Ha’s throne, it would come to naught. Her very bones knew that Pakal would rule their city. Every cell in her body would work ceaselessly until this was accomplished. The only emotion she felt in that moment was stone-solid determination.