The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) (9 page)

“So will begin the Fifth Sun,” Pakal concluded.

“It is so!” Ah Kuy beamed happily at his student. “At that time, the Lady of the House will soar at meridian as the dawn comes. The divinatory pronouncement of this stellar configuration is that the new era will have a feminine character. This will be a good time for planting, for creating anew and for new beginnings.”

4

The small group of noble women continued their chatter as an attendant escorted them through an arched portico leading back to the palace entrance. Red and yellow borders of their bright white huipils swished as they walked, jewelry clinked at wrists and dangled from elaborate braids piled atop their heads. Heavy earspools and neck collars of jade, turquoise and serpentine completed their everyday attire when in attendance to royalty in the palace.

In the reception chamber of the ruler’s sister, they played board games with colored beans and gambled using bone dice marked with the Maya dot-and-bar numbering system. Frequently they worked together weaving fine patterns on cotton fabric, using backstrap looms. Today’s activities had focused on painting dried gourds in delicate designs, each woman trying to outdo the others with creative images of family, ancestors or deities. Their normal time was cut short, however, and many had to leave work unfinished.

Alone in the reception chamber, the ruler’s sister, Sak K’uk, brushed a strand of hair away from her face absently. She held a round, hollow gourd carefully by its upper rim where the top was cut away. Turning it slowly with care not to touch the wet paint, she evaluated her handiwork. Two women danced in unison, arms outstretched and fingers upward, feet following the heel-toe pattern. Their elaborate costumes identified them as royalty. Around the other side of the gourd, monkey and macaw musicians played drums, rattles and clay flutes. Twining vines circling the entire gourd formed borders above and below the scene, sprouting lilies and pads.

Only a few more dabs of paint were needed. Sak K’uk wanted to finish her work and set it on a circular stand of twisted reeds to dry. Surely she had enough time before her visitor arrived. With a sigh, she reached for the tiny feather brush, dipped it in blue dye and added deft strokes to the macaw’s feathers.

She had dismissed her group of women courtiers early because of the visitor. Why had her sister-in-law Hohmay requested a private audience? This both annoyed and troubled her.

Sak K’uk and Hohmay were not close, and infrequently saw each other. There was an underlying tension between them, due in no small part to Sak K’uk’s frequent criticism of her brother’s performance as ruler of Lakam Ha. In recent months, Aj Ne Ohl Mat seemed more withdrawn and presided less often in the Popol Nah-Council House. When the ruler was absent, their father Hun Pakal assumed the throne position. Or worse, Sak K’uk’s ambitious husband Kan Mo’ Hix took the leadership bench. Although she deliberately stayed away from this governing council, she was acutely aware of the dissonance and discord simmering among the ahauob.

Finally satisfied that the gourd painting was completed, Sak K’uk set it upon the reed stand and rose to wash her paint-stained fingers, summoning an attendant with a hand gesture. As she finished drying her hands, footsteps in the hall alerted her to the visitor’s arrival.

“Here comes Ixik Ahau-Holy Lady Hohmay,” intoned the steward.

“Ma’alo K’in – good day,” said Sak K’uk.

“May this day be well for you,” replied Hohmay.

Sak K’uk dismissed her steward with a small hand wave and signaled Hohmay to be seated on nearby mats. As they settled down, Sak K’uk was struck at her sister-in-law’s thinness, bordering on emaciation. Despite the best efforts of Hohmay’s face painter, dark circles accentuated both eyes and the very skin of her face seemed to hang listlessly from high cheekbones. Her lips were drawn tight and thin over teeth too large for her delicate face. The flatness of her stomach proclaimed her conceptive failures.

Hohmay had never recovered from her last miscarriage. The pregnancy was difficult and the ministrations of Ix Chel priestesses could not control her nausea. She steadily lost weight and strength as the pregnancy sucked life force from her body. Then the miscarriage at six moons with ensuing hemorrhage sapped the
ix
from her very blood stream, leaving her pale and wan. Worst of all was the emotional trauma, the loss of yet another potential heir, this one a tiny and perfectly formed boy whose immature lungs failed within moments of birth. Hohmay’s grief knew no bounds, and she continued without appetite or motivation for life.

Sak K’uk was almost embarrassed by her own strength and vitality. But not enough to wish Hohmay and her brother an heir.

“To what purpose is this private conversation?” Sak K’uk asked, not knowing how to enter the topic more gracefully.

Hohmay fixed an angry stare upon her husband’s sister.

“There is much talk concerning your son Pakal.” She almost spat the words. “That he has called the wind, and even that he commanded Lord Chak to bring rain during the dry season. Of these things have I heard, not just in the palace or among the ahauob. The most humble of my attendants bring stories of Pakal’s feats, lauded at the market and around the hearthstones of the villagers.”

“Well, yes,” replied Sak K’uk, trying to keep pride out of her voice. “He has indeed shown advanced abilities in his training.”

“Why has he even been trained by the High Priest?” exclaimed Hohmay. “He is only now attained of eight tuns, and they say he began training at five tuns. This is unheard of!”

“He showed abilities so early, it was for his safety. He could have entered realms of danger or used these abilities unwisely.”

“You are not telling the entire truth! You pushed his training forward out of your own ambitions. I know you believe Pakal will be the next ruler of Lakam Ha.” Hohmay’s bitterness blazed from sunken eyes.

“We must be prepared. The royal heir may not come from my brother.” Sak K’uk could not summon compassion as her own anger swelled.

“I will conceive again!” Hohmay cried wildly. “We will produce an heir, unless your spells are preventing a successful pregnancy.”

Sak K’uk narrowed her eyes and shot an energy bolt that caused Hohmay to recoil.

“I cast no spells. This is the product of a sickened mind, Hohmay. Seek council with the High Priest, bring yourself into mental balance.”

“Pasah Chan is your ally! You both are plotting against me…” Her voice trailed off into stifled sobs.

“Hohmay, listen. I bear you no evil intentions. Surely such events, such recurring patterns are the will of the deities. We cannot always know their intentions, what they decree for our lives and our destinies. You must see that Aj Ne has little interest in ruling our polity. Perhaps your desire for a dynastic heir is not shared by your husband. His art is his first love, and could be his greatest contribution to our city.”

Both women sat in silence for some time.

“I have failed in the most sacred duty of a royal wife,” Hohmay whispered. “I have produced no sons, no heirs. Aj Ne must take another wife. My life is over.”

Sak K’uk could indeed believe that the fragile, emaciated woman might die momentarily. A wave of pity swept over her and she tapped upon a ceramic bowl to summon attendants.

“Bring warm fermented maize drink,” she ordered. After Hohmay sipped from a finely decorated clay cup, her color deepened slightly. Sak K’uk attempted to bring some comfort to the distraught woman.

“Aj Ne loves you deeply, and you can encourage his creativity,” she suggested. “I have seen how you inspire his poetry. He expresses no interest in another wife, or dynastic succession. What ensues in the governance of Lakam Ha is the purview of the Triad Deities.” For a moment it appeared that Hohmay slipped into acceptance. Then suddenly she threw her cup of maize on the floor and sprang to her feet. Eyes blazing fury and hatred, she pointed a scrawny finger at Sak K’uk and shouted,

“You are deceiving me! You wish me to give up, to admit defeat, to resign myself that Pakal will become heir designate for the Bahlam dynasty! Never, never will I succumb to your spells! You and your shaman mother, you think you can control the future of rulers and cities. I curse you both, and your precious son Pakal the magnificent! Much suffering and misery I call down upon you, even such as I have known!”

Sak K’uk reeled at the powerful energy blasting from Hohmay, who appeared as a shimmering apparition with daggers for eyes in a cadaverous skull, teeth bared in a death grin. Staggering momentarily, the thin woman spun and rushed away in a cascade of ghastly howls.

It took Sak K’uk some time to recover her composure after the encounter with her sister-in-law. She was deeply disturbed by the prophetic nature of Hohmay’s last utterances. An underlying sense of danger had been forming in her subconscious, now brought to the surface. Something was amiss, something beyond the continued dissention in the Council House and the tension between her family and her brother. Now she wished ardently that she had paid closer attention to her mother’s teaching, had concentrated more on techniques for visioning and divination. Yohl Ik’nal would seek a vision in such circumstances to discern what forces were at play. But Sak K’uk did not possess similar abilities and had not enacted a visioning since the last time with her mother, when they both foresaw her marriage to Kan Mo’ Hix.

That was when Yohl Ik’nal foresaw the attack upon Lakam Ha, a vision that aided her city to prepare and defeat the attackers.

Was something similar brewing? Sak K’uk had not been attending Popol Nah sessions, but heard about them from her father and husband. Even so, the network of informers used by Yohl Ik’nal, following the example of her father Kan Bahlam, had deteriorated under the poor leadership of Aj Ne Ohl Mat. Information about the plots and intrigues of neighboring cities was spotty at best. Usihwitz had extricated itself from Lakam Ha’s dominion, and relations with other cities in B’aakal polity were growing more distant. Tribute had declined, and Aj Ne’s chumtum-stone binding ceremony at the period end of 13 katuns (9.8.13.0.0) had been lack-luster, not as powerful and compelling as prior ceremonies by his predecessors.

She queried Hun Pakal in one of their long evenings together. Sipping warm cacao, father and daughter leaned close on adjoining mats and spoke in hushed tones.

“What information comes forth from Popo’ and Yokib and B’aak? Hear you anything of Usihwitz?” she asked.

“Ah, it is not such as the times of your esteemed mother, Sacred Ancestor Yohl Ik’nal, wife of my heart,” he lamented. “Our informers are few and not well connected. Hix Chapat of Popo’ seems to forget his obligations, or even that his sister is married to our ruler. He basks in peace and abundance but is meager in tribute. Without firmness bordering upon threat, I doubt this will change. It is rumored that Yokib’s ruler plays host to traders and ahauob from Kan, more so recently but we cannot obtain specifics. B’aak on the far western plains seems removed from such plotting and remains our most firm ally. As for Usihwitz, our sources have been silenced for some time. It is my assessment that they are courting alliance with Kan.”

“And gloating in the absence of repercussions for flaunting their tribute obligations,” Sak K’uk added glumly.

“Just so, and reveling in their defeat of Lakam Ha in the ballgame. We should have sent a foray against them right away to remedy their attack on us. This I still do not understand, except that Yohl Ik’nal was becoming more ill, and must have thought leaving the polity in peace was best.” It pained Hun Pakal to offer any criticism of his wife’s decisions.

“Hmmm. She had her reasons, I am certain.”

Sak K’uk told her father about the encounter with Hohmay, and the woman’s wild curses at the end.

“These things are much troubling me,” she admitted. “Is there any way to find out if other cities have intentions against us?”

“I will try to send scouts for information, though it will not be easy in the current climate of the Popol Nah. Perhaps surreptitiously, if I can find reliable men.”

Sak K’uk sighed.

“If only I had mother’s vision,” she murmured.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as dark rain clouds gathered in the east. Sak K’uk dabbed her sweaty face and signaled the fanner to more vigorous action. The rainy season was beginning when humidity became unbearable, keeping clothing constantly damp and skin covered with a fine wet film. Only the sudden gusts of wind blowing rain clouds toward the city provided momentary coolness. Soon the sky would unleash a deluge upon mountains and buildings alike, cascades of water pouring down pyramid steps and across plazas, waterfalls burbling down hillsides and rushing to swell the many rivers coursing through Lakam Ha.

She hoped Pakal would arrive before the rain. He was released temporarily from the Temple of the High Priest, given a short time to rest from training and to visit his family. It was difficult for her, knowing that her young son must endure so much discipline. But she also knew that sending him for training was the right decision. She missed him immensely, missed his sunny disposition and endearing presence. Would the rigorous shamanic training change him too much?

Just as the sky darkened overhead and fat raindrops began to splatter on the plaza, she heard his rapid footsteps in the portico. He burst into her chamber before the steward, who managed a breathy announcement from behind.

Sak K’uk opened her arms to embrace her son, noting with surprise that he seemed even taller. His presence made the entire chamber seem brighter. After a long hug, she held him at arm's length and examined his appearance. In these humid conditions he was wearing only a short loincloth, chest bare except for a jade pendant. Pakal’s long and sinuous limbs promised that he would be unusually tall. Already he had good muscle development with large hands and feet.

Pakal smiled broadly into his mother’s eyes, and she once again appreciated why calling him “K’inich” or sun-faced was perfect. His tilted almond eyes held a warm glow hinting of fire as his large, perfectly shaped teeth sparkled. Although his face was long and narrow with pronounced high cheeks offsetting a large arched nose, his countenance projected brightness and light. Just as K’in Ahau-Sun Lord brought heat and life to the Middleworld, this child Pakal the Shield of the Sun enlivened his surroundings.