The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) (3 page)

“Such beauty does Hun Ahb K’u, the Infinite Creator of All give to this world. So shall I miss it when I traverse the sky in the Celestial Canoe.”

“Let us hope that is yet far in the future.”

“Ah, hah,” the old man chuckled. “Not so far, not so far.”

Both men fell silent, each contemplating their destinies and life’s temporality.

“There is a task you might yet do, something of great importance to our city’s future.” The High Priest spoke softly but with crisp enunciation. “It is something that means much to me. A personal favor.”

Ah Kuy tilted his head back, looking upward into the young priest’s face.

“What would you have me do?”

“Search among ancient codices for a prophecy for Lakam Ha. A prophecy for these current times, about a great leader who is destined to bring Lakam Ha to its highest point. It is likely that the leader would also be the ruler, one yet to come, but soon.”

“Why do you ask me? You are a codex expert yourself, you could do that search.” Ah Kuy shrugged and wagged his head. “Here am I, a very old man. My wits are not as sharp as yours. My eyes are failing me. My limbs are frail and weak.”

“Your knowledge of codices far surpasses that of any priest, myself included,” Pasah Chan replied. “You say your wits are not so sharp, but your memory is boundless. It is such that should you command it, focus your mind, set your intention, that you can remember which among the thousands of codices speaks of this prophecy. I vaguely recall some prophecy concerning Lakam He's destiny, but would spend countless days in fruitless searching. You can summon it to mind, scanning your memory.”

“Ah, perhaps that is so. Might not it take me countless days also? I have fewer days to count than you.” Enjoying his own humor, Ah Kuy chuckled.

Pasah Chan smiled, giving the hand sign for losing a point.

Time passed as the men sat in silence. The sun hovered at the mountain’s edge, sending golden beams across the plaza. Birds called in the forests, jostling for position among branches. Pasah Chan sighed, resigning himself to doing the search. It would take a long time, and Sak K’uk would keep pressing him to train Pakal. He had hoped to get the information quickly upon which to base his decision.

“I will do it.” The old priest’s reedy treble startled Pasah Chan.

“Something to amuse my old mind before I join the ancestors. Yes, I know where to begin. It is a good thing, High Priest, that you reminded me of my memory.” He coughed and chuckled simultaneously while the younger man bowed and smiled.

A special chamber in the Temple of the High Priest was devoted to housing the codices. It was the uppermost chamber of the temple school, chosen to receive maximum light and air. The school was a two-tiered square building opening into a secluded courtyard. On the lower level were numerous classrooms; the upper held small chambers for meditation. The entire western-facing side of the upper level was a series of interconnected rooms with stone shelves lining the walls. These shelves held thousands of codices, the heritage of untold years of scribal work reaching far into Lakam Ha’s mythohistoric past. The codices held the arcane knowledge of the Maya: astronomy, astrology, divination, sacred geometry, numerology, healing arts and herbalism, calendars, alchemical recipes, history of dynasties and rulers, tales of gods and ancestors, philosophy, language, arts and music. It was an unparalleled library, a hidden font of wisdom from ancient times.

Each codex was made of bark paper in long strips, folded like an accordion that fanned out when extended. The Maya harvested inner layers of bark from the wild fig tree, soaked and boiled it in maize water treated with lime or ash. Then it was rinsed and pliable strips of bark laid out on a wooden board. The first layer was lengthwise and the next was crosswise. The damp bark was pounded with a hafted stone beater into a continuous sheet of paper, some as long as three arms length. After drying in the sun, the paper was peeled off the wooden board and smoothed with a stone. Since the bark was never made into a pulp, it retained a fibrous texture that was not smooth enough for Maya scribes to write easily. They covered the paper with a thin layer of plaster before writing on it.

Natural dyes were prepared in many colors; black, red and yellow were much favored though blue and green also were used. The particularly lovely shade of Maya blue was made from indigo fused with palygorskite by the heat of burning copal incense in ceremonial bowls. Scribes used quills from turkey or wild bird feathers, dipping them in dyes held in seashells or conches. The monkey scribe or rabbit scribe were the animal uay-companions who represented the sacred art of glyphic writing, recording numbers and drawing pictures that filled the codices.

Ah Kuy sat on a raised platform covered with a woven mat. A rectangular wooden box served to elevate and display unfolded codices as he examined them. Positioned next to a window opening toward the west, he took full advantage of sunlight to improve his ability to see. Beside him sat three assistants, acolytes assigned to fetch and shelve codices and explain images he had difficulty making out. They also plied the old priest with warm cacao drinks and maize cakes to keep up his energy.

It was his third day of work, and he was beginning to wonder if his memory had failed him. After examining over 30 ancient codices, he had not found the one containing the Lakam Ha prophecy. He was certain there was such a prophecy; he clearly recalled having read it in his youth, but could not remember all the details.

This called for different tactics.

“I will sleep now,” he announced to his assistants.

They were perplexed, for they knew he was on a time-sensitive assignment.

“Master, is it not your intent to find the codex today? Very soon, is that not important?” asked one young acolyte.

“You are correct, that is my intent,” replied Ah Kuy. “My methods may seem strange to you. Now I am called to sleep, to dream and to remember in the dreamtime. In this way shall the codex come to me.”

Obediently, the acolytes prepared a pallet for the old priest in a darker corner of the chamber. Sighing, he reclined his achy body and soon was snoring loudly.

Patiently the assistants sat in vigil as the old man slept. The sun crossed overhead and began its afternoon descent, bright squares of light forming through windows and moving slowly across the floor. After a series of snorts that interrupted throaty snores, the old priest woke, blinked furiously, wiped his watering eyes and sat up.

His voice gurgled, requiring some coughing to clear his throat.

“Bring me the codex on the farthest shelf to the west. It is low and close to the floor. It is called the Noh Ek Almanac of Baktun 8 Katun 18. Be careful! Handle it gently, it is very ancient. From the times of our venerated lineage founder, Holy Ancestor K’uk Bahlam.”

As the assistants scrambled to retrieve the codex, Ah Kuy groaned and lurched to his feet, limping slowly to his scribe platform. Stretching and sighing, he sat cross-legged and reached to receive the dusty codex from his assistant. Spreading it and gently turning the flaps, he scanned through pages of Noh Ek (Venus) almanacs with neat rows of day and month signs, dot-and-bar numbers, and pictures of deities. Columns of glyphs along page edges or across the top added further information.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, bony finger tracing a glyph column that accompanied numbers and images. The three assistants crowded around, straining to see. They could not decipher the antiquated glyphic forms, though the numbers and deity images were familiar.

“What does it say, Master?” asked one assistant.

“Bring writing materials, copy this down as I read,” ordered Ah Kuy.

As soon as the assistant scribe was set up with new bark paper, quill pen and dye, the old priest read slowly:

“Dawn counts the drumbeats,

Counts the Katuns, the bundles of stones,

Dawn counts the guardian spirit of the sun-eyed torch

At the center of the sun, the Sun Eyed Lord of the Shield.

The sun-eyed torch at 12
^th
Sky Place, B’aak (skeleton).

When T’zek (scorpion) falls in the Waters of the Night.

Baktuns make 1, Katuns make 10, Tuns make 9 at Toktan,

Place of Clouds and Many Waters.

The Celestial Twins sit upon the Earth-Sky Band

Noh Ek the “Great Star” shines, the False Sun,

Begins the Count of Days of the Sun Passer, Noh Ek.

Lady Moon-Ix Uc ascends in Uo (frog), 8
^th
Sky Place.

She dangles below her K’awiil Ek and Chak Ek

Above the Waters of the Night.

And the Katun Lord, he of the mirror scepter, K’awiil Ek

Turns around at the heart of 8
^th
Sky Place.

It happens, it is done.

The Sun Eyed Lord of the Shield

He touches the earth, the 8 Ahau Lord,

And the white paper headband is handed over to him.

And great things come to the Place of Clouds and Many Waters.

So is it written upon the sky, so is it written upon the earth.”

As soon as the dyes dried upon the new codex, Ah Kuy had his assistants bundle it together with the ancient codex in soft white blankets. To their disappointment, the old priest gathered up the bundle himself and carried it to the chambers of the High Priest. Although he had translated the archaic glyphs into current language, and this they had carefully written in modern glyphs, they did not understand the arcane imagery. Nor were they likely to be told the meanings, for this appeared to be meant for the High Priest alone. Only so much were acolytes given to understand.

Pasah Chan sat alert and eager as the old priest displayed the two screen-fold codices, one still smelling of new dyes and the other musty and discolored with age. First Ah Kuy read the translation, then the High Priest re-read the glyphs himself. He looked over the ancient codex, understanding most of the glyphs, checking the translation. All appeared accurate, as best he could ascertain.

“Much here relates to the stars and zodiac,” he said. “When was the original codex written?”

“In Baktun 8 Katun 18 (397 CE), in the time of Holy Ancestor K’uk Bahlam. Our revered lineage founder was born in that Katun, and acceded when he had attained 20 solar years in the next Katun. He must have been a child when it was written,” Ah Kuy remarked.

“Let us examine these verses together. They begin with dawn and a count of Katuns that relate to the sun and some being ‘at the center of the sun’ called Sun Eyed Lord of the Shield. K’in Ahau, Sun Lord, is not called this way,” observed Pasah Chan.

“See the use of ‘Lord of the Shield’ that calls to mind young Pakal’s name, which is shield. But ‘sun-faced’? What make you of that?”

The High Priest pondered for a few moments, then his eyes lit as he exclaimed,

“Know you that the household of Pakal often calls him ‘k’inich’ or sun-faced? This I learned only recently. It appears his nursemaid gave him that appellation because he loves to lift his face to the sun. The boy seeks the sun, there was an incident where he wandered away from home all alone, and she found him sitting on a high rocky outcropping gazing at the sun.”

“K’inich Ahau Pakal, Sun-faced Lord of the Shield,” repeated the old priest. “But the boy’s other name is Janaab.”

“Is that not an old-fashioned way of saying Lord, Ahau?”

“Why, so it is!” chimed Ah Kuy, chuckling. “K’inich Janaab Pakal. Your memory is better than mine.”

“That I doubt,” Pasah Chan smiled. “You found the codex from memory. Let me see. This Sun Eyed Lord of the Shield is guardian spirit of the sun when it rises at dawn at 12 Sky Place of B’aak. That is the twelfth zodiac sign, the skeleton.”

“That is so. It is occurring when the zodiac sign T’zek, the scorpion, falls below the horizon. Then we have a distance number placing this event in the future, 1 Baktun, 10 Katuns and 9 Tuns from when the codex was written. At Toktan, the earlier name given Lakam Ha. Can you calculate this future date quickly? My mind is too weak for such calculations without figuring the numbers on paper.” The old priest chuckled.

Pasah Chan closed his eyes and ran the numbers internally. He had trained many hours to perfect this skill that required manipulating 5 sets of numbers in base 20. Since the Maya used zero, their count was from 0 to 19, except in the second lowest position when the highest number was 18. When the k’in (day) count reached 19, then the uinal (month) advanced by one. When the uinal reached 18, then the tun (year) advanced by one. When the tun reached 19, then the katun (20-tun period) advanced by one, and when the katun reached 19, then the baktun (400-tun period) advanced by one.

Now he was required to subtract, and the mental gyrations were demanding. Soon he worked it out, and again his eyes lit with excitement.

“Although we do not have the exact day and month, the other future time positions arrive at Baktun 9 Katun 8 Tun 9, which matches when Pakal was born. I can check the exact day and month using the other astronomic clues. They are quite precise. The Celestial Twins, Noh Ek (Venus) and Xux Ek (Mercury) are close to the horizon when Noh Ek appears as Eveningstar. This begins a new Noh Ek cycle that initiates the count of days until he becomes Sun Passer as Morningstar. The Moon rises in the eighth zodiac sign of Uo (frog), and below her in a line are K’awiil Ek (Jupiter) and Chak Ek (Mars). They are just above the western horizon at dusk. K’awiil Ek is resuming his forward motion after being still.”

“Ah, there we have it. The Sun Eyed Lord of the Shield – young K’inich Janaab Pakal – is born, he touches the earth. Was he not born on the day 8 Ahau?“

“It is so. And he will receive the white paper headband of rulership. The verses finish by saying this brings great things to Toktan, now our city Lakam Ha.”

Both priests settled into silent contemplation, each pursuing his thoughts. Ah Kuy was pleased that his service to the High Priest was so successful; gratified that in his waning years he could still accomplish something significant. Pasah Chan was astonished at the clarity of the ancient prophecy, and its congruence with everything Sak K’uk and her mother Yohl Ik’nal had envisioned. He felt certain that when he checked the records of the sky’s configuration on the date of Pakal’s birth, he would find exactly the astronomical pattern the codex described.