The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) (16 page)

His wanderings occasionally took him past the area where the Sak Nuk Nah had been terminated and buried. Now it was covered with new grass and small shrubs, finding nourishing soil between rocks and drinking moisture from dew. The area felt cleansed to him; he could not detect malign or evil energies. But his sorrow was uncontained, and visits here always brought tears. He felt that his soul had been rendered, that a deep gash was sliced into his essence. The wondrous Jeweled Tree, the magnificent Wakah Chan Te that arose from the depths of earth, its roots boring into the farthest regions of the Underworld as its limbs soared to the heights of the Upperworld, was no more. The great trunk that once rose straight and regal through the Middleworld, that gave access to all three realms, the tree that was used by shamans and the Vision Serpent for travel across dimensions, had fallen.

In profound sorrow, Pakal wondered if he would ever be with Unen K’awill-Baby Jaguar again. Was the portal forever, irrevocably destroyed? Could it ever be re-created? He had no idea how this might be accomplished, were it possible. Despair flooded his young body like a torrent of frigid rain, causing spasms of tremors that threw him to the ground. Curled in a tight ball, he shivered and twitched, rolling from side to side and wailing. His fingers dug into the pebbles and moist soil, his face pressed on the fresh grasses and was streaked with dirt. The very earth seemed to embrace him, the sun poured its warmth on his back, the birds chirped and whistled and clacked until his shaking ended.

Pakal sat up and lifted his face to K’in Ahau, Sun Lord. Even with eyes closed, the sun’s brilliance nearly blinded him, but he would not look away. Far in the distance, as though from another realm, came the long throaty roars of howler monkeys.

“K’in Ahau, help me.” Pakal did not speak but projected his plea to the sun.

The sun’s warmth flooded him with compassion, heated his chilled bones and shot vibrant energy through his blood vessels. Wave upon wave of empowerment washed through him, pushing away sorrow and despair and filling him with potential. He breathed sunlight, he bathed in golden rays, he absorbed sun energy through his pores. As long as Father Sun, K’in Ahau returned every day to light the sky and bring life anew to the earth and its creatures and people, Pakal would find courage and draw power. He was, as they called him, “K’inich” the Sun- Faced One. The Sun Lord would guide him, support him, sustain him through these troubled times.

Pakal rose to his feet and spread his arms wide, then lifted them to the sun.

“Father Sun, with your help may my resolve be carried to fulfillment. With your power may this human, this child of yours who is called K’inich Janaab Pakal, restore this sacred city Lakam Ha, raise again the Jeweled Tree, revive the home of the Bahlam dynasty. Father Sun, more than restore the city and our portal to the gods . . . It will be so, this is the resolve made this day before your shining face, that Lakam Ha shall be greater than it ever was, shall be lifted to the heights of beauty and perfection and strength to prevail as never before in the land of B’aakal.”

Forming both hands into the gesture for manifestation, for bringing intentions into reality, Pakal pointed directly overhead with extended index fingers, thumbs uplifted and the other three fingers curled toward his palm. Slowly he moved his hands in an arc from overhead until they pointed down to the ground. He held this posture and hand sign until he felt jolts of electric energy moving through him, from crown down his arms and shooting out through his pointed index fingers into the earth.

The breeze first whispered, then the trees sighed and rustled and the birds and monkeys added voices into a chorus that sang,

“So it will be. So it will be. So it will be.”

The rains came in late summer, soaking fields and gardens. Seeds opened and sent tiny shoots into rich soil, drawing nourishment for rapid growth in the hot climate. Beans, tomatoes, peppers, summer squashes and large green chaya leaves were soon ready to satisfy the eager appetites of Lakam Ha’s residents. Trees flowered and set fruit, eaten a little less ripe than usual this season. Corn stalks grew tall and green, setting ears and dangling tassels. The fall harvest would be abundant and hunger reduced. The people felt reassured that at least some ahauob were communicating with the deities, in some way, and satisfying those gods in charge of foods and harvests.

Indeed, the priesthood made offerings according to established agricultural schedules and performed rituals following the sun, moon and star calendars. The royal family and top elite nobles gathered for seasonal rituals in the temples of the High Priest and High Priestess. These were mundane levels of ceremony that followed planting and harvesting cycles. They honored moon cycles, sun positions and movements of the traveling stars (planets).

But these were not the arcane, hidden high rituals required of the ruler to satisfy the Lords of Time and keep covenant with the Triad Deities and First Sky Gods. Only those ahauob of the purest bloodlines in the Bahlam dynasty could perform these rituals. To do these, the Jeweled Tree rising in the sacred portal was necessary, and it had been destroyed.

Sak K’uk felt immensely troubled about this situation, although most nobles preferred to avoid facing it, waiting for the outcome of Aj Ne Ohl Mat’s fate. Some nobles found the chaos and social upheaval advantageous to their personal ambitions. They cultivated circles of supporters who enjoyed complaining and scheming without having to take responsibility. They hoarded food, especially maize after the harvest, and were able to stockpile larger supplies since they were not held to tribute for the ruler and court. Others collected pottery and cloth as it was made, storing these away to augment personal assets. After the cacao harvest, more wealth in the form of these highly prized pods was sequestered in the storage rooms of ahauob.

Kan Mo’ Hix was frustrated that the nobles acted selfishly, but was powerless to command tribute. Without the palace reserves of maize and dried beans, many commoners would go hungry during the winter. Their hard work in the fields would benefit the nobles for whom they labored. Although the harvest was good, there was not enough to feed everyone through winter’s season and still have seeds for spring planting. With nobles hoarding, the situation was even more difficult. Despite concerns for the people, he found himself following the noble’s suit and putting away the bounty of the ruling family’s fields and orchards. He would use this store for winter rations, although these would be slim for commoners due to holding seed for spring.

Sak K’uk reminded him to also provide supplies for Hohmay. She seemed incapable of taking charge of her household and workers, and it required much effort by Kan Mo’ Hix to keep things in reasonable functioning order. It was difficult to prevent workers and minor functionaries from skimming the royal fields, as the city’s warriors were severely decimated in the attack.

The winter rains and cold further dampened their spirits. Kan Mo’ Hix called the Popol Nah into session a few times, but attendance was sporadic and most of the time spent arguing about who could take charge of the council. Sak K’uk attended now, but met resistance to her assuming leadership. When she tried to garner support for re-building pyramid-temples, the ahauob complained they could not spare any workers or offer any tribute because of the difficult times.

When the next dry season came, traders began to arrive again at Lakam Ha. Markets formed and ahauob used their accumulated assets to trade for salt, foreign foodstuff, flint, obsidian and a few luxury goods. With the traders came information about other cities in the region. Traders from up-river cities of Yokib, Pa’chan and Usihwitz brought dire news just one moon cycle short of the anniversary of Lakam Ha’s defeat. In a ceremony performed to commemorate accession dates of Kan rulers, Hun Pakal had been sacrificed by their High Priest on the main pyramid-temple altar.

Ironically, the leader of the attack, Kan ruler Uneh Chan died only three moon cycles earlier from infection of the leg wound incurred during battle. Controversy racked Kan’s leadership in Dzibanche over who would be his successor, with two noble contenders of royal lineage. Most observers believed that Yuknoom Ti’ Chan, son of the deceased ruler, would win out. This hiatus in leadership weakened Kan’s influence; a new dynasty at Saal had emerged and schemed to sever Kan’s patronage. Belligerence was escalating between the Kan dynasty and the nearby Bat rulers at Uxte’tun with frequent skirmishes. Rumor had it that Kan was plotting an attack augmented by Usihwitz forces to eject Bat rulers and take over residence in their city, the ancestral Kan home.

News of Ka’an polity’s political upheavals brought little comfort to Sak K’uk, who mourned her father’s death. She feared that her brother would also become a human sacrifice, a practice done on occasion by the Maya from times of great antiquity. The ritual offering of a human life usually took place at times of extraordinary need or significance such as Baktun ceremonies at the end of 400 tuns (396 years) or during droughts and other natural disasters. For most other occasions, letting blood was considered the suitable sacrifice. To offer life itself was the supreme religious expression of the blood sacrifice, the ultimately potent ritual to directly communicate with and petition the life-sustaining divine forces.

Human sacrifice was thus reserved for extraordinary circumstances in Maya traditions. However, Sak K’uk was aware that these practices were changing. Certain of the most powerful cities, including Mutul, Uxwitza, and Kan had escalated their use of human sacrifice recently. The usual method was either heart excision or decapitation, quickly and skillfully performed on the drugged victim by trained priests. She felt this had less to do with religious zeal than as a means of ostentation by political and religious authorities. Although these sacrifices followed the rules and sequence of predetermined steps that ensured a purified and sanctioned offering, she could not believe that the deities who created humans and sustained them in a co-creative process would desire this level of sacrifice very often.

Even though she was not surprised, having anticipated this outcome when her father was captured, his loss struck her heavily. She arranged transition rituals using his clothes and eating implements, but had few jewels and fine ceramics to offer as grave goods. No funerary monument could be built, so she followed the time-honored tradition of locating his symbolic grave inside his chambers in their household. The only good news was that Kan was preoccupied with internal affairs and distant conflicts, making another attack on Lakam Ha very unlikely.

In the season of late summer rains traders again brought news of loss to Lakam Ha. The struggle for Kan rulership was decided in favor of Yuknoom Ti’ Chan, and as part of his accession ceremonies, Aj Ne Ohl Mat was sacrificed. This symbol of Kan’s prowess and victories lent prestige to the new ruler. The Lakam Ha royal family organized a large transition ceremony, using resources they truly could not spare for grave goods, ceremonial dress, burial in the palace and feeding the people in the main plaza. Sak K’uk commissioned a small plaque to commemorate her brother’s death, carved with his likeness and the date:

Baktun 9, Katun 8, Tun 19, Uinal 4, Kin 6, on 2 Kimi 14 Mol

(August 11, 612 CE)

Within three days of this ceremony, the deceased ruler’s wife Hohmay committed suicide. Her despondence had deepened as time passed, to the point she never left her chamber and often refused food and drink. Her husband’s death was the final blow to her fragile mind, and she obtained poisonous herbs that she took in a maize drink. Her choice was not questioned, nor the assistance her attendants provided. Suicide under such circumstances was both accepted and acknowledged among the Maya.

Lakam Ha was officially without a ruler. Since the ruling couple had no surviving children, a vacuum in succession arose. Turmoil over succession spread, adding to the pall of loss and destruction hanging over the city. Kan Mo’ Hix and Sak K’uk knew they could be contenders, but both were restrained by acute awareness of their inability to communicate with the deities. In her heart, Sak K’uk believed that Pakal was destined to become ruler, but now he was too young. She could not imagine a plan for achieving recognition of Pakal as royal heir, given the chaotic and contentious atmosphere among the ahauob. The legacy of failure hung over her family, for clearly they had not kept the deities satisfied or the disastrous attack from Kan would not have occurred. She blamed her brother most, but felt her own deficiencies too painfully. Her training was not deep enough; she did not make proper effort or master shamanic techniques for attaining the realms of gods and ancestors, for making prescribed communications.

What concerned Sak K’uk as much as succession was the approaching katun end, a time when the Long Count calendar reached a point of completion, moving from Katun 8 to Katun 9. It was obligatory to perform K’altun ceremonies, the binding of the tun, to honor and recognize the deities and Lords of Time. Otherwise, the order of Time and the well being of B’aakal people would be jeopardized for the coming 20-tun time period. The katun end would arrive in nine more moon cycles:

Baktun 9, Katun 9, Tun 0, Uinal 0, Kin 0

(May 12, 613 CE)

Who in Lakam Ha would be capable of conducting this important ritual? Sak K’uk could bring no one to mind.

The moon, Lady Uc, progressed gracefully through her cycles. From a tiny sliver of arched light she grew steadily, night by night, her concave belly becoming fuller until it began to swell like a pregnant woman. She swelled into the full roundness of completion, shining her lovely silver light in the star-studded sky, ducking behind drifting cloud tendrils that wrapped veil-like around the resident rabbit. Usually Sak K’uk loved Lady Uc, rejoiced in her waxing to fullness and waning into darkness where she hid for only a few nights, allowing the stars their moments of unimpeded glory. But now Lady Uc brought worry, for every cycle she completed brought Lakam Ha closer to a point of immense danger. What would happen if the K’altun ceremony were not performed correctly, or even at all? Such a thing had never before occurred.