The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) (7 page)

Attendants supported the exhausted men to chambers behind the temple-cave where they were bathed and wrapped in cotton blankets to sleep. The High Priest and the crystal skull were ritually bathed in a separate chamber and assisted to a pallet for sleep next to each other. Later Tajoom taught the three men the Xibalban’s chant. Any one of the four men could release the spell using this chant while gazing into the eye sockets of the crystal skull. They must not speak it aloud until the skull was in place inside the Sak Nuk Nah of Lakam Ha.

2

The young deer lifted his white-tipped chin from the tender grass shoots. Sunlight filtered through the forest canopy, dappling the deer’s grayish brown coat. Small antlers sprouted from his forehead; it would be two more seasons before they were mature. At the forest edge, trees were widely spaced allowing ferns, grasses and fruiting shrubs to flourish and provide nourishing forage.

His moist black nose sniffed the humid air as his large, funnel-shaped ears rotated back and forth seeking unusual sounds. Only the buzzing of insects and twitters of birds floated on the hushed forest air. The deer’s stubby white tail was half-raised; he would flash it just before bolting from danger. He could detect nothing threatening.

But he knew something was watching him.

The young buck was alone. He had been banished as a yearling when his mother gave birth to another fawn and she kicked and butted him from her range. He followed at the edge of her path for a while, but eventually gave up and ranged on his own. At times he cautiously grouped with other yearlings as they avoided the range of mature bucks.

Flicking his tail against flies, he rotated his large ears again, stamped his front foot then resumed grazing. After a few nibbles, he raised his head and looked from side to side. Though he could detect nothing, instinctively he sensed a presence. Something was drawing him, summoning him toward it. Something calm, quiet, peaceful. The deer walked toward a cluster of brush and peered inside. His eyes met another pair of eyes, dark as pools of obsidian and radiant as the night sun. Eyes of kindness and compassion, eyes of appreciation and admiration.

Unafraid, the young deer gazed at the brown-skinned creature seated on a cushion of leaves behind the shrubs. He did not recognize it among forest creatures, but it posed no threat and sat only as tall as his shoulder. Moving closer, he caught an unfamiliar scent and froze, tail raised in alarm. The creature made soft sounds, not unlike the deer’s mother once made to call him. Curious again, the deer relaxed and stepped closer. Time passed in complete stillness as they regarded each other.

Very slowly, in a fluid motion, the brown-skinned creature moved an arm upward and offered juicy Ramon berries. The delicious sweet smell of the forest delicacy beckoned the deer. Undecided, the deer glanced around and stamped his foot, flicking his tail repeatedly. More soothing sounds reassured him and he reached his wet muzzle to quickly gobble up the berries. Then he suddenly whirled, bounded a short distance and stopped to gaze back over his shoulder, still licking berry juice from his lips. After advancing to take berry treats several more times and then retreating, the deer felt satisfied and slowly walked off into the forest.

Pakal closed his eyes and recalled the High Priest’s teachings about how animals conserved, cultivated and utilized energies. The deer was a frequent example.

“Observe, Pakal, how the deer conserves energy when sleeping,” said Pasah Chan, High Priest of Lakam Ha. “When he sleeps, the deer curls his body, tucks his head next to his side and places a hoof against his anal opening. This closes off the two portals in the head and spinal base where energy enters and leaves the body. He avoids loosing vital energy this way. In humans, we use the technique of fixing closed eyes at the psychic center located between the eyebrows, filling the lungs to close the diaphragm and contracting the anal muscles to close the spinal portal. Doing this during meditation conserves our energy and balances the portals at the crown and base of the spine.”

Meditation brought the mind and body into perfect harmony, using breath and focus. When completely harmonious, one emanated peacefulness that put all other creatures at ease. Then animals would approach with no fear or aggression.

Pakal smiled inwardly. His mentor’s teachings had proven true; today’s experience with the young deer affirmed it. There were other important uses of energy to be learned from observing deer, the High Priest had told him:

“When the deer runs across the fields, he takes leaps and appears to float, his hooves barely touching the ground. Deer can leap over high bushes and across wide streams. What makes them so light, so able to float? It is because they can move their energy upward. When the deer runs, all his energy is in his extremities: the hoofs, tail and horns. Deer are very powerful. Through closing portals of the body, they maintain internal energy and circulate it where needed. Thus they can send great energy to extremities to allow leaping with ease and grace.”

Likewise, animals such as the jaguar had special abilities to move energy downward. The jaguar symbolized force captured in bones and tendons. It was relaxed, agile, and unconcerned. Every movement in its life was done without striving, lightly and softly, never awkwardly. Moving its energy downward, the jaguar used relaxed power and flexible joints, never forcing its actions or becoming exhausted.

“This ruling lord of animals has the most resistant bones, so strong that powder of its bones is powerful medicine. When descending mountains and heights, use the relaxed force of the jaguar to control your descent; when climbing high use the deer’s power to ascend without effort,” advised Pasah Chan. “Meditation will give you control of both these energetic forces, to enter deeply relaxed and highly concentrated states.”

Pakal learned many ways to meditate. He studied the fundamental principles of breath control, use of
Ik
or wind. To absorb energy from his surroundings, he would inhale sucking in the lower abdomen, and exhale while relaxing the abdomen. Upon inhalation, he inflated all his muscles by filling them with bubbles of light. These bubbles infused vital energy until he felt tickling heat running all through his body. When this tickling heat coursed through his veins, it was called “lightning in the blood” and signaled the presence of truth and healing powers.

He learned postures called
K’u
to regulate and control the direction of energy, accompanied by hand signs that added finesse to his purpose. With these postures and gestures, he could draw down the energy of Father Sun, command the elements, manifest things in the Middleworld, enter trance states that brought him to other times and places, send blessings or healing energies, harmonize with creative impulses from the cosmic center, call forth the presence of other beings, and initiate life cycle processes of birth, death and rebirth.

Among the first shamanic powers mastered by young Pakal was calling the wind. Doing this required a perfectly calm day, when no breath of air stirred. After preparing through meditation and concentration of energy, Pakal stood on a hilltop where a few trees dangled their leaves listlessly. To the east, the hill sloped down toward the plains. Pakal intended to call the wind from the east, the direction from which it usually originated during this dry season. Closing his eyes and focusing one-pointedly upon the wind, Pakal chanted an invocation:

“Come, Honored Ik’, natural force filling the universe.

Ik’ that exists in all things from the greatest to the smallest.

We find you in the sky, upon the land and in all living things.

Knowing you, we are in harmony with nature.

Come, Honored Ik’, blow across this hill.

I, Pakal, summon you.”

With eyes closed, Pakal began slow arm movements forming a circle from east to west. His hands cupped into the summoning gesture, fingers together and thumbs pressed against the edge of his palms. In rhythm with the arm circles, he moved his cupped fingers as if to grasp the wind and pull it toward the west. He added a swooshing sound by blowing softly out through pursed lips.

After some moments, Pakal felt a wisp of hair stirring against his sweaty neck. Opening his eyes, he intensified his motions and sounds. He watched the hanging leaves, which soon began to rustle and sway. In one final motion, he breathed out gratitude to the wind, Ik’. Gusts wafted across the hill making the leaves dance riotously and cooling his neck.

Summoning the rain was more difficult and complex. It required the Ch’a Chaak ceremony involving four young boys and several assistants to construct the altar, build the fire pit, make sacred breads and bring a sacrifice. During the dry season, Pasah Chan determined that Pakal was ready and arranged the ceremony. A wooden altar was built, held together by sapling poles and vines, and a fire pit dug nearby. Women of the assistants’ families ground corn into maize dough of various colors to cook in the fire pit, for the sacred breads must be layered like the three worlds. Ocellated turkeys were ritually killed and their meat prepared for the fire pit, and honey wine was brought to add to the altar.

After three days of prayers and preparation, the group converged at the altar site located at the edge of cornfields on the plain below Lakam Ha. They lit logs in the fire pit early in the morning, and when these became glowing coals, they placed the turkey meat wrapped in banana leaves into the pit and covered this with a thin layer of rocks. A flat stone was placed on top for cooking the maize cakes later.

When Pasah Chan judged the time was right, he lit copal incense and called all present to begin the ceremony. The four boys crouched beside the four poles of the altar, while the assistants stood nearby. As pungent copal smoke billowed, Pakal came forward to take the censer and conduct the ceremony. For a moment his eyes locked with those of the High Priest. Insecurity flashed across Pakal’s dark eyes. He was the youngest acolyte to ever perform the Ch’a Chaak, having passed only seven solar years. Pasah Chan kept his gaze opaque; this would be a real test of the boy’s abilities.

Inhaling deeply, Pakal focused inward and breathed to absorb energy. Determination welled upward, filling his body with tickling heat. Holding the censer firmly, he raised his voice in the Chaak chant and began moving counterclockwise around the altar. At first, the chant seemed stuck in his throat and came out in quavering notes. Pakal swallowed and cleared his throat, eyes darting toward his teacher. Pasah Chan stood rigidly, aloof and distant, gazing across the cornfields.

Pitching his voice into a higher octave to show proper respect, Pakal chanted clearly to Lord Chak, the rain god, calling for his assistance to bring rain from the cloudless sky.

“Ch’a Chaak, Ceremony to Bring the Rain, let us call, let us seek,

Lord Chak, Thunderstorm-Lightning of Four Directions,

Green Thunderstorm of Fifth Direction,

Carrier of Rain Clouds upon his back.

Here he is at the first corner; White Thunderstorm, a turkey is his offering.

Here he is where the day ends, Black Thunderstorm, the blood of a tree, sacred copal is his offering.

Here he is at the Great Door, Yellow Thunderstorm, drumming is his offering.

Here he is where the day begins, Red Thunderstorm, fire is his offering.

Perhaps Thunderstorm is there on the green earth, Green Thunderstorm, dripping water through his fingers on top of sprouting corn.

Perhaps Thunderstorm is there, nesting in the sky, growing fruit in the sky.

Perhaps Thunderstorm is there, compressing the air with his hands on a mountaintop.

Perhaps he really is there, stopping to rest on Thunderstorm Mountain.

Lord Chak, Thunderstorm, is there under the sky and the rain comes day and night.

Lord Chak, Thunderstorm, is stooping as he goes along.

The rain has arrived.”

Pakal circled the men and boys each in turn, gesturing them to begin their performances. The four men made roaring sounds of thunder with their voices –
ruum-ruum-ruum,
clapping small wooden mallets together, beating wooden drums and sprinkling water from gourds onto the boys who crouched beside the poles. The four boys enacted frogs awakened by the rainstorm, croaking the frog call
uuoo-uuoo
. They imitated insects of the night by chirping, made hoots of owls and high-pitched bat squeaks. All these sounds were amplified when the land and forests were saturated with wetness. Their performance replicated the earth and sky during rainstorms.

Pakal approached the altar and grasped a sapling pole, shaking it as wind would shake the thatch roof of houses. He signaled for assistants to bring offerings and the men carefully removed maize cakes and banana leaf wrapped meat from the fire pit. As the offerings were placed on the altar, Pakal chanted and again called Lord Chak to bring rain. Eyes open only a slit, he raised his face to the sky and lifted his arms, cupping hands into the summoning gesture. After several repetitions, Pakal dropped his arms into the gesture for bringing forth or birthing. Both upper arms were held close against his sides, left hand lifted to shoulder height and right hand extended below waist, both open palms facing outward. With the left hand he drew the creative power of Lord Chak down from the sky, with the right hand he birthed Chak’s storm power into the Middleworld. Holding this gesture, Pakal fell into a trance, communing directly with the rain and storm deity.

All activity around the altar ceased. The participants waited, anxiously glancing skyward. Pasah Chan held his breath, for this was a critical moment. Had the boy made successful supplication; was his power enough that the Lord Chak would respond?

The late afternoon air hung heavy and still, expectant, infused with tension. For what seemed an eternity, nothing stirred. Suddenly from a distance came the deep rumble of thunder. A cool wind slid across the plains and rustled leaves on the altar vines. White clouds formed above the eastern horizon, skittering rapidly over the plains and boiling into dark-bellied heralds of rain. As the clouds passed over the ceremonial altar, fat raindrops spattered the ground and hissed on the fire pit coals. All lifted their faces and smiled as cooling droplets trickled on warm skin. In particular, Pasah Chan smiled wryly to himself. This boy was truly extraordinary.