The Mayan Codex (40 page)

She shook her head.

‘I wouldn’t have said anything. You knew that too?’

She nodded. Then she tensed inside the circle of his arm. ‘My face. It doesn’t disgust you?’

‘I like your face.’

‘You know what I mean.’

He raised his hand to touch her, but she shied away from him.

‘You promised you wouldn’t push me away.’

Lamia gave a deep sigh. Then she nodded, and let him touch her. Let him cup her face with his hand.

‘I’m going to stop the car and kiss you.’

Lamia glanced behind her. ‘And Calque?’

‘Fuck Calque.’

Calque was watching them from the shadows in the back of the car, a half-smile on his face.

‘I think you need to tell us about the names, Lamia.’

It was three o’clock in the morning and they were thirty
miles from Kabáh, at the Hopelchén intersection. Sabir was still driving, and Calque had chosen that moment to pretend to wake up.

Lamia glanced back at him. Her pupils seemed unnaturally large in the car’s interior gloom. There were no street lights any more, and for some time now they had been cutting through a seemingly endless section of wood and scrub, interspersed with the occasional plantation of blue agave and maize, and the odd slash-and-burn clearing intended for assarting or swidden farming.

‘What names do you mean?’

‘I’m talking about the names given to your brothers and sisters. There’s something odd there. Dakini, for instance? What sort of a name is that?’

In the last few hours Sabir had become so hyper aware of everything that concerned Lamia that now he even fancied he picked up a momentary hesitation he might not have noticed otherwise – a sort of physical stutter, as though, walking along an otherwise smooth pavement, she had inadvertently caught the toe of her shoe on a protruding paving stone.

Lamia tried to conceal her hesitation behind a sudden play of turning down the interior visor, opening the courtesy mirror, and then checking her hair and face. Seemingly satisfied, she snapped the mirror back into place. ‘The name is Tibetan. It means “she who traverses the sky”. Also a “sky dancer” or “sky walker”. A
Dakini
appears to a magician during his rituals. She carries a cup of menstrual blood in one hand, and a curved knife in the other. She wears a garland of human skulls, and against her shoulder, a trident. She has long wild hair and an angry face. When my mother first saw dakini’s face, she called her this. Dakinis dance on top of corpses, to show that they hold power over ignorance and vainglory.’

Sabir shot her a look. ‘You can’t be serious?’

‘Madame, my mother, is always perfectly serious in everything she does, Adam.’

‘Then the other names. What are they?’

‘A
nawal
is a Central American witch who can transform herself into whatever animal she chooses. She can be either male or female. Nobody can harm her, because whatever is aimed against her rebounds on the perpetrator. She can use her powers for either good or evil, depending on her whim. According to the Nahuatl, all of us are given familiar animals at birth. Certain
nawal
s or
nagual
choose at this time to transform themselves into jaguars or vampire bats. Then they can suck the blood from innocent victims at night, while they are asleep. The Jakaltek Maya believe that a
nawal
will punish any of their number who transgresses from their society and marry mestizos. That is a person of mixed blood. Not pure Indio.’

‘Your mother certainly has a way with her. You can believe that.’

‘Oni, my youngest brother, who is both a giant and an albino, is named after a Japanese demon, with claws, and wild hair, and of an enormous size. These demons have horns growing out of their heads. Their skin is always an odd colour. Red. Blue. In my brother’s case, an unnatural white. An
oni
has strength beyond strength and cannot be beaten. He is like a ghost. In European folklore, he would be likened to a troll.’

‘And the others?’

‘Asson is named after a sacred voodoo rattle. This rattle would be used by the Hougan priests and the Mambo priestesses during a vodoun ceremony. It will be decorated with beads and the bones of snakes. Alastor, his brother in real life, is named after the Chief executioner of Hades. He is the avenger of evil deeds – Zeus sometimes used him as an amanuensis. He can be
the personification of a curse, similar, in some forms, to Nemesis. His name can also mean a scoundrel.’

‘Neat. Great names. Must be nice to be saddled with that all one’s life.’

‘My brother/sister Aldinach is a true hermaphrodite – Aldinach was originally an Egyptian demon who caused violent tempests, earthquakes, and natural catastrophes. He always appeared in the shape of a woman when he did these things. He was a ship-sinker, too.’

‘Well, they had to blame somebody.’

Lamia refused to be bated. She could see the men’s embarrassment at what she was telling them, and the manner in which she was telling it, but she was not about to let them off the hook now. ‘My brother Rudra was named after an Indian demon god. This god used arrows to spread disease. He could also summon up storms and natural disasters. His name can be translated to mean the “roarer”, or the “howler”, or the “wild one”, or simply the “terrible”. Rudra can also mean the “red one” – Nostradamus uses this nomenclature in some of his quatrains, if you remember. It was the equivalent for him of the Devil, or maybe of one of the Antichrists. Rudra might reasonably be viewed as a storm god by people who did not understand his true function.’

‘Which was?’

‘To cleanse things.’

‘Christ. Any more?’

‘Berith was an evil duke in the annals of demonology. He wears red clothing and has a golden crown on his head. He is the alchemist’s demon, because it is said that he can turn any metal into gold. He is also a notorious liar. Athame, the favourite sister I told you about, is named after the sword, or dagger, usually with a black or obsidian handle, used by priests and priestesses. The blade has a
double-edge – both a positive and a negative if you like. There are also symbols on the knife. Curiously, though, the athame was not used for cutting but for channelling energy. Such a knife is mentioned in the
Key of Solomon
. My sister Athame is a dwarf. She is a good person. The blunt knife is a good description of her.’

‘And the twins? One hardly dares ask.’

‘Vaulderie, the youngest twin, and now Viscount de Bale after Rocha’s death, is named after the word the French Inquisition used to describe the act of forming a satanic pact. Such a person could take to the air and go wherever he wished, thanks to the use of a flying ointment. Anyone found guilty of
vaulderie
would be tortured, and then burned at the stake. Vau’s elder brother, Abiger, now Count de Bale, is named after the most senior of all the demons of hell – the Grand Duke of Hades himself. He is always depicted as a handsome and mighty knight, master of many armies, with sixty of the infernal regions under his command. He carries with him a lance, a standard, and a sceptre. He can read the future, and is wise in the ways of war. Other warriors come to him for help in mastering their men.’

‘Why was your eldest brother, Rocha, not named in this way? Rocha means nothing as far as I am aware. A rock, maybe. That would be appropriate, mind you.’

‘Rocha was already a young man when he was adopted by Madame, my mother. It was thought inappropriate to rename him.’

‘So he renamed himself. Achor Bale.’

‘That is simply the use of a mirror image. It is common in certain quarters. We all have two sides to ourselves. Rocha decided that his dominant side was not as Count Rocha de Bale, but as Achor Bale. It was his choice. He is dead now, so it no longer matters.’

‘And your name, Lamia? Where does that come from?’

Lamia closed her eyes, as if what she was about to say had caused her much suffering in its time. ‘I, too, was older when I was adopted. In fact I am the oldest surviving child of my parents. My younger brothers are simply senior to me according to Salic law. As far as my name is concerned, Lamia was the daughter of Poseidon and the mistress of Zeus, I think. One of his many mistresses.’ She opened her eyes and laughed, although the laugh seemed to hold more regret than actual mirth. ‘That is her only significance. I think maybe Zeus accorded her the gift of prophecy as a down payment for her services to him in bed. That is all I know. She is an unimportant figure in the scheme of things.’

Calque looked at her strangely – then he shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the presence of an intrusive fly. ‘The site at Kabáh won’t be open until eight o’clock this morning at the earliest. We might as well get as close as we can and then pull over down a track. Get a little sleep in the car. Anyone have any better suggestions?’

Lamia and Sabir glanced at each other. Then they both shook their heads.

Calque threw himself back onto his seat. ‘Like Sabir always persists in saying, in that curious American way of his – I’ll take that as a yes, then, shall I?’

You had not expected the Maya man with the rifle to come back. Maybe, you thought, his pursuit of the pheasants had taken him far away – too far, perhaps, to consider returning? Or else his iguana had proved more elusive than expected? Maybe he had found no firewood? Your head sank lower on your chest.

Soon, you knew, you would simply curl up on the spot and fall asleep. The road between where you were and Villahermosa had been particularly difficult to accomplish. First you had been lucky. A market trader, his truck empty, had agreed for you to go in the back. Later, as was his right, he had taken on others. By the end of the journey, you were hanging out over the road, scared that you would fall off and burst your head on the highway. But somehow you had held on, your fingers turning into claws.

Then you had waited many hours for your next lift. But this man had taken you all the way to Campeche in his air-conditioned white car. The air had been so cold in the car that you had started to shiver. You would even have asked him to let you out if you had not been so sure that, after him, no more cars would stop for you. This man was a miracle in himself. A rich man. From Sinaloa. A man of substance.

At first you had been scared you would dirty his car, but later he told you that his father, too, had been a campesino, and that this was why he always offered lifts to those who needed them.

Campeche had been endless. You had walked and walked. After much time you had signalled a
colectivo
bus.
You knew this was unwise, since you only had fifty pesos left to your name, but otherwise you knew you would collapse, and they would take you to the Cruz Roja, and you would lose your belongings, if not your soul.

When you looked up again from your thoughts, the Maya man was watching you. When he knew he had your attention he held up two iguanas. Two.

‘You see? You have brought me luck. Climb onto the front of my
triciclo
. I shall take you home. Can you cook?’

You shook your head. Your mother still cooked for you, and, in consequence, you had never learned how, as it would have been insulting to her.

‘No problem. I can cook. Can you make a fire at least?’

You nodded.

‘Bring yourself, then. We can make a space for you in here, by the firewood.’