Sisimito I--Ox Witz Ha

by Henry W. Anderson

  “Not in my platoon.” She did not respond as she curled up on the mat and pulled the cloth over her.

  I was also tired, but, unlike her, too excited to sleep. I had studied and memorized all I had seen for I was already trying to formulate a plan for our escape. I beamed at Molly, having decided to be a bit frivolous, see if I could get her to relax a little. “Don’t cover too tightly. I might want to get under the cover with you.”

  She stared at me, incredulity in her eyes. “Not with those two guards standing there,” she answered, matter of fact.

  I kept looking at Molly. Even though we had fucked for a whole night, broke my personal record, I still didn’t know where I stood with her. She seemed distant. Even after what had happened at the Hidden Valley Falls, I did not get the feeling that she was mine, that I could fuck her when I wanted or, perhaps, even again. The way she treated me was unchanged by our fucking and I was puzzled, but then, when it came to women, I was always puzzled or didn’t give a damn. Her breathing was calm and steady and she had already fallen asleep. Perhaps, I was being foolish, insensitive, thinking with Tóolok’s head rather than my own. We were threatened with losing our lives. Wasn’t it normal for her not to be thinking of fucking, under the conditions we were? I was certain I couldn’t be falling in love. No way! Even the possibility of being in love was foreign to me. My life had always been different from that of other people. If things were difficult, I felt the urge for a woman. Immediately! I needed to get my emotions lost in the sweet delirium of having a woman’s body hot against mine. But then, even when things weren’t difficult, I still wanted a woman’s body hot against mine. My life sure was complicated.

  Unintentionally, my hand came up to the Green Scapular Bas had given me. I couldn’t perceive where it came from, but, suddenly, there was a fleeting sense of guilt that I had not thought of Bas often; yet, I knew he would understand. Under the circumstances, yes, he would understand. He was a soldier. I was a soldier. I held the Green Scapular, firmly. Perhaps, I should have been praying instead of thinking of putting Tóolok to work, but then Stephen Chiac is Stephen Chiac.

  It was while holding the Green Scapular that an idea came to me. I knew that Molly had lost hers at the time she was kidnapped by Sisimito. I was pretty good at carving things and decided it would be good to pass the time making a medallion for her. Bas and I had often sat on boulders near a sani-bay while drying off after swimming. We would draw images in the mud or carve them on broken branches. He would not be with me that night, however, so I would have to carve alone. I turned and walked the short distance to the door where a servant was talking to our two guards. They moved apart so that the servant could step in. Walk in he did, but I could see by his darting eyes that he was afraid. I concluded that the priests had been doing a good job.

  “Come in,” I said and it appeared that by speaking to him in his own language made him relax a little. He did not answer, however, but placed a pot of drink and a dish of food on the floor beside where Molly slept. The pot was wide at the base, about eight inches, with a narrower outlet, and it had a handle shaped like a turkey’s head. The dish was about a foot in diameter, adorned with painted symbols on the side, and stood on four short legs. He looked at me.

  “Boiled k’ix-che’299 leaves, noxti’,300 tz’i’301 meat with kuas. The drink is pozolli.302 I will return with plates and mugs.” He turned to leave. My stomach heaved and I fought for control as I tried not to reflect on the tz’i’, dog meat.

  “Wait!” I shouted. He froze, looking alarmed. “I need something else. I want to make a gift for my woman.” I noticed that request caught the guards’ attention. They turned and looked at me, deadpan, but that did not deter me for I had to find something to do, to concentrate on. I knew that I should probably go to sleep, but I didn’t think I could, so it would be better to keep myself occupied.

  The servant frowned and asked, nervously, “What do you need?”

  “I want to make a medallion for my woman. All I want is a piece of strong thread and a plain round medallion with a fine hole for the thread. I want to carve something on it and will need a piece of sharp obsidian to carve with.” I heard the two guards laugh.

  “Permission would have to be gotten from the Halach Uinic and it’s late,” replied the servant.

  “The Halach Uinic is not asleep. His kingdom is going to war. Please ask him for me.” I heard the guards laugh again. It was not a laugh of ridicule, but more of bewilderment at the request I had made.

  “I cannot approach the Halach Uinic directly.”

  “Then find someone who can.”

  The servant hesitated then left and I sat down beside my food. I was both hungry and thirsty and decided not to wait for whatever utensils the servant had planned to bring, if any. I took a big swallow of the pozolli. The rich drink, made from ground corn, was very soothing and I wondered if I should wake up Molly, but decided to let her rest a while longer. I took one of the prickly pears, or noxti’. The sweet cactus fruit was succulent and juicy and relieved my thirst more than the pozolli did. I next took a kua and placed one of the boiled cacti, or k’ix-che’, leaves on it. Over the leaf I scattered pieces of the dog meat. I bit into it and was very surprised how the heavy seasoning it had made it taste delicious. But I kept seeing dogs. I chewed and the juices from the meat began to accumulate at the back of my throat. I tried to swallow, but it was difficult. I kept having flashbacks at the maaga303 dogs I would see, from time to time, in the villages and towns. Some of them would be covered with mange and fleas and fucking all over the village, as they rutted, making a whole heap of barking noise. I started to retch, but I fought it. I had to eat. Finally, I swallowed and everything went down. As I continued to eat, with difficulty, I bit off smaller and smaller pieces of the dog meat. Eventually, I ate the kua alone. I decided I wouldn’t tell Molly that the meat was dog meat. It would be the third time that I would not be able to let her know what kind of meat she was eating or had eaten.

  I reflected on the day Taat had found an old obsidian blade while clearing a new kool for planting. He had held it close to his chest as if asking it to give him the strength of his ancestors. I rarely saw the blade as he took it out only on very special occasions, Christian Holidays not included. Taat! He was a great Ke’kchi and I think he hated the civilized life he was forced to live. If only I could let him see the world I was in. But, how could I? I didn’t even know how I had gotten there. I didn’t know what I was doing there and … and … whether or not I would be able to leave and, more important, I was beginning to wonder if I would ever want to leave. I would not think of those things, however, because I was a soldier and I must think only of survival. Perhaps, I was already dead and in some transition through a Maya Purgatory that Christians knew nothing about. Perhaps, Bas had prayed enough for me and I was in Purgatory and not in Hell. I knew for a fact I wasn’t ever going straight to Heaven, but I couldn’t be in Hell, there were no fires burning me. And, Molly was with me. Why would she be in Purgatory, Maya or Christian? She turned under her cover and I gazed at the sleeping Molly. Even in her exhaustion, Molly was beautiful. Tóolok moved. “Fok!” I swore aloud. I wanted to throw myself upon her.

  The servant, after laying down two clay mugs and plates, handed me a jade medallion hanging from a thin leather cord and a craftsman tool made of a pencil like piece of wood at the end of which was embedded a sharp piece of obsidian. I was surprised. I really didn’t think I would get what I had asked for. The guards could not believe it either and as I began working on the medallion, on and off, one of them would come and look over me, watching the image I was making on the jade. We even talked, from time to time, and strange as it may seem, I felt a sense of camaraderie being developed between the Nim-q’ij Guards and myself. Another lamp was brought and the additional light allowed me to see better. They no longer faced outside but inside and I wondered if it were because I had the obsidian tool as obsidian was sharp enough to cut off a horse’s head. Perhaps, th
ey were just being friendly and a little more relaxed. I reminded myself, promptly, that even if they were being friendly, I could not allow myself to forget that they were my jailers and that they were deadly captors, ready to kill me if ordered to.

  It was just before midnight that we heard the first scream. The guards were immediately agitated and there were shouts and the sound of pounding feet. A few minutes later, there was another scream, followed again by shouts; that time, the shouts were frenzied and there were more running feet. I asked the guards if the city was under attack, but they did not answer and only shook their heads. In the light of the lamps and torches, I saw alarm and some fear in their eyes. I knew that if there were fear, it would not be of human enemies.

  I kept on working and the screams continued. Sometimes, they seemed close; other times, they seemed to be from afar off. If they were enemy strikes, they had to be sorties of some sort, attacks of opportunity, for they were sporadic. Whoever or whatever was raiding was taking advantage of darkness as night persisted in the well-armed city of Ox Witz Ha.

  An hour later, two new guards, smelling of asafoetida, came to relieve our guards. Before leaving, they told us that they would be back early in the morning. They looked at each other, smiled, looked back at me and shouted, “Fok!” I was dumbfounded. They laughed aloud then left; yet, within their laughter was the sense that they were indeed very nervous at what was happening around us. The new guards did not know me and I did not know them. They simply took their positions and ignored me. I had been working for about three or four hours and was growing tired. My eyes burned as I worked by the light of the lamps in our room … prison. Molly awoke only once, awakened by the noise that followed one of the screams of terror in the night. She was sleepy and tired, but I grumbled with her until she agreed to eat a little. She had a prickly pear and drank some pozolli and then she was off to sleep, once again.

  I worked for another half-an-hour and by then had finally finished both sides of the medallion which I placed near her hands as she slept. I lay down beside her, close enough to be aware of her, but far enough not to touch her. I had to get some sleep. The sound of water flowing nearby was very soothing and as I closed my eyes, I again heard the distant cries of terror and the shrieking laughter of the xwáay.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE BALLCOURT (HALAW)

  and the

  SACRED CENOTE (CH’AJCH’OJ TZ’ONO’OT)

  Monday, April 10, 1972

  Angry voices, not far away, awakened me. The dawn was just breaking, but I was rested, having slept soundly. I immediately recognized the voice of the Halach Uinic.

  “I have been awake most of the night with my Nim-q’ij Military Nacons,304 Batab. What can it be that makes you disturb me in my steam bath, so early on this accursed k’iin?”

  “You are aware of the terror that made havoc in our city last night. There are over one hundred people dead … their blood drained … mutilated … ripped apart … all their thumbs gone. The priests are blaming you and they make no attempt to hide where they are laying their blame. The will of the people are easily swayed under these circumstances.”

  “I know all that you tell me, Wi-k’an. I have been briefed, continuously. As you are aware that I have been, there must be some other issue of importance why you have disturbed my steam bath, the only moment of quiet solitude I will have this k’iin.”

  “There is, Halach Uinic.” I heard a clap of hands.

  “Why do you send away my servants?” asked K’an II.

  “Because what I say is for your ears only.”

  “Be certain there are no ears of q’än-jal nearby,” laughed K’an II.

  “You continue to jest. You must be serious, Sak Witzil Baah. These are very grave times.”

  “Arrrgh! Go ahead, Batab.”

  The Batab sighed then spoke, firmly. “You will not like to hear this, but the only way to quieten your priests is to have the prisoners …”

  “Strangers,” interrupted K’an II.

  “… strangers, as you wish, sacrificed. The Ahau Can Mai blames what has happened on your fulfilling of their prophecy. The strangers must be sacrificed.”

  “Do you really believe their prophecy, Wi-k’an? If you do, I may need to guard against you as well as my priests.”

  “K’an II! Ajawinel! What I believe is not important now. Your priests must be appeased or you will have chaos in the sacbeobs of this Nim-q’ij City of Ox Witz Ha. With the forces of the Ajawinel of Maxam assaulting our city’s outskirts to the northwest, we have to be united. If not, our Lineage will fall … and so will this Nim-q’ij City which you have built into the greatest metropolis on U Wach Ulew. Can two strangers be worth losing all that you have done?”

  There was a marked silence then K’an II spoke. “Two strangers, by some extraordinary design, have entered our kingdom. They mean us no harm. They can do us no harm. Perhaps, there is much we can learn from them about their kingdom. The woman, she is fair. She is from a land we have not seen. Yet, you see them as the cause for what is happening around us.” K’an II’s voice grew loud. “They have nothing to do with what is happening here this k’iin. It has been confirmed that it is the Evil One, Mahanamatz, and his Kechelaj Komon that attacked us while we slept in our beds. They are cowards. Mahanamatz has always been a ch’o’ and his craven ways are well known. For hundreds of years our story tellers have told us about Mahanamatz. Perhaps, he is angry at me for trying to eliminate our beliefs that he does exist. I try to change our beliefs only to lessen our dependence on the priests as they hold on to power by injecting fear into the hearts of our citizens. And the war we face … there have been wars before. There will be other wars, unless we eradicate our love for blood, power, and the sacrifices demanded by our priests. It is our disposition to go to war. That same disposition, Wi-k’an, will bring about our downfall. Is it only me who sees the wisdom in not going to war? And you want me to have these two possibly worthless strangers killed to appease my priests, their non-benevolent gods, and their Chilans’305 visions?”

  “Why do you protect them so arduously if they are worthless, Nephew?”

  “Because they are innocent of our ways. Can’t you see that?

  “I fear to see, my Nephew and Ajawinel. I fear to know that you have plans to use the strangers to weaken the rule of our priests. Is that truly so, Nephew?”

  “You swim in muddy waters, Chekaj K’inich. Be careful, for when you swim in muddy waters you do not see the áayin306 that swims beside you, until it is too late.”

  “Sak Witzil Baah! The strangers must die. You must not forget that you are K’an II, Ajawinel of Ox Witz Ha. The gods are our gods, not the priests’ gods. Do not put aside the fact that the gods are also your gods. Sacrificing the strangers is the only way. It is the only sacbeob to securing our dynasty. Already the priests have declared this k’iin one of prayer and sacrifice to the Feathered Serpent, Kukulcán. They call for death to the Evil One, Mahanamatz, death to the invaders from Maxam, and death to the two strangers. A pitz307 ballgame is organized, to be followed by the sacrifice of the losers to Kukulcán. A procession to the Ch’ajch’oj Tz’ono’ot 308 follows. There will then be another sacrifice.”

  “The Ch’ajch’oj Tz’ono’ot? After the ballgame? That breaks their own laws … processions to the Ch’ajch’oj Tz’ono’ot are in the early morning and pay homage to Chac so that the crops may grow and that there may be bountiful harvests. They say they pay homage to Kukulcán? They lie. They are using the Feathered Serpent to their own design. All they want are sacrifices … the spilling of blood … the wasting of blood … the blood of our citizens,” stormed K’an II. “Why do you think that they choose Kukulcán, our god, the god of the Nim-q’ijs and Nobles? They are entrapping me.”

  “If you do not pay homage,” advised the Batab Chekaj K’inich, “you may turn some of your own Lineage against you. There are some among our family who question the wisdom of your ideas of change. You will be weakened at a time
when you can least afford it. K’ahk’ Ujol will become K’ahk’ Ujol K’inich II before his time.”

  “That was a thought, but if he ascends, then you will guide him as you have served Knot Ajaw and K’an II.” K’an II became thoughtful then spoke with great indignation, “The young follow me. The old, their thoughts are like dried fig. I tire of them. I tire also of those priests and their constant desire for the ritual meal of sacrificed flesh and the outpouring of my citizens’ blood. Each k’iin I fear for the young men of my city lest they be raped by the priests in their desire for virgin males, and sacrificed by the outpouring of their virile blood, and the carving out of their human hearts. How many young men have I watched so taken when they would have served this city better as Nim-q’ij Warriors, scholars, mathematicians, craftsmen, workers, builders of our sacbeobs, taats. Wasted youth! Fok! I will have no more of it.” There was a moment of silence.

  “You even use the stranger’s word, Ajawinel. As Batab, I can only warn you that if you do not attend the ceremonies, and if the strangers are not sacrificed, before this k’iin is done it is highly possible that your wife, your children, my family and I, your entire Lineage, will lie dead at your feet. They will kill you last so that you can see the demise of your Nim-q’ij Dynasty. Your Nim-q’ij Warriors love you, K’an II, but the fear of the gods and the priests is deeply embedded in their consciousness. They will find it difficult to ignore that fear.” There was silence then the Batab spoke again. “There is an aspect of this difficulty, however, that you could turn to your advantage, Nephew. Sacrifice the strangers and, should the evil persists, you can claim that you followed the priests’ advice and their counsel has proven wrong. Their control over the people would be weakened and the people would be more accommodating to your changes.”

  I heard water splashing, as if K’an II had risen from his bath. Then he spoke again. “Very well, Batab. But I do what I do with a heavy heart. I will give up the strangers for sacrifice.”