What did they mean?
Next he told how the beginning of the first of the Five Great Cycles had begun with the birth of Venus, on 4 Ahua 8 Cumku. At this point he turned towards the gringos and explained that in their calendar – which he called the Gregorian – Venus’s birth date fell on 11 August 3114 BC. The Fifth Great Cycle was due to end on 21 December 2012, not with the death of Venus, but with the possible destruction of the earth. This was not the first time the earth had faced such a crisis, he added. For during the preceding 5126-year period, the world had been created five times, and had been destroyed on four separate occasions.
The Halach Uinic now told a story to further illustrate his meaning – just as the priest at your church in Coscohuatepec did when he spoke of the parables of Jesus Christ. The story went as follows:
When the Halach Uinic was still a young man and unsure of his destiny, he had travelled to Palenque to sit at the feet of the great Lacandon shaman and elder, the t’o’ohil Chan K’in. At this time Chan K’in was already more than a hundred years old, and he had seen many things. The Halach Uinic had spoken to Chan K’in of the coming of the Great Change – of his fears, and of his lack of understanding about the event.
At first, Chan K’in, chewing on a large cigar as was his habit, had replied only in the negative. ‘The land is weary and must be destroyed before Hachakyum, the Creator, can revitalize it. The quetzal bird no longer flies. Men cut down the forests and no longer respect nature. The god Mensabak no longer speaks to me.’
The Halach Uinic, being only a young man at the time, had refused to accept this negativity as Chan K’in’s last word, and he had pressed the old one for further details.
After some hesitation, Chan K’in had gone on to tell the Halach Uinic that if this coming event were approached in the right way – through the ritual of atonement, perhaps – the Great Change might not be as bad as he had at first made out, but might instead give birth to a new Great Cycle of Time. If it was approached in the wrong way, however – through anger and greed – this would foretell the world’s final destruction. Such an event would affect all people throughout the world, and not just the Maya. This fact, Chan K’in had said, must be taken into account.
The Halach Uinic now drew himself up and addressed the assembly in a louder voice than normal. ‘It is for this reason that I intend to step down from my position as both Halach Uinic and Ah Kin Mai to make way for someone better qualified to pass on the word of Hunab Ku. A non-Maya, perhaps. Someone more competent to speak beyond our borders. This is my decision.’
77
There was a hiss from the crowd, as of a vast expulsion of breath.
The Halach Uinic turned his back on his people and made as if he would hide himself amongst the other priests. But the priests pushed forward and gathered themselves around him. No word was said, but the Halach Uinic was left with no option but to return to his place at the head of the assembly. He lowered his head and nodded, as if a burden had been placed on his shoulders, and a tumpline attached to his forehead with which to carry it.
Without pausing for thought, you chose this exact moment to walk to the very forefront of the pyramid. You stood beside the Halach Uinic and you looked out over the crowd.
These Maya were not your people, but you felt a kinship with them. Guarding their book had given you this feeling. As if the book, which you were unable to read, nevertheless held within it the distilled spirit of the people you saw below you.
‘The Halach Uinic says that this book is mine. And that I may do with it as I please. That it is worth great sums of money to the gringos in the north, and that I will be a rich man when I sell it. I understand why he is doing this – why he is offering me this choice. But what the Halach Uinic says about the ownership of the book is not true. This book is not mine to give. For it is already yours.’ You drew yourself up, scared in case you had angered the priests. Scared that you had pushed yourself forward without merit.
The Halach Uinic opened one hand to you in a sign of encouragement. Then he moved the hand out in an arc to encompass the people below him.
You nodded. The Halach Uinic’s intentions were clear. He wished you to address his people.
‘Now I, too, must tell you a story.’ Your ears were hurting with the tension of your position. You had never in your life spoken to so many people at one time. In fact you had never spoken to more than a gathering of four. ‘Many, many years ago, one of your people was escaping from bad happenings here. What happenings, I do not know.’ You hesitated, unsure how to continue.
The Halach Uinic stepped forward to help you. ‘It was during the time of the Caste War between the Maya and the Yucatecos. This war occurred between 1847 and 1901. The Chilan protecting this book was the ak k’u hun – the “guardian of the sacred books”. He was caught up in the uprising at Valladolid, followed by the great revolt of the Maya people in the spring of 1848 and its aftermath. He writes all this on the back leaf of the book. Here. You can see.’
The Halach Uinic was excited – you could see the tension in his face. He was clearly moved, also, by the confidence the other priests had placed in him. He had been prepared to sacrifice his own position in order to give you the freedom to act as you saw fit. For this reason you realized that it was up to you to continue with the story, even though it was a difficult thing to do. Up to you to convince everybody here that the book was, indeed, rightly theirs – rightly what the Halach Uinic claimed it to be.
‘This Chilan was pursued by those who wished to steal the precious book in his charge. He fled as far as Veracruz. His enemies caught up with him there, and wounded him – wounded him so badly that he knew that he would soon die. He found my ancestor working in a clearing. With his last strength, he approached him. The father of my father’s father saw what the Chilan’s enemies had done to him and he felt sorry for this man, and hid him in his hut. He risked his life for this man. He was a good Catholic. He knew the parable of the Good Samaritan. When the Chilan was on the very verge of death, with no hope of survival, he told my ancestor of this book. Of its importance to the Maya. He asked my ancestor if he would swear an oath to guard this book until such time as our great volcano, the Pico de Orizaba, would choose to come alive again. Then he or his successors must then take this book to a special place and give it to those who were there. My ancestor did not wish to do this. He could not read. He did not know what the book might contain. It might have been evil. It might have contained magic. But the Chilan called upon him to honour the wishes of a dying man. This my grandfather had to do, according to the custom of my people. And the Chilan seemed a good man. Upon hearing my father swear the oath, the Chilan pricked himself with a thorn on the tongue, then on his cheek, his lower lip, and his ear. He wrote things in his own blood, both on the blank pages of the book, and on a separate leaf he had about his person. This leaf was a map.’ You held it up. ‘And this map took me to you. So you see, I have no right to the book. It is truly yours. Now that my task is done, you must let me return home to my mother and to my work. I have been away for far too long.’
78
‘Well stone me – we’ve got ourselves an honest-to-God ragged trousered philanthropist.’
Abi was tucked into the lee of one of the more extreme of the ruined buildings. It was situated outside the main Ek Balam tourist zone, on a raised tump, thick with ancient scatterings. Athame was standing beside him. The Glock was tucked into the back of Abi’s trousers, disguised by the Guayabera shirt that he had bought for exactly that purpose in Veracruz. Athame was carrying her Walther P4 in the backpack she wore at all times. Given her diminutive size, the backpack made her look like Dopey, from Walt Disney’s Snow White.
‘I don’t think you should do this.’
‘Do what?’
‘Go against Madame, our mother’s, wishes.’
‘What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, Athame. And I don’t intend to blunder into that crowd over there, six-shooters blazing. I’ve got a more subtle approach in mind.’
‘She could simply cut us all loose. Without a penny to our names.’
