The Mayan Priest (38 page)

‘We have been over every possible scenario and there is no other way we can get to Kaloomte before he takes her to his bed. Should we allow that to happen, it will be all over and we will have no chance of keeping our word,’ said Yok Chac.

‘But is deceiving him the right option?’

‘We all know that Kaloomte B’alam had an illegitimate child with the daughter of a farmer. He knows that he can father children and by not allowing him to think he is the father of Lady Tikal’s children will only put her life at risk.’

Kinix sat down before replying, ‘But everyone will still believe they are his children.’

Yok Chac frowned at his friend. ‘You of all people know that it’s only what the gods see that is important. Bahlum Paw Skull will know that we have fulfilled his request and when our time comes, we will join them with honour.’

Kinix smiled for the first time that morning as Yok Chac readied his kit of surgical tools, placing them on the wooden bench against the door. He looked at me with a steady determination, his darkened eyes glimmering with an unshakeable conviction that we were doing the right thing.

True to our prediction Kaloomte B’alam announced his intention to marry my Butterfly immediately after her ‘coming of age’ ceremony, seven kin from today. It was tradition for royalty to marry each other, so it did not bring about any surprise from the vast population although it did cause my feelings to fall to an all-time low. I admit to holding a thin thread of hope that Kaloomte had other objectives, but as we had suspected, it was not to be.

The kin passed far too quickly for my liking and before I had time to convince myself that our actions were not for the best, the moment had arrived.

It was too late to change our minds.

Nervousness forced me to rise from bed long before the sun had chosen to grace us with her presence, but the quietness of the morning only allowed me to dwell on my fear of failure.

What if we were caught in the act? Shame would befall us and Kaloomte would sacrifice us as an example to the population. I could envisage our hearts being ripped from our chests and our heads rolling down the stairs whilst people laughed and pointed at our humiliation.

If there was another option, I would surely take it, but my heart was lighter with the knowledge that my Butterfly had been informed of our plan and agreed that it was for the best. How I loved and admired her. If I was ever asked to describe kindness, grace and beauty, I would merely mention her name. Unknowing and perhaps unwilling, brought on by the years I had spent by her side, raising her, knowing her as intimately as I knew myself, I realised that I had loved her from the moment I had delivered her from the womb of her mother.

The transition into adulthood was performed close to the life flow of our city and involved walking a considerable distance down into the darkness of her bowels. The many steps and coldness of the ancient rocks and earth were not noticed as we wound our way deeper and deeper until I could hear the blessed tears of Chac flowing steadily beneath us.

It was not long before the grand temple precariously situated on an island in the fast flowing river became visible. It was a beautiful sight.

Built by our ancestors, it had been carved out of solid white rock and transported piece by piece through the treacherous tunnels by the labourers until it was completed three haab cycles later. Five large, rounded pillars stood atop a series of steps on which was an ornamental altar. Above this was a square, stepped roof positioned so that the uppermost point reached the ceiling of the cave. On each of the pillars and lower square panels of the roof were many scenes depicting ceremonies that held great importance to us along with the images of our gods and the life tree.

As always I was momentarily overwhelmed by the importance of the occasion, forgetting to breathe as I took in the awe-inspiring sight.

Kin Kawil summoned me. I moved quickly to the front of the line as he pointed to the fifteen holes in the wall.

I nodded in acknowledgement.

To access the island, five fingers needed to be placed in the appropriate holes and a small lever pressed. This released a series of steps below the water which rose slowly and allowed the procession to cross without falling into the water. Unfortunately, placing your finger in the wrong hole or slipping into the water would spell instant death, so a mistake could not be made.

I used the secret code passed from priest to priest since the beginning of our time and waited for the bridge to rise.

It took only a few moments before the clicking could be heard and we were allowed to pass safely over.

The ceremony itself involved invoking the spirits of our gods and in particular Ix Chel to ensure Lady Tikal’s fertility. I cringed involuntarily. The new name was not given, but Kin Kawil placed my Butterfly on the altar and spread her legs apart so he could insert a fine obsidian needle through the inner part of her genitals. A small amount of blood was collected which we burnt and prayed for the future health of our queen.

She was quickly pronounced ready to marry at which time Kaloomte immediately took her hand and advised that the wedding would be this afternoon. I was not surprised as it was well known that Kaloomte had pre-organised a celebration to a size never seen before. It was this that I was counting on.

***

Every person had dressed in their best outfit, creating a vast sea of colour split into sections according to the status of the wearer. The wealthiest of our people wore the brightest colours of the gods and sat separate from those who were less fortunate. This spread out until the colours dulled and we reached the slaves dressed only in the tones of the dirt.

As per Kaloomte’s orders, all people of this great city were allowed to feast on the many meats, fruits and vegetables that had been prepared for this occasion, although too much drink would eventually involve widespread riotous behaviour, but for once, I did not really care.

I sat fearful as my beautiful Butterfly appeared vulnerable at the top of the temple, splendid in a stunning white gown, offset by a rare feathered headpiece and large strings of jade and gold that extended from her glossy black hair down over her shoulders to her waist. She wore long gold and shell earrings and to my delight, the exquisite luminous blue stone set in a simple gold setting and chain around her neck that I had made for her many cycles ago. Purchased from a passing merchantman, I recalled being enthralled by the rare object to such an extent that I did not even quibble when he requested a rare obsidian knife and two jars of salt in return. To see it on her now was a delight, but it was her vacant expression that gave me the greatest relief. Just before the ceremony, she had approached me for something that would calm her nerves and I was pleased to note that my remedy was working!

I did not want her to be worried, considering a large portion of our success relied on her keeping a clear head.

Suddenly the crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer of approval as Kaloomte appeared beside Lady Tikal. I cringed in disgust. He was strutting about like a bird, too overconfident and sure of himself as he looked to the skies. He was revelling in his position, high above those he considered his inferior.

My stomach churned as I watched him devour my Butterfly with his greedy eyes, instantly confirming my fears that the life my Butterfly had to look forward to was anything but pleasant.

How I wished I could protect her, but the basic piercing and joining of blood followed by Kaloomte announcing her as his wife occurred before I could contemplate the union of my beloved to the one I hated.

‘It’s time,’ said Yok Chac, interrupting my train of thought as I subconsciously squeezed the small bag firmly concealed in the palm of my hand.

‘Yes,’ I agreed as I moved quickly to the kitchen where the preparations for the vast feast were underway.

Initially I had worried that my intrusion into the kitchen would be questioned, but to my relief, I was both trusted and respected beyond reproach. I was not interrogated when I requested that the large quantity of powder I was placing in the cup of pulque was to ensure wellbeing and fertility of the king, nor was I questioned when I immediately requested it to be served.

Amongst the hundreds of eager hands required to serve an entire city, my little jaunt to the kitchen was quickly forgotten and I was soon able to rejoin the party without anxiety.

I caught the eyes of both Yok Chac and Lady Tikal, nodding to advise them of my success.

Within moments Kaloomte began to sway and seemed somewhat disorientated. It was as I had hoped, but it was now out of our hands.

Yok Chac and I watched and waited for Lady Tikal to keep her end of the agreement, noting that she had whispered something in his ear and that his face had lit with delight. Even in his confused state, he clearly understood her intentions and rose eagerly from his chair without advising the guests of their departure.

Kaloomte lay spread out on the bed, drugged and totally oblivious to his surroundings. He had been stripped naked and lay on his back with his hands crossed over his chest. His gentle breathing and roll of the eyes indicated unconsciousness and total lack of sensation.

Kaloomte did not stir, so I removed the needle and had Yok Chac pull the flesh until the perforation had stretched enough to allow me to pass a small but equally sharp knife into the incision.

It was an operation I had performed many times before on slaves who Kaloomte had wished to become infertile without their knowledge. The aim was to make a tiny hole behind the sack that was undetectable and stretch it to allow a sharper knife to pass through. Once I had cut the tube I could use the same small needle to pass a stitch through the now separated tube and allow the hole to close naturally.

‘No. It will seal itself shortly,’ I offered as I pressed a cloth against it until the tiny droplet of blood had dried and no evidence of our crime could be found.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Gillian looked at her watch. She had reached a separate small scroll that intertwined inside the main script. It was not written in the usual neat writing so typical of Kinix and it caught her unawares. She gazed at it thoughtfully, studying the tilt of the hand and slant of the words, noting that it was consistent with everything she had read previously.

Adam coughed loudly. ‘Look, I’m no archaeologist or anything, but surely the fact that it is written in Medieval Latin means it was written by Kinix.’

Gillian’s brow furrowed in anger. Adam had stated the glaringly obvious and she felt silly. She scowled at him, only receiving a look of satisfaction.

‘You only have fifteen minutes before we need to leave, so unless you want to spend the next day or so wondering who the author was, I would suggest you get a move on.’

Manuscript part 4

If these following words were not such an important part of my life, I would never have written them for the shame I feel. Please do not judge me, for without this event, the wishes of my King would never have been met.