At the End of the World

by Mark Macpherson

  Perhaps, he thought wishfully, the place he would ask Arthur to excavate would not be found. It was unlikely, but possible. There were many steps before the end and if any one of them failed the edifice of prophecy would crumble. Then he would drink whisky and smoke cigars with Arthur and Michelle and they would laugh at the folly of an old man.

  Yax K’in’s gait did not brighten as he walked closer to his own hut but he felt a small surge of unfounded confidence and hope.

  Chapter 16

  The expedition’s Chevrolet Suburban was commandeered for the trip to Yaxchilan. Pep’Em Ha and her brother and Jim sat in the second back seat, Michelle and Hamish had the first back seat while Arthur sat in the front, next to their Mexican driver.

  The car travelled at a high speed on the narrow roads blurring the bordering sea of maize into an irregular, indistinct and lumpy green. At times the maize grew so close to the road’s edge that they sped as if through a green tunnel.

  Away from the villages, and where the maize was not planted close to the roadside, Hamish noticed many island-like mounds poking out of the cornfields. Some had a few scraggly trees holding onto life on their rocky slopes. The mounds were composed of rubble, humus and forgetfulness. Hamish pointed them out to Arthur, wondering what secrets they contained.

  ‘There are hundreds of these little sites,’ Arthur said. He held his body in a twisted position with an arm wedged behind the driver’s headrest. ‘We don’t know what they are. They’ve never been investigated and probably never will. I don’t think they can be significant. I mean, add to our sum of knowledge. Archaeologists have restricted budgets and there are so many of them, as you can see.’ Arthur waved his arm that did not hold his body in place. ‘They might provide a bit of excitement for an amateur archaeologist. But, you’ve got to remember Hamish, that people here view these things differently than we do. We come from places without extended, obvious, visible history. I mean plentiful ancient stone structures. In the USA you have to go out of your way to find them and in New Zealand,’ Arthur laughed. ‘People have only been there for five minutes. I mean, a thousand years is nothing around here. Lots of places around the world don’t find this evidence extraordinary. I mean, just go to Italy or Northern Africa and you’ll see amazing ruins, Roman and earlier, that are completely ignored. I remember being in Morocco, years ago, and stumbling, literally, over a local family having a picnic lunch in some ruins that were not in any guide book. They were off the side of the road, completely unmarked and undocumented. Their kids were running over one of the most beautiful mosaic tiled floors of a Roman building I had ever seen.’

  Arthur twisted his body further, ‘Do you remember that Michelle?’ he asked.

  Michelle did remember. Those ruins were at the beginning of a long and complex story for her and Arthur. She quickly put the memory out of her mind.

  They reached the river town on the border with Guatemala that serviced the tourist trade to Yaxchilan while it was still morning.

  The motor boat the group hired for the trip to Yaxchilan was long and narrow and made of timbers painted in many, unmatched, colors. It had a haphazardly maintained, harlequin appearance. A thatched awning covered the middle section but the boat’s operator sat at the rear and steered by laconically moving the outboard motor from side to side as they travelled along the Usumacinta River.

  There was no jetty or ramp at the landing place at Yaxchilan. Steep concrete steps began below the surface of the water and climbed to the top of the river bank. The boat nuzzled nose-first to the steps, pushing against the river flow to hold steady, as the passengers walked off and ascended to a level area at the top of the bank.

  The jungle pressed around them. There was no wind. The air drooped in place, trapped by its humidity. The artificial breeze from the boat trip had misled them as to how unpleasant the day was. It was far too hot for Hamish.

  Pep’Em Ha’s brother was the first to notice a shadow that altered shape as it moved down a jungle path towards them. He raised his arm and pointed.

  ‘Look, we are being welcomed,’ he laughed. He pushed his sister away from the group and towards the oncoming shadow. ‘Go on, you must greet them,’ he said.

  The shadow fluttered closer until the others saw that it was a mass of hundreds of butterflies that bounced and jerked on their way down the path to the river.

  Arthur laughed. He said, in English, to Jim and Hamish, ‘Have you thought about what Pep’Em Ha’s name means? In Maya?’

  Hamish was confused.

  ‘Well, this is fitting, isn’t it?’ Michelle laughed too.

  ‘Still don’t get it?’ Arthur said to Hamish. ‘Her name literally means, butterfly water. I think her brother is having a little fun with her.’

  The butterflies headed towards Pep’Em Ha.

  ‘All her life the butterflies have been her friend. I think they have come to greet her. We will see,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jim asked in KulWinik Maya. Hamish stared at his grandson, surprised how well he spoke the language.

  ‘They will probably land on her,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said. ‘They usually do. She is their friend.’

  Pep’Em Ha extended her arms when the butterflies came close. Many landed on her shoulders, on her head, all over her arms and one on her nose. One or two landed on the others in the group and a few fluttered nearby as if they were wary and undecided.

  ‘See, I told you,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother was triumphant.

  Pep’Em Ha grinned. She was happy as if a party trick had been performed to perfection.

  ‘Can I try?’ asked Jim as he stepped forward to stand next to Pep’Em Ha. As if they were a flock of startled birds, the butterflies lifted into the air and combined again into a single mass.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve scared them.’ Jim was crestfallen, he had embarrassed himself in front of friends.

  The mass of butterflies moved closer to Jim and swirled and circled above him then descended and landed. There was not a single one left in the air.

  The butterflies clung all over him, to the hairs on his legs and arms, to the hair on his head and to his sweat soaked T-shirt.

  ‘Stay still, Jim,’ she said. ‘Then you won’t hurt them. They do you great honor.’

  ‘Maybe I should be called Pep’Em Ha instead,’ Jim said to her. He tried to speak without moving his lips since many were on his face. ‘They can’t bite can they?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ Pep’Em Ha laughed. ‘And my name is already taken, and it is a woman’s name.’

  ‘What should I do?’ Jim asked her.

  ‘Just wait. They will decide.’

  ‘Can you take a picture please?’ Pep’Em Ha asked Arthur. ‘My father would be interested.’

  Arthur took pictures of Jim and the butterflies. Jim grimaced a part smile as he posed.

  The butterflies lifted off, a few at a time, until two remained on Jim’s shoulder. The other butterflies joined together and resumed their journey.

  ‘These two don’t want to go.’ Jim laughed.

  Pep’Em Ha extended her arm and touched Jim’s shoulder. The two butterflies walked onto her hand. She brought them close to her lips and whispered to them. She raised her hand above her head and the butterflies lifted off. They circled above her and then flew in the direction the mass of butterflies had taken.

  Everyone stared at Pep’Em Ha. She lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

  ‘OK, then,’ Arthur said, having noticed Pep’Em Ha’s discomfort. ‘Let’s go shall we?’ He took control of the group, as he remembered that he had the tickets. He pointed up the path. ‘We’re going up there, towards where the butterflies came from.’

  Arthur waited and fell in beside Pep’Em Ha who had also delayed until after the others.

  ‘What language was that?’ Arthur asked her quietly. ‘It wasn’t any Mayan dialect I’ve heard.’

  ‘Yax K’in says it was the words spoken by Hachakyum. The butterflies are
his favorite creature. It’s a respectful farewell that my father taught me. It’s a ritual I’ve kept, each time I’ve been honored, since I was a child,’ she said. She gave him a diffident smile.

  ‘Honored?’ Arthur asked. ‘Because they’re thought to be the souls of Mayan warriors, you mean?’

  Pep’Em Ha laughed. ‘No. They’re butterflies, but my father may agree with you. Although, it never hurts to show respect,’ she said.

  The heat and humidity made walking up the hill harder work than it should have been. Arthur trudged in silence beside Pep’Em Ha. They had almost climbed to the end of the path when she glanced sideways at him.

  ‘Just in case the old ways are correct,’ she added.

  Chapter 17

  The jungle track Arthur’s group followed to the entrance to Yaxchilan merged into a path flanked by stone walls. At the end an enclosed stone structure, called the Labyrinth, forced visitors to walk a short distance through a dark chamber.

  Hamish, Arthur and Michelle waited on the far side of the Labyrinth. Jim and the two young KulWinik had yet to emerge. The land sloped gently away to the expansive grassed area of the Grand Plaza. Ancient stone structures, made of weathered white-grey limestone, dotted an area the size of many football fields. Lone jungle trees, the vanguard of an encroaching jungle, mixed with the ruined stone. Higher terraced areas were further on, each supported impressive stone buildings. Images in books did not do it justice. Yaxchilan was majestic, it was an archaeological site made for another world.

  ‘Are you impressed?’ Arthur asked.

  ‘Yes. Very.’ Hamish was at a loss for words. The experience of arrival and entrance, the heat and the smells from the jungle, the manicured park-like scenery and the partly restored, decayed city of an ancient people, made Yaxchilan difficult to describe. He suspected he had been reborn into some parallel world after emerging from the small exit doorway of the Labyrinth. Hamish smiled and thought he understood why Yax K’in’s silences did not require filling, if this was his ancient home.

  Jim emerged from the Labyrinth. He was ashen as if he had had a fright.

  ‘You don’t look too well. Are you all right?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘Fine,’ Jim said firmly.

  Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed as he put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. ‘He took a wrong turn inside the Labyrinth, somehow. Even though there is no way to get lost, Jim got lost.’ He laughed louder at his joke.

  ‘Very funny,’ Jim said tersely in English, although he was smiling too.

  Pep’Em Ha’s brother let his hand slip from Jim’s shoulder. ‘Pep’Em Ha pulled him out like he was a fish she had caught for dinner.’

  ‘I didn’t expect it to be dark,’ Jim tried to explain away his embarrassment. ‘No-one warned me.’ He blamed others. ‘I wasn’t thinking and then I stopped. I couldn’t see or hear you guys. I just froze,’ Jim said.

  Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed walking down the slope towards the Plaza. He repeated, over and over, ‘Jim the fish.’ The others did not follow.

  Pep’Em Ha replaced her brother at Jim’s side.

  ‘Don’t worry about him. He’s always like that now,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not worried. I guess it is a bit funny,’ Jim said, seeing the humor after the fact.

  ‘If it makes you feel any better, my father refuses to walk through there. He always walks over the top,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ Michelle said. ‘Why’s that? Do you know?’

  ‘He says if he goes into the Labyrinth he will not come out again,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘He has told me that it’s one of the places at Yaxchilan where what divides us from the world of the gods is thin and easily broken. He has said the t’o’ohil needs to be wary of such places.’

  ‘And?’ Michelle asked.

  ‘No. Nothing more,’ Pep’Em Ha said brightly. ‘He hasn’t told me any more and I haven’t asked. It’s not my place to ask him about his fears.’

  Pep’Em Ha’s brother called to the group to keep moving. He had already reached the Plaza. They moved off down the grassy slope as two groups, Pep’Em Ha and Jim walked behind the other three.

  ‘I heard voices in there, Pep’Em Ha,’ Jim said quietly, to her alone. ‘As if a whole lot of voices were whispering.’

  Pep’Em Ha stopped walking and stared intently at Jim’s face. She studied his eyes, looking for any lasting effect from his experience.

  ‘Did you hear what the voices were telling you?’ She asked as if what Jim had heard was normal, and expected.

  ‘No. Just whispers. But a lot of them,’ Jim said. He was surprised at her lack of reaction but was thankful that she had not laughed.

  ‘That’s what my father says,’ she said.

  ‘Your father?’ Jim asked.

  Pep’Em Ha resumed walking, Jim followed. They silently marched across the flat area of the Plaza but before they rejoined Pep’Em Ha’s brother, she stopped Jim by restraining his upper arm.

  ‘Yax K’in says there are voices for those chosen to hear,’ she said. ‘I wish I had heard them. There is another place to hear the voices. I will take you there one day.’

  Chapter 18

  The group of six was reunited momentarily before the three younger people set off on their own, only interested in their own company.

  ‘I think we’ll just go at our own pace, shall we?’ Michelle said to Arthur and Hamish.

  ‘I think we have no choice,’ Arthur said as the young people moved quickly away.

  As they ambled among stone structures Arthur lectured, as if he was condensing the literature he had sent to Hamish. Hamish was a little annoyed as if Arthur had not believed he had completed a high school homework assignment.

  Arthur described the classical Mayan civilization and how it flourished in the first millennium A.D. but arose out of older civilizations, thousands of years earlier. How the Mayan cities were inexplicably abandoned around the end of the first millennium and that the Spanish Invasion, begun in the sixteenth century, had destroyed most of what remained of the native culture. The KulWinik Mayans, who lived in an inhospitable location in the mountains and rain forests, near Yaxchilan, had kept the ancient traditions and had remained relatively undisturbed until modern times.

  Arthur told Hamish the Mayans believed the world had been created many times but each time the gods had been dissatisfied with their handiwork and had started again. Arthur’s lecture style became animated with pride when he told the story of the most recent creation, teased out of the ancient Mayan writings translated by Michelle.

  The Hero Twins, the grandsons of Hachakyum and a human woman, had outwitted and defeated the gods of Xibalba. Hachakyum’s revenge on his own kind, his fellow gods, for the death of his son, the Twins’ father, was a catastrophic end to the world he had created. That creation story, Michelle had discovered, was re-enacted in the slow rotation of the Milky Way as the night sky rotated and the year progressed.

  Michelle let Arthur discuss the details of discoveries that had made her famous among her peers. She was pleased that he was proud of her career, a career he had instigated.

  Arthur’s lecture came to temporary halt, after discussing the Mayan counting of time from the start of the current creation in 3114BC and forward to the end of the world, as they stood before a stone carving. He rested his hand on a life-size Mayan king in full war costume. The man was in profile, displaying the distinctive Mayan nose and high forehead.

  Hamish turned quickly to Michelle, hoping to stop Arthur continuing with his potted history of the ancient Mayans.

  ‘What was that all about at the entrance?’ Hamish asked her.

  ‘I was just interested in Yax K’in’s failure to go through the Labyrinth,’ Michelle replied. ‘Did you know that Arthur?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Arthur said. ‘I’ve been here many times with him and he’s never gone through there. He has always gone over the top or walked around.’

  ‘Does Yax K’in
think the Labyrinth is a portal? Do you think?’ Michelle asked Arthur.

  Arthur laughed. ‘Well, he’s not scared of the dark and enclosed places. So, I’ve always thought there must be more to it than that. But, like Pep’Em Ha, I’ve never asked him.’

  ‘Portal?’ Hamish asked. ‘What do you mean? Like unleashing devils and things?’

  Michelle smiled.

  ‘No, Hamish,’ she said. ‘There are no devils. The Mayans believed there are fixed places in their architecture where they could, more easily, summon the gods or their ancestors. The other-world, Xibalba, isn’t like the Christian Hell or Purgatory, but then you know that from my books I’ve seen you reading. In any case, portals to the other-world can be opened anywhere by the appropriate ceremony or sacrifice or bloodletting. So, fixed buildings are not a necessity. However, the Mayans believed that the more you ceremonially used a place the more receptive it became. Hence, the portal.’