The Controversial Mayan Queen: Sak K'uk of Palenque (The Mists of Palenque) (17 page)

Sak K’uk felt increasingly desperate. Everyone she discussed this problem with offered no solutions, including her husband and father-in-law, and even the High Priest and Priestess. If only her mother Yohl Ik’nal were alive, she would know what to do. Even her father, now also in his journey through Xibalba, could have given wise advice. Never had she felt so alone and without moorings.

When her internal tension was at the bursting point, Sak K’uk realized she must take some action. She instructed attendants to prepare the Pib Nah, the sweathouse, for a ritual purification. She would undergo maximum preparation to make herself a pure and potent receptacle for communication with deities or ancestors, in the hope that one might find a way to reach across dimensions and bring her guidance. She fasted and meditated for three days, then entered the steaming darkness of the Pib Nah. Already faint from lack of nourishment, she wilted rapidly in the stinging steam billowing from water poured over hot glowing rocks. Collapsing onto the stone bench lining the Pib Nah walls, she felt awareness drifting off as her naked skin singed on the heated stone.

In the semi-darkness of her mind, she drifted in space aware of stately movements of stars far in the distance. An image began to form and she heard her mother’s voice telling a story about the cave high up K’uk Lakam Witz, the Sacred Mountain of her city. It was a story re-told many times, one of her favorites that she begged for frequently. It was her mother’s first vision quest upon coming of age, during which the future of the dynasty was revealed up to the glorious ruler, son of Sak K’uk. The image was coalescing, taking form as the tones of her mother’s voice soothed her heart. Now she saw it clearly: it was the mouth of the Witz cave where her mother’s vision occurred. The cave had a large opening, tall enough to walk through and wide to allow four people abreast to enter. A shimmering Witz Monster mouth was superimposed over the cave opening, its squared eyes above and jowls wrapping around the sides as fangs protruded upward at the base.

The Witz cave was a portal into liminal space, that evanescent zone separating dimensions. It had not been desecrated during the Kan axing attack, because it was so remote and infrequently used. The monster’s eyes stared directly at Sak K’uk, beckoning her, even commanding her presence. A light glimmered deep inside its throat, glinting off sharp fangs, pulsating with hints of hidden possibility.

Sak K’uk knew what she must do. She would go alone to the Witz cave, enter the maw of the monster and seek the portal that might allow communication with the denizens of other dimensions.

She did not confide her real purpose to others, but said only that she felt called to keep solitary vigil overnight at the Witz cave. Kan Mo’ Hix was alarmed about the dangers of night in the jungle, though she reassured him that she would be inside the cave by nightfall, and would have torchlight. Pakal worried about what she might encounter in the cave. Her women courtiers could not imagine doing such a thing alone and begged her to take assistants. When her resolve did not waver they capitulated to her strong will, urging that she take a long obsidian dagger and flint stones for starting fire. When thus equipped, and carrying a sack with her water gourd, maize cakes, shawl and mat, she set out in the early afternoon to climb the mountain that rose steeply to the south of the palace complex.

In all her years living in Lakam Ha, Sak K’uk had never ascended K’uk Lakam Witz. It was a fabled mountain of mystery and danger, its infrequent trails leading to a succession of tall peaks and deep crevices, gorges channeling seasonal streams and small lakes, according to the few who had explored these regions. Walking briskly, she followed the course of the Bisik River uphill until it disappeared into the mountainside. A faint trail continued upward and she found her breathing labored with the steep climb. In places, draping lianas blocked the path and she carefully stepped around or over them, mindful of snakes and biting insects. Once she caught a glimpse of the thick brown body of a yellow jaw snake just off the path, looking exactly like a fallen branch. The noise of her steps alerted the snake and it moved slowly away, the only sign alerting her. This was the most poisonous snake in the region and its bite meant certain death. Heart beating wildly, she forced herself to walk evenly up the path as the snake disappeared into the underbrush.

The hunters she questioned about the mountain told her the climb to Witz cave would take half an afternoon or morning. The condition of the trail was uncertain, they advised, so it was hard to know the exact time required. Her progress was slow, for she frequently had to push limbs or bushes away and pick her way through fallen forest debris. On a few occasions, she regretted not taking a strong man along to wield a brush knife. But the sense she had that this must be a solo endeavor was very strong.

The simple white huipil that she wore, completely without adornment, was soaked with sweat and suffered several small rips from thorny shrubs. Her legs ached and her hands throbbed from scratches, her chest burned from deep breathing. Her sandals and feet were coated with dirt and many bites smarted around her ankles. Keeping eyes focused on the trail and scanning nearby brush for dangers, she paid no attention to the sky until a loud clap of thunder stopped her in her tracks. Lifting eyes upward as the thunder rumbled into the distance, she saw immense black-bellied storm clouds gathering. A late afternoon rainstorm was fomenting, and in very little time cool winds whipped through jungle foliage carrying the earthy smell of freshly wet humus.

Sak K’uk quickened her pace but was soon pelted by fat raindrops, harbingers of the deluge that followed. Shivering from sudden coolness and quickly drenched, she struggled upward as the path turned into slippery mud. The rain was so heavy that she lost her bearings and wandered off the trail, losing time in backtracking. Already the light was fading under the high canopy of thickly interwoven branches. The edges of panic jabbed at her mind and she fought to remain calm. Using lianas and branches to steady her ascent, she kept placing one foot carefully ahead of the next, slipping to her knees or staggering against prickly shrubs.

“It is penance,” she thought. “Contrition for my negligence, for the imperfections of our offerings, for our weakness when we knew all was not in proper order. This suffering and difficulty is my offering. This do I bear without complaint.”

Keeping intense focus, she repeated these words as a chant in rhythm with her steps. She forbade fear to enter; she defied panic. It was nothing, being lost in this storm as night gathered. There was only one thing, and that was the mouth of the Witz cave. Step by slogging step, she climbed and slipped and slithered until suddenly the narrow trail topped a rise and tangled branches yielded to a circular opening. Several large boulders huddled in semi-darkness and across the opening appeared the faint outline of a large, dark hole in the mountainside.

The Witz cave. As the last shreds of light faded, Sak K’uk approached the gaping entry into the Sacred Mountain. Water streaming down her hair, huipil soaked and tattered, feet and legs muddy she stood uncertainly and peered into total darkness. She tried to remember details of her mother’s story. Was there not an old priest, keeper of the cave? But that was many years ago; surely he had passed into the spirit realm. She had no knowledge of whether other caretakers had assumed his duties. From the darkness of the interior, she doubted it.

Closing her eyes, she sensed into the energies present and immediately the image of the Witz Monster mask surrounding the cave entrance returned. Again its square eyes beckoned, so she moved forward and stepped high over the imagined fangs at the base of the entrance. Once inside, the musty odor of bat droppings mingled with the dankness of deep earth. A gust of wind startled her and the air churned around her head with a hoard of flapping wings and high screeches. Instinctively she ducked as numerous small brown bats streamed out of the cave.

Feeling inside her sack, she removed the mat and sat down. The cave floor was cushioned by a layer of dust. She felt for the torch that was wrapped in skins; it was dry enough, so she rummaged for the flint stones inside a small hide bag treated with oil to repel water. With chilled fingers she struck the flints together, sending tiny sparks of redness into the darkness. After a few tries, the torch caught and slowly its fire grew, casting flickering light against wide cave walls. She found stones to prop the torch, drew her wet shawl around her even wetter dress, and assayed her surroundings.

The nearest cave walls rose steeply to a ceiling that disappeared into gloom. Several stalactites hung their tips into view, but the torchlight did not penetrate far into the cave’s throat. The remnants of a fire were nearby, the charred wood so old it had no odor. A fine film of dust covered the small rocks surrounding it. Glancing around, Sak K’uk saw that some branches and twigs had blown against the walls, and used these to build a small fire that she lit with her torch. The fire gradually warmed her shivering body. She removed her muddy sandals and scraped mud off legs and feet with her knife. Taking a drink of water from the gourd, she settled cross-legged on the mat and relaxed into the fire’s warmth.

Her mind stilled as she watched dancing flames and heard reassuring crackles of burning wood. Her aching muscles and painful scratches slowly eased and she drifted into semi-torpor. Heaviness descended upon her. The weight of her body pressed downward as if melting into the cave floor. Her eyelids became heavy, too heavy to hold open and she allowed them to close. She struggled to stay conscious, remembering her mission. Barely formed thoughts swam in her mind until a suddenly clear stream of words emerged powerfully.

“Guardians of K’uk Lakam Witz, Lords of the Witz cave, I have nothing to offer, no tribute nor gifts that are sufficient and proper. Deities of B’aakal, I have no techniques to propel me into the vision state, no method to attain the Wakah Chan-Sacred Tree. I have only myself – this is my offering – all that I am and could be. Humbly and respectfully do I offer this Halach Uinik, this woman, this ahau of royal lineage called Sak K’uk. Not with bloodletting offerings, but with all the blood coursing within this body, the sacred itz that flows within this vessel. Use me as you will, but guide me to help my people.”

Having expressed these thoughts, she sank again into drowsiness, the liminal state between sleep and awakening. Time passed but she was unaware, as the fire burned down to glowing embers. A subtle sound reached into her trance, the scurrying and scratching of tiny, clawed feet. As if detached, her mind registered the sound but her body took no action. More scurrying sounds occurred, now closer. The embers seemed to shine through her eyelids, tiny points of bright red. Only two red points and they were moving. Lazily, her mind asked how she could see with her eyes closed, but it really did not want an answer.

Were her eyes closed or open? What did it matter? The tiny red points moved again accompanied by scurrying sounds. They waved up and down repeatedly, as if calling for her attention. Now she could see the outline of their host, now its form filled in and she beheld a small green lizard staring at her with unblinking, bright red eyes. Once she had noticed it, the lizard waved its head toward the deepening darkness of the cave interior. It was a clear signal to follow and enter the depth of the cave. The lizard slowly ambled into the cave tunnel, and Sak K’uk followed, her body drifting off the mat effortlessly … or did her body move at all? A quiver of fear shot through her but the compulsion to follow the lizard was intense.

The lizard led Sak K’uk through a large tunnel that descended steadily. Soft dim light emanated from its walls, lighting the way. They took a tunnel that branched to the left and descended more steeply. They encountered water slowly moving along the tunnel base that soon deepened and they were swimming in an underground stream. The cool, clear water felt refreshing and cleansed mud from Sak K’uk’s clothes and body. The tunnel opened into a large vaulted cavern filled with a shining pool of turquoise water. On the far side was an island, and on it sat nine shamans drumming. Each shaman had a small fire in front and incense burners emitting copal smoke.

Sak K’uk and the lizard swam closer and watched the shamans from the water. Looking at each shaman in turn, Sak K’uk realized they were the nine Death Lords of Xibalba. With leering grimaces, protruding eyeballs in open sockets, bony arms and legs, bloated bellies, and revolting odors, they filled her with terror. Their teeth clacked and bones rattled as they drummed and chanted, occasionally emitting foul-smelling belches or vile farts. Even the pungent copal incense could not overcome the hideous odors. Sak K’uk tried to swim away but the lizard blocked her and commanded her to stay with its eyes. She turned back toward the island and gasped.

A cold blue fire had started in the center of the Death Lords. It leapt upward, twisting and turning, shooting fingers of yellow twining with blue tentacles and slowly morphing into a huge snake. The serpent undulated and danced in the flames, merging and separating, turning partially into a woman who waved her arms sinuously and danced on flaming legs. The woman-snake also had red eyes, much larger than the lizard’s with brilliant gold slit pupils. As the apparition resolved back into serpent form, it protruded a split tongue between huge fangs and its back became covered with shimmering blue-green feathers while the underbelly retained opalescent scales.

The snake beckoned Sak K’uk to come, holding her in a relentless, hypnotic stare. Unable to resist despite her terror, Sak K’uk swam to the island and climbed out of the water, her dripping huipil clinging to her body. Passing between two Death Lords, she believed they were the leaders, One and Seven Death, their hoarse whispers sent shivers up her spine.

“Let us take her, she is a fine catch.”

“We will feast well and dance with this luscious morsel.”

“I will take her heart.”

“Ah, but her belly is more delicious.”

One Death reached a bony hand toward her but was stopped by the snake hissing and flashing its fangs near his hand.