The Mayan Codex

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.’