Cozumel, and when her son Bolón was born life seemed complete. Later, when her father died and her husband inherited the outward trappings of High Priest, she continued to provide that office with its astronomical calculations. But she also strove to perfect her knowledge, grasping secretly for the crumbs of other experiments being conducted in other parts of the Maya lands, but the time came when both she and her husband realized that she ought to be passing along to their son the lore she had accumulated, and from this impulse, more scientific than motherly, she began to instruct Bolón in her mysteries.
He had been fourteen at the time, and she quickly saw that he had none of the insights she had had at five, for even then she had been a genius, one of those miracle children born attuned to the universe and its arcane movements, and that kind of knowledge no mother could automatically impart to her son; such geniuses arrive in the world at broken intervals and their coming is inexplicable. But if she could not bestow on Bolón her veiled power, she could teach him to be a solid mathematician and to use the tables her predecessors had compiled over thirty centuries, and this she did.
As the boy learned the manipulative secrets of the priesthood, his father became satisfied that his son had the qualifications to follow him as High Priest of the Cozumel temple, and he began to instruct him in the practical aspects of that role: “Your mother has taughtyou to read the principles on which our temple rests. It’s ancient, powerful, and worthy of the respect the women pilgrims give it. But to protect it you must be attentive to every shift in power among those who rule, for we exist at their pleasure? And for the first time the boy heard the two powerful names which summarized so much of Maya history—Palenque and Chichén Itzá.
“Very long ago, in a place I’ve never seen, Palenque, far to the west,” and he pointed vaguely to where the sun sank, “the learned priests and powerful rulers uncovered the secrets which made it the most glorious city of our people. Much, much later, enemy aliens from valleys far to the west *1 invaded our peaceful lands and thrust upon us a cruel new religion, which they established at Chichén Itzá and later at great Mayapán.”
Here Ix Zubin interrupted her husband in order to make a most disturbing observation: “It was not until those horrible strangers came with their bloodthirsty gods that our people began human sacrifices. The rain god Chac Mool is insatiable. He demands sacrifices of many slaves, and what is worse, he must have our young too. In the old days our benevolent Maya gods helped us to tend the fields, and give birth to strong sons, and maintain a quiet home. We never sacrificed any human being to a stone statue …”
“Zubin! No!” her husband cried in terror. “Never speak against the sacrifices. I’ve warned you a hundred times.” Then, turning to his son, he added: “Forget that your mother said that. If the priests who conduct the sacrifices heard you …” He paused ominously. “Cleanse your mind and keep it clean, or you won’t live to be a priest.”
But when Ix Zubin was alone with her son she whispered: “My grandfather, wisest of them all and the only one on this island who personally had been to Palenque, told me quite forcefully: ‘Before the intruders came, there was no sacrifice of our best young people. Without such bloody help the sun returned each morning and started its northward journey at the appointed time each year. But new rulers bring new rules, and those who are sensible obey them.’ ”
It was here that Bolón betrayed the fact that he might not prove a fervent follower of the adopted religion from the west based at Chichén Itzá, for he asked: “Was our temple here before the new religion arrived?” and his mother said: “Yes,” and that was all that passed between them on the subject, but she remembered well the day
He had been fourteen at the time, and she quickly saw that he had none of the insights she had had at five, for even then she had been a genius, one of those miracle children born attuned to the universe and its arcane movements, and that kind of knowledge no mother could automatically impart to her son; such geniuses arrive in the world at broken intervals and their coming is inexplicable. But if she could not bestow on Bolón her veiled power, she could teach him to be a solid mathematician and to use the tables her predecessors had compiled over thirty centuries, and this she did.
As the boy learned the manipulative secrets of the priesthood, his father became satisfied that his son had the qualifications to follow him as High Priest of the Cozumel temple, and he began to instruct him in the practical aspects of that role: “Your mother has taughtyou to read the principles on which our temple rests. It’s ancient, powerful, and worthy of the respect the women pilgrims give it. But to protect it you must be attentive to every shift in power among those who rule, for we exist at their pleasure? And for the first time the boy heard the two powerful names which summarized so much of Maya history—Palenque and Chichén Itzá.
“Very long ago, in a place I’ve never seen, Palenque, far to the west,” and he pointed vaguely to where the sun sank, “the learned priests and powerful rulers uncovered the secrets which made it the most glorious city of our people. Much, much later, enemy aliens from valleys far to the west *1 invaded our peaceful lands and thrust upon us a cruel new religion, which they established at Chichén Itzá and later at great Mayapán.”
Here Ix Zubin interrupted her husband in order to make a most disturbing observation: “It was not until those horrible strangers came with their bloodthirsty gods that our people began human sacrifices. The rain god Chac Mool is insatiable. He demands sacrifices of many slaves, and what is worse, he must have our young too. In the old days our benevolent Maya gods helped us to tend the fields, and give birth to strong sons, and maintain a quiet home. We never sacrificed any human being to a stone statue …”
“Zubin! No!” her husband cried in terror. “Never speak against the sacrifices. I’ve warned you a hundred times.” Then, turning to his son, he added: “Forget that your mother said that. If the priests who conduct the sacrifices heard you …” He paused ominously. “Cleanse your mind and keep it clean, or you won’t live to be a priest.”
But when Ix Zubin was alone with her son she whispered: “My grandfather, wisest of them all and the only one on this island who personally had been to Palenque, told me quite forcefully: ‘Before the intruders came, there was no sacrifice of our best young people. Without such bloody help the sun returned each morning and started its northward journey at the appointed time each year. But new rulers bring new rules, and those who are sensible obey them.’ ”
It was here that Bolón betrayed the fact that he might not prove a fervent follower of the adopted religion from the west based at Chichén Itzá, for he asked: “Was our temple here before the new religion arrived?” and his mother said: “Yes,” and that was all that passed between them on the subject, but she remembered well the day
Similar Books
