The Visionary Mayan Queen: Yohl Ik'Nal of Palenque (32 page)

He touched the Earth on 8 Ahau 13 Pop, the child of Sak K’uk and Kan Mo Hix, ahauob of Lakam Ha, of the sacred B’aakal lineage, the prophesied one:

Janaab Pakal, Lord of the Shield.

His birth was on Baktun 9, Katun 8, Tun 9, Uinal 13, Kin 0 (March 26, 603 CE).

Sounds of mournful drumbeats echoed through the palace complex. Slow and regular as heartbeats, the cadence invoked a meditative state. In the courtyard adjoining the ruler’s private chambers, women and men sat cross-legged on mats, swaying to the rhythm. From time to time a woman’s voice toned eerily, or a man’s deeper rumblings evoked distant thunder. Copal smoke curled from multiple incensers, filling the enclosed court with the sacred resin’s entrancing scent.

These courtiers and warriors, women attendants and companions, were keeping a death vigil for their ruler. The entire city waited expectantly, cloaked in silence and sorrow. Yohl Ik’nal, their beloved K’uhul Ahau, their visionary and seer, their leader through adversity and abundance, lay dying.

Many days had passed since she last walked through the cool stone corridors of the palace, and many more since she passed among the people in the streets of Lakam Ha. For the last year and a half since her grandson’s birth, she had not appeared in the Popol Nah or the throne room. Governance of Lakam Ha was in the capable hands of Hun Pakal, assisted by his two children. Now all was about to change, with the inherent uncertainty surrounding accession of a new ruler. The royal family had taken all the steps possible to assure smooth transition: The heir Aj Ne Ohl Mat was designated, a solid alliance formed through Sak K’uk’s marriage, and loyalty assured among most ahauob and Nakoms.

The major unresolved issue was the city’s relationship with Usihwitz. Since the attack nearly five solar years ago, interaction between two cities was suspended. No official visits occurred, and no tribute was offered by Usihwitz at the requisite occasions. Some ahauob grumbled about lack of initiative and show of weakness that Lakam Ha did not conduct a retaliatory strike. To diffuse this issue, Hun Pakal had called for a challenge ball game, to which Usihwitz responded by sending a team of players; Ek Chuuah was not among them. Safe passage was guaranteed to the Usihwitz contingent for the game.

The ballgame was played on 7 Chuen 4 Zotz, a few uinals after Pakal’s birth.

Baktun 9, Katun 8, Tun 9, Uinal 15, Kin 11 (May 14, 603CE)

The game did not end well for Lakam Ha, whose players were defeated by one goal. In the small ballcourt at Lakam Ha, the stone rings on either wall were set lower than usual and the court was short and narrow, for it was seldom used. Usihwitz players were accustomed to larger and more challenging courts. Bouncing the hard rubber ball off well-padded hips and thighs – hands and arms were not used – Usihwitz sent more balls flying through the rings. The victors selected three Lakam Ha players to take back in servitude, cutting off their topknots. Symbolic blood was drawn from the losing captain’s earlobes, a tribute to the Lords of the Underworld. When the Lakam Ha men’s hair grew back full length, they could choose to return home or stay in Usihwitz.

This defeat of Lakam Ha was not taken well by ahauob and warriors. The issue of retaliation against Usihwitz was hotly debated in council. It was a source of discontent with which the new ruler would have to contend.

On this cool day as the sun moved close to its northern solstice, such concerns were far away from the dimming consciousness of Yohl Ik’nal. She reclined on her sleeping bench, propped up by cushions to ease her breathing. Each breath was a struggle, an effort to bring life-supporting air into her fluid-filled lungs, as her failing heart could no longer pump effectively. Nearby, her husband and children sat in silent concern. In the chamber were many other people, the Ix Chel priestesses administering care, the High Priest and Priestess, close courtiers including Tiklach, Itzam Ik, Chakob, Yaxun Zul, Kan Mo Hix and Buluc Max, the Royal Steward. The ruler’s long-time female friends, Sak Nicte, Na’kin and Tulix hovered as close as possible. The court dwarf Mas B’atz stared mournfully into space at the foot of her bench. Her serving women clustered outside the door, tears streaming down their cheeks. She had always treated them kindly, and they loved their mistress deeply.

Yohl Ik’nal tried to open her eyes, but the lids were too heavy. Through a tiny slit she caught a glimpse of shadowy forms around her. She could sense Hun Pakal’s strong presence and feel his warm hand upon her forearm. Their love had sustained her always, and still remained strong. As her vision dimmed, her hearing became acute. Through an open window to the courtyard came the lilting songs of birds, chirps and twitters as they gathered among courtyard trees. How lovely the music of the winged ones. Leaves rustled in a gentle breeze that sighed through stone lined alleys. The voice of Ik, the wind, was ever whispering secrets. In the kitchen courtyard, faint gobbles of oscellated turkeys and barks of spotted dogs drifted to her ears. The smell of stew cooking floated to her nose, but evoked no appetite. The sounds and smells of Kab-Earth, how beautiful, how precious, how impermanent.

Her breath rattled, she tensed in the effort to inhale then sank deeper into semi-consciousness. Awareness of otherworldly presences grew; many non-physical forms also surrounded her. Each form had its vibrational signature that impressed itself upon her consciousness, and she recognized the deities of the B’aakal Triad, those three who had formed and shaped and supported her lineage – Hun Ahau, One Lord of the Celestial Realm; Unen K’awill, Youthful Serpent-Footed Lord of Royal Lineages and the Earthly Realm; and Mah Kinah Ahau, Lord of the Underworld. The goddess of healing, weaving and birth-death transitions was present, the many-faceted Ix Chel, who had provided her with visions and much guidance.

Memory traces flitted across her awareness, faint and tantalizing. Someone from the distant past seemed to be calling her. A girl, a young woman, someone far away from a strange culture beckoned. Images formed of golden tresses wafting in moist breezes, of sky-blue eyes brimming with tears, and then dissipated into forest mists. She sensed the woman’s confusion and pain, heard her cry of distress in a cruel and uncaring world. Men’s voices, loud and angry, buffeted the woman’s ears in a harsh unknown language. She was thrown to the floor and kicked viciously. Then she was stumbling through thick foliage, lianas entrapping her arms and thorns tearing at her clothes. The jungle was wet, the woman was soaked and her corn-colored hair hung in dripping tendrils.

The images faded as Yohl Ik’nal coughed and struggled for breath. Comforting hands supported her until she settled again into shallow breathing.

The woman with corn-colored hair and sky-blue eyes. Remember, remember . . so long ago, so much has happened since . . Elie! The girl from the windy hilltop in the land of the pale sun. Elie who said she would come to the lands of the Mayas, and appeared on an enormous boat traveling across an endless sea. She was in the jungle, running through dense bushes and tall trees, escaping from the thin-lipped man who intended to harm her. His rapacious eyes, small nose and hairy face were testimony to his merciless character. Elie was calling her, calling into the darkening jungle:

“Yohl! Yohl! Help me!”

A stream of compassion flowed from Yohl Ik’nal’s laboring heart to her distressed friend. She wanted desperately to help Elie, to guide her through the jungle to a safe haven, a village of her people. Even as these feelings formed, she glimpsed images of Elie inside a pole-and-thatch hut, sitting on a mat covering the dirt floor, taking a cup from the hands of an old Maya woman. A dark-skinned man hovered nearby, eyes filled with concern and something else . . . desire, passion, disbelieving hope.

“Elie, Elie you have come . . we will meet again.”

She became aware of her surroundings once more, hearing the chants of priestesses and smelling the pungency of copal. Her fingers twitched and she felt the warmth of Hun Pakal’s grasp, inhaling his beloved scent one final time. Him she would miss most of all when she departed the Middleworld. The blessing of his love was beyond anything she had dreamed might be her lot in a life dedicated to serving her dynasty. She felt his lips brush her forehead and knew it was complete.

Another powerful presence thrust itself into her awareness. It was the Great Mother Goddess, the primogenitor Muwaan Mat, who waited for her in the celestial realms and welcomed her with open arms. As dusk descended, Yohl Ik’nal yearned to surrender into the arms of the Great Mother. Her body wanted to drop away, to release her soul to its journey. Yet she had one more earthly task to complete, and Muwaan Mat urged her to action.

“Sak K’uk.” Her voice was barely audible.

“Mother, I am here,” replied her daughter. She felt the soft hand upon hers, recognized the scent of hibiscus flowers often worn by the young woman.

“When adversity comes, turn to Muwaan Mat,” Yohl Ik’nal whispered between gasps. “Remember. Muwaan Mat.”

She did not hear her daughter promise to remember. Already the soul, that White Flower Thing, was detaching from the body. In her last mortal thought, Yohl Ik’nal realized that dying was not so different than leaving the body for visioning journeys.

The celestial canoe appeared to carry her soul onto Xibalba Be, the road to the Underworld, the Great White Road of the Milky Way. The Jaguar Paddler god sat in the prow and the Stingray Paddler god in the stern of the long, narrow canoe. They invoked the gods of power and sacrifice, symbols of divine rulership among the Maya. Riding in the canoe between the Paddler gods from front to back were a spotted dog, a parrot, Hun Hunahpu-First Father the Maize God, a monkey and an iguana. All held poses of grieving, hands to foreheads and mouths wide open and wailing. A space was open for Yohl Ik’nal between the parrot and Maize God, and there Ix Chel ushered her soul. As she settled, the canoe shot skyward and joined the Milky Way as it wrapped transverse across the night sky from east to west. It hovered for some time, then its prow tipped downward despite furious paddling, and it sank below the horizon as the Milky Way tipped just before dawn.

Yohl Ik’nal, K’uhul B’aakal Ahau, first woman ruler of Lakam Ha, had been transported into Xibalba, the Underworld.

Sak K’uk stood alone on the low rise near her mother’s mortuary pyramid, gazing to the east across the large open meadow traversed by the Otolum River. The funerary rites and interment of the B’aakal K’uhul Ahau had been appropriately grand. The crypt was filled with luxurious ceramics and precious jewelry of jade and shells. Wails of professional mourners echoed off the pyramid for the requisite nine days, to inform the nine levels of the Underworld of this soul’s importance. Codices inscribed with intricate glyphs provided instructions on navigating this dangerous place, giving secret word formulas that tricked the Death Lords and released the soul from their domain. Once she traversed the watery depths, Yohl Ik’nal would ascend into the sky and become a star ancestor.

But this was no comfort to Sak K’uk. All she could feel was grief over losing her mother, an untimely death. She had only reached the age of an elder recently; many lived far beyond these 52 years. In her final year, she spoke to her daughter of mysterious things: great cycles of growth and decay, ominous events coming to their city, meetings with a strange woman in another dimension. It was so confusing, why had she not paid closer attention? Without her mother to guide her in visionary skills, she despaired ever mastering them.

Her despair deepened as she thought about her brother’s accession. Aj Ne Ohl Mat would succeed to the throne of Lakam Ha after the traditional year of mourning. That he would provide inferior leadership she had no doubt. What that might portend, in this time of instability and dissention among the ahauob, she shuddered to think.

Although she stood at the place where she had once envisioned a magnificent city, today she saw only an empty field below, as empty as her heart.

The heart of one man rejoiced at the news of Yohl Ik’nal’s death. In the aftermath of the failed raid against Lakam Ha, Ek Chuuah’s prestige plummeted in his adopted city. His ambitions to become ruler were thwarted as his following dwindled. For years his simmering rage found no outlet except plotting more schemes to bring down the Bahlam dynasty. Now that his nemesis was dead, the major obstacle to success had been removed. He knew that her visions had forseen the Usihwitz attack and allowed her city to prepare; this story was famous among the cities of B’aakal and beyond. He also knew that her daughter was not the accomplished seer the mother had been. Travelers along the rivers brought gossip to spice their trade, and tales about the B’aakal ruler’s children captured people’s interest: the weak, irresolute son and the willful, undisciplined daughter who was deficient in visionary skills.

Ek Chuuah had evolved the perfect plan. It would require insider information, but he already had targeted his source. Perhaps more challenging was the need for powerful outside allies with seasoned warriors. For this he would play upon the expansionist politics of Kan.

Yes, this plan would work. Successfully carried out, it would position his son for rulership of Usihwitz. Without Yohl Ik’nal to obstruct his efforts, he knew the time had come to set this long-schemed revenge into motion.

A Sneek peek into Book II of the Mists of Palenque Series

The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K’uk of Palenque
Mists of Palenque Series Book II

The saga of four remarkable queens who shaped ancient Maya destiny continues with Yohl Ik’nal’s daughter, Sak K’uk. She assumes rulership of Lakam Ha after the devastating attack from arch-enemy Kan (Kalakmul) leaves her people in chaos. Facing opposition from rebellious nobles, she invokes the Primordial Goddess Muwaan Mat to navigate through spiritual crisis following collapse of the portal to gods and ancestors. Through intense trials she retains the throne until her son Janaab Pakal is old enough to accede, forging a special relationship with him that proves both a blessing and a curse.