She stood her ground, she let the animal charge, she waited until it was so close that she could have felt its breath upon her, she struck with one spear, piercing its eye, while in the same motion, she jumped up and over the charging animal’s back. She sunk another spear deeply into the base of its skull before she landed again on her feet. The animal slid to a stop as it crumpled, dead before its forward motion had been checked.
She breathed heavily, holding her remaining weapons tightly, staring at the dead animal. She relaxed when she knew it would not move again.
She heard a sound, not far from her, the cracking of a small twig. It was the sound of a less skilled hunter or the final second of a predator’s attack, come to claim K’ul Kelem’s kill. She turned savagely, moving to one side, while she readied to defend herself and her prey. She was the top predator in that jungle.
She saw a group of five men, staring at her, their mouths agape having witnessed the skill and fearlessness of her kill. They held hunting weapons loosely by their sides and were in no position to attack, their awe of her rooted them to the spot, unaware of their own danger in a hostile jungle.
She greeted them. They stepped back, as a co-ordinated group, as if surprised she was human and capable of speech.
She greeted them again, in a softer voice and spoke her own name.
One of the men spoke, but his words were indecipherable. They were the jabbering of a madman. There was no similarity to the sounds she understood as speech. She pointed to her kill and then at the men. She repeated that motion and then turned away, leaving them with the dead animal.
The men crept closer until they stood around K’ul Kelem’s prey. They watched her until she had disappeared from sight. They excitably jabbered among themselves, mimicking the fearless actions of K’ul Kelem as she had made the kill. They would have wondrous stories to tell their people when they successfully returned with food to feed the advance party of human migration into meso-America.
The story of the skilful, fearless, naked goddess hunter they had encountered would live through all generations to come.
Chapter 3
‘People have come,’ K’ul Kelem said when she returned to Hachakyum.
‘I know,’ he replied. He was dressed, again in the white tunic that covered him from his neck to his elbows to below his knees. He had not worn that apparel for thousands of years.
K’ul Kelem stared at his clothed body, as if not being naked was unusual.
‘I assume you are wearing that because of our guests?’ she asked. ‘They were naked too, you know.’ She smiled.
‘There is no prudery,’ he said and returned her smile. ‘It’s a differentiation, for respect.’
‘Should I dress too?’ she asked.
He thought for a second. ‘You aren’t one of these people. Perhaps you should,’ he said.
Two days later, a group of men, hunters with their weapons, came to where Hachakyum and K’ul Kelem had built their shelter, drawn there by the smoke of the cooking fire. They stood a safe distance away and gesticulated among themselves.
One of the men in the group began talking loudly to the others while pointing at K’ul Kelem. He had been with the group that had witnessed her kill in the jungle. They all fell silent and stared.
Hachakyum walked over to them. They stepped back, while raising their weapons. He spoke softly, cajoling them in their own language. Diffidently, the man who had seen K’ul Kelem’s hunting prowess came forward and talked with Hachakyum. The two spoke for sometime before Hachakyum pointed at K’ul Kelem, nodded his head and then waved to her to come closer. She came and stood beside Hachakyum. The strange man spoke to her.
‘I understand him,’ she said to Hachakyum. ‘I didn’t before.’
‘I know,’ he said.
She greeted the man, said her name and smiled. The man fell to his knees and his head bowed until it rested on the ground. He placed his hands over his head in supplication. She squatted down, lifted him by placing her hands under his shoulders and tried to force him to stand. He reluctantly got to his feet but then turned and ran without saying a word.
All the men fled, following their companion.
‘What just happened?’ she asked Hachakyum as she watched the place where the men had been.
‘It appears that you’re the god now,’ he said.
He laughed and the world was wonderful.
Chapter 4
The waves of people expanding through the newly re-inhabited continent kept a wary distance from Hachakyum and K’ul Kelem.
After a few thousand years people began to develop and harvest useful crops. Their hunter-gatherer lifestyles reduced and they began to erect permanent structures. Where the two gods lived became a reserved, magical, sacred area where people did not intrude. Sometimes, hunting parties on the edge of K’ul Kelem’s foraging area saw her alone and hunting. Her legend was enhanced with each new generation that re-confirmed her existence. Her unchanging appearance and unending life were woven into the migration stories. She was worshipped as the mother of the earth itself.
Ten thousand years passed after people had returned when K’ul Kelem’s life was critically transformed. And that change began the end of the world. The end of all worlds.
Chapter 5
K’ul Kelem returned from a hunt to their campsite. She carried the body of an animal slung over her shoulder, one hand steadied her burden while the other carried her hunting weapons. She was tired but exhilarated. She let the animal’s body slide off her shoulder and onto the ground near their cooking fire. She drank deeply from a large container of fresh water and then sat next to the fire to rest before she began the task of skinning and disjointing her prey. Hachakyum came out of the jungle, from the direction of their milpa where they grew their food. He stopped when he saw her and she felt the world darken with his anxiety.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
‘I know,’ he said quietly.
He sat down next to her, his face brooding. She was frightened by the anxiety broadcast from him. She felt his frailty. She was overcome with a sadness that twisted like a deeply embedded blade. What surprised her was the feeling of fear, not her own, but a contagious fear that vibrated in the air around her. His fear was one of horrible inevitability, a fear for the loss of those he loved, caused by the unstoppable falling of cause to effect.
‘How?’ she asked. ‘You said it would not be possible.’
‘No. I don’t understand.’
She hesitated. ‘Will there be a problem?’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said diffidently and that frightened her. ‘No,’ he added firmly. ‘The child will be fine. There will no problem.’
‘But you’re not confident,’ she said. She had never seen him like that. His self-possession was as fixed as the stars.
He took one of her hands and held onto just a few of her fingers and gently caressed them.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not. This should not have happened. Our son will be like you but, he will also be like me.’ He gently massaged her fingertips. ‘I don’t know how much like me.’
He placed his free hand on her stomach while still holding onto the fingers of her hand. She placed her other hand over his.
‘A son?’ she asked brightly.
He nodded and smiled as delight radiated from her eyes.
‘And my son will be a god?’ she asked with excitement.
His smile faded. He kept his hands where they were, gently holding a few of her fingers and feeling, with her, the place of new life.
‘Yes,’ he said.
It was the only time that he appeared to be, almost, human.
Chapter 6
K’ul Kelem gave birth to a boy, with dark, olive skin, fine facial features, black hair and blue-green eyes. He appeared to be completely human. The baby had normal needs for his mother’s milk and undivided attention.
Hachakyum’s anxiety did not abate. It made K’ul Kelem angry when his mood disturbed
his son, who cried when his worried father came close.
‘I don’t understand him,’ Hachakyum said as his son fed from his mother and then fell into a restless sleep.
‘I know you don’t understand,’ K’ul Kelem said angrily. ‘Does it matter? It’s happened. He’s here,’ she said as she stared into the face of her sleeping son, cradled in her arms.
‘It does matter,’ Hachakyum said testily as his son’s face frowned in sleep as he wriggled, about to wake and cry.
K’ul Kelem sighed at the god. She did not know how a being so powerful, so loving, to her at least, could be so preoccupied about an irrelevancy. He had a son. That should be sufficient, she thought, without requiring the explanation of his existence. His son’s life would not be altered by Hachakyum’s successful search for knowledge.
She pushed him away, as if making a distance between his mood and his son would calm the sleeping baby. She placed her son down and went to where Hachakyum stood away from the baby.
‘Stop it!’ she ordered. ‘Just accept him. Love him,’ she placed her hand on his chest in mimic of the action when he had directly shown her his love for her, ‘a little like you love me,’ she pleaded.
He lifted her hand off his chest. His eyes were dark as he stared at the hand he held.
‘It’s not a simple matter,’ he said angrily. ‘This is of paramount importance. It has not happened before.’
She returned his anger. ‘Well it has now.’
He was silent for a moment.
‘Have you decided on a name?’ he asked quietly.
‘Have you?’ she quickly retorted.
‘The choice is yours to make,’ he said. ‘Have you chosen?’
She wondered why she felt his expectation so fiercely. ‘I like Hun-Hunahpu.’
Hachakyum let her hand drop. His body shimmered, momentarily translucent as shock passed through him. His anxiety swamped K’ul Kelem and she had to cry. Involuntary tears fell from her eyes. Her son woke sobbing and then crying in fear and loneliness, requiring his mother.
‘Yes, of course it is,’ Hachakyum said quietly, to himself. She stopped before she reached Hun-Hunahpu, torn between the demonstrable needs of her son and the sadness of the god.
‘What do you mean?’ she said. She was angry as she fought the waves of helplessness coming from him. She picked up her son and his crying reduced to sobs.
‘What made you decide?’ he asked.
She swayed a little from side to side as she calmed her newly named son. ‘It just came to me. We can call him something else, if that name is a problem.’
He smiled without pleasure. ‘No. My race are born with their names. A name comes from the mother who gave life,’ he said.
‘Well, we both gave him life. And he’s not just one of your race,’ she said, combativeness in her voice. ‘He’s one of mine too.’
He shook his head, he was not listening.
‘I have to leave,’ he said abruptly.
‘What?’ she was incredulous. ‘Now?’
‘Not for long,’ he said. He smiled although it was a forced smile.
‘How long?’
‘Not long. I’ll be back soon.’
Hachakyum’s body shimmered, it turned partially transparent and glowed with a faint light. Then he was no longer there.
Hun-Hunahpu began to cry again, after his father’s departure.
Chapter 7
Two years later, K’ul Kelem walked out of the jungle holding the hand of her toddler son.
Hachakyum had not returned.
K’ul Kelem left the sacred area that had been avoided by people and came among them. Her son required more than her company. She was given the best structure to live in, she was provided for. She was a deity come to live among mortals. The city dwellers felt pride that they had been chosen but also fear that her dissatisfaction would cause suffering.
She assumed either Hachakyum had abandoned her and his son, which she could not believe, or that something dreadful had occurred. She wondered what could be so awful to keep him away. She shuddered at unimaginable possibilities that would delay a god.
She remained aloof but ensured that her son was accepted into his group of peers. The mothers of the other children were wary, not knowing the powers of the son. Months passed and Hun-Hunahpu showed no behavioural differences. Hun-Hunahpu was an outgoing child and although he had never seen a human his own size before he instinctively knew how to behave with the mix of self-interest and camaraderie that dominates the relationships of young children. He manifested no extraordinary powers, and the other children soon dismissed the warnings of their parents that the new boy among them may have strengths beyond this world. Hun-Hunahpu was bested in displays of strength and prowess as often as he defeated others. He became a normal part of the group of growing children and after a year among them the mothers, mostly, had forgotten his origins as he played and learned with other children.
K’ul Kelem, despite her young appearance, joined the elders in managing the affairs of the settlement and after a few years she was revered as a respected elder and not feared as the consort of the gods.
A decade after the birth of her son she had, again, become the leader of people and Hun-Hunahpu was treated as the successor to that leadership.”
Chapter 8
Pep’Em Ha abruptly stopped her storytelling. Arthur was tired but the story had gripped him and at no time had he thought of sleep. His weariness raised its voice in the silence as he examined Pep’Em Ha’s face, illuminated by the kerosene lamp. Behind her was soaked in darkness.
Arthur turned to Michelle, to suggest they retire, worried about her fatigue.
Pep’Em Ha’s voice, slight, equivocal and questioning when she was not story telling, addressed her father.
‘Should I tell the story of Hun-Hunahpu and Xquiq?’ she asked.
Yax K’in appeared unchanged after all the hours of Pep’Em Ha’s narrative. His attention to the lamp had not wavered as he smoked. Arthur had not counted how many cigars had been consumed and, as he came to think of it, could not remember Yax K’in lighting a second and subsequent cigar. He must have, but Yax K’in remained steady with a seemingly permanent half-smoked cigar in his fingers and his eyes focussed on the small flame inside the lamp.
Yax K’in nodded his head.
‘Yes, it is where the end of our world begins,’ he said.
Arthur thought about his hammock but once Pep’Em Ha had begun the next story, all thoughts of sleep were banished and his tiredness erased.
Part 4
Chapter 1
The Story of Hun-Hunahpu and Xquiq
“Hun-Hunahpu had risen early, well before the first light of day. He was excited as he dressed in his ceremonial clothes. His gown was intricately made, with disparate colours and regular designs. He draped strips of fashioned leather around his waist and crossed them over his shoulders. He wrapped his upper arms in the tanned skin and fur of a jaguar. It’s dried tail wrapped around his waist. He placed a woven head-dress on his head that added an arms length to his height. Embedded in the head-dress were many brightly coloured feathers from jungle birds. He removed his head-covering, but he would replace it immediately before the ceremony later that morning.
He stepped outside as the rim of the sun entered the world. He stood on top of a pyramid near the centre of the city. The top platform housed the living quarters he shared with his mother. It was the highest place in the city his mother ruled. He stood on the edge and greeted the sun by stretching his arms to the sky and his excitement bubbled over into laughter.
The seasons had repeated twenty times during his life. He laughed out loud as he thought, I am an old man! And today was the anniversary of his birth and he would be rewarded for his longevity. He would share the leadership of the city with his mother, as if he was to be the king after his mother’s death. He laughed. His mother would not die, he would never take over from her. He would have the power and status of a ruler but litt
le of the responsibility.
His mother had not aged in his lifetime, her divinity was obvious. However, Hun-Hunahpu knew that he was human, he was nothing extraordinary. Perhaps, his life would extend further than other people but he would age and die. He had grown from a child into a man, what god did that?, he thought. He had injured as he had played and hunted with his companions. He did heal quickly, he acknowledged some differences, but what god saw his own blood flow and felt the pain of healing as he recovered? At times he had been confined to his bed, unable to rise, weak with what ravaged his body. No god would succumb to the weakness of illness.
He laughed off his mother’s arguments about his own divinity in the same way his friends dismissed all advice of their own mothers. He thought, in some ways, of his mother as an old woman although as he had grown they began to appear more like sister and brother than mother and son.
Today, he thought, he would become his own man. He would be officially accepted into the circle of elders. He would be allowed to raise his voice in argument and to take initiative in the affairs of the people.
He raised his arms again and yelled out loud, he could not contain his happiness. His voice echoed over the city and people stopped and listened. Most of them smiled as they shared Hun-Hunahpu’s joy, knowing the official day of succession of a well-loved young man had come.
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