The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque (11 page)

When the contests re-convened it was for spear throwing. Yohl Ik’nal riveted her attention and soon was rewarded by the appearance of that body, so familiar yet so unknown, of Hun Pakal. Dressed only in a loincloth and neck collar, his strong muscles rippled as he dashed forward several steps, spear balanced in right hand. Ending in a leap, he heaved the spear in a long arc. The large flint point glistened in the sunlight with feathers fluttering from the shaft. She was close enough to hear the swooshing sound and solid “thunk” as the point embedded in the ground near the final marker. It was an excellent throw, farther than any spears yet hefted. Did she only imagine that he cast a glance in her direction as he retrieved the spear?

Quickly she lowered her eyes and turned to make conversation with Sak Nicte, hoping her mother had not detected any particular interest in this spear thrower. But her friend picked up subtle cues, raising an eyebrow as she remarked that this was the best throw so far.

There were several rounds with eliminations, and in the final throws again Hun Pakal exceeded all others. He was awarded the grand prize, with lesser prizes for all finalists, a good number from Lakam Ha. A group of young men gathered around Hun Pakal, cheering and lifting spears. They stomped in a spontaneous victory dance that brought them in front of Kan Bahlam’s mat. The ruler stood and touched each on the shoulder, praising their abilities.

Suddenly Hun Pakal was standing before Yohl Ik’nal. He knelt and offered her a feather from his spear, smiling into her eyes. She reached to accept the feather, breathlessly silent as Sak Nicte congratulated him. Other men came to bow in honor of the royal women and he disappeared into their midst.

Yohl Ik’nal hardly noticed the final event, club swinging. Burly men excelled in handling the heavy bulk of wooden clubs, some embedded with flint spikes. Wooden effigies of warriors were planted like posts into the ground, and the clubbers attempted to decapitate them or knock them over. The observers called encouragement or hooted at failures, and again Lakam Ha’s men prevailed.

After the contest, the royal women walked back to their tent. Yohl Ik’nal lingered behind, giving her mother time to be out of hearing range. Sak Nicte walked beside her, as their tents were close.

“Show me the feather again,” she entreated.

Yohl Ik’nal took it from a fold in her skirt. It was an eagle feather, brown with a white tip, long and strong.

“He is a fine warrior, an asset to our city,” she said, trying to hold a neutral tone.

“So he is, and well-loved by his companions. He will be a good match for someone well-placed,” Sak Nicte remarked, sounding casual herself.

“Yes, that is so.” Wistfulness crept into her voice, despite her intentions.

Sak Nicte grasped her friend’s arm, turning to meet her eyes.

“It is there, that special fire burning in his eyes. I saw it when he gave you the feather.”

Yohl Ik’nal looked deeply into the young woman’s eyes, as if seeking a sign.

“It is not impossible, is it?”

“It is not impossible. He was impressive today.”

Kan Bahlam, the High Priest Wak Batz, and three trusted ahauob sat drinking hot maize mixed with cacao and spiced with chile pepper. It was the favored drink of Maya nobles, sharpening the mind and stimulating the imagination. Flames from torches cast mutating forms across the nearest side of the throne room, while the far sides retreated into gloom of a starless night. Attendants stood at each side assuring that no listening ears were near. The leaders of Lakam Ha were strategizing.

“Zotz Choj, Sahal of Popo’ is chagrined by today’s victories,” spoke Yax Kab, an elder with much experience in the intrigues among cities.
Sahal
was the title for rulers of subsidiary cities in a polity. “If we continue to prevail, there will be no force for rebellion in this city.”

“Likewise with Usihwitz, whose contestants made a poor showing,” added Mut Yokte. A powerful warrior with scars testifying to near escapes from jaguar claws and opponents’ knives, he was cousin to Kan Bahlam and a loyal supporter. He served in capacity of
Nakom,
“war chief” or military leader for Lakam Ha.

“Yet there remain two days, the most important, those of one-on-one combat,” High Priest Wak Batz reminded them.

“We of Lakam Ha are prepared,” retorted Chakab, youngest of the group. He raised a heavily muscled arm making the hand sign for victory. “Today our men excelled and fanned the fire for further victories. Passions are running high to win.”

“Of this I am confident,” Kan Bahlam said. “When I have defeated the ruler of Yokib, this agitation for change will be smothered. The snaking arm of Kan will retreat into its lair. But let us speak of things within our own city. How fares the seditious plotting of Ek Chuuah and his cadre?”

The young man, dismissed as a puppy four years previously by the deceased ruler, made headway during transition times in Lakam Ha. Surreptitiously at first then more openly, he gathered a group of dissidents who fed upon dissatisfaction with Lakam Ha’s leadership. They complained that not enough tribute was exacted from polity cities, that ceremonies were not splendid enough, that the building program was not as grand as a May Ku city deserved.

“Today Ek Chuuah did well in spear throwing, not far behind Hun Pakal,” observed Mut Yokte. “His cadre also won several prizes with club swinging. They swell with pride.”

“They murmur that the flower war is long overdue, while capitalizing on it to advance their position,” added Yax Kab.

“Now comes the worst of their corruptions,” observed Wak Batz. “They whisper that the ruler’s daughter Yohl Ik’nal is unfit to keep the succession, an untried woman and not yet married. It is time, Holy Lord, that you select a husband for your daughter. She must be seen doing more public ceremonies, and making decisions in the Popol Nah. I know you have been training her, is she now ready to take more leadership?”

Kan Bahlam replied thoughtfully, for he was indeed considering these very things.

“To the last, she is ready. She will take significant part in the K’altun ceremony and our people will see that she carries the sacred blood well, and knows how to give proper rituals and offerings. We must set up a program for her to shine forth in the Council House. Of this we will speak further, and involve the High Priestess. To the first, her marriage, I am in accord. This flower war will reveal the right alliance for her, the man who will bring the greatest following and earn the highest respect of our people through his achievements.”

“If this choice was based on today, Hun Pakal would rank high,” offered Chakab, with a touch of regret since he found the ruler’s daughter most attractive. But he was already married and thus not eligible.

“The prowess of this young man has not escaped my notice,” Kan Bahlam assured his advisor. “What of his following? He seems well-liked by many.”

“Indeed that is so. His family is large, and he gains affection readily among peers. He inspired a sizeable group of men to train rigorously for the flower war, and gave expert instruction in tactical skills of one-on-one combat both unarmed and with knives. Without doubt he will comport himself well in these contests. Several times he consulted with me to learn from my experience,” Mut Yokte noted. “In this he is prudent, as he has little direct experience in combat, for he is young.”

“Young but wise,” Wak Batz observed dryly. Nice strategy to befriend one of the ruler’s closest advisors, should one have designs on the heir. “As your distant relative, he has the sacred blood of the K’uhul Ahau lineage from both sides of his family. His blood-lines are suitable.”

“We will see what emerges in the next two days. Should an ahau of another city prove most victorious, we might see a preferable alliance,” remarked the ruler.

“Or should Ek Chuuah prevail, might an alliance with him not preempt his opposition?” suggested Yax Kab.

“It is said often that you are a great strategist, Yax Kab,” said Kan Bahlam tersely. “But I am loath to invite the scorpion into my nest. He is not a man to trust, nor is he worthy of my daughter.”

Silence fell upon the four men after the ruler’s strong statement. The older men remembered the death of Kan Bahlam’s son from a scorpion sting. The ruler’s mouth had a grim set, revealing his own sad recollections.

They drained the last of the cacao mixture from tall ceramic cups having exquisite scenes of dancers and anthropomorphic beings performing rituals, painstaking in every detail.

Kan Bahlam shifted position and stood up, indicating that the session was ending. The other men bowed low, clasping right hand to left shoulder, and turned to leave. A subtle hand gesture toward Mut Yokte ordered him to remain. Once alone, the two sat again as the ruler spoke softly, so even the attendants could not hear.

“Mut Yokte, you once had friendship with the Nakom of Lakanha. Have those ties persisted?”

“This I believe is so, although we have not met for many tuns. What we shared together, those dangers, are never forgotten.”

“That I can well appreciate. Now comes a request that may be difficult. This I ask of you because we have long been close, and my trust is total. My purpose is to remove the sting of the scorpion, that perpetrator of sedition, from Lakam Ha. Speak to the Nakom of Lakanha and request that he set his most ferocious and skilled warrior against Ek Chuuah on the final day of the flower war, the contest with knives. This warrior must seek to wound Ek Chuuah significantly, such that he requires time to recover. There will be anger toward Lakanha but the warrior will claim it was accidental. Ek Chuuah will then be required to reside and recover in Lakanha and perhaps he will find life there more hospitable. Assure the Nakom that Lakanha will benefit, that their ruler Joy Bahlam will remain in my favor and their tribute will decrease.”

Kan Bahlam watched his Nakom closely, finding neither surprise nor disapproval in the warrior’s expression. Such strategies were not novel to those seasoned in Maya politics. Mut Yokte nodded, seeing immediately the advantages of removing the dissident ringleader. In the time needed for recovery and service to the victor’s city, the cadre of dissidents would be broken apart with tactics of co-optation or threat. And there was a real possibility that Ek Chuuah would never return.

“It is accomplished,” Mut Yokte responded in a low voice.

The second day of the flower war dawned bright and hot. Contestants oiled their skin for wrestling, even though the oil would trap sweat on the steamy battlefield. Their faces and chests were painted in geometric designs of black, red and white. Muscled limbs and bodies glistened, powerful physiques revealed by tight loincloths. Hair was pulled atop their crowns and tied into a topknot with long trailing tails, some braided and others loose.

Lesser nobles and warriors of all four cities were the morning contestants; in the afternoon the elite ahauob would compete. Each contestant sought an opponent from another city, and these two would struggle one-on-one until a man was subdued, kept pinned to the ground and unable to continue fighting. When victory was clear, a referee would approach and cut off the loser’s hair just beyond his topknot. This signified a commitment to serve the winner’s city until the loser’s hair reached its former length, usually more than a solar year.

The victorious man rested for a short while, then re-engaged with another warrior who had not yet fought or who was ready for another fight. The strongest men might conquer three or four opponents, although those more experienced knew the risk of fighting when tired. This error often led to defeat and servitude for one who would otherwise be much lauded at home.

At the sound of conches, men streamed onto the field and quickly found suitable opponents. The field became a mass of swinging arms and twisting legs, straining pectorals and pounding feet accompanied by a cacophony of grunts, groans and snorts. Numerous referees wearing bright red and yellow headdress plumes circulated among the wrestlers, slicing off ponytails of the defeated. Cheers and hoots from the crowd punctuated the contests as favored warriors either lost or won.

After some time observing the swarming, sweating contestants, Yohl Ik’nal and Sak Nicte decided a visit to the market was in order. Merchants never failed to take advantage of such large gatherings, setting up makeshift markets near the encampment. It was a nice opportunity to see goods from other cities and perhaps obtain an unusual fabric or piece of jewelry, new spices or implements. The noble maidens’ attendants brought woven bags to carry their mistresses’ treasures, and smaller bags full of cacao beans to use for purchase. Cacao beans were accepted everywhere for barter, along with jade and semi-precious stones.

The market consisted of six rows of merchants who spread mats on the ground to display their wares. Some had raised canopies against the sun and rain, sitting in welcome shade as the day was hot. When Yohl Ik’nal and Sak Nicte found interesting items, they knelt on mat edges to finger wares and speak with merchants. First to catch their eyes were jewelry and gems. Several merchants featured jade in a profusion of colors: pale green with creamy streaks, verdant jungle shades, brooding near-black darkness, bright yellow-greens, and occasionally the rare blue jade. Many pieces were carved into pectorals, pendants, necklaces, earplugs, wrist and arm bracelets, tiaras and hair clasps. Jade also was fashioned into vases, containers, plates, cups and figurines.

Sak Nicte selected a fine necklace of pale green and nearly white beads, while Yohl Ik’nal chose a tiara with blue-tinged jade and pink marble beads alternating in double strands. An intricately carved teardrop jade hung over the forehead nearly to her nose bridge. Its swirled pattern represented the spiral star cluster from whose center the Maya originated.

They walked past merchants offering obsidian, chert and flint mined in mountainous regions to the south and north. Traders brought these stones long distances, using rivers and navigating along the coastlines in long canoes carved from a single huge tree. Sunlight gleamed off smooth surfaces and caught the brilliance of metals such as copper and silver that decorated handles of finer knives and spears. Gold was rare in the Maya regions, although traders from the far north mined it in abundance and occasionally brought worked gold to southern markets.