Xibalba

CHAPTER 10

The night proved uneventful, as did the two-hour drive into the Yucatan interior to the ancient Maya city of Chichén Itzá, located just a couple miles off the main highway on a cramped two-lane road which they shared with buses bringing tourists from Cancún. The ruins weren’t visible from the road, which came to a dead end at a parking lot where crowds of visitors in hats and sunglasses and reeking of sunscreen were lined up and waiting for the site to open. Bell led them away from the groups and onto the grounds of a nearby resort hotel.

“Tony’s main office is in Piste, a couple miles from here, but he keeps a suite here so he can be close to the site,” Bell explained.

“Isn’t there a museum or something?” Maddock said.

“Yes, but Tony’s not directly involved with that. It’s more of a gift shop anyway. Chichén Itzá is the second-most visited archaeological site in Mexico. Unfortunately, all these visitors touching the ruins and chipping off pieces of masonry for souvenirs have taken a toll, so the government is doing what it can to limit the impact. Most of the monuments are roped off. You can look but you can’t touch.”

“So no sightseeing?” Bones asked, sounding a little disappointed.

“I guess you’re welcome to join the horde,” Bell said with a forced smile. “But expect to be disappointed.”

Bones shrugged. “We’re here. Might as well check it off the list.” He turned to Miranda. “How about it? Up for a walk?”

Maddock braced himself for the expected shoot-down, but Miranda surprised him by glancing over at Angel. “I’m up for it if the rest of you guys are.”

Maddock shook his head. “We should probably stick together and keep a low profile, at least until we’ve got what we came here for.”

“If Tony can help me make sense of the guidestone,” Bell said, “you’ll have a chance to see ruins that aren’t on the tour route.”

“Not yet anyway,” Angel remarked.

Bell asked the receptionist at the front desk to ring Griego’s suite, and after a short but enthusiastic exchange, they were shown to the anthropologist’s room. Antonio Griego was a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair and neatly trimmed beard. His naturally olive complexion was burnished to a deep bronze by hours spent under the Yucatan sun. Like many archaeologists Maddock had met, he looked more salt-of-the-earth than ivory-tower-academic-elite.

“Charles,” he boomed in English. “You should have let me know you were coming.”

“It was a spur of the moment thing,” Bell explained before making introductions. Then he got to the point. “We came across some interesting inscriptions yesterday, and frankly, I’m a little stuck. Have you got a few minutes to take a look?”

“Something tells me that if you’re stuck, this will take longer than a few minutes, but let’s have a look and see.”

Bell opened his laptop computer and showed Griego pictures, not only of the guidestone — as Bell had taken to calling the golden disk — but also several still images of the stone altar in the cenote, taken from Miranda’s GoPro and Maddock’s phone. The guidestone itself was safely tucked away in Maddock’s daypack.

Griego flipped through them quickly, giving them only a cursory examination. “Interesting. Where did you find these?”

“I’m not quite ready to reveal that yet, but when I am, you’ll be the first to know.”

Griego chuckled. “I’m sure you wouldn’t dream of breaking any of our laws, but I don’t need to tell you that context is important when translating. Since you’re not willing to share, I’ll assume this is from a virgin site. Underwater, if I’m not mistaken. A cenote?”

Bell nodded.

“Here in the Yucatan?”

This time, Bell just gave a coy smile, which Griego answered with one of his own. “Well, this is a remarkable find. A written account of the journey to the Underworld from the Classical period. You probably already figured that much out.”

“Yes. It’s similar to the story of the Hero Twins, but there are differences.” Bell leaned over the computer and clicked forward to a shot of the guidestone. “And it’s obviously a much older version. This is where I’m getting stuck. I have an idea what some of the symbols mean, but there are variations with which I'm unfamiliar. More important, I don't know how they fit together. This disk tells a story, but I can't read the final chapter.”

Griego leaned forward, until his face was just a few inches from the screen, and began scrutinizing the image. He spent several minutes like this, unmoving except for his eyes which were moving back and forth. Finally, he straightened. “I can see why you’ve hit a wall,” he said, his tone evincing defeat.

Bell sagged a little, his disappointment palpable. If Griego was stumped, the search for the City of Shadow was over before it had begun. Bell extended a finger to one of the glyphs. “I know that’s the symbol that indicates the cenote that is the entrance to the Underworld, but it feels like something is missing.”

Griego’s eyebrows came together, then rose as if inspiration had struck. “Maybe not.” He stood up abruptly. “There’s something you should see. Come with me. Bring your computer along.”

Maddock and Bones exchanged a glance. Griego seemed trustworthy enough, but looks could be deceiving. Bell however, hurried after his colleague, leaving the rest of them with no alternative but to follow along. The Mexican archaeologist took them to a garage behind the main hotel building and gestured to a row of four-seat electric golf carts. “The resort lets me use these to access the site. We won’t all fit in one though.”

Bones spoke up almost before Griego had finished speaking. “I got this.” He slid into the driver’s seat of the second cart. “Ladies, your chariot awaits. Miranda, you want shotgun?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “I’ll ride with my dad.”

Maddock shook his head and circled around to take the seat beside Bones, but held his tongue until they were loaded up — three to each cart, Angel riding with the two of them — and rolling at a brisk walking pace down the broad grassy path to the ruins.

“Dude, you’re embarrassing yourself,” he said, speaking in a low voice, even though there was little chance of being overheard by the occupants of the first cart.

“When has that ever stopped me?” Bones retorted with a grin. “Besides, the day I need your advice about women is the day I turn in mi cojones.”

“You’ve definitely got a lot more experience with what not to do. But believe me, you’re not her type.”

“What makes you say that?” Bones looked at him sidelong. “You think you’re her type? Careful. Little sister might not like that much.”

Angel leaned forward. “I think ‘little sister’ is Miranda Bell’s type.”

Maddock looked back at her. “So it wasn’t just my imagination?”

“Nope. It’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with it.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry, babe. You are my type. End of story.”

Bones reacted as if he’d received an electric shock. “You mean she’s into… ” He trailed off, eyes widening and lips curling in a lascivious grin as the movie started playing in his head, but after just a moment, his smile fell and his head snapped around to look at Angel. He shuddered and looked away. “Gah. Bleach. Now.”

He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead in silence for a moment, but then said. “Maybe she just hasn’t met the right guy, yet.”

Angel let out a snort of disgust.

Further discussion on the topic was mercifully cut short as the Chichén Itzá complex came into view.

Bell had not been exaggerating the impact of tourism. The wide grassy areas separating the monumental buildings were crowded with visitors taking selfies, and vendors hawking hats and jaguar masks or playing pan flutes for spare change. The latter seemed to recognize Griego and mostly kept their distance, but one or two were bold enough to approach Maddock, waving their wares and shouting, “Five dollars, gringo?”

“It’s like a frigging Renaissance faire,” Bones grumbled. “Mexican style.”

Maddock chuckled in agreement but, despite the obnoxious intrusion of commercialism, he could not help but think about the history of the place. The guidebooks he had read indicated that Chichén Itzá was one of the few Maya cities that had not collapsed at the end of the Classic period, but had been occupied from about 600 CE until the arrival of the Spaniards, nine centuries later.

The centerpiece of the site was, unquestionably, El Castillo—the Castle — which was the name the conquistadores had given to the seventy-nine-foot-tall pyramid Temple of Kukulkan. The pyramid was remarkable for reasons beyond the obvious. The staircases rising up the center of each side of the pyramid had exactly ninety-one steps — three hundred-sixty-four in total — which when combined with the platform at the top, meant a step for every day in the solar year. Additionally, the temple was oriented so that, on the equinoxes, the shadow from the northwest corner of the pyramid, cast on the north balustrade, gave the appearance of a snake wriggling down over the course of the afternoon, ending at the base where it met the head of Kukulkan, the feathered serpent god, just before sunset.

That was what the guidebooks said anyway. Maddock made a mental note to ask Griego if it was really true.

Their guide however turned south, away from El Castillo, and headed down a trail into the surrounding forest. For a few seconds, Maddock lost sight of the ruins, but then another ancient structure rose up directly ahead of them. The building looked a little like a pyramid that had been sliced off at the base; terraced stairways and steep sloping walls that rose to a broad platform, upon which had been built a cylindrical tower — unusual in in Maya architecture — topped with a crumbling dome.

Griego parked his cart directly in front of the building and got out. “This is El Caracol,” he said. “The Snail, so-called because of the spiral ramp inside the tower. We are in the Casa Colorada group here. This was the heart of Chichen during the Terminal Classic Maya period. There are older structures in the Osario, but they are less well preserved.”

“It looks kind of like the minaret of a mosque,” Angel murmured.

“Or an astronomical observatory,” Maddock said.

“Actually, you’re both right. Astronomy was a major part of the Maya religion, and this place was both a temple and a way for them to observe the heavens. The windows in the dome were aligned with various astronomical events, the movement of Venus at certain points in the year and so forth. There are window slits in the tower that only permit the entrance of light for a few seconds only on the equinoxes, which enabled the priests to maintain an accurate calendar system. And I think it also holds the answer to your question.”

He disconnected the rope barrier blocking their path and gestured for them to follow.

“I guess it’s good to know the right people,” Bones said, then lowered his voice so only Maddock could hear. “Do we trust this guy?”

“Bell seems to,” Maddock replied. “But that’s no reason not to stay on our toes. And somebody’s bound to notice us climbing around a restricted area.”

“Want me to stand here and look pissed off? That should keep people away.”

“If not, your stench will do the trick,” Angel said.

“Love you too, little sister.”

“Maybe just until we’re inside,” Maddock said. “No sense in getting separated.”

Maddock took Angel’s hand and together they fell into step behind the others who were now ascending the steps of El Caracol. Bell struggled to keep up with Griego, his wheezing giving way to an alarming coughing fit as they neared the doorway leading to the tower. After a minute or two of rest, he indicated that he was ready to continue, and followed Griego through the rectangular entrance. Maddock signaled for Bones to catch up, and then he and Angel headed inside as well.

Inside the passage spiraled gently up to a two-tier platform where they were able to look out across the site. El Castillo and several other monuments were visible above the tree tops, but Griego was more interested in something inside the structure. He clicked on a penlight and shone it on the wall.

At first glance, it appeared to be rough undecorated stone, but as Griego traced his finger across one of the blocks, Maddock began to see the outline of a Mayan glyph, badly eroded by the passage of time. “Here is the same image,” Griego said.

“A cenote,” Bell said, nodding. “But the image on the guidestone almost certainly predates Chichén Itzá.”

“You’re making an assumption, Charles. This isn’t the symbol for a sacred well. You see these pockmarks here?” He tapped several spots around the edge of the brick. Maddock had trouble distinguishing the spots from the stains of time, but Bell evidently did not.

“The Milky Way! Of course.”

“When the glyph for cenote — literally ‘hole’—appears in conjunction with the Milky Way, it becomes orificio que conduce al cielo. The hole that leads into heaven.”

Bones laughed as he joined them. “I knew a Catholic schoolgirl who had one of… ”

“Don't make me push you off this platform,” Angel threatened, cutting him off.

“What's the significance of the Milky Way?” Maddock asked.

“From this window, at night, with no artificial light, the view of the Milky Way rising above El Castillo is spectacular. The Maya believed it was the mystic road that souls walked into the underworld.”

“A road in the sky that leads underground,” Bones said. “Sure. Why not?”

“So the hole leading to heaven is a doorway?” Maddock said.

“It could mean doorway or portal, but the word is most often translated as ‘maw.’”

“Maw. Mouth.”

Griego turned to Bell. “Show me the pictures again.”

Bell opened his laptop and Griego flipped through the stills until he found the one with the glyph Bell had mistaken for ‘cenote.’ He tapped his finger on the adjoining carving. “When I see this, I'm certain of it.”

“I have to confess,” Bell said. “I have no idea what that is.”

Griego shone his light at another section of the wall, and traced an image that was roughly the same. “It isn’t a glyph. It’s a constellation. Serpens.”

Bones leaned down and scrutinized the image on the screen. “It looks like Humpty Dumpty to me. Got the big oval in the center and the stick arms and legs. Come to think of it, it looks like one of Angel's self-portraits.”

She punched him in the shoulder, hard enough to make him wince. “Ow.”

“I gotta agree with Bones,” Maddock said. “I don’t see a serpent.”

“That's because it doesn't just represent a serpent. The central figure is Ophiuchus, the snake bearer. The horizontal line running through it is the serpent: Serpens Caput, representing the serpent’s head, and Serpens Cauda, the serpent’s tail.”

Bell was also unconvinced. “The Greeks saw Ophiucus and Serpens in the stars, but that doesn’t mean the Maya did.”

“True,” Griego admitted. “And our understanding of Classic Maya astrology is woefully incomplete, but some iconography is universal. Scorpio, just to name one example, is the same in both cultures.”

“So what’s the message here?” Maddock pressed. “Follow the stars?”

“If you connect the temples of old Chichén Itzá —walking the path as the ancient priests would have, starting to the south at Edificio de las Monjas—The Nunnery.” He pointed to the back wall and then began moving his fingers, pointing out the general location of the unseen monuments. “The House of Dark Writing. El Caracol — here.” He turned and pointed out the window to a pyramid they had passed on the way in. “The Tomb of the High Priest, there. And there… ” He pointed to a spot to the northeast. Maddock couldn’t see a temple there, but just a hollow with no trees. “The cenote. The serpent’s maw. It’s all connected. The new city, with El Castillo, the temple to Kukulkan, the feathered serpent, at its center, follows the same path leading to the other sacred cenote. The Maya believed that Kulkulkan went ahead of Chaac, the rain god, who lived at the bottom of the cenote. This symbolism appears over and over again in their architecture.”

“Kukulkan,” Bones echoed. “The Aztecs called him Quetzalcoatl, right? We know all about him.”

“Kukulkan was the chief deity of the Post-Classic Yucatec Maya,” Bell said. “The Kiche called him Q'uq'umatz. But the worship of the feathered serpent deity traces back to a much earlier tradition. In the Classic period, he was Waxaklahun Ubah Kan, the War Serpent.” Bell sounded breathless, but not because of his disability. “They would have followed the same design in the placement of their holy cities. This is what the guidestone is trying to tell us. Follow the path of the serpent to find the City of Shadow.”

Griego looked at him sharply. “Ciudad de Sombre? Is that what you seek? I would have thought you had learned your lesson by now, my friend. Please don’t mention that I helped you. I have a reputation to protect.”

“You don’t believe Xibalba was connected with a real place?” Angel asked.

“Whether or not it was, searching for it panders to the sensational. You might as well search for Atlantis, or the Seven Cities of Cibola.”

Bones coughed loudly and Maddock grinned. “Thanks for the help,” he said. “We’ll say we figured it out from watching the History Channel.”

He let the matter of their goal drop while they made their way out of the tower, but when Bell paused for a rest, Maddock approached him. “So now we’ve got a map. What’s the next step?”

“We have to find the start of the road. A sacred site that corresponds to the serpent's tail. I’ll need Internet access to compare astronomical charts and Maya cities.”

Maddock nodded. “I know a guy who might be able to help with that.”

Bell nodded. “My instincts tell me we’ll need to look to the south. The alignment of the guidestone in its original setting, and the serpent path here in the architecture all seem to follow that basic rule.”

“How far south?”

“Honduras. The ancient Maya capital of Copán. It was a major city in the Classic period, and a major cultural capital. It’s also almost exactly due south of here. If we can locate this glyph in the ruins there, we’ll know we’re on the right track.”

“Maddock,” Bones’ voice had lost its usual sardonic edge, a sure sign that something was wrong. “Don’t be obvious about it, but take a look at my eight o’clock.”

Maddock made a show of stretching, as if trying to work out a kink in his neck, to hide a visual sweep of the area indicated. As he did, he glimpsed someone ducking into the woods about seventy-five yards up the trail leading back to El Castillo.

“He rabbited,” Maddock said. “Did you get a look at him?”

Bones shook his head. “No.”

Miranda now took note of their discussion. “What’s up?”

“I think we attracted some unwanted attention.”

Miranda evidently knew better than to question the assessment. “How do you want to play this?”

“I think it’s time to take in a little culture.” He turned to Griego and Bell. “Would you mind walking us through the route you just showed us?”

Bell started to protest. “I don’t think that’s really—”

Miranda cut him off. “Dad. We really need to do this.” She took his hand and led him down the steps.

An uncomprehending Griego just shrugged and went ahead of them down a footpath. “I can show you the rest of the Casa Colorada group. The House of Dark Writing may be of interest to you in your search.”

As the archaeologist launched into a comprehensive history of the site, Maddock lingered with Angel, ducking behind the south end of the observatory. A few seconds later, a lone figure came into view. He had the dark hair and complexion of a local, but wore nicer clothes and, more tellingly, wasn’t carrying an armful of cheap souvenirs. Maddock drew Angel further along the side path, out of the man’s view, and waited until he had passed before creeping forward slowly, just in case the man wasn’t alone. There was no sign of other watchful eyes, and the man did not appear to have noticed that anyone was missing from the group he was following, but Maddock remained wary.

“He’s following us, all right.”

“You think he’s just another hired gun?” Angel whispered.

“Hard to say. I guess we’ll have to ask him. Wait here.” He started forward, moving swiftly but stealthily, trying to stay directly behind the man to avoid detection.

Further up the trail, Bones was putting on a show, gesturing wildly and talking loudly about the structure they were approaching — the Nunnery.

It wasn’t an actual nunnery, and never had been, but that didn’t stop Bones from making obscene jokes about it.

Maddock got within ten yards of his quarry before the man realized he was being stalked.

He whirled, a panicked look in his eyes, and then bolted.

Maddock made a grab for him, but the man slipped through his fingers, and charged off at an oblique angle, headed for the treeline.

“Crap!” Maddock snarled. He gave chase, even though he knew the effort would prove futile. There was little chance of catching the man before he reached the woods, and even less chance of finding him once he slipped into the dense jungle.

But just as the man reached the edge of the forest, he stopped abruptly and appeared to rise off the ground, as if attempting a backflip. The maneuver ended with him flat on his back and Angel standing over him, one foot pressing down on the man’s throat.

She raised her eyes to Maddock as he drew near. “I love you, but you should know better than to tell me to wait.”

“Noted,” Maddock replied. He knelt beside Angel’s struggling captive. “All right, friend,” he said in Spanish. “Start talking. Why were you following us?”

“Following you? No, señor. You are mistake—”

Angel’s foot pressed down harder, cutting off the denial.

“Let’s try that again,” Maddock said. “Why were you following us?”

The man emitted a strangled sound until Angel eased off a little. “I was only going to warn you.”

“Warn us of what?”

The man’s reply was a hoarse whisper that had nothing to do with Angel’s boot on his neck. “La Hermandad de la Serpiente. They will never let you find Ciudad de Sombre.”