The Serpent Passage

didn’t like Honac-Fey. William thought he was annoying too, like an animated announcer at a circus sideshow.

“Very well,” Yax said. “Bring Priests Ik-Tanil and Ch’elek with you to perform the blessing rites.”

Honac-Fey gave another embellished bow before departing, with the two priests following him out. The white owl flew off the ceiba tree into the afternoon sky overhead, in the direction of Honac-Fey.

Teshna leaned to her brother, the bright green feathers on her headdress swaying forward. “Seven serpents,” she said with a huff.

Yax glowered at her. “Just be thankful that I did not have to send you down to play.” He took a moment to instruct the servants to keep searching for Bati-to escort her to the ballcourt when she was found-and then he spun back with an excited look, like a kid about to go to the Super Bowl. “Let’s go!” Yax said, as he headed out with Teshna at his side.

Priest Quisac grabbed William by the arm, holding him back a few steps from the others. “Be alert, Balam. As Royal Protector of the King’s family, you must always be mindful for their safety.”

“What do you mean by Royal Protector?” William asked.

“It is the title that you have been awarded. You accepted this responsibility when you allowed the bloodstone to be placed around your neck.”

“What, this thing?” he asked, holding the bloodstone. “I thought it was just a gift.”

“That is correct… a great gift indeed,” Priest Quisac said.

They followed Yax and Teshna down the palace steps and along a short path. When they reached the ceremonial center, they merged with hundreds of citizens who were making their way to the ballcourt. It reminded William of the times he went to sporting events with his dad-walking to the stadium from where they parked, with a crowd growing from various points as they went. However, the bizarre attire of the fans reminded William that he wasn’t in California; it felt like he was heading to a costume party at Xcaret.

William considered the royal protector obligation, not feeling comfortable with it. “Priest Quisac, you need to know… I’m not a warrior,” he whispered, feeling a little embarrassed. “Saving Yax the other night was just… lucky.”

“In the cosmic plan there are no accidents,” Priest Quisac said. “The events of that night were written in the stars. Your destiny calls out to you here and now, Balam. It cannot be avoided.”

William busted out with a big laugh. He couldn’t believe that such a crazy predicament could be his life’s destiny.

The Serpent Priest regarded William with confidence. “To face your destiny with humor is a rare strength indeed.”

As they continued in silence along the stone walkway toward the ballcourt in the clearing, William wondered what he had just gotten himself into by accepting the bloodstone.

Sitting on a bench padded with jaguar skins, William studied the ballcourt. Although not as large as the one he had seen before at Chichen Itza, it had a similar layout. The playing field was about thirty yards in width and forty yards in length. Ramps sloped up from the court on both sides at twenty degree angles, merging with walls that rose another ten feet. A scoring ring, fashioned like a coiled snake, was secured to the upper-center of each side wall. The ramps and walls were bright red, contrasting the white plaster floor of the playing field.

The royal seating where William sat was-in their standards-like a luxury box at a stadium. It was situated at the center of the eastern side of the ballcourt on a raised platform. A thatched roof shaded them from the heat of the late afternoon sun. Others in the royal assembly stood on platforms around the edge of the ballcourt, pressing themselves against the medians, and jockeying for a better position to watch the game.

On William’s right was Priest Quisac. On his left, Yax sat in an elegant throne decorated with elaborate carvings of scenes from the games. Teshna was seated beside Yax. The empty seat to her left awaited Betty’s arrival.

The two zebra-painted ceremonial priests appeared at the northern and southern entrances of the ballcourt, waving their incense burners as they went. They advanced until they met one another at the center of the court, turned to face the King, and kneeled briefly before continuing with their prayers.

William was excited to watch the ancient ball game. He had seen many ballcourts while visiting Mayan ruins with his family, but nobody could ever tell him for sure how the game was played. Now he would be the first-from his time-to find out. “Where are the players?” he asked Yax.

“Our team prepares behind the western wall, near the northern entrance,” he said, pointing to the other side of the ballcourt across from them. “They must make offerings to the gods to open a pathway through the scoring ring. The players from Kinichna are behind the wall where we sit, near the southern entrance.”

Teshna looked over to William and noticed his troubled expression. “What bothers you, Balam? Are you not enjoying the ceremonies?” she asked.

William tried to find the right words to convey his concern, without offending their rituals. “Is it true that the losing team is sacrificed?”

Yax and Teshna looked puzzled. “Of course not, Balam,” Teshna said. “Where did you hear such nonsense?”

“Is this what they do in your land,” Yax asked. “Would that please you?”

“No, definitely not!” William said, waving his hands. He pointed at the image on the side of the King’s chair. “Then what’s with this carving…. of a man holding his severed head?”

“It is symbolic,” the Serpent Priest said, “of the death of one’s lower self. Great wisdom can be achieved through the games. Those who compete have earned this privilege.”

Seven players from each team entered from the northern and southern entrances wearing thick padding around their waists and shoulders, helmets made out of armadillo skin on their heads, and decorative boots on their feet. They bowed to one another in the center of the court.

“Our team wears a white sash around their waist, to honor the north,” Yax said. “Kinichna wears a yellow sash, for the south.”

Honac-Fey entered the ballcourt from the northern entrance, carrying a large black ball. He was dressed in a white feathered cape and wore a headdress that looked like a hawk was nesting on his head. At the southern entrance another man entered, wearing a yellow feathered cape. They met at the center and bowed to the King. Honac-Fey placed the ball on the court before he and the other caped man made their way out. The white owl soared across the ballcourt and landed on Honac-Fey’s shoulder as he departed.

Yax clasped his hands together, causing several seashell trumpets to break the silence. The game began with a cheer of approval from the spectators, and the two teams took their positions across from each other in the middle of the court.

The captain from the Kinichna team rolled the ball up the slanted wall toward the opponent’s side. It bounced once on the ground, and a player from Dzibanche kicked it high with his knee back to the other side. A Kinichna player popped it up with his hip to his teammate. He hit the ball with his head, maneuvering it closer to their scoring side.

The scrimmage went back and forth for several minutes, with the players whacking the ball with their heads, shoulders, hips, and knees. At times, the ball made its way to the eastern and western extremes of the court, where the players positioned themselves up the ramps and attempted to hit the scoring ring.

The Kinichna team maneuvered the ball up the ramp on their scoring side of the court, and with a good bump from a player’s knee, the ball hit the outer rim of the ring. A low-pitched blast from seashell trumpets celebrated the score.

The flash of an igniting torch drew William’s attention at the southern end of the ballcourt. He looked closer and noticed six unlit torches beside it. There was a similar collection of torches at the northern end as well.

“It is the method for keeping score,” Priest Quisac explained. “To win, the team must hit their scoring ring seven times. However, if the ball passes directly through the ring-a rare occurrence-victory is immediate.”

Another cheer from the crowd drew William’s attention back to the game. Kinichna seemed to be playing more aggressive, ramming their shoulders and hips hard into the heavy ball to keep it positioned closer to their scoring ring.

After nearly an hour, four scoring torches had been lit for Kinichna, and only one for Dzibanche. Three loud drum beats signaled a resting period, and the two teams went to their northern and southern extremes. When the Dzibanche players exited, Honac-Fey handed them drinks. Likewise, the man in the yellow feathered cape provided refreshments to the Kinichna players.