surveyed the great ball court below. The muscled warriors wore thick rolls of padding to protect their ribs from a massive black leather ball over a metre in diameter as they jostled for position. The rules of the ball game prevented them kicking the ball or touching it with their hands; instead they used their heavily padded forearms and occasionally their foreheads. Headdresses of horns and quetzal and macaw feathers identified the different sides.
Princess Akhushtal’s gaze shifted from the ball court to the towering salmon-coloured pyramids at either end of the main plaza – the Temple of the Great Jaguar and the Temple of the Mask. The soaring monuments had been built fifty years before and contained the tombs of royal members of the Great Jaguar clan: King Hasaw Chan K’awil and his queen, Lady Twelve Macaw. Further to the east of the plaza, the Tikal markets were bustling with traders. The stores were shaded with sackcloth awnings. Racks of exquisitely woven cloth were suspended beneath. Rugs, pottery and baskets of spices, nuts and fruits spilled on to the main thoroughfares. The women, dressed in multicoloured blouses, balanced their purchases in wicker baskets on their heads. Noblemen in feathered headdresses reclined on wicker lounges that were carried aloft amongst the crowds by their servants. Beyond the marketplace, Akhushtal could see the sentries on top of Temple IV and Temple V, the ‘skyscraper pyramids’, the tallest structures in the Meso-American world. Below them, the gates on the causeways that connected the great city with the jungle were heavily guarded by the King’s warriors.
‘The drums are beating louder now and the game is coming to an end. My father is getting to his feet and the ball players have all turned and bowed in our direction.’
Aleta shifted restlessly on her pillows but Arana remained silent and waited.
‘My father is meeting with the High Priest now. The High Priest is warning of a great catastrophe for the Maya if we don’t change course.’
‘You must find a way to make peace with Calakmul and Naranjo,’ the High Priest informed the King in grave tones. The respected Mayan elder was tall and dressed in a white sackcloth robe and hood, his brown weathered face etched with lines of wisdom. He maintained a commanding presence, even in the company of King Yax Ain II. ‘If these wars continue, not only will there be more casualties on both sides, but the entire Mayan civilisation will come under threat. The wars are destroying the environment on which your people depend for their very existence.’
‘The people of Calakmul and Naranjo are very stubborn,’ the King complained. ‘I have a duty to maintain our way of life. We are the pre-eminent city, and they must conform to our customs and traditions. If necessary, we will force them to adopt our way of living.’ The muscled, well-built warrior King was seated on a low stool, resplendent in a headdress of red, blue and green feathers from the prized quetzal bird, his protective leather battle-dress fastened at the belt by a huge jade emblem.
‘The dominant society and culture must take the lead, but that does not mean we should not accept other cultures,’ the High Priest persisted. ‘It’s not a weakness to sit down and reach agreement. It’s a strength.’
‘It will be perceived as a weakness, especially by the council of advisors,’ the King grumbled.
‘We are coming to the end of the tenth baktun. It will be a time of great upheaval and loss,’ the High Priest warned, reminding King Yax Ain II that the current baktun, a cycle of 394 years, was coming to its conclusion. ‘The destruction we experienced at the end of the last baktun will repeat itself.’
The King looked thoughtful.
‘The signs will keep repeating until we take notice of the warnings – or sow the seeds of our own destruction, and eventually the destruction of the entire planet.’
‘The entire planet?’
‘The destruction at the end of this baktun will be widespread, particularly amongst your own people, but the destruction of the entire planet is not scheduled to occur until the end of the thirteenth baktun: in the year 2012.’
‘And what happens in 2012?’ the King asked, a sceptical edge to his voice.
‘The thirteenth baktun and December 2012 will signify the end of the grand cycle: the end of the Age of the Fifth Sun. For the people of 2012, they will ignore the damage they do to the environment. They won’t be able to reach agreement. And their wars will be based on competing religions. The adherents of those religions will each claim that only they possess the one true path, but unless they learn to accept that there are many paths and many cultures, the clash between religions will destroy them all.’
‘The year 2012 is many baktuns away,’ the King responded dismissively.
‘Nevertheless, we have a duty to warn future civilisations of the difficulties we face, and what may await them.’
‘And how do we do that?’
‘The warnings have been transcribed into a codex. At the ceremony of the solstice tomorrow, the Keepers of the Temples, the jade figurines, will be placed on top of Pyramids I, IV and V. At sunrise, the sun’s rays will be captured by the crystals and deflected. The final diffraction will signify the resting place for the Maya Codex, which will remain hidden until long after you and I have gone. One who is amongst us now will return to unlock the secret, but if they are to be successful, they will need to find the sequence of numbers that is at the base of the universe itself. That sequence contains a common number from which a subtraction of one will give its reciprocal, and to which the addition of one will give its square.’
Aleta shifted on her pillows again, frowning as she wrestled with the mathematical predictions of the High Priest, but then relaxing, as if the equation were solved.
‘What is happening now?’ Arana prompted.
‘The sky is streaked with pinks and soft purples… the dawn is approaching. The howler monkeys are swinging through the trees above us. I’m accompanying my father towards the Great Plaza, where his subjects are already gathered in their thousands. Together, we are ascending the steps of the Temple of the Great Jaguar. The High Priest is waiting for us at the summit. Up… up… up we are climbing. The drums are beating, louder now, and fires of incense are burning at the base of the temple, where the warriors are drawn up in their legions. We are reaching the top… the High Priest is bowing… my father is taking his seat on his throne, and now I am able to be seated as well. The priests are hovering around the jade figurines. They have positioned one on the roof comb above us and another to the west on top of Temple IV, and yet a third has been positioned to the south on top of Temple V. The High Priest has lifted a golden conch shell to his lips. It has a keyhole in the middle, and the sound is reverberating through the jungle.’
The shaman watched his patient carefully, aware of what was coming. Aleta was moving from side to side on her pillows, moving to the rising crescendo of the drums.
‘The sky is getting lighter above the jungle, which spreads like a dark-green canopy out to the east. The High Priest is looking towards the point where the sky is the brightest, where the sun will rise on the shortest day of the year – now! The first rays of the sun have struck the crystal in the jade figurine on top of Temple I.’ A narrow, searing beam of deep-green laser-like light energised the crystal on the top of Temple I, only to be immediately deflected on a precise angle to strike the crystal on the jade figurine on top of Temple IV to the west, from where it energised the crystal on top of Temple V. Aleta turned her head suddenly. ‘The light beam! It’s been deflected towards… wait… I can’t see it… oh, no!’
The screams were coming from the direction of the city gates at the bottom of the causeway that led up to the markets. One after another, the thatched-roofed huts on either side were going up in flames. Thousands of bloodthirsty warriors from the rival city of Calakmul fought with the guards at the gates, beheading them and ripping their still-beating hearts out of their chests. Now they were streaming on towards the plaza. Fierce battles broke out as Tikal’s warriors raced to meet them to defend their King.
The High Priest was strangely calm; for him the surprise dawn attack had been inevitable. He shook his head sadly. The city-states, he knew, would continue fighting until they destroyed themselves and, ultimately, the Mayan civilisation. He quietly signalled to the priests who were preparing to entomb the Maya Codex. Through the chaos and smoke of the raging battle, the laser-like beam held steady on the mechanism that controlled a secret entrance to a complex across from Temple V. The priests held the precious codex aloft to indicate they had seen their High Priest’s signal, and one of them descended a shaft and entered the passageway to the chamber. The sun climbed higher and the beam faded from view. The High Priest signalled to the priests on each temple that the jade figurines were to be sealed in the secret chambers that had been prepared on top of each pyramid.
‘No! No! The Calakmul warriors have reached the base of our pyramid. My father’s warriors are being overwhelmed… speared… beheaded. They are fighting hard but the other side is gaining. Oh, no! They’re swarming
