The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque (20 page)

July 10, 1994

Over a month after opening the sarcophagus lid, we still have more questions than answers about the tomb in Temple XIII. On July 5
^th
, Arnoldo and Fanny decided to continue searching for the passage leading to the south door, the original main entrance to the burial chamber. Two observations spurred them on: the five steps ascending from the chamber floor to the south door, and a fresh breeze that came from around the door. They speculated that the steps might lead to another substructure contained in the six meters between the tomb and the top of Temple XIII.

When workers removed the stones that closed the south door, they ran into huge rocks weighing 30-40 kilos filling the stairway. Little by little they broke up and removed rocks. After proceeding upward one meter and 13 more steps, Arnoldo had to call off the operation. They encountered only more huge rocks, and risked danger of collapsing the structure with more excavation.

The question of what else remains inside Temple XIII could not be answered yet. Everyone took a break that afternoon and most went to a hotel in Palenque town to watch the Mexican soccer team play against Bulgaria in New York. It was the Soccer World Cup of 1994. Sonia and I were not interested in watching the game, unlike most of our compadres and they accused us of being unpatriotic.

We decided to take a walk to the older section of the site, rarely visited because of poorly marked trails through heavy forests. The old section west of the Great Plaza where we are working is very large and little excavated. Archeologists believe there are many structures buried under trees and brush, and tantalizing glimpses of rocky piles peering through foliage convinced us that an unknown treasure resides here. The trail was narrow with fallen branches and tangled roots. We had obtained a rough map from a local Maya who claimed he knew how to reach Templo Olvidado. It’s called “Olvidado” or Lost for good reason – far from the main area, poorly restored, visited by few.

After crossing three streams and climbing over several hills, we reached the flat, east-west running plateau on which most of the western settlement was built. This area probably was downtown Lakam Ha in its early years. There is not much to see except tree-covered mounds with stones peeping out between roots. Some speculate that this older western portion of the site might be the legendary “Toktan,” origin place of the Palenque dynasty.

Our destination, Templo Olvidado, is halfway across the older section. Current thinking holds that Pakal built this temple around 640 CE, possibly as a funerary structure for his parents. It’s been partially cleared and the top structure restored, though the sides are still rubble and brush. Knowing the Maya propensity to build on top of existing structures, there may be substructures from even earlier times.

After a few wrong turns and thorny bush scratches, we followed our map past an aqueduct and up a steep hill. Breathless after climbing the steep path to the temple, we sat on the upper steps, peering between tall trees toward the Tabasco plains far below. The temple has only two rooms with several doorways, the roof still mostly intact but no decorations remain. Once it surely had sculptures on piers and panels on inside walls, with a decorated roof and tall roofcomb. Surrounded by smaller mounds and rising visibly above them, this area was not residential and must have been ceremonial.

The breeze wafting upward was refreshing and the trees shaded us from the warm afternoon sun. We talked about our attraction to archeology. Though we’re in the same school, Sonia is in the class ahead of me and we did not know each other before.

“Franci, why did you choose restoration?” she asked me.

“I always knew, since childhood, that I wanted to work in archeology. Growing up next to the Palenque ruins, visiting often with my father who loves them, I felt deeply connected. But I also love art and ceramics; I’ve been a potter for years. So I combined these two for a career restoring ancient Maya artifacts.”

“Similar to me, growing up in Oaxaca,” she said. “Different people, the Zapotecs, but also surrounded by ruins. Painting and calligraphy are my passions, and preserving ancient glyphic works seems so important.”

Though our ambitions are close, our family backgrounds are far apart. Most of her family was well educated and some were professors. When I described my village family, she was surprised that I’d gone so far in school. Not the least of it, women having a professional career was expected for her. My situation is anything but that and it takes some determination to overcome pressure from my mother and grandmother to get married. But I will finish my degree and work in the field, this I’ve promised myself.

Warmed by the sun into drowsiness, my mind drifts to the ancient Maya as we sit in silence after a long talk about our lives. When did residents of Lakam Ha last stand upon the platform where we sit, last conduct ceremonies in this temple? Fleeting images cross my inner vision of priests and nobles with elaborate costumes ascending the stairs, a plaza below filled with commoners in loincloths and huipiles, processions carrying standards and playing exotic instruments. My ears almost hear the sonorous blasts of long trumpets, the reedy melodies of flutes and steady drumbeats.

If only I could transport myself back to those times, if I could experience the world of Lakam Ha during its heyday. Then I would see the queens in their full glory and magnificence, these powerful women who fascinate me so much, who changed the destiny of their city. Then I would know which one of them lies in the sarcophagus in Temple XIII – if it’s a woman’s skeleton.

YOHL IK’NAL – IV

Baktun 9 Katun 7 Tun 11 -
Baktun 9 Katun 7 Tun 13
(584 CE - 586 CE)

1

Nohpat squatted at the edge of his cornfield. His weathered brow furrowed more deeply than usual, for he was worried about the corn. Scooping a handful of soil, he lifted it to his nose, rubbing it gently to release earthy aromas. The soil smelled clean with no trace of mustiness. Its texture between his fingers felt normal, rich with nutrients left after flooding by the Michol River crossing the plain below Lakam Ha.

Perplexed, he shook his head and allowed the soil to trickle from his fingers and return to the field. This was a young field, only in its second season of cultivation. Most fields could be worked for five or six annual seasons, then allowed to lie fallow for an equal time to replenish soil fertility. He had cut channels for irrigation, drawing life-sustaining water from the river. He had planted companion crops with the corn in the usual manner, those plants that corn liked, that created a system of mutual support and nutrition.

In-between randomly spaced corn stalks, squash vines spread their flat leaves and sported bright yellow flowers, some setting small fruits. Several varieties of beans climbed up the stalks, along with vines of the spiny green chayote squash. The entire chayote plant was edible; the oval fruit and its leaves were steamed and the white tuber dug up and eaten in the dry season. Leggy tomato plants spread and twined among their cohorts, and several types of chiles formed on small bushes. Other herbs and wild greens found footholds, their leaves giving the Maya pungent seasonings including oregano, coriander, annatto, and epazote.

To Nohpat’s experienced eye, none of the plants seemed as vigorous as last year, although it was the corn that most concerned him. At this point in the growing season, two moons past the heavy rains, the corn ears should be half grown and beginning to show tassels. But those in his field were small, the husks beginning to wither and no tassels peeped from their tips. Even the long leaves of the corn stalk seemed listless, drooping and turning brown at the edges. It was not due to lack of water, he assured himself. Had he not re-cut the channels, providing a dependable water flow? Had he not searched for beetles and fungi that might damage the corn plants?

Rising with a sigh, Nohpat turned from his cornfield and started back along the path leading to his family hut. He glanced at the sun nearing mid-morning, and quickened his pace. When the sun was directly overhead, he and his family would receive an unusual and most auspicious visit. It was both an honor and yet a shame, for it acknowledged the plight of his cornfield. The Ah Kuch Kab, leader of his
kuchte’el
– village had been sufficiently concerned to request the highest assistance: the intervention of the K’uhul B’aakal Ahau of Lakam Ha.

The villagers living in the low hills and plains at the base of Lakam Ha were organized in four groups of 20 families that formed a kuchte’el. As families grew and young adults started their own families, they often moved to another kuchte’el or began a new one. The Maya did not allow marriage between people having the same surname. They limited each kuchte’el to 20 families so that all would know each other well. Kuchte’el governance was by age-gradated councils each having two representatives from every family: children between 7-14 years, youth between 14-28 years, adults between 28-52 years, and elders between 52-104 years. Boys and girls younger than age 7 belonged to the whole community and everyone was responsible for their care and education. Between ages 7-14 both parents had direct responsibility; mothers taught girls and fathers taught boys about their roles. At puberty, rites of tranformation were enacted. Girls at age 13 received sexual education by lunar priestesses; boys at age 14 were taught this by solar priests.

Young men usually followed the trade of their fathers, though not invariably. Villages required farmers, builders, hunters, artisans, traders, healers, priests, h’men and shamans. Young women learned from their mothers the skills of preparing food, cooking, weaving, maintaining household animals such as turkeys and dogs, caring for minor illness and tending children. Either sex could become musicians, storytellers and dancers who brought joyful sound and movement to family events and community ceremonies.

The age-specific councils presented the needs of their groups to the community, and reviewed problems within their age group. Usually having to face peers, provide explanations for behaviors, and receive the judgments of the council was enough to correct difficulties. If it was not, another council was formed of representatives from all age groups, because the whole community needed to find solutions together. All were responsible for the joys, pains and problems of their village. Problems that could not be solved on that level required extreme intervention, which might be a High Kuchte’el council of representatives from several villages. At times it might necessitate the illumined wisdom of the High Priest or High Priestess of the ruling city, or even the divine intervention of the Holy Lord, the ruler who was the deity’s earthly form, the mediator between the gods and the people.

Elders were held in high regard by the villagers. At the age of 52, the completion of one full cycle of the Tunben K’ak, the 52-year calendar in which the Tzolk’in and Haab returned to their initial inter-acting positions, a person was considered an elder. Both men and women at this age had the obligation to understand the basic uses of sacred calendars, and recognize how life and village cycles related to the ecosystem of minerals, waters, plants and animals as part of the cosmic order. They could lead village ceremonies and provide wise counsel. Elder men often became Ah K’in, solar priests while elder women became Ix Uc, lunar priestesses.

When elders lived to 104 years, they attained a place of special spiritual significance. At age 104, the completion of two 52-year cycles, they were living symbols of Maya sacred numerology that was conjugated in their bodies. They had completed the entire cycle of life, their time as a human was symbolically finished and they were regarded as almost spirits. It was customary for young people to visit them, to watch their faces and touch their hands. Each wrinkle represented many years lived, and by touching them the young people could touch time and remember cycles of sun and moon. In this way, they pondered the cycles of time.

Nohpat reviewed the council meeting when his cornfield was discussed. No one could think of a reason why his corn plants should be sick. His family had been successful farmers for generations. They followed cultivation practices known as ideal for their soil and climate, rotated crops, left fields fallow, channeled water. They never failed to offer gifts to the Maize God, to Chaak for good water and rain, to Bakabs of the four directions, and nature spirits. Even the village priests and shamans could not see how a deity might have been offended. After much deliberation, the Ah Kuch Kab suggested that a higher level of difficulty was involved. Perhaps the Triad Gods, the patrons of Lakam Ha polity were in some manner displeased. This idea came because of the central role that corn played in Maya cosmology, because it had significance that reached into the very creation myths of the Maya people.

The Maya are people of corn. When the Fourth Creation came to pass, when real people were made and modeled successfully after three prior failures, it was done using corn meal and water to mold their bodies. In the First Creation, the creator gods Gucumatz-Sovereign Plumed Serpent and Thunderbolt Hurakan-Heart of Heaven decided to make beings that would honor the gods, call their names correctly and name the days properly. First they made birds and animals, but these could not utter the proper sounds, all they made were howls and screeches. After attempts to teach them failed, their “flesh was brought low” by the creator gods, who relegated these creatures to be eaten as food.

In the Second Creation, beings were fashioned out of earth and mud. This was unsuccessful, as their bodies were misshapen and crumbled when wet, and their speech was senseless. They were incapable of the worship required by the creator gods, and so they were destroyed as useless in a great inundation.

In the Third Creation, beings were made of wood. These manikins were more resilient and did not dissolve when wet, but there was nothing in their hearts and nothing in their minds. Although they could speak, their speech was equally useless because they had no memory of their mason and builder, no gratitude for being created. They treated their animals and implements badly, so were destroyed by a flood and also attacked by their animals, plants, utensils, and houses that had been abused. The few survivors were banished to live in treetops and became monkeys.

It was only in the Fourth Creation that the creator gods were successful. This came to pass by asking help from Grandmother Xmucane-Heart of Earth and Grandfather Xipiyak-Heart of Sky. A sequence of events was set in place pitting the gods’ creations against the Death Lords of the Underworld. The first set of twins, Hun Hunahpu and Wuk Hunahpu, were summoned to play the ball game against the Death Lords, but lost. A second set of twins was born from the severed head of Hun Hunahpu that spit into the hand of Blood Moon, daughter of a Death Lord. Rescued from her father’s vengeance, Blood Moon was succored by Grandmother Xmucane, and gave birth to Hun Ahau (Hunahpu) and Yax Bahlam (Xbalanque). Finding their father’s ball game equipment, they played and disturbed the Death Lords who summoned them to games below. But these twins were clever shape-shifters, out-smarted the Death Lords, won the right to life and resurrected their father as the Maize God-Yum K’ax who brought forth people made from corn. These were real people-halach uinick, who could count the days and call the gods’ names properly. Thus came into being the ancestors of the Maya people.

Because corn was the essence of the people’s bodies and the vessel of their spirits, the K’uhul B’aakal Ahau was coming to Nohpat’s hut so the problem in his cornfield could be resolved.

The palanquin of the K’uhul B’aakal Ahau completed the steep descent beside the Bisik River cascades. Quickening their pace along the well-traveled path through gently rolling foothills, the palanquin bearers adjusted shoulder poles to assure their passengers a level ride. As the terrain became flatter, they passed through groves of cacao and vanilla bean trees, much valued by the ahauob of Lakam Ha. Lush orchards of cultivated avocado, mamay, papaya, siricote plums, custard apple, nance and guava spread across the broad plains toward the Michol River.

Inside the splendid palanquin, Mat Ek’ glanced at the B’aakal ruler who sat straight and alert, observing the groves and orchards carefully. A shadow of concern hovered in the Priestess of Ix Chel’s eyes, caught by a quick turn of the ruler’s head.

“Be not concerned, Mat Ek’ for all is well,” the ruler said with a smile.

“Of this my heart is glad, Holy Lady,” the healer replied. “Ix Chel grant that all may continue so to full completion of your pregnancy.”

Yohl Ik’nal had acceded as K’uhul B’aakal Ahau 291 days after the death of her father Kan Bahlam on Baktun 9, Katun 7, Tun 9, Uinal 5, Kin 5 (February 3, 583 CE). The timing of her accession was deliberately planned on the Tzolk’in-Haab calendar combination that would be most auspicious: 9 Lamat – 1 Lahun. Nine was the number of completion and doorway to the next realm, the number of supreme foundation. Lamat was the day of the Venus star, of fertility, successful cultivation, good fortune and deep intuitive penetration. One was the number of unity, beginnings, creative spark. Lahun was the uinal (18-day month) of expertise, skill and remembering.

That day was recorded by glyphs carved on panels in temples of Lakam Ha:

Baktun 9, Katun 7, Tun 10, Uinal 3, Kin 8 on the sacred calendar designation 9 Lamat – 1 Lahun (December 23, 583 CE), the first woman ruler of B’aakal tied on the white headband and was ceremoniously seated upon the double-headed jaguar throne. Kan Bahlam had prepared his ahauob and commoners well, had cultivated broad-based support among powerful families and kept the priesthood aligned. Yohl Ik’nal had continued to impress the elites with her powerful ritual enactments and uncanny intuition. She was considered a true seer, a visionary who communicated with the deities. There was no doubt that the B’aakal Triad breathed their presences into her form and passed their intentions through her acts.

As grand as her accession was, it was shadowed by an event that happened nearly five solar years before. The priests and priestesses, and few elite who knew the real circumstances had agreed to conceal it from others. But, as such events among ruling families are known by servants and workers, rumors leaked out. The esoteric calendric significance was understood by only a few, but the gist of the event was not hard to grasp: Yohl Ik’nal’s first son was born on an inauspicious date.

Following the calculations of Ah Kinob, the solar priests and the advice of Mat Ek’, Priestess of Ix Chel and acclaimed healer, the date for conception was carefully determined. The most auspicious date for birth of the next ruler had been determined, taking into account the needs and circumstances of B’aakal in the coming katuns. Yohl Ik’nal and Hun Pakal followed all prescriptions with impeccable precision to conceive the child: they ensured it would be a boy through positions and techniques during coitus, enacted on the date that would result in birth 260 days later.