by David Bowles
“Go, little guy. Bite each of them in turn till you’ve tasted them all. Then forever the blood of travelers will be yours.”
“Good,” said the mosquito, and it flew down the Black Road. When it reached the council chambers, it alighted first on the wooden statues that had been dressed up to resemble the king and queen. It bit the first, but got no response. The second said nothing either.
Next he bit the third one, the real King of Death.
“Ow!” he cried.
“What, Your Majesty?” asked the dark lords. “What is it?”
“Something stung me!”
The queen looked at him. “It is merely a…ow!”
“What, my queen?” asked the king. “What is it?”
“Something stung me!”
“Ow!” cried the fifth one seated there.
“What, Peeling Scab?” asked the queen. “What is it?”
“Something stung me, Majesty!”
Then the sixth one was bitten.
“Ow!”
“What, Blood Gatherer?” asked Peeling Scab. “What is it?”
“Something stung me!”
And thus went mosquito to every dark lord, biting him or her to learn the face and name of each: Pus Demon, Jaundice Demon, Bone Scepter, Skull Scepter, Wing, Packstrap, Bloody Teeth, Bloody Claws.
Xbalanque and Hunahpu, meanwhile, had been approaching down the Green Road, the only one living beings should travel. As the mosquito heard the dark lords’ names, so did Hunahpu, who shared them with his twin.
Finally the brothers reached the council chamber.
“Greet the King and Queen of Death, seated here before you,” the dark lords commanded.
“Uh, no. Those aren’t the king and queen. They’re just statues,” said the twins. They turned to the rest and greeted them by name.
“Morning, King of Death.
Morning, Queen of Death.
Morning, Peeling Scab.
Morning, Blood Gatherer.
Morning, Pus Demon.
Morning, Jaundice Demon.
Morning, Bone Scepter.
Morning, Skull Scepter.
Morning, Wing.
Morning, Packstrap.
Morning, Bloody Teeth.
Morning, Bloody Claws.”
And the dark lords were taken quite by surprise.
“Greetings to you, as well. Have a seat on that bench,” directed the king.
The twins were not defeated by this ruse. “Uh, that’s no bench, Your Majesty,” Xbalanque replied. “It’s just a heated stone.”
“Well done. Your journey has been long. You require rest before our game. You may enter yonder house now.”
The brothers headed toward Darkness House, the first of the torments in the Realm of Fright. The dark lords felt certain that these two would be defeated there, so they sent a messenger with a torch and two cigars.
“Take these and light them,” he instructed. “Our king bids you bring them back to him in the morning, intact.”
“Will do!” the twins replied. But they did not light the torch. Instead they substituted consuming flame with the tail feather of a macaw that shimmered with magic. The night sentries saw it and believed the torch lit. In the same fashion the brothers called fireflies and set them dancing at the tips of their cigars. So Darkness House was aglow all night long.
“We have beaten them!” exulted the sentries.
Yet in the morning, when the brothers went before the council, the torch had no mark of fire and the cigars were whole. Then the lords consulted together:
“What sort of beings are they? Whence did they come? Who sired them? Who gave them birth? Our hearts are deeply troubled, for they will do no good unto us. Their appearance, their very essence, is wholly unique.”
The king and queen confronted Hunahpu and Xbalanque. “Tell us, truly—whence do you come?”
“Well, we must’ve come from somewhere, but we just don’t know.” They would say nothing more.
“Very well. Let us go play ball, boys.”
“Great.”
They arrived at the ball court of the Underworld. “So, then, we will use this rubber ball of ours,” said the dark lords.
“No, let’s use ours.”
“Not at all. We will use ours.”
The twins shrugged. “Fine.”
“The ball is just embossed with an image,” clarified the dark lords.
“No, it’s pretty clearly a real skull,” the brothers countered.
“It is not.”
“Sure. If you say so,” said Hunahpu.
The dark lords hurled the ball at Hunahpu’s yoke. He batted it away with a twist of his hips. The ball struck the ground and burst open, sending the bone-white dagger of sacrifice spinning around the ball court, threatening death.
“What’s this?” shouted the brothers. “So that’s why you sent a messenger to summon us: you want to kill us! What do you take us for? We’re leaving!”
And indeed, that had been the dark lords’ plan: for the twins to be killed right then, defeated by the blade. Hunahpu and Xbalanque had once again frustrated their design.
“Do not leave, boys. Let us continue the game, using your ball instead.”
“In that case, alright,” the brothers agreed, dropping their fathers’ rubber ball onto the court.
“Let us discuss prizes,” said the dark lords. “What will we receive if we win?”
“Whatever you want.”
“We request merely four bowls of flowers.”
The boys nodded. “Okay, but what sorts of flowers?”
“A bowlful of red petals, one of white petals, one of yellow petals, and one of the large petals.”
“Done.”
The game began. The strength of both teams was equal, but the boys made many plays, for their hearts were full of goodness. In the end, though, the twins allowed themselves to be beaten. The dark lords reveled in their defeat.
“We have done very well. We vanquished them on the first attempt. Now, even if they survive the next torment, where will they go to pluck our flowers?”
Since the only possibility was the garden of the King and Queen of Death, the council instructed the feathered guardians of those royal flowers:
“Keep a diligent watch over these blossoms. Do not permit them to be stolen, for they are the tool for the boys’ defeat. Think what would happen were they able to obtain these as our prize! Do not sleep tonight.”
Returning to Hunahpu and Xbalanque, the council reminded them of the agreement. “You will give us our prize of petals early in the morning.”
“Sounds good. First thing in the morning, we’ll play again.”
Then the brothers reviewed their plans together until they were sent into Blade House, the second trial of the Realm of Fright. Inside, blades spun through the air constantly, and the hope was that the twins would quickly be sliced to ribbons. But they did not die. Instead, they called out to the blades, instructing them in this way:
“Be still and the flesh of animals is yours forever.”
The blades stopped spinning. One by one they lowered their points to the ground.
As the brothers rested in the Blade House that night, they called to the ants:
“Cutting ants, conquering ants, come! Go fetch us flower petals as prizes for the dark lords.”
The ants marched down to the garden of the King and Queen of Death and began swarming over the flowers, but the winged guardians did not notice a thing. Out of sheer boredom, the birds perched in the branches and squawked or ambled through the garden repeating their song:
“Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!” And that is indeed what we call them to this day.
The guardian whippoorwills did not notice the ants, thronging blackly on the stems and leaves, carrying off what the birds were meant to guard. The ants clambered up trees to harvest more flowers, with the guardians none the wiser, even though their wings and tails were chewed on as well.
By d
awn, the ants had harvested enough flowers to fill the four bowls. When the messengers arrived at Blade House, they were discouraged to find the brothers alive.
“The lords summon you both,” they announced. “They demand you deliver their prize into their hands.”
“Right away,” the brothers said. When they arrived before the lords, they placed the bowls on the council table. The dark lords looked upon the petals with woeful expressions. They had been defeated. The faces of the council members went pale with fear.
Realizing the flowers were from the royal garden, they summoned the whippoorwills before them. The birds, tails and wings ragged from the ants’ chewing, had no answer for their incompetence, so their mouths were split open so that they would always gape when cawing their song.
A second game was played, but this one ended in a tie. After it was over, each side began making plans.
“At dawn again tomorrow,” said the dark lords.
“We’ll be there,” responded the twins.
They were escorted to a third torment, Cold House. Upon entering, they encountered cold beyond measure. The interior was thick with snow and hail. But the boys immediately dispersed the cold with divine magic, melting the ice and halting the hail. Though the dark lords intended them to die, they survived the night and were fine in the morning when the sentries summoned them.
“What is this? Did they not die?” asked the dark lords.
Once again they marveled at the deeds of the twins Hunahpu and Xbalanque.
That evening they entered Jaguar House, which was crowded with ravenous jaguars. But the brothers were prepared.
“Wait. Don’t eat us. We’ll give you what’s yours.”
Then they scattered bones before the beasts, the remains of humans from the first three ages, which they had collected during their journey through the Land of the Dead. The jaguars crunched the bones contentedly while the brothers rested.
In the morning the sentries were delighted to see these skeletal remains scattered among the beasts. “They are finished! They gave themselves up. The jaguars ate their hearts, and now they gnaw upon their bones!”
But, of course, the twins were fine. They emerged from Jaguar House to the amazement of the dark lords who had gathered.
“What kind of beings are these? Whence did they come?”
The next evening they stepped into flame—Fire House, the fifth torment of that Realm of Fright. Its interior was pure conflagration, but neither Hunahpu nor Xbalanque was burned. The dark lords intended for them to be roasted to a crisp, but they were proof against such flame and emerged unscathed in the morning.
The dark lords were losing heart. The next evening they escorted the twins to the final place of torment, Bat House, replete with death bats, enormous beasts with razor-like snouts they used for slaughter. The dark lords were certain that this would finish them off, but the brothers made their blowguns bigger and slept snugly inside.
During the night they awoke to the sound of flapping wings and horrible screeching. The twins prayed for wisdom for hours until the house fell quiet and the bats stopped moving.
Xbalanque called to his brother. “Hunahpu, are they asleep? Is it morning already?”
“Let me check.”
Hunahpu crawled to the end of his blowgun and poked his head out to see, but at that instant a death bat swooped down and snatched his head from his shoulders.
After a few moments, Xbalanque called again. “And? Is it morning?”
There was no response.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Nothing moved, however. All he heard was the rustling of leathery wings.
“Ah, damn it. We’ve lost already,” Xbalanque groaned.
Soon the sentries entered. Xbalanque dragged his brother’s body from Bat House, but the King and Queen of Death ordered Hunahpu’s head placed atop the ball court. The dark lords rejoiced now that they believed the youth dead.
But Xbalanque was inspired to action. He called to his side all of the animals, great and small, telling them to bring him the various foods that they ate. The coati brought a chilacayote or Siam pumpkin, rolling it with her snout as she came. Xbalanque saw that the round squash would make a perfect replacement for his brother’s head.
So he carved features into the rind, calling on wiser deities from the heavens to descend and help him. Together, they hurried to make the pumpkin a perfect duplicate of Hunahpu’s head, endowed with the ability to speak. When it was placed on Hunahpu’s shoulders, the youth returned to life.
“Not bad,” he said.
“Okay, time for the ruse,” Xbalanque told him. “Don’t even try to play ball. Just look enigmatic and threatening. I’ll take care of things.”
Turning to a rabbit, Xbalanque instructed:
“Head to the far end of the ball court and hide in the tomato patch. When the ball lands near you, hop away until the deed is done.”
The dark lords were shocked when the brothers challenged them. “What trick is this?” they demanded. “We have already triumphed! There sits your head, boy, proof of your defeat. Surrender!”
Hunahpu merely called out:
“Wrong! That’s just a ball in the shape of my head, foolish lords. Strike it toward us. We’re not afraid of any harm…are you?”
So the dark lords took up the head and threw it down. It rebounded before Xbalanque. He used his yoke to send it sailing over the court. It bounced into the tomato patch, and the rabbit immediately hopped away. All of the dark lords rushed after the animal, shouting and rushing about. They believed it was the ball.
While their enemies were thus distracted, Xbalanque retrieved and reattached his brother’s head. He then set the pumpkin down on the court.
“Hey, come on!” the brothers cried. “We found the ball!”
The dark lords returned, confused about what they had been pursuing. The game resumed, each team equally matched, until Xbalanque struck the pumpkin so hard it burst, strewing seeds before the startled nobles of that Realm of Fright.
“Impossible! It was a head, not a pumpkin. How did that get here? Who brought it?”
They soon realized that they had been solidly defeated by Hunahpu and Xbalanque. Despite the best efforts of the dark lords, the brothers would not die.
Their Death and Resurrection
Hunahpu and Xbalanque knew, however, that the King and Queen of Death would not let them leave the Realm of Fright alive. They summoned the two great seers, Xulu and Paqam, whom the dark lords would consult concerning the proper disposal of the dead boys’ bones.
“It’s heaven’s plan that we die here. But we need a favor. When they ask what to do with our bones, have them grind them up like flour and sprinkle that dust into the river that wends its way through the mountains. Then our destiny will be fulfilled.”
The dark lords had meanwhile dug a pit oven, hot with coals and burning rock. They tried to trick the brothers into leaping over it in sport, but Hunahpu and Xbalanque called their bluff.
“You can’t fool us. We’ve known the form of our deaths for a long time. Just watch.”
Facing each other, the twins lifted their arms and dove into the pit. As they died, the maize withered in their grandmother’s home, in their family milpa, across the entire face of the sea-ringed world. Without the brothers or their fathers to ensure their survival, the golden and silk-tasseled ears of corn could not grow.
When the two corpses had burned down to barest bones, the dark lords consulted with Xulu and Paqam, who recommended the grinding down and sprinkling the brothers had requested. Their ashes were not borne away by the current, however: they sank right away beneath the water.
Five days later they appeared again, as tritons in the river. The inhabitants of the Land of the Dead stared in shock at their fishlike faces. The next day they appeared as poor orphans, dressed in rags. The dark lords hurried to see them when they heard the news. They found the strangers doing dangerous dances and swallowing swords.
The two seemed to set fire to a house, but then they recreated it from ashes.
As the dark lords looked on in amazement, first Hunahpu, then Xbalanque would leap from a high place, killing himself, only to be resurrected by the other. No one realized that this show laid the groundwork for the eventual defeat of the Land of the Dead.
The king and queen summoned the orphans before them. The two reluctantly allowed themselves to be herded to the dread palace. Pretending humility, they threw themselves upon the ground, covering their faces with rags as if desperately ashamed.
“Whence do you come?” the king asked.
“We do not know, Your Majesty. Nor do we know the faces of our mother or father. They died when we were small.”
“Very well. Let us have a spectacle. What payment do you request?”
“We ask nothing. We are truly afraid.”
“Do not fear. Be not timid. Dance! Demonstrate how you sacrifice and then revive yourselves. Burn this palace down and rebuild it. Let us behold your repertoire. As you are poor orphans, we shall pay whatever price you name.”
The brothers began their routine, the dangerous dances and swallowing of swords. The word spread, and soon the place was overflowing with spectators.
“Sacrifice my dog,” the queen commanded.
“As you wish,” they replied, killing the dog and bringing him back to life, tail wagging for joy.
“Now burn the palace down,” instructed the king.
They used illusion to make the vast fortress appear to burn down with all the dark lords within, but no one was consumed, and the palace was restored straightaway.
“Now kill one of these lords,” the queen told them. “Sacrifice him, but do not let him actually perish.”
They complied, holding down a lord, killing him, extracting his heart, and setting it before the king and queen, who marveled to see the noble immediately revived and rejoicing.
“Very well done. Now sacrifice yourselves, boys. We yearn to see this feat with all our hearts.”
And so they did. Xbalanque killed his brother, severing his arms and legs, removing his head and placing it far away, digging out his heart and setting it upon a leaf. The dark lords became giddy at the dismemberment. Xbalanque continued his dance.
