The Mayan Priest (22 page)

Yoc Chak grinned at me and proceeded to chastise me in good humour when I neglectfully failed to take notice of my step. My lack of concentration caused by more pleasant thoughts made me trip on a stone and land heavily on my side. I felt particularly silly, especially since we received the unwanted attention of two jade merchants who helped me to my feet.

In my embarrassment I failed to take notice of their status but was duly informed by the ever watchful Yoc Chak that they were from Palenque and carried the mark of the most well-respected jade dealers. It was from them that I learnt that B’utz Aj Sak Chiik, the king of Palenque, was ill and they could use my skills as a healer. At first I expressed my surprise that they recognised me, but they pointed out that the name ‘Kinix’ was well known and as I carried Bahlum Paw Skull’s mark and dressed like a priest, they automatically presumed it was me. I was both honoured and stunned. Even Yoc Chak looked rather amazed and bowed to me in mock respect which bought spontaneous laughter from the men. I smiled in reply and within moments we had developed a good understanding. With promises to meet again and after sharing a small meal, we parted ways but with the blessing of a new found friendship.

It was another day and night before we wound our way through the steep and densely forested hills partially covered in mist. I paused momentarily to gaze at the breathtaking views of the coastal plains and take in the pastel shades of the temple summits as we closed in on the picturesque city of Palenque. It was a beautiful sight and I drank in the wonder as we proceeded down a set of partially concealed steps onto a lower plateau.

Our friend had warned us that the ill health of the King had created unrest amongst the city’s population. He stated that the people had grown to love their king and were filled with fear that his death would ruin the delicate balance of their society.

This fear was evident the moment we walked through the corbelled arch into the marketplace and city centre. It was not the glyphs on the walls, or the meandering brook that caught my attention; it was the anxious eyes of the populace. They gazed at us with suspicion and there was a distinct lack of joy and celebration common amongst the Mayan people. Usual duties were being undertaken but with little indication of enjoyment or enthusiasm. All was not well.

Our arrival was noticed immediately by the royal guards and we were ushered quickly to the King’s palace. The mood was solemn, but we received a suitable welcome from the King’s personal priest decked in a feathered headpiece, large circular jade ear disks and an elaborate jade and shell necklace. He flaunted his regal attire with too much pride for my liking, but to his credit, he immediately offered us a type of amaranth bread, hot chocolate and a platter of agouti and turkey. It was a great gesture of goodwill, but as soon as we had finished our meal, the plates were hurried away and the priest ordered us to follow him.

The palace of Palenque was much smaller than the one Bahlum Paw Skull inhabited, but it was equally beautiful. Glorious murals adorned the walls and there was much evidence of skilled workmanship in the intricately carved roof and sculptures. I took a moment to gaze at the paintings depicting the royal history of Palenque, which was almost as old as Tikal, before being rushed along the extensive corridor to a room at the end.

The king’s room reeked of a dying soul and I gasped with shock as I closed in on the royal bed. B’utz Aj Sak Chiik lay in a carved cot with an unusually thick base, four feet fashioned in the exact likeness of the paws of a jaguar and a jaguar head at each end. Fine animal pelts, two chairs and numerous pots filled the room. The walls were adorned with paintings, jade and shell inserts and bright tie-dyed curtains. I quickly moved to the bed and noticed that the King was a middle-aged, good-looking man with the high forehead formed from the soft childhood bones typical of royalty. His face was full of pain and he was sweating profusely. My first thought was that his way (animal spirit) had deserted him, but the extreme pain showed a distinct disturbance of ch’ulel (life flow of the body). Such an intense reaction could only be caused by the manifestation of mitnal in his body. I knew immediately that a Pul Yah (removal of pain) was required.

I pressed the lower area of the body where the body passes its waste. There was a distinct bulge that confirmed my suspicion that mitnal had made his way into the King, causing a growth that did not belong in that area. I immediately requested a ‘Bulche’ paste and inserted it into the anus before waiting for the usual signs of relaxation. With the assistance of Yok Chac and the king’s attendants, I used my trusty obsidian blade and cut through the flesh, past the layer of fat and into the waste systems of the body. Much of the body’s life force pulses through this area, so I took great care not to damage any precious vessels as I sliced into the large putrid sack. The smell was worse than anything I had ever experienced and I immediately requested a cover for my nose. The King was badly blocked with faeces which I had to remove before I could find the obstruction. The attendants could barely stand with disgust but Yoc Chak was steady by my side.

It soon became apparent that a huge growth had concealed the departure of waste down into the anus, so I removed it with a skill and precision that pleased even me. On completion of my procedure, I sealed the wound with the life blood of the Balam tree and stitches of human hair. It was a good job.

Yok Chac and I agreed to stay in Palenque for seven kin to nurse the B’utz Aj Sak Chiik. I applied my usual medicines, prayed daily and banned the king from food or any movement for four kin. After the third kin, I noticed the ch’ulel began to correct itself and my efforts were paying off. The heat of illness had also decreased eventually, allowing me to administer small amounts of cacao and liquid from the silk cotton tree which would help with any potential infection. A gruel of maize was also introduced to his diet, but I was unsure if the King would ever be able to sustain a full meal again.

It was also during this time that I began to know the son of B’utz Aj Sak Chiik. Ahkal Mo’Naab was a mere fifteen cycles of the haab( one cycle is 365 days) and a gentle young man who reminded me a little of myself. He was clearly intelligent, but the unrest throughout Palenque meant that the people knew little about him. It was my guess that he had spent his many years studying but little time acquainting himself with the city he would shortly rule. I had hoped to help change this and in two remaining kin I took it upon myself to ensure that he became a familiar figure amongst the people.

We also accompanied Ahkal Mo’Naab on visits to the outer villages where we encouraged the Prince to hand out small sacks of salt as an offering. It worked and Ahkal Mo’Naab developed a reputation for generosity and honesty.

The following day Yok Chac and I prepared to depart for the ‘City of Gods’. We gave thanks for the small but well-furnished room we had been given and I took one more look at the view of the magnificent temple from our window. Ahkal Mo’Naab was so appreciative of our help that he provided me with the secret to opening the sacrificial room of the great temple for my sanctuary if I ever returned. This was the highest honour bestowed on a visitor and I ensured that I left sufficient and strict instructions on how to care for the King after my departure to show my gratitude.

Ahkal Mo’Naab was suitably pleased and accompanied us to the outskirts of Palenque where he generously offered us enough food to ensure safe travel. I thanked him and knew that we had made a friend.

The journey to the ‘City of Gods’ revealed many new experiences for us! We travelled across rivers, through dense jungles and into drier regions. We even discovered a plateau on which we could see much of the surrounding environment. It was a little like standing atop one of Tikal’s pyramids, the thought of which made me feel homesick. My initial estimate of being away for one Uinal and five kin (twenty-five days) was more likely to be two uinal (forty days) or perhaps longer.

Contrary to my initial thoughts, I found myself retreating into deep reflection of my life along the trek, often staying quiet for hours on end. Yok Chac was the more energetic of us both, taking great delight in meeting and communing with as many of the travellers as possible. We were, however, the most wary of the Zapotec as they had captured Yok Chac and caused the death of his family. We were thankful not to meet any!

‘The City of Gods’ came into view the following morning, the sight of which almost bought me to my knees in reverence. Stories did little to describe the immense size and overwhelming sense of presence it radiated. It was beyond words.

‘The City of the Gods’ was easily three to four times larger than my own beloved Tikal and even from this distance, I could hear the noise emitted by the throng of people waiting their turn to pass through the corbelled-arch entrance. The queue was complete with tradesmen wanting to sell their wares, slaves and masters, farmers leaving or returning and a number of travellers seeking refuge. Everywhere I looked I discovered a new colour, sound or activity and I was so enthralled that Yoc Chak took the liberty of closing my mouth, which unbeknown to me was agape in wonder.

Once we had endured the initial crush past the elaborate gateway which had not been designed to cope with such a large crowd, I took the luxury of gazing at the unusual architecture that surrounded me. Like a young child learning something new, I noted with interest the vast array of family homes and their inhabitants. No home was the same size, some catering for families of only ten whilst others of up to a hundred or more. Each home was made of wood and adobe and decorated to suit the status of the inhabitants with some displaying elaborate decorations and tiling whilst others were quite plain.

Much to the annoyance of my dear friend, I snuck into one such home and found that the walls facing the street were windowless but the homes all opened onto a central icon adorned courtyard. It had a room for sleeping, storage, eating, worship of the gods and a drainage system that ran out onto the road. Beautiful but unusual pottery was abundant as were intricate paintings which totally covered each plaster wall. The last room I ventured into was clearly a jade workshop and I could not resist overstaying my welcome by studying the skill of their craft. The work was intricate and of high quality although I was sure I could do better.

Feeling a little guilty at indulging my inquisitive nature, I hurried to the door to find Yok Chac deep in conversation with the occupants. The overly nice but beguiling tone of his voice indicated that he was attempting to stop them from entering their abode and catching me.

He flashed his eyes at me in disapproval and continued to scowl angrily once we were alone. I apologised but feared that he was well used to my incessant curiosity.

As we moved along the streets, I discovered that we had just seen the vicinity set aside for the tradesman. All of the passing men and women carried the wares of their craft such as pottery, jade, wood or obsidian, each of which worked from their home and either sold the goods at the local market or travelled. My theory was also confirmed by the decline in the amount of slaves I observed who were far more plentiful in the outer work fields toiling to reap and sow the grains and vegetables for their masters.

In our endeavour to find the King unaided, we followed the general flow of people and listened carefully to their discussions. Accents were varied with people coming from as far away as Monte Alban and Uxmal but there was an underlying discontent in their conversations and tone of voice.

They complained about the lack of food, fresh water and the freedom of will that this city had been founded on. This confirmed the plight Suya Chan conveyed to us on his visit to Tikal. Being a stranger, the people were wary of me, but on my exploration through the dwellings reserved for travellers from varied and faraway cities, I found an agreeable man who was of Mayan descent. Much to my amazement, the ‘City of the Gods’ allowed these migrants to build and live in buildings reminiscent of their own homes. The man confirmed the whisper of many and revealed that the people had become unhappy with attention showered on the aristocrats whilst food became limited and the general population was left to fend for themselves. I showed my understanding and gave the man my blessing in the hope the gods would look favourably upon him.

He gratefully thanked me.

Yoc Chak and I took our leave and followed his directions to the centre of the city where we found ourselves at the most amazing sight I have ever witnessed. To the local population, it was clearly a common spectacle and they barely blinked, but to me it was a miracle. An avenue ran from where I was standing to as far as the eye could see. To my right was an overly elaborate temple adorned with numerous symbols and glyphs and decorations of Kukulcan (Quetzalcoatl). This was flanked by a group of smaller buildings followed by a massive red pyramid, plastered, painted and bejewelled with pictures of K’in (the sun). It was the largest structure I had ever seen.

Beyond this was an equally impressive courtyard surrounded by twelve, four-layered structures, each topped by a glorious wooden temple dedicated to the most important gods of this amazing city. At the very end of this courtyard was another pyramid, not as large as the Pyramid of the Sun but equally as impressive. This one was also red and dedicated to the moon.

To the left of the avenue was a smaller but no less extraordinary arrangement of palaces, temples and another large plaza. The entire assembly of buildings was overwhelming, but they were not the feature that had captured my undivided attention.

Centred along the entire length of the avenue was a number of retaining walls that bordered an arrangement of circular pools of water. As a learned man, I understood the concept of water and it was evident that the avenue ran uphill as did the water. In Tikal, we used an arrangement of pulleys and buckets to transport water up a slope, but this would not be possible here due to the sheer size and volume of the liquid. I had also not overlooked the lack of an obvious transfer system. This was a mystery I longed to uncover, but perhaps the name ‘City of the Gods’ was a true representation of this great town.