At the end of the world

By Mark Macpherson

Copyright © Mark Macpherson 2010

All rights reserved.

www.markmacpherson.com

V2.0

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book may not be reproduced in whole or part, or in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without prior written permission from the author.

The KulWinik are a fictitious Mayan people. Hachakyum is a "real" god of the Mayan pantheon. The t'o'ohil is the title for the community leader of the Lacandon Mayans, no correlation is assumed.

Pronunciation. I've tried to keep the Mayan names to a minimum. However, X = sh, so Yaxchilan = Yash-chee-lan. Also, the apostrophe is a stop, simply put a tiny pause between syllables. e.g. Yax K'in = Yash-K-In.

At the end of the world is the first in a series books.

Part I

Chapter I

The two men, father and son, stood on the Peten lakeside, weary after weeks of journeying through dense jungle and difficult swamps. They had reached their destination, the island capital of the Itza Mayans. The lime-washed pyramids and stone structures of the royal residences gleamed in the hot morning sun. The city stood proud and untarnished, falsely suggesting it was the last unvanquished fortress of the Mayan empire because it was impregnable.

The old man, the t’o’ohil, the spiritual leader of the Mayans, was pleased. His son would live long in a place like that, secure from the Conquistadors.

The t’o’ohil was tired. He had resisted the first wave of the Spanish invasion and one hundred and sixty years later the Mayan culture and empire he had known had gone. One place remained untouched and the Itza island stronghold would give him time to complete the young man’s training. Over the t’o’ohil’s long life, all his male offspring had fallen at the hands of the invading Spanish. One remained and once Hachakyum accepted his last son as the next t’o’ohil, the old man could finally rest.

The son, a seasoned warrior, crouched at the lake’s edge and tasted, then splashed water over his face. He was glad to leave the hot and humid jungle behind. He turned his head when he noticed movement along the water’s edge. A procession of ceremonially dressed and well armed men approached.

‘Father,’ he warned. His voice was calm, he was afraid of no man, but his body was tense and determined as he again regained his full height.

The t’o’ohil had also noticed the forty men. They had begun moving solemnly and slowly after the two men had emerged from the jungle. The young man placed a hand on his weapons. The father noticed his son’s action and smiled grimly as he gently covered his son’s hand to prevent any rash action.

The group halted when they were twenty paces from the t’o’ohil and his son. The man at the head of the group was the King of the Itza and the procession was a phalanx of nobles. The t’o’ohil cursed his luck. He and his son, dressed in rags, covered in sweat, mud and grime from their trek in the jungle, had blundered into a ceremony conducted by the kingdom’s elite. Their unwitting disrespect would be enough to have them killed.

The t’o’ohil’s hand had remained in place, covering his son’s. He turned away from the King’s severe stare to whisper to his son that they should retreat. At that moment, his son’s face blossomed with wonder, as surprise highjacked the young man’s features, and a shuffling and rustling sound caused the t’o’ohil to quickly turn back towards the King.

A suppliant voice addressed the Mayan spiritual leader.

‘The t’o’ohil and the son of the t’o’ohil are welcomed in the land of the Itza,’ the King said.

The King and his retinue were on their knees, their heads bowed.

The t’o’ohil’s astonishment was momentary. He quickly regained composure.

‘The t’o’ohil and his son are well received by the Itza. We thank you for your welcome.’

The King smiled and stood. The nobles followed his lead. The King approached the t’o’ohil. It was the meeting of the two most powerful men left in the dwindling world of the Mayans in their last year of autonomy.

‘We have had news of your impending arrival,’ the King said when he stood before the t’o’ohil.

‘I hope,’ the t’o’ohil said, ‘that in your city I can find respite from my years of fighting the Conquistadors.’

The King’s face fell, his smile faded into a sadness that melted through his body.

‘Ah,’ he sighed. ‘My hopes were unfounded. You have not heard?’

The t’o’ohil shook his head.

‘Conquistadors and an army of the Xiu,’ the King’s anger was palpable as he mentioned the name of the Mayan traitors who had sided with the Spanish. ‘Are burning and cutting their way through the jungle. They are on their way here, they are intent on destroying us. I had hoped your journey was to be our salvation.’

‘One man cannot defeat the invaders,’ the t’o’ohil said.

The King’s smile returned although it was diminished compared with his joy at greeting the t’o’ohil. ‘One man perhaps not, hundreds of Mayan warriors could not defeat them. But you are not one man. You are the t’o’ohil. The man who cannot die. Touched by Hachakyum. Direct descendant of the last of us to feel the breath of the King of gods. Surely, Hachakyum would not let the last city of the Mayans fall?’

The King’s smile retreated, his voice pleaded.

‘Hachakyum does not help those that must help themselves,’ the t’o’ohil sadly replied.

The King pointed across the lake to his beautiful stone city.

‘Then Hachakyum would be proud of us. This place will not fall to men and horses. I will not allow my city to fall,’ he said emphatically. ‘It cannot. There is the last library of our people. The knowledge of the gods would be lost.’

The t’o’ohil placed his hand on the shoulder of the agitated King, the only man alive who could do such a thing.

‘We will do our best. It is all Hachakyum would ask of us.’

The riled elements did not rouse with the destruction of the last Mayan city. The knowledge of the gods was lost and there was no great roar of indignation. The sounds of Mayan catastrophe were muted. The end of all things was orchestrated with the guttural grunts of men as they fought and died. Metal thudded against and pierced human flesh while Mayan weapons deflected from steel.

The Spanish and their supporters had not overcome the island city by men and horses, the King had been right, but by men, artillery and boats. A fort had been erected on the lakeside, the city had been demeaned by artillery and had then been invaded using boats. The Itza provided little effective resistance.

The t’o’ohil fought the invaders inside the city. His son struck their enemies by the side of his father as they were pushed back towards the city centre. The Itza King had fallen and his body had been hurried from battle by his retinue. Many Itza had fled after the death of their King and some were seen on the distant lake shore before the jungle swallowed them, providing short-term safety.

At the end of Mayan civilization, the suppressed sounds of battle were engulfed by the roar of flames and the deep, tearing sound of the end of knowledge as Mayan books, made from beaten bark, embraced their extinction. The old man’s will gave out and he stopped fighting to stare in shock at the loss of Mayan knowledge. Thousands of years of accumulated learning, as well as the words spoken by Hachakyum on earth, were contained in the burning library. They would be known no more. The god’s plans were lost except within the memory of the t’o’ohil and his son.

The battle passed the old man. He regained his senses. The last Mayan city had been lost. It was time to escape. He must save his son before it was too late.

The t’o’ohil turned away from the flames and was greeted by the maniacal grimace of a Conquistador. The invader had been watching the old man, not knowing if he was an Itza or a Xiu helping with the attack. He decided he didn’t care. The old man was either the enemy or derelict in his duty. Death was required. The conquistador savored the moment before he plunged his sword through the old man’s body. He quickly withdrew his weapon and went on his way. There were many to kill that day and he did not linger over one old man.

Blood gushed from the t’o’ohil’s wound. He placed his hand over the flowing blood and stared in amazement. He was dying. Incredible. It was not possible. How? Was that the end of Hachakyum’s plan for the end of the world?

The t’o’ohil had minutes to live. He collapsed and was swaddled in an ever increasing pool of his own blood. He struggled against lost consciousness. He heard a voice. It was familiar. He strained to focus his attention and to remember.

‘Father, father,’ the t’o’ohil’s son said frantically. He was on his knees next to his father. He willed his father’s attention to return to the world of the living.

The t’o’ohil opened his eyes and searched for the source of the voice that had brought him back from the edge of consciousness. He looked into his son’s eyes. He saw another presence there and he knew. He knew the end had not come. He grabbed hold of his son and brought his face close to his own. The last words of the t’o’ohil, the man who could not die, were breathless and urgent.

‘You have heard the voices? You have heard the voice of Hachakyum?’

His son nodded.

The t’o’ohil relaxed his grip on his son.

‘You did not tell me. But that is of no importance now. Hachakyum has chosen you.’

The old man watched as an errant spear flew directly at his son. It was deflected and slid around the young man’s body and embedded in the ground next to them. He smiled at the demonstration of his son’s invincibility, as if it had been a show of reassurance for the dying old man. The t’o’ohil could not die. His son could not die.

He grabbed his son again and held him for the last seconds of his long life.

‘You are the t’o’ohil,’ he whispered. ‘Retreat. Take the people you can find and return home. Return to Yaxchilan.’

Part II

Chapter I

‘You’re going to New York?’ Hamish asked, incredulous.

He raised his head from reading the newspaper, while seated at the kitchen table, and asked the same question again, as if he had not heard or not believed what Kate had said.

‘New York?’ he repeated. He watched her over the top of his reading glasses, his eyes tight and critical.

Kate knew how his face would have been transformed by the tone of his question. She had no need to look at her husband. There was little that was new after four decades together. She held her head high, her body at right angles to the kitchen table that she lightly touched with her hip, as if she intended to rest against it, before swaying away slightly then re-touching the table’s edge like she was unsure of it’s strength. Her hip danced gently as it repeatedly touched the table’s edge and withdrew.

‘Yes,’ Kate said forcefully.

‘Why?’ he asked.

‘I want to see her.’

Kate’s mother lived in New York.

‘No you don’t. You can’t stand her.’

‘Hamish!’ She flashed angry eyes at him and then immediately looked away.

‘Well, it’s true. You see my family in New Zealand as often as you see her and she’s just in New York. You can drive there,’ he said.

‘Yes. Thank you,’ she said angrily. ‘I know that, Hamish.’ She said his name like it was an insult. Her voice changed. She was exasperated. ‘It shouldn’t bother you. It won’t change anything you’re doing if I’m here or not.’

Kate moved, just her head, to stare at him.

‘No, it won’t,’ he said. ‘I’m just interested in why the change of heart.’

She paused as if she was flicking through a range of possible answers before she chose one. Her eyes were dark.

‘We’re all getting old.’

Kate’s hip bounced nervously against the table’s edge. She was determined that approval was irrelevant.

Hamish stared at Kate’s hip. He still found it attractive, and arousing, although it was perhaps twenty years too old to be sexually exciting in its own right.

Hamish was happy with his life, he was unprepared for the sadness he was about to suffer. He enjoyed no longer working full-time as an academic geologist. He dabbled, although he hated that word as a description of activity, in consultancy, offering his advice and services to Universities and private companies. He was not upset if his expertise was unused for extended periods of time.

He and Kate had both retired and lived in Boston, not far from their son and his family. Their Boston home contained the kitchen table against which Kate’s hip hesitantly bounced.

She stopped her nervous movement. Her stare intensified as she announced a decision already made.

‘I’m driving down today and I’ll be staying. For a few days. At least.’ She sounded angry as if allowing her to leave was his fault.

After decades together a few days or a few weeks apart from Kate did not upset Hamish. Of course, that was when he thought she would return.

Kate didn’t come back from New York.

Chapter 2

The telephone rang while Kate was busy packing and Hamish was in his study. He waited for her to answer it but she called his name angrily as the telephone continued to ring.

Hamish reluctantly picked up the receiver. The reception was atrocious. The sound crackled like broken, sparking wires and a distant voice drifted like it was riding ocean waves up and down. Hamish eventually recognized the voice of his friend, Arthur Dawkins, an American archaeologist.

Hamish had met Arthur when they were both young academics and Arthur had returned from Southern Mexico to write the definitive anthropological text on the KulWinik Mayans, the last, and recently re-discovered, remnant of the Mayan culture. Arthur had lived for years with the people who were the last link to the ancient Mayans, he had adopted their customs, learnt their language, worked their gardens slashed from the jungle, called milpas, and shared their ceremonies, religious rites and storytelling.

Arthur spoke for a moment but Hamish could not understand what was being said. After asking Arthur to repeat himself, he understood he was being invited to join an archaeological team in Southern Mexico.

Hamish thought he heard more in Arthur’s voice, through the white noise and crackles, like he was pleading for Hamish to come.

‘You don’t need me anyway,’ Hamish said, honestly to his friend. ‘It’s pretty much all limestone down there.’

‘True,’ Arthur said evasively. ‘But I’d like you to do a little mapping in the exact area. It shouldn’t take too long.’

‘I could come down now if you like. I assume you’re there, from this phone connection,’ Hamish laughed. ‘I’m not that busy and Kate’s going to New York.’

‘Kate’s going to New York? Really?’ Arthur said and then added something Hamish could not understand through the noisy telephone.

‘Hold on a second,’ Hamish said. He thought he had heard the sound of the front door closing. He was sure when he heard Kate’s car start. He wondered why she had not waited to say goodbye. He did not know how he had upset her.

‘OK,’ Hamish said to Arthur. ‘What were you saying?’

‘No, you can’t come down now,’ Arthur said quickly.

Hamish asked why not.

‘I don’t know where,’ Arthur’s fuzzy, indistinct voice continued. ‘Exactly where we’ll be working.’

Arthur sounded nervous, which was unlike him.

‘Is it that definite, is it?’ Hamish said. He added exaggerated irony to his voice over the top of the line noise.

Arthur laughed. It sounded thin, raspy and distant.

‘It must be hard to get funding,’ Hamish laughed back. ‘If you don’t know where you’re going’.

Arthur’s laughter stopped abruptly. Hamish thought the line had dropped out.

‘This is really important Hamish,’ Arthur said. ‘I need you here.’

‘So, does that mean I won’t get paid? Is this one for friendship?’ Hamish asked, adding exaggerated resignation to his voice. He knew Arthur’s passion for the KulWinik and would not expect payment if his friend wanted his help.

‘No. You’ll get paid. There’s some work to be done near the KulWinik village, at Yaxchilan, and I’ve based funding on that. Can you come? Please?’

Hamish asked for the dates. He said he’d get back to Arthur and confirm but told him he would come.

‘Michelle’s coming,’ Arthur added, as if he had just remembered an interesting, but largely irrelevant, conversation item. ‘She thinks it might be fun. Coming back to the village for awhile.’

Michelle Bayles was an epigrapher, well known for her research in decoding ancient Mayan glyphs. Hamish did not understand why a busy and important person like her would come on the small expedition Arthur had suggested. However, Hamish thought, Arthur had started her career. But, on the other hand, a relationship that looked permanent had ended disastrously ten years before.

Hamish’s telephone fizzed and he understood that Arthur was talking again.

‘It would be best if you had a good knowledge of the KulWinik. And the Mayan creation stories. And their language. I’ll send you some books,’ Arthur said quickly.

‘Why? What are you not telling me?’ Hamish was worried about Arthur’s enthusiasm for the KulWinik. Hamish did not want to be stuck in a Southern Mexican jungle village.

Arthur ignored Hamish’s question. ‘Do you think you could bring your twin grandsons with you? It would be a great learning experience, spending time living in a Mayan village. The KulWinik would appreciate their presence,’ Arthur said.

‘I don’t believe you. Do you want to pay me to come on a holiday?’ Hamish laughed. ‘A KulWinik village is the last place I’d go. I couldn’t take Kate. She’d hate it.’

‘Actually,’ Arthur hesitated then tried to command his friend. ‘The twins have to come. The KulWinik have insisted on it.’

‘How do they know about me?’

‘They’ve seen that picture I took of you and Jim and Harry in Boston, ten years ago. Do you remember?’

Hamish said that he did.

‘You’ve got to come Hamish. Please?’ Arthur resorted to pleading. ‘This expedition depends on you and the twins. And Michelle has already agreed and has set aside the time. I don’t want to disappoint her,’ Arthur said.

Hamish listened to the white noise as it twisted and whistled on the telephone line. He thought he heard Arthur say, ‘Not again.’

Arthur stared at his telephone’s display for a moment after his call with Hamish was disconnected. He lifted his head and spoke to his companion.

‘I think he’ll come,’ Arthur said.

‘And the Twins?’

‘I think so,’ Arthur replied.

‘You have done well.’

‘I hope it’s worth it, Yax K’in.’

The old man, the t’o’ohil, did not reply. He nodded his head and grimaced as if a difficult, necessary and dangerous task had been commenced.

Chapter 3

Arthur’s books on the Maya arrived. Hamish turned the package over and back again when it was delivered in to his hands. Arthur was too keen, Hamish worried, as he stared at the expensive, express air freight packaging.

Hamish had not heard from Kate, although it had been a few days since she had left for New York. He was worried but didn’t call her. If she was displeased, for whatever reason, he would only aggravate her annoyance if he hounded her.

He waited five days before he tried Kate’s phone. He left a vague message and when she had not replied by later that day, he called Kate’s mother.

‘She’s not here anymore,’ Kate’s mother said angrily. Her voice had altered after an initial friendly greeting. She became surly once Hamish identified himself.

‘Is she all right?’ Hamish asked, trying to sound diffident.

‘Yes,’ Kate’s mother said. ‘Don’t bother me with your marital problems.’ She was rude.

‘She’s not answering her phone. Do you know where she is?’

‘That’s not my problem. She’s not here I said,’ she spoke loudly into the telephone as if the technology was her enemy and then hung up.

Two days later Hamish received a short message from Kate as he sat on the couch in the lounge room he had shared with her. A book, written by Michelle Bayles, lay open on his lap. His reading glasses were halfway down his nose. He stared through them at the message that had appeared on his telephone. His hand shook a little as he read what his wife had written.

‘Hamish. I am so sorry for not contacting you. Mum told me you called and, of course, I received your message. I did not know how to tell you. I should have, of course. No excuses. I’ve caught up with Euan. I’m so sorry. I’m staying with him. It was not my mother that caused me to think that we’re getting old. It was just me. Euan has written a book. You’re in it too but it’s mostly about him and me. In New Zealand and the time after. When I saw him, in New York, it was just like forty years ago. I’m so sorry, Hamish. I’ll be in touch to finalize things.’

He read Kate’s message three times, thinking after each reading. When he was certain of the content, and it’s meaning, he placed the telephone back on the small side table next to the couch. He carefully closed the book. He would read no more, not just then. He placed both hands on the book’s hard cover and vacantly stared at the lounge room wall.

This had happened to him before. He had lost Kate to Euan but had retrieved her forty years ago. He had feared that loss recurring.

The consummation of an ancient anxiety does not make assimilation easier.

Chapter 4

The Southern Mexican jungle was too hot and too humid. Hamish could not sleep. He was tired, he wanted to sleep but could not conjure unconsciousness out of mere weariness. Anxiety held sleep in abeyance. In the complete darkness he imagined oblivion and nothingness. It is frightening, whether you are young or old, but Hamish’s anxiety was not fear of his own death, he had a new responsibility. He lay awake willing himself to stay alive.

Why did Arthur insist that I still come to Mexico? Hamish thought. And why did I agree? However, he had agreed. His difficulty lay in false stoicism and a hollow complaint.

‘You can’t sleep either granddad?’

Jim’s voice in the dark startled Hamish. His heart beat loudly and arrhythmically. Despite himself, Hamish must have been close to sleep.

Hamish was overcome with the shock and sadness of memory. His shock was, momentarily, as intense, as bad, as first knowledge. It is not simply the transition from ignorance to unwanted knowledge that causes shock. It is not only new knowledge that is insufferable. It is also rediscovered awareness.

It was not fair, Hamish thought, that a seventeen year old, admittedly as large and as strong as any grown, modest man could hope for, had to live through that shock. Even worse, Hamish thought, as he tried to imagine, and failed, what Jim had survived.

Jim was too young for sorrow not self-manufactured. It was too much for Hamish, and he had lived.

Chapter 5

Hamish rose before dawn the next morning. He couldn’t say he woke early because he couldn’t remember sleeping. However, he did not rise with the tiredness of a whole night spent awake. He must have slept at times and in the darkness his dreams had continued his waking thoughts. He had not known the difference.

The weak pre-dawn light allowed Hamish to see something of their accommodation. It had been late when he and Jim arrived the previous night and the single light globe in their room had blown as soon as it was turned on. They had felt their way to single beds to sleep. As Hamish peered through the gloom he saw that those two single beds were the only furniture. Jim was a disheveled mass of sweat and sleep in the other bed.

Hamish quietly sorted their luggage and then noticed a switch for the single ceiling fan. He turned the fan on for Jim and watched his grandson sleep for a minute before he went outside.

Hamish stood, silent and sentinel-like, on the veranda that lifted his hut off the ground. Thin fog hung in the air as if the heat had sapped it of energy and it could neither fall to ground nor evaporate. It was warm and clammy, too hot for Hamish even if it had been the afternoon. But that pre-dawn time was merely the beginning of increasing discomfort.

In the gloaming Hamish could see that his hut was among a compound of huts, about a dozen were visible. Some with corrugated iron roofs but the majority were made from jungle materials. They had no walls but the roof was saddle shaped so that two diagonally opposite corners sloped down and kissed the ground like they were two large beasts standing back to back eating the grass. Hamish’s hut was the exception. It was made of weather-board walls that supported an iron roof with a covered veranda all the way around it. It had, obviously, been constructed to be familiar to Western visitors.

Hamish walked a lap around the veranda and confirmed that jungle surrounded the village compound. He stepped onto the coarse, spongy mat of large-blade tropical grass. The lawn was damp so he stepped back onto the veranda and went into the room again. He checked that Jim was still sleeping, put sandals on and set off across the grass not knowing where he was headed.

Hamish could see into and through the huts he passed. The corners that were raised formed a front and back door. He thought he could see sleeping bodies in hammocks.

He stopped next to a white, moulded-plastic table outside one of the huts. He noticed two empty bottles of Corona underneath. There was no other mess so they were not a sign of revelry and sloth. Hamish guessed that they had been overlooked during a late night clean up, perhaps the dim light of a lamp did not penetrate the murky curtain under the table, he thought.

He scanned the silent village. Hamish felt like he was all that existed, at the moment before creation. He thought of his grandson. He again wondered why he had followed Arthur’s original plan. Why had he brought Jim to the Mayan village? What was Jim to do, away from his friends, away from his family? Hamish again concentrated on the beer bottles. He was all there was of Jim’s family. Of his family. Except for Kate, there was only the two of them.

There must be people out of bed somewhere, he thought. He searched for signs of life and noticed a bare electric globe shining in a hut with fly-wire panels for walls. A shadow moved within so he set off in that direction.

As he drew close to his destination, he disturbed a spider monkey kept inside a free standing cage. The monkey ran and jabbered excitedly from one wire mesh wall to the other. Hamish worried that the monkey would wake everyone. The captive stopped running and stared angrily at the man. Hamish felt a separate voice in his head speak in utter despair, the voice that had begun after Kate’s departure and, at times, caused Hamish to question his sanity. The monkey blamed him, Hamish thought, the one who had given it life, given it expectations and false hopes before trapping it and, now, had returned to destroy it. With difficulty Hamish broke off the torrent of negative thoughts he knew would follow, before the cascade overwhelmed him.

He did not offer the monkey kind words or soothing sounds. He, most definitely, did not offer one of his fingers through the wire mesh.

‘Hamish! Over here.’ A voice came from inside the hut with the bare globe. The pre-dawn light was weak, he could only see an indistinct human shape inside.

‘Arthur?’ Hamish asked.

‘Yes. Come in. Come in.’

A flimsy, paneled wire door was opened from the inside. Hamish extended his hand to Arthur, who grabbed the offered hand then dragged his friend close and enfolded him a hug. Hamish was embarrassed at the show of emotion. As he waited for Arthur to let him go he scanned the hut. It was a place for dining, he realized. A long table ran from one wall to the other. On the far side was a long wooden bench, while on the near side there was an odd assortment of mismatched chairs. White moulded-plastic ones, that went with the outside table Hamish had passed, deck chairs made from woven material, solid metal framed kitchen chairs with hard plastic seats that Hamish knew were back in fashion, decades after they had been discarded, and wooden, worn and old dining table chairs. A single, yellow glowing, low wattage light bulb was suspended from the ceiling, free to swing over the middle of the table. There were many shadows at that time of the morning.

‘I heard your car come in last night,’ Arthur said after ending the embrace. ‘Your driver told me you were OK so I didn’t bother you. I assumed you and Jim would be tired.’ A hand remained on Hamish’s shoulder, who wondered when Arthur would finally let him go.

Arthur gave Hamish a final pat on the back and said, ‘You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?’

‘No, it was too hot.’

‘You’re in the hut for tourists. Normal beds are not the best option in this climate.’

‘Hammocks would be better,’ Hamish said.

They were not alone. Sitting in a corner, on the end of the bench, was an old man, much older than Arthur and Hamish. He was dressed in a white cotton tunic that covered him from his neck to this wrists and down to his shins. A large, hand-made cigar generated a pall of smoke. The smell was unpleasant so soon after sleep. The old man’s hair was black, unkempt and hung down to his shoulders. His face was flat and wrinkled, faintly simian. He was smiling, in a fixed way, at the two men. Too much smiling, Hamish thought uneasily, as if the old man was about to thrust out his hand and ask for money.

Arthur again placed a hand on Hamish’s shoulder and shepherded him towards the seated, old man.

‘Hamish. This is Yax K’in. The spiritual leader, the t’o’ohil, of the KulWinik,’ Arthur said.

Hamish moved forward after the introduction and shook Yax K’in’s hand which was limp and did not return Hamish’s grasp.

‘He doesn’t speak English and you don’t have much Spanish, do you?’ Arthur said.

Hamish said that he didn’t.

‘Did you read the information I sent you? He’s well over a hundred years old,’ Arthur said to Hamish while looking at Yax K’in as if he was an extraordinary exhibit. ‘Maybe even a lot more. He doesn’t look seventy. Not a grey hair on his head. Amazing isn’t it? Compared to us, I mean. It’s as if time has stopped for him. His father lived, so they say, impossible to verify back then, for more than a hundred and twenty years. Must be good genes, eh?’

Hamish smiled diffidently. He keenly felt the disrespect of talking about someone present, in a language they did not understand.

‘Do you want breakfast now?’ Arthur asked.

Hamish said that he did.

‘OK, I’ll be back in a minute.’

Arthur gave Hamish a little push in Yax K’in’s direction as he turned to leave the hut. ‘Go and sit down. He’s been waiting for you.’

Hamish sat down next to the odd old man and smiled, not knowing what to say. After a long silence, during which the heavy cigar smoke annoyed Hamish, Yax K’in pointed at him and said, ‘Hamish?’

‘Yes.’

‘Hijos?’ Yax K’in asked. The old Mayan man’s face brightened as he remembered an English word. ‘Son?’ He raised two of his fingers and pointed them at the ground. Hamish guessed he was being asked if two sons accompanied him.

‘No, just my grandson, Jim,’ Hamish said.

Yax K’in stopped smoking. He stopped smiling. He frowned. ‘No?’

‘No. Grandson,’ Hamish said slowly.

‘Grandson?’ Yax K’in was asking what the word meant.

Hamish thought about how to explain the concept and came up with, ‘Son son,’ and a rolling motion with his hand to indicate continuation.

Yax K’in resumed smiling. ‘Ah! Son son.’ He again raised two of his fingers and then pointed them at the ground.

‘No, just one. Jim,’ Hamish said. He eventually explained, after more gesticulation, that Jim was the name of his grandson, and was his only companion.

Yax K’in was visibly concerned at what Hamish had told him. The t’o’ohil resumed his heavy, pensive smoking while Hamish looked wistfully towards the door of the hut, hoping to be rescued by Arthur’s return. He did not want to talk about Jim.

Yax K’in’s attention unnerved Hamish in the dim morning light and strange shadows. ‘Jim. Son son,’ he said. Hamish once again nodded agreement. ‘Jim?’ Yax K’in asked and held up two of his fingers and thrust them at Hamish’s face.

Hamish knew what he was asking.

‘Yes, he is one of twin brothers,’ Hamish said as he also raised two fingers and repeated, ‘Yes. Jim. Two.’

Yax K’in pointed at Hamish’s face. ‘Jim?’

He was asking if Jim shared Hamish’s appearance, his dark hair tinged with red and his too large, roman nose. Hamish laughed and said quickly, knowing Yax K’in would not understand, ‘It’s a distinctive look we have. I like to think it’s regal.’

Hamish explained slowly, using arm movements in emphasis, ‘Yes, yes. Just like me. The same. Unfortunately for him.’

Yax K’in had learned something that pleased him. He silently smoked.

Arthur returned, followed by two KulWinik women carrying plates of tortillas and dishes of beans, cheese, chillies and sauces.

‘Do you want eggs as well?’ Arthur asked Hamish.

When Hamish said yes, Arthur spoke to the women in their own language.

‘Did you understand any of that?’ Arthur asked after the women had left.

‘A little. I picked out eggs but I can’t speak it. I was chatting with Yax K’in and I couldn’t think of any of the Mayan words to say. We had a nice talk in English,’ Hamish said.

‘Really?’ Arthur smiled. ‘What were you talking about?’

‘He thought I had twin sons. I think he understands now that I only have Jim with me,’ Hamish said.

Arthur conversed with Yax K’in in KulWinik Maya. Hamish understood a few of the words; daughter, grandson and twins. He wondered why he had been unable to remember any words before.

Yax K’in’s native language speech rolled with a regal cadence that surprised Hamish. The broken, English language conversation had fooled him. Most people are misled when their introduction to someone is in a language foreign to the other person. Hamish had, shamefully, falsely equated intelligence with articulation in an unknown language.

Yax K’in smiled at Hamish when his conversation with Arthur was over. He said, ‘Adios,’ in a thin voice. He held out his hand and allowed Hamish to shake it.

As Hamish said goodbye, in stilted Mayan, Yax K’in stopped his forced smiling. Hamish’s face was intently scanned as if it might contain something recognizable, that had been previously hidden. There was clarity in the t’o’ohil’s eyes but deep sadness. Perhaps, Hamish thought, that’s the product of a long life or maybe it was the reflection of Hamish’s own melancholy. He wondered how he would look if he survived his problems with Kate, and with Jim, and lived another thirty or forty years. Hamish felt sorry for himself but then had the unsettling thought that Yax K’in’s unsmiling examination of his face presaged more suffering to come. Hamish did not know who for.

‘He’s not having breakfast with us?’ Hamish asked, after Yax K’in had left.

‘No. He only came here, this morning, to wait for you.’

Hamish wondered at the reason for his own, apparent, importance.

‘I told Yax K’in about Harry. Just now,’ Arthur said. ‘I didn’t know how to tell him before. He was pretty keen on the twins being here. Now he knows,’ Arthur sighed as if the first in a long line of difficult tasks had been completed. ‘He wants Jim to learn their language and customs. It will keep him occupied while he’s here, so it’s a good idea I think.’

‘Jim’s not really a learn-it-from-a-book person. He’s a bit young for that,’ Hamish said.

‘Yax K’in knows what young people are like. He’s going to assign his daughter to look after Jim while he’s here. She does speak some English, which will help at the start,’ Arthur said.

‘His daughter?’ Hamish asked. He was incredulous. He almost laughed. ‘How old is she?’ Hamish expected the daughter of a centenarian would be near to death herself.

Arthur smiled. ‘She was the younger one who came with the tortillas. You can have a better look in a minute. She’ll bring your eggs.’

‘But she looked only a bit older than Jim?’ Hamish said.

‘No. She’s about the same age. Amazing isn’t it? Knowing how old Yax K’in is,’ Arthur said. ‘We should all be so lucky.’

Hamish did not want to talk about women. He did not want to think about Kate. He quickly asked, ‘Why am I and twins so important?’ but then realized that would mean talking, indirectly, about Jim. That was another subject he did not want to discuss.

‘He saw that picture I took of you and the boys, when they were kids, on the beach near Boston, and was really excited by it. That was years ago. He’s been fixated ever since. Well, as fixated as a KulWinik can be. I mean, he’s mentioned it a few times. He’s very relieved that you and Jim are here now. That’s obvious. It was extraordinary that he waited here this morning. He was here when I arrived. That was well before there was any light. I’ve never seen him time anxious before. That’s not the KulWinik way.’ Arthur laughed.

Hamish was glad that Arthur had not talked about twins. He had read enough about them in the books he had been sent anyway. He remembered the significance they had in the Mayan beliefs of the creation of this world. How the Hero Twins had avenged the death of their father, the son of Hachakyum. Hamish knew, without further explanation from Arthur, that twins were integral to the Mayan conception of the end of the world.

The door to the dining hut opened and a young girl entered. She placed a plate of fried eggs on the table. It was nearly sunrise, the light was stronger, and Hamish could see her clearly. She was clear skinned, with regular and angular features characteristic of the Mayans. She had a large roman nose, surprisingly like Hamish’s and Jim’s, black eyes and long, thick, jet-black hair. She was beautiful. She left immediately she had placed the eggs on the table.

Arthur thanked her but she did not reply.

‘I think it best if Yax K’in introduced her. It’s not my place to introduce his family. Do you agree? Amazing isn’t it? He must have been in his eighties, at least, when she was conceived.’

Arthur retrieved the eggs from the far end of the table. He shook his head slightly as if at an improbable thought.

‘You should see her mother,’ Arthur quietly exclaimed.

Chapter 6

Jim had been woken when his grandfather tidied their room in the pre-dawn although he marginally remained within his dream. He opened his eyes enough to see shapes as his grandfather moved about. He settled back to sleep when the indistinct blob of his grandfather’s back floated out and through the door for the last time.

Jim tried to ignore the pleasure of the gentle air movement from the ceiling fan. He did not want to lose the thread of his interrupted dream. A vague memory of the sequence of events remained and he attempted to coax their resumption, to breath life into the dream like it was a fire restarted from embers. However, a restarted dream is never the same dream.

Jim had dreamed of his brother. Not as a person but as a dull presence. It was a strange sensation that made sense only while asleep. His brother had been like a sleeping spark of life within him that almost reached consciousness but then, realizing it was too early to wake, had fallen back into a deep sleep again. Jim lost his brother’s specter like it was sharing Jim’s own moment of falling back into sleep.

Jim had wanted to talk to Harry. He wanted to ask him what it was like to die.

Chapter 7

Michelle came into the dining hut not long after Yax K’in had left. Arthur stood quickly and took a nervous, shuffling step towards her. Hamish remained seated as he watched her ignore Arthur and sit down next to him. She returned Hamish’s smile. She looked younger than someone over forty, he thought, as he subtracted twenty years from his own, and Arthur’s, age.

‘Hamish, do you remember Michelle?’ Arthur said. He sat down next to her.

Hamish glared at Arthur. ‘You’re an idiot,’ he said, and laughed to hide his annoyance. Hamish had known Michelle well, during the years when Arthur and her were inseparable.

Michelle smiled again at Hamish as if they shared the burden of Arthur’s idiocy.

‘Do you want eggs?’ Arthur asked her.

‘No, thanks,’ she said curtly as she gathered tortillas from the piled plate across the table from her.

‘Yax K’in was here this morning,’ Arthur announced.

‘What? Here?’ she said. Her arm was halted, extended across the tabletop as she looked at Arthur. ‘Whatever for?’

‘Hamish.’

Michelle laughed. ‘I’ve never had to wait for the geologist and his retinue before.’

‘He seemed to be in a hurry. For him, at least,’ Arthur said brightly, visibly buoyed by Michelle’s laughter.

‘But he hasn’t told you where to excavate yet, has he? Right?’ she said darkly, displeased at Arthur’s optimism.

‘No,’ he said. His brightness gone.

Michelle railed at Arthur, irritated by delay. Hamish listened like he was the audience in a domestic dispute. Arthur viewed his plate of food without appetite as he accepted unearned punishment.

‘I can’t tell you anymore, Michelle,’ Arthur said when she paused for breath.

She eyed him suspiciously. He knew more about Yax K’in’s plans than he had told her, she was sure.

Michelle had entered the dining hut angry with Arthur and intending to provoke an argument. She had forgotten Hamish. She remembered his plight with an embarrassing shock.

‘I’m so sorry Hamish,’ she turned to him. ‘How are you holding up? And your grandson?’

She was contrite.

‘Jim’s good. I don’t know why he is so good. There were a few problems when he went back to school. And, although I argued with Arthur, I think he may be right. This could be a good place. For awhile. It will let Jim concentrate on something else, totally different.’

‘And you?’ Michelle repeated.

‘I’m all right. I’m coping.’ Hamish laughed, nervously, to hide that he was lying. ‘For the same reasons, this trip may be good for me too.’

She knew Hamish must be masking how he felt to some degree. But he was a strong man, she knew, and he was a New Zealander as well. She mistakenly thought he probably could manage.

Yax K’in’s daughter came in again and placed more tortillas and more beans on the table.

After she had left, Hamish said, ‘She is beautiful, isn’t she.’

‘Has Arthur been going on to you as well, has he?’ Michelle said. ‘About how lucky the sexually active octogenarian was?’

‘Yes,’ Hamish laughed.

Michelle smiled at Arthur without rancor. ‘He’s just jealous,’ she said, as if her anger had been hard work to sustain.

‘Are you still teaching, Hamish?’ Michelle asked.

‘No, not anymore. I no longer work full time. Those days are, thankfully, over.’

‘You don’t enjoy it?’ Michelle asked. ‘I like teaching. As long as it doesn’t take up all my time. I’ve had some great ideas from my graduate students.’

Michelle ate her breakfast as other members of Arthur’s team came into the hut for theirs. Hamish was introduced as each person joined the group. There were a dozen Westerners and Mexican nationals in Arthur’s team and they had finished their breakfast when Jim opened the door to the dining hut. He spied his grandfather’s back and entered.

‘I heard people talking. Can I get breakfast as well?’ Jim asked, as he stood next to Hamish.

Hamish shot to his feet when he was surprised by his grandson’s voice. He fussed and brought a chair so that Jim could sit next to him. Hamish introduced only Michelle, since Jim already knew Arthur well. Further introductions were left to Arthur.

Michelle studied Jim as he ate his breakfast and talked with the members of Arthur’s team. He appears confident, she thought. He’s a strong boy although she did not equate size with maturity. She tried to imagine having the responsibility to look after him. She guessed at his suffering, knowing what had happened to him. Still, she thought, there’s so much suffering everywhere. So much more than this boy has endured. However, it’s when suffering becomes personal, when it’s so close it’s touchable, as close as the boy across the table, that it becomes real.

Michelle pulled her eyes away from the teenager to look outside the hut. She focussed on an area where the road into the village ended, on the other side of the cage of the captive spider monkey. Her marriage had ended in acrimony, on that spot, she remembered.

Her attention returned inside and rested on Arthur. He noticed and quickly smiled. She returned a distracted half-smile. Michelle had rarely thought of having her own children. Only once did the feeling last long enough for her to be prepared to do anything about it. It had not been with her husband.

It had been with Arthur.

Chapter 8

After breakfast, Hamish and Jim returned to their hut. An hour later, while Hamish was sitting on the veranda reading one of Michelle’s books, Arthur padded across the spongy grass to the tourist hut.

‘Where’s Jim?’ Arthur asked, after greeting his friend.

‘He’s over at the stream having a swim.’

‘Yax K’in wants to meet him.’

Hamish and Arthur walked across the close mowed tropical grass and then through a short patch of jungle to the bank of a creek.

The water looked cool and refreshing to the older men, it was swift flowing but was no more than knee deep. Jim swam breaststroke against the flow of water trying to not touch the rocky bottom. He swam vigorously but remained in the same position as if the water and Jim had fought to a standstill. When he could no longer resist the swift flow he rested his hands on the bottom and the water stopped its battle, seemingly ignored him and flowed over and around his body.

Jim greeted the men casually when he noticed Arthur and Hamish watching. He waded across the stream looking like a short legged god walking on water.

Yax K’in’s hut was dark and smoky. The three Western men could not see clearly at first in the gloom and haze. A small fire smoldered, contained by three stones arranged at the points of a triangle.

Yax K’in sat next to the fire smoking a hand-made cigar. Jim looked self-consciously at the ceiling of the hut, affecting a nonchalance, embarrassed being in the company of the older men. He noticed indistinct objects hanging from the frame of the hut and thought they may be items of witchcraft.

Arthur formally re-introduced Hamish first. Hamish’s handshake was again not returned by the limp hand Yax K’in presented, however when Arthur presented Jim, his hand was captured in a firm grip. Yax K’in stared through the pall of cigar smoke as if testing the strength of the young man. Jim was forced into an uncomfortable, hunched-over position. When Yax K’in released Jim he backed away and stumbled over someone seated on the floor.

‘Sorry. I’m so sorry.’

Jim was mortified. He turned and backed away towards Yax K’in again. Arthur took Jim by the elbow and sat him on the floor. Once Jim’s eyes became used to the low light, he saw that the other person was a girl his own age. His embarrassment at being manhandled by Arthur was intensified.

Hamish and Arthur sat cross-legged next to Jim while Yax K’in smoked in silence as if waiting for the memory of Jim’s embarrassment to fade, or so Jim hoped. Hamish became impatient as they waited, he believed Jim would prefer to be elsewhere, and he began to speak. Arthur stopped him. Jim wrenched his eyes away from Yax K’in’s critical gaze. His sight was clearer and he was relieved to see that the indistinct objects above him were tobacco leaves hanging to dry.

Yax K’in spoke in Maya while Arthur translated.

‘Yax K’in thanks you both for coming,’ Arthur said.

Yax K’in began again before Arthur had finished translating.

‘Well, Michelle won’t be happy at the delay,’ Arthur said. ‘Hamish, Yax K’in would like to invite you to participate in a balche session and its ceremonies. I assume you’ll agree. Just say yes.’

Hamish nodded his head and said yes.

Arthur and Yax K’in had a long conversation during which Yax K’in appeared uneasy and reluctant to answer. They both looked at the girl sitting on the floor.

’What?’ Hamish asked.

‘I’ll explain later. Yax K’in’s daughter will be there. In a different capacity. Michelle will be very interested in that.’

‘What about Jim? What will he do while we’re drinking?’

Arthur said two words to Yax K’in. One of them was Jim.

Yax K’in replied in a commanding voice.

‘We’ll talk about this later, Hamish. Jim has to be there too. But, now,’ Arthur turned to Jim, ignoring Hamish. ‘He’s going to introduce you to his daughter. She’ll teach you their language and some of their culture. It will give you a lot to do while your grandfather and I are busy working. It should be fun. No-one apart from Michelle and I have had an opportunity to get this close to the KulWinik. Will you do it?’ Arthur asked Jim.

Jim nodded to Yax Kin, not to Arthur. ‘Yes, OK.’

Yax K’in inclined his head towards Hamish, then spoke to Arthur.

‘Is that acceptable to you?’ Arthur asked Hamish. ‘He’s asking your permission.’

Hamish nodded and said, ‘Yes.’

Yax K’in slowly stood then wandered over to his daughter. She took his offered hand as she stood. The old man waved at Jim. ‘Just go over,’ Arthur said. ‘He’s going to introduce you to his daughter.’

‘Yeah, I can see that,’ Jim said with real annoyance. He was irked by older people stating the obvious, treating him as if his lack of years meant he was mentally deficient.

Jim’s hand was placed over the young woman’s before Yax K’in’s two hands sandwiched them.

Yax K’in said, ‘Jim. Pep’Em Ha.’ He repeated the formula.

Jim understood that the other words were Yax K’in’s daughter’s name.

Hamish and Arthur were asked to leave. Hamish quizzed Jim, asking him if that was all right. Jim dismissed his grandfather like he was a man being treated as a child.

Arthur offered Hamish a drink after they had left the t’o’ohil’s hut. Arthur required its strength to help him convince Michelle to extend her stay.

Hamish worried about Jim and mentioned that to Arthur as they walked.

‘Don’t worry about Jim,’ Arthur said, distracted by his own concerns with Michelle. ‘He’s going to have more fun than you are.’

Chapter 9

Arthur and Hamish sat at the white, moulded-plastic table outside Arthur’s hut. The same one Hamish had seen two bottles of beer under in the pre-dawn light. A bottle of Irish whiskey and two glasses were on the table.

‘Does balche taste bad? As bad as you say in your books? ’ Hamish asked.

‘It looks worse than it tastes,’ Arthur said.

‘It’s that partly religious, drinking ceremony isn’t it?’ Hamish asked. ‘That’s what Yax K’in wants to do with me, right?’

‘Yes. The whole village is involved. At least the men are. It normally goes on for a few days. It’s not a single session of drinking. It’s not like a session at the pub,’ Arthur said. ‘But, it may not last that long. Given how anxious Yax K’in was this morning.’

‘That was Yax K’in being anxious?’ Hamish asked.

Arthur laughed. ‘Yes, very anxious.’

‘I don’t know Arthur,’ Hamish said as he took a tentative sip from his glass of whisky. It was really too early to be drinking, he thought. ‘I know Jim has drunk alcohol before. I know he has been drunk before, but…’

Hamish did not know how much guardianship Jim required. Hamish had forgotten, it had been a long time since his son had grown up. He wondered if things like teenage drinking had changed much. He did not want Jim to get drunk but, also, did not want to deny attendance at the balche sessions.

‘Pep’Em Ha’s brother will also be there. He’s only a few years older than Jim,’ Arthur said. He had let Hamish prevaricate, knowing denial of Jim’s attendance was not an option.

‘I don’t know Arthur. A few years at that age is quite a lot,’ Hamish said. ‘I just don’t know,’ he said slowly.

‘You can’t say no, Hamish,’ Arthur said firmly. ‘Yax K’in has asked for Jim to be present. It would not look good if he wasn’t. Have you looked at Jim? Looked at him not as your grandson? He’s an adult. Certainly physically. And, you know,’ he spoke in a softer voice. ‘We can moderate how much he drinks. I’m sure Yax K’in won’t let him drink too much. Balche is not that alcoholic and he probably won’t like it.’ Arthur lifted his whisky. ‘It’s nothing like this.’ Arthur sipped his drink and put it back on the table.

‘Is Michelle coming?’ Hamish asked.

‘I haven’t asked her yet. I’m fortifying myself for that task.’

‘Are you, well, you know?’ Hamish asked. ‘It doesn’t sound like it’s going that well between you two. You sounded like you were married this morning.’

Arthur smiled grimly. He said quietly, with disappointment, ‘No, it’s not going well.’

‘Will there be KulWinik women there?’ Hamish asked.

‘Will there be KulWinik women, where?’ Michelle said. The men turned their heads. She had come from the direction of her own hut, which was behind Arthur’s. She sat down at the table, closer to Hamish. ‘Are you two still talking about Pep’Em Ha’s mother? She’s not that young, you know. She’s a few years older than me.’

‘Maybe that’s my point,’ said Arthur. The whisky had made him argumentative.

‘What do you mean?’ Michelle said quickly and angrily.

‘Nothing,’ Arthur said. ‘I was telling Hamish about balche sessions and the ceremonies attached to them. He asked if KulWinik women are allowed.’ Arthur turned to Hamish. ‘No, no women are allowed.’

‘What do you call me, Arthur?’ Michelle said. She was ready for an argument.

‘Unless,’ Arthur said, while pointedly staring at Michelle, ‘that woman happens to be you, Michelle. Who is not a KulWinik woman. I’ve already told Hamish that you’ve been involved in the balche sessions and ceremonies, over many years. He knows that, I don’t need to tell him that again.’

‘So, has Yax K’in invited Hamish to a balche session?’ Michelle said to Arthur. ‘Has he?’ she repeated immediately, combatively, and then turned to Hamish, ‘And I would assume Jim?’

‘It would appear so,’ Hamish said.

Michelle’s face contracted.

‘Why haven’t you told me?’ Michelle said to Arthur. She was, again, angry.

Arthur fiddled with his drink. The weeks with Michelle in the KulWinik village and working together at Yaxchilan had not been how he imagined. He had dreamed of a reconciliation but had hoped for friendliness and civility. He wondered why she had agreed to come, if she was going to be annoyed with him all the time. Perhaps, he thought as he prepared to reply to her angry question, she had intended to be nice but being close to him had turned her nasty. Her eyes were dark with anger, he saw. She was a predator waiting to pounce on his reply. He had made a big mistake. He sighed. The mistake that lived ten years ago.

‘I haven’t told you, Michelle,’ he said, ‘because we only found out in the last few minutes.’

‘Well, I won’t stay,’ she said. Hamish watched the anger in Michelle like it was bubbling ready to boil over and half expected her to make a movement to leave the village immediately.

‘Pep’Em Ha does all the rituals now. Did you know that?’

Michelle stared at Arthur. Her eyes were unblinking.

‘Would you like a drink?’ Arthur asked.

‘Yes,’ she said vacantly.

Hamish went inside Arthur’s hut and returned with a glass that was not too dirty, as if Arthur’s offer to provide Michelle with a drink had been his obligation. Michelle’s mood had changed quickly and he wanted to help his friend by pouring Michelle’s drink quickly.

‘That’s unprecedented Arthur,’ Michelle said.

‘I know,’ he said, agreeing quickly.

‘Well,’ Michelle said slowly, ‘Maybe I could postpone a few things.’

Hamish was confused, he did not understand the significance of Arthur’s information, but he did not want to interrupt for an explanation because of the electric effect it had on Michelle. He topped up his own glass of whisky, sipped from it, placed it back on the table and then peered over Arthur’s shoulder at nothing in particular.

‘He’s as slippery as usual,’ Arthur said.

Michelle laughed. ‘Yes, I know that well. He’s the master of how to answer a question with all possible answers. Especially questions he doesn’t want asked.’

Michelle’s laugh was contagious. Arthur loved seeing her happy. She may not hate him, he hoped, only what he had done.

‘There’s more,’ he said.

‘What?’ she asked.

Hamish perked up and focussed on Arthur as if his own confusion was about to be resolved, although he doubted it.

‘Yax K’in promised,’ Arthur continued, ‘that we’ll be allowed to listen to Pep’Em Ha’s story telling. After the balche sessions are complete.’

‘I’ve heard that rumor,’ she said, deflating the effect Arthur had expected. He had hoped Pep’Em Ha’s extraordinary story-telling prowess was unknown. ‘The women talk about Pep’Em Ha, and her talent, when she’s not there. What do the men say?’

‘Well, they say she’s better than Yax K’in.’ Arthur hoped it didn’t sound like too much of an exaggeration.

‘Really?’

‘I know. I don’t believe it either,’ Arthur said enthusiastically. ‘But the elders say she’s as good as her grandfather.’

‘I never knew him,’ Michelle said.

‘Yes, I know. He died when I was here the first time. He was an extraordinary t’o’ohil.’

Michelle took a sip of the whiskey Hamish had placed in front of her. She smiled a belated thanks, acknowledging his presence. She spoke slowly and quietly, mostly to herself, ‘What’s he doing?’

Hamish took another sip of his whisky. His two friends appeared to be wistfully dreaming of something, he became annoyed and spoke into the silence, ‘I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about,’ he said, but was ignored.

‘I think I know what he’s doing,’ Arthur said. ‘It would make your precedent of sitting in on the balche sessions look tiny, minuscule even.’

Michelle’s eyes widened in shock. ‘No,’ she exclaimed in a long, low voice. She hushed her voice as if subterfuge was necessary, ‘Do you think the elders are onto him?’

‘They’re not silly but I don’t think they’ve put two and two together. Not yet. They just think she’s good at those things and Yax K’in is not training her.’

‘Have you asked Yax K’in? I mean, for what that’s worth,’ Michelle said.

Hamish drummed his fingers on the table. He had almost decided to leave Michelle and Arthur to their nonsensical, obscure conversation, but he was enjoying the whisky now, once he had drunk enough of it to have an affect, and did not feel like being in an angry mood. He resigned himself to being unnoticed. Maybe I’ll just get silently, pointedly drunk before lunchtime, he thought.

‘Yes. Just a little while ago,’ Arthur said.

‘Well, what did he say?’ she asked excitedly. She glanced at Hamish’s drumming fingers and frowned as if the interruption was rude.

‘He smiled. He prevaricated. That’s all.’

‘Shit,’ Michelle said softly. ‘All right,’ she said with a firm resolution. ‘You win. I’ll move my commitments. This is something I would not want to miss. Do you think we could publish anything?’

‘Of course. A joint paper if you want,’ Arthur said.

‘Fuck guys!’ Hamish exclaimed. The whisky had broken a social barrier within him. ‘What are you two talking about? I’m still here, you know.’

‘I’m sorry Hamish.’ Michelle was smiling and didn’t answer Hamish’s question. ‘But this is really exciting.’

‘To who? What is? You’ve made no sense at all for the last five minutes,’ Hamish said. He was angry but calmed down when he saw Arthur’s happiness. He wondered if he would ever again be as happy as Arthur looked. He doubted it.

‘We think that Yax K’in may be training Pep’Em Ha to be the next t’o’ohil,’ Michelle said. ‘The next religious leader of the KulWinik. Which is impossible, of course. Women have never been allowed into the religious ceremonies. They are not the holders of the ancient stories.’

Arthur nodded his agreement.

Hamish was forgotten again. ‘That can’t be all,’ she said to Arthur. ‘He would be overruled too easily. A woman leader would be too much. Even for his authority.’

‘Unless,’ Arthur said. ‘He had something else up his sleeve. I agree. I think Jim must be a part of his plan. That would be why Hamish had to come.’ Arthur watched Hamish drink from his glass. ‘Sorry, Hamish, but we never needed a geologist. You were right, of course, about all the limestone, I mean.’

Hamish thought about getting angry with his friend for his deception but then decided that he didn’t really want to do any geology. Jim was occupied and he was safe, and they were away from Boston and the constant reminders. He shrugged his shoulders and had another sip from his glass. OK, he thought, he was officially on holiday but then wondered if that was a good thing or not.

Somehow,’ Arthur turned back to Michelle, ‘the use of twins and their significance in the creation stories is involved with all this.’

‘Pep’Em Ha is by far the best choice,’ Michelle said. ‘Her age might be a problem.’

‘Maybe,’ Arthur said. ‘But he has plenty of time to train her. Yax K’in could make two hundred. He looks great, he hasn’t aged at all in the years I’ve known him. That’s, what, about forty years.’

‘So, you don’t think there really is another excavation site? He just wants us, and Jim, here?’ Michelle asked.

‘There is a site, I know that, and it has to do with the succession. There’s something of value we have to find. Whatever it is, it’s exceptionally important to Yax K’in,’ Arthur said.

‘You could be here at a pivotal moment,’ Arthur explained to Hamish. ‘Maybe you and Jim are the pivots.’ He laughed. ‘I don’t know. But the t’o’ohil of the KulWinik is at the end of a direct, unbroken line from the priests and rulers of the ancient Maya. I think that’s something worth preserving.’ Arthur smiled at Michelle. ‘Maybe the next king will be a queen.’

The three sat quietly at the table for sometime, each in their own thoughts. Hamish worried about Jim. Arthur thought of Michelle and keeping her close by. Michelle thought of opportunity and, a little, about the Arthur she had known. The one she had loved. Their silence was punctuated by the sound of pounding coming from the KulWinik section of the village. It had started as if on cue to end their conversation. Pep’Em Ha’s brother pounded bark from the balche tree. He would later add water and sugar, in a carved mahogany tub, where it would ferment, by the next day, into a bitter, dark-colored alcoholic beverage.

Chapter 10

Hamish sat on a chair on the veranda of the tourist hut trying to not look like he was waiting for Jim. He had not seen his grandson since he had left him in Yax K’in’s hut. It was dark and had been for a long time. He waited and he worried.

The thin light, from the single bare globe in the room behind him, was feeble and did not attempt to worry the night further than the edge of the veranda. Hamish sat quietly and watched nothing in front of him.

The bobbing light from a hand held torch approached the hut. When the light was close Hamish could hear the soft, padding sound of footsteps on thick grass.

‘Where have you been Jim?’

‘Doing stuff.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Just stuff.’

‘Have you been with Pep’Em Ha all this time?’

‘Yeah. So?’

‘I’m just asking. Have you eaten anything? You didn’t come over to the dining hut.’

‘Yeah. I ate something.’

‘I was wondering what happened to you?’

‘I was all right. Don’t worry about me.’

‘Well, I did worry.’

‘Don’t then. I’m OK. I ate something. Over with the others.’

‘The others?’

‘The KulWinik. In their part of the village.’

‘Were you invited?’

‘I went with Pep’Em Ha.’

‘You mean you just lobbed and asked for dinner?’

‘No. It was, sort of, expected.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Expected. Like what I said. What’s there to not understand?’

‘You mean, you went, with Pep’Em Ha, and ate with the villagers? I thought they liked to eat separately?’

‘Yes.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Just yes. The answer to your question, is yes.’

‘Is there any more information? I mean who else was there?’

‘Everyone, I guess. I don’t know.’

‘Well. Was Yax K’in there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you meet Pep’Em Ha’s mother?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who else was there?’

‘Everyone.’

‘And they were happy that you were there?’

‘Yes. Why wouldn’t they be? What’s the problem? I had dinner over there, that’s all.’

‘I just want to know, Jim. I’m interested and I worry.’

‘Worry? What about?’

‘I didn’t know where you were and if you were OK. I was worried.’

‘No need to worry granddad. Everything’s good. It’s all good.’

Jim walked passed his grandfather and into the hut they shared. Hamish did not follow. He did not think his presence in the room was wanted.

From inside the hut Hamish was addressed, with a sing-song voice, ‘Good night.’

Hamish replied in a raised, hurried voice, to make sure that Jim heard him and did not think he was upset, ‘Good night, Jim.’

Hamish sat on his chair on the veranda and stared at nothing. There was only darkness in front of him.

Chapter 11

Hamish went into the hut a long time after Jim. He watched his grandson sleep before he turned out the light and got into the other single bed.

He knew he was dreaming, although he could feel himself lying in bed. He could feel the drift of air from the ceiling fan and he could hear the pulse as it wobbled and pushed the air towards him. But he was not in the room lying in the bed next to Jim’s.

Hamish sits cross-legged, not uncomfortably, on the floor in Yax K’in’s hut. No, it isn’t Yax K’in’s hut, he thinks. Yax K’in is present but it’s somewhere else. There are solid rock walls. It’s black where there should be a roof. He’s in a small, completely enclosed cave, like a tall, round chimney, a rocky tomb. He wonders how anyone got in and out.

Yax K’in sits on the floor with a clay pot in front of him. There are irregular markings on it that Hamish cannot make out. Almost like they are badly done repairs from re-joined pieces. The pot is filled with a substance that smolders and gives off a pungent smoke. It’s not an unpleasant smell. It must be incense, Hamish thinks.

Yax K’in is muttering to himself. Hamish listens and hears rhythms and repetitions. He must be chanting, Hamish thinks. Yax K’in places a hard, resin-like substance into the clay pot and the incense smell increases. Yax K’in stops chanting and looks at Hamish but his gaze is unfocussed. He cannot meet Hamish’s eyes. Yax K’in knows I’m here, Hamish thinks, but he can’t see me.

The soft chanting resumes as more incense is placed into the pot. The t’o’ohil sips an ugly liquid from a rough bowl that he places on a bark coaster on the ground next to him.

Hamish listens closely. He understands what the Mayan leader is saying. He’s jubilant at his success at learning a language from books. He moves effortlessly and looks down to see that he’s hovering, a few centimeters above the ground. He can slip and slide wherever he wants by will alone. He drifts closer to Yax K’in.

Yax K’in’s unfocussed look follows Hamish until he’s close.

‘Thank you,’ Hamish hears Yax K’in say. Hamish does not know why the old man is thankful. Another hard piece of resin is placed into the clay pot.

The light in the cave changes. Hamish sees Kate walk out of the shadows and stand on the other side of the incense burner. She is contrite, her head down. Good, thinks Hamish.

Kate crouches. She sighs and says to Yax K’in, in Maya, ‘Must I?’

Yax K’in places more incense into the pot and takes another sip from the bowl of liquid.

Kate stares at Yax K’in for a long time as if she is stuck in that position. It must be uncomfortable for a woman of her age, Hamish thinks, to crouch like that for so long.

Kate, once again, asks, ‘Must I?’

Yax K’in nods his head.

Kate reaches behind her to fetch a large piece of paper, or something that looks like paper. She places a corner into the pot and it smolders and smokes but does not burn. The smoke rises and forms a column that disappears into the darkness above her head. Kate’s image and the image of the rising smoke flickers on and off, as if it is an inexpert cut in a reel of film.

The smoke and the paper have disappeared, as if a new dream has begun. Kate reaches out her hand and then stops as it hovers above the pot. Hamish notices the pot has a handle. She touches the handle then waits for further confirmation. Yax K’in nods.

Kate picks up the pot, moves it with reverence and places it on the ground in front of Hamish. She sighs and hangs her head as if she has completed a task that would weary a strong man.

Kate knows exactly where Hamish is. She speaks to him in Maya.

‘I’m sorry, Hamish. It was simply a mistake. Please, please forgive me. Do not blame everyone. Please?’ Kate pleads as she holds out her arms to him.

Hamish calls out to Kate. He’s frantic. He tries to move but cannot. Yax K’in places another piece of incense into the clay pot which, somehow, is again in front of him. Kate dissolves as the smell of incense takes her place. For a fleeting second before she disappears she transforms into another, a Mayan woman, who is more beautiful than Kate. Hamish does not understand how that’s possible, Kate is perfect. Then the image is gone. The separate voice in Hamish’s head screams and then dissolves in an utter despair that wrenches Hamish’s heart. His loss of his family, his loss of Kate is as nothing in comparison to the sorrow expressed in that voice.

Yax K’in mumbles into the incense burner. ‘There are many dreams. She is no longer yours. For that, I am sorry. We are all sorry.’

Hamish is instantly, unreasonably, calm. Yax K’in picks up the bowl of liquid and offers it. Hamish drinks a sip. He remembers the taste of that liquid, he has drunk it before although he can not recall when.

‘Your dream is strong. It is as large as everything. It has lasted as long as everything. Your dream will be yours again,’ Yax K’in says. ‘The life of the t’o’ohil depends upon it. But not yet.’

Hamish woke. He felt the resistance of the mattress as he lay on his back in bed. His eyes were open but in the pitch darkness he saw nothing. He heard Jim breathing in the bed next to his. He heard the ceiling fan. He felt the drift of air.

He could smell the incense that had returned with him. He could taste the balche he had drank before leaving Yax K’in.

Chapter 12

When Hamish woke the next morning the other bed was empty and untidy. He called out Jim’s name but received no reply. He sighed, then watched the ceiling fan spin. He lay like that for a long time.

In the dining hut Michelle and Arthur, and a few of Arthur’s team, were finishing their breakfasts when Hamish stood in the doorway and listened to the hubbub of voices. Michelle and Arthur were together and separate from the others. There was no animosity. He smiled at their pleasure.

He sat down next to Michelle.

‘Did you sleep well last night?’ she asked, a different, calmer person than the previous morning.

‘Yes and no,’ Hamish said.

‘I’ll move some of my team around so you and Jim can have a better hut,’ Arthur said. ‘The KulWinik think they have put you in the best one. It’s where the government officials and the paying tourists stay.’

Hamish nodded but was not listening.

‘Have you seen Jim this morning?’ Hamish asked.

‘No. Why?’

‘He was gone when I woke up. And he came in late last night.’

‘And you’re worried?’ Michelle asked and smiled.

‘Yes,’ Hamish said, then laughed. ‘I’m always worried.’

‘He’s perfectly safe here,’ Michelle said trying to reassure him.

‘I know that. I think,’ Hamish said.

‘But this is perfect,’ Arthur exclaimed. ‘Isn’t it what you wanted? He’s enjoying himself so much, that in a KulWinik village, in the middle of the jungle, he stays out late and he gets up early. Isn’t that, partly, the reason you let me browbeat you to bring him? Pep’Em Ha is his age and she’s really smart. Her brother is only a few years older, and he’ll be with them too. They’ll have a great time. There’s so much for him to learn. Maybe, even, Yax K’in will teach him things. Michelle and I know what that’s like.’

‘He is right, Hamish,’ Michelle said. ‘You’ve been focussing on Jim’s well being, which is good, but it might be time to do the next thing,’ she said, and placed her hand on his shoulder. Hamish felt like a small child being comforted by his mother after telling tales of personal, and insignificant, woe. It was a pleasant sensation. He was unused to being the object of commiseration. He guessed his appearance had always led people to believe that he could cope with everything. That was wrong and Michelle was right. He had been worried about Jim although he showed little need of help and now that the responsibility for his grandson was shared with the KulWinik community he could relax. But he had lost his distraction. He could no longer ignore his own plight. He smiled, at a new, ironic thought. A KulWinik village was as good a place as any to lose his sanity. He was worried that the other voice in his head would take permanent control.

Arthur stood. ‘I’ll go and get a refill for breakfast. You do want breakfast, don’t you?’

Hamish’s ironic smile persisted as he said, ‘Yes, please.’

Arthur and Michelle stayed in the dining hut as Hamish ate, watching over him like they were parents of a convalescing child.

Chapter 13

A conch shell was blown repeatedly. The sound was loud and low. With each repetition the volume and frequency increased, as if the player was enthusiastically warming to the task.

Yax K’in laughed out loud as he opened the door to the dining hut.

‘My son is very keen when he plays the conch shell,’ he said to Arthur. ‘Come. Today we will drink balche. Bring your friend, the grandfather.’

Michelle went ahead while Arthur waited for Hamish to finish his breakfast. A full stomach would help with the long day of drinking ahead.

After Hamish had finished, Arthur led him towards the KulWinik section of the village.

‘The balche sessions,’ Arthur lectured as they walked, ‘are meant to reinvigorate community spirit. The object is to get a little intoxicated,’ he said. ‘So that barriers are removed. Disputes are brought into the open and solved by the community or the t’o’ohil.’

Hamish frowned.

‘We’ll monitor Jim,’ Arthur reassured his friend. ‘Don’t worry, Hamish. Getting very drunk is not the idea. Conversation flows, jokes and stories are told. Often, dreams are analyzed. Everyone loosens up. These sessions are intended to introduce you and Jim to the community but that’s only an excuse to get started. You don’t need to worry about expectations. Just relax and try to enjoy. Michelle and I will look to Jim.’

‘You said there was a ceremony. It doesn’t sound like that. Just a bunch of guys having a drink and a laugh.’

‘Well, there is that aspect, but there is another. The gods have to be cajoled, appeased. Incantations are sung, rituals are performed. Usually by Yax K’in. On rare occasions, years ago, by one of his older sons. That was done in the afternoons, after a long morning session of balche drinking. However, as we said yesterday, Pep’Em Ha does it all now. Apparently. Right from the beginning. It’s a change in the tradition. It’s exciting.’

‘The ceremonial stuff will be like you said in your book?’ Hamish asked, still thinking about Jim’s drinking.

‘Yes. God pots with incense burned in them. Each pot representing a KulWinik god and alive in it’s own right. There’ll be incantations and chanting. Yes, all the stuff in my books.’

‘Should we go and get Jim? Do you think?’ Hamish asked.

Arthur laughed. He understood that Hamish had not been listening.

They halted before a wall-less hut, its thatched roof held aloft by hewn, sinuous trunks of felled jungle trees. It was set some distance away from the rest of the village. Inside were many men, all dressed in white tunics, sitting on the ground and on mahogany stools. The air was filled with the strong smell of cigars and the sound of simultaneous voices. A few voices raised above the cacophony and Arthur smiled as he raised his hand in greeting but he then led Hamish away to ceremonially wash their hands.

There was a louder greeting when Arthur and Hamish returned and entered, as if Arthur had been absent for a long time, that he had not seen the occupants, each day, for the weeks he had been staying in the village. Yax K’in sat behind his pall of cigar smoke smiling at Arthur and Hamish’s reception.

Some of the elders made fun of Arthur’s extended absence from the village, before his recent visit. They called him ‘old man’ and queried his sexual adventures. Arthur laughed nervously as he glanced at Michelle. He reminded others of their own indiscretions. The group raised their voices in laughter.

Hamish recognized Michelle with difficulty. She smoked a cigar, like Yax K’in’s, and was dressed in a KulWinik white tunic. Her legs were crossed and her feet bare. One of the items in Arthur’s package of books on the Maya he had sent to Hamish had been an old National Geographic magazine. On the cover was a fierce looking Michelle, dressed as a traditional KulWinik. She was grubby and determined, defiantly standing in the jungle, ready to do battle with the loggers stealing the KulWinik’s Mahogany, like she was an ancient Mayan warrior. Hamish stared at her as if her face could turn into another’s if he looked hard and long. She noticed and smiled at him.

Hamish was introduced, by Arthur in Maya, to the assembly. Yax K’in spoke a few words after Arthur. Someone called out and the assembly laughed and giggled like they were young girls. Hamish was embarrassed. He guessed that the laughter was directed at him.

Arthur put an arm around Hamish and hugged him to his side. The group laughter rose again.

‘It’s OK Hamish,’ Arthur reassured him, in English.

‘What was everyone laughing at?’ Hamish asked, a little crestfallen.

‘You have a new nickname. You’ve been called “little grandfather” or “child grandfather”. It’s hard to translate. Yax K’in introduced you in terms of your relationship to Jim. As if Jim was the elder.’

Hamish did not understand.

‘The elders know Jim already. They like him. He’s fitted into the village because of Pep’Em Ha and her brother. You’ve been with me and Michelle, and reading books on your veranda. Jim is getting direct instruction and you’re reading about it. We can tell who the academic is! They don’t know you. Not yet. But they’re ready to like you because they like Jim. If they need an excuse to like you, that is.’

Arthur again hugged Hamish to his side, ‘Just relax,’ he said. They sat down, opposite Yax K’in.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother dispensed balche. There was a communal cup doing the rounds but he gave Arthur and Hamish a half-filled cup each, to get them started.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother grinned when Hamish said, ‘Thank you,’ in Maya.

Yax K’in raised his voice to his youngest son. The others laughed. Pep’Em Ha’s brother filled Arthur and Hamish’s bowls to the top.

Arthur leant nearer to Hamish. ‘Sprinkle a little over your shoulder. For the gods. Then you can drink,’ he said quietly in English.

Hamish safely negotiated a sip without spilling any. Arthur pointed his finger to the ground next to Hamish where there was a small mahogany coaster on which to rest his drink. Hamish remembered a similar coaster in his dream but the taste of balche was somehow different. It was more bitter and less enjoyable as if he was unused to the taste.

Arthur passed him a handmade cigar and a cheap, plastic lighter. He warned Hamish. ‘The balche may not make you sick but these will. Take them slowly.’

Hamish lit his cigar and filled his mouth with the bitter, acrid taste of tobacco hung to dry in a KulWinik hut and rolled by hand. It was not a pleasant sensation for a non-smoker. He decided to let the cigar smolder and reduce on its own without taking too many puffs.

Jim was, also, dressed as a KulWinik. His grandson laughed with the older men and appeared especially friendly with Yax K’in’s youngest son, who stopped to talk and laugh as he dispensed balche. After a single day Jim could make himself understood in Maya. Hamish was surprised. When Jim spoke in Maya, someone among the group repeated similar sounding words, obviously the correct pronunciation Hamish guessed, back to him. Jim would then repeat the correct words over and over, as if he was burning the sounds into his brain. The repetition caused much laughter and Jim’s example was followed by others for the rest of the day. Sentences were echoed, over and over through the group, each time with slightly different pronunciation. Arthur translated for Hamish, and the spoken variations were often defecation or sexual references.

Jim acknowledged his grandfather’s presence by allowing their eyes to meet for slightly longer than if it was a chance meeting of eyes. Hamish remembered the first time he had realized his son had grown into an independent adult. It had shocked him that his own child had skills and adult friendships that he would not share. Hamish saw the repeat in his grandson and felt very old.

Pep’Em Ha was separated from the balche drinkers. She was wearing, as was everyone except Arthur and Hamish, the white cotton KulWinik tunic that covered her from her neck, to below her elbows and down to below her knees. Her feet were bare. Her straight, black hair had been plaited into a single ponytail that fell to her lower back. She rested on her knees near a line of old and well used, ceramic god-pots. Each one had distinctive markings, many were the shape of a squashed face. She chanted and performed ritualized movements. She offered food and sprinkled balche from the bowl she kept by her side. She placed hard, copal resin into each pot. The smell was intense when it’s smoke drifted across the temple hut. Hamish was unnerved as he remembered parts of his dream. He remembered floating. He remembered the smell of that same incense. He remembered the action of placing the incense in the god-pot. Her chanting was vaguely familiar as well.

Pep’Em Ha’s tone, chant and movements changed when she moved to kneel before another pot, as if each pot had its own personality and different conversational requirements.

Arthur noticed Hamish watching Pep’Em Ha.

‘She does it well, don’t you think?’ Arthur said.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Hamish said. ‘I was thinking of the consequences if anything happened between Jim and her. She’s very attractive, isn’t she?’

‘A lot has changed in the ten years since Michelle and I were here. And Pep’Em Ha figures in that change. She does these rituals beautifully. Yax K’in’s older sons had no interest and it showed. They wanted to drink the balche instead and not worry about ritual, or drink something much stronger and not here in the temple hut. The tradition is to pass from father to oldest son. That’s how Yax K’in got to be t’o’ohil. But, it doesn’t have to be.’

Arthur inclined his head to Michelle, in Pep’Em Ha’s direction. Michelle nodded.

Arthur said to Hamish, ‘I think she does it better than Yax K’in.’

A voice called loudly to interrupt the private, English language conversation.

Hamish surreptitiously watched his grandson as the drinking continued and was glad that each time Jim stood, he rose evenly and steadily and walked confidently. However, Pep’Em Ha’s brother did not have Jim’s control and had been relieved of his balche dispensing duties when he could not remain steady on his feet. The session was ended when one of the KulWinik women stood outside the temple hut and announced that lunch was ready.

The men left unhurriedly. Arthur, Hamish and Michelle were waiting outside when Yax K’in and Jim came out last, leaving Pep’Em Ha alone, still performing rituals.

Yax K’in stopped near his son, lying prone on the grass. ‘My son has much to learn about drinking balche,’ he said to Arthur. ‘There is more to be drunk this afternoon although he has had his full days share already.’

Yax K’in said to Hamish, as Arthur translated, ‘Your grandson already knows more about drinking balche than my own son.’

Jim stood away from the group of adults as he watched Pep’Em Ha chant and pray. She placed a last piece of resin in one of the god-pots and then fell silent. She glanced at Jim out of the corner of her eye. He smiled at her. Yax K’in watched Jim watching Pep’Em Ha.

In a fluid movement, Pep’Em Ha uncoiled from resting on her knees to standing. She failed to completely suppress a smile. She lowered her head a little but then, as if realizing it was silly to be embarrassed, she stared back at the group of adults and Jim.

Jim had never seen a woman so skilled and so confident yet who was so young. He wanted to be her friend for life.

Yax K’in nodded and made a soft grunting sound of approval.

‘Come,’ Yax K’in said to Jim, in Maya. ‘We will have lunch. Pep’Em Ha will join us when she is ready.’

Jim left with Yax K’in. Hamish watched his grandson with the old KulWinik leader and felt a pang of jealousy and regret as if he should have been the one to take charge.

Chapter 14

The conch shell, not blown by Pep’Em Ha’s brother, who was not seen again that day, summoned the participants in the balche session to the temple hut after lunch. Yax K’in signaled Hamish to sit near him and Michelle. Arthur sat at the centre of a raucous group while Jim remained with a more subdued gathering of elders and younger men.

‘It is said that Hachakyum originally made us in his image,’ Yax K’in said to Hamish as Michelle translated.

‘We use to look like you.’ Yax K’in pointed at Hamish and then at Jim. They had the same dark, red tinged hair, olive skin and roman nose. ‘But we were changed to this.’ He pinched his thumb and forefinger together with a lock of his long jet-black hair in between. He lifted his hair and presented it to Hamish. ‘It is a great improvement. See!’ He re-presented his lock of jet black hair. ‘When Hachakyum makes mistakes he will correct them. He will not give up on us.’

Hamish asked, through Michelle, if Hachakyum had power over everything, including the Western world. Yax K’in was silent for such a long time that Hamish thought he had been forgotten.

Yax K’in’s answer was not to the question Hamish had asked.

‘Our gods do not have unlimited power,’ Yax K’in said. ‘They are only gods after all.’ He smiled, not in humor, but to emphasize the truth. ‘Even Hachakyum, who has power to create and destroy, does not have unlimited power. There are many gods and they have their own rules of behavior. Those rules are beyond what I could hope to know. Or want to know. Their conduct is beyond what I need to live my life. What I do know is that the gods must live with each other and with the lesser creatures, including us KulWinik, including the Westerners. The ways of the gods must be like ours, in many ways, I believe. Their actions tell. Their inaction tells us more. We do not destroy the forest that nourishes us. The gods do the same. I want that to be true. I hope they will not destroy us.’

Yax K’in smoked his cigar and waited for Michelle to translate.

‘Of course, if our behavior is incorrect, if we have no respect. Or if we are lazy. The gods will not help those that expect to be helped. That I do know. My father told me that. He was twenty times the man I am. That was many years before the first Westerners came among us.’

Yax K’in called to Arthur. ‘You remember my father? Yes? He was a great man. Twenty times the man I am.’

Arthur called back. ‘Yes, he was a great man, Yax K’in. But was only one times the man you are.’

Yax K’in grunted at the compliment.

‘The world is not consistent,’ Yax K’in continued to Hamish, via Michelle’s translation. ‘It changes. It is always changing. This is obvious. The old ways must be continued, they have remained with us for so long for a good reason, they work. But we must work with what we have, with how we are constrained by the new world we inhabit. It has always been the same, since the time of our beginning, since Hachakyum lived among us. There is hard work required to know and to understand what is new. We need to understand what has changed and what will change.’

Arthur listened to Yax K’in from where he sat with the other group. He and Michelle exchanged glances. Yax K’in had confirmed their suspicions.

Yax K’in was impatient at the delay as Michelle translated for Hamish. He began talking before she had finished.

Michelle interrupted him. She asked him to stop, she could not keep up. Yax K’in frowned, then his face broke into a smile.

‘Arthur understands all this. I know he does. Do you Michelle? You are here at the time that your help is required. I am glad. I have an authority but I will need your help.’ Yax K’in took Michelle’s hand in his. He lifted it and gently held her by the end of her fingers. He examined her hand and then squeezed it before he let her go.

Michelle was amazed and deeply affected. She wondered where the sudden affection had come from.

Hamish asked another question. Michelle helped him frame the words in a staccato Maya, ‘Did Hachakyum make the Westerners as well as the KulWinik?’

Yax K’in waved his hand holding his cigar, as if to ward off an errant insect. The cigar smoke hurried from side to side as it kept up with its source. Yax K’in was annoyed, as if Hamish had asked the wrong question. He answered what should have been asked.

‘No. No,’ Yax K’in said, with irritation. ‘Our languages are different and that is why the Westerners do not understand,’ he said as if Hamish was not one of those Westerners. ‘We see the world and find our place in it while they see themselves and fit the world around them. It is very different. It is the difference between everything. It is the prime importance, nothing else matters.’

Yax K’in waited while Michelle translated.

‘The cycle of counting started not only with our physical creation but with our beginning. Hachakyum began our culture, our way of living, our intelligence, our understanding. He re-made us with those new faculties. He re-made us in the image of a woman who can not be equalled. Her perfection was beyond what was possible, even for Hachakyum,’ Yax K’in said. ‘That was a great misfortune. It is unfortunate that his mistake has become my responsibility.’

Yax K’in watched Michelle as she translated, as if he was trying to look through her. He drew a breath through his cigar and exhaled the smoke to join the cloud in the temple hut. He turned his head away and nodded, as if he was having his own, silent conversation.

Yax K’in leant back and his eyes lost focus.

‘I will say no more on that subject,’ he said.

Yax K’in opened his eyes fully, his eyes dark as if in anger. ‘What I will say to you, Arthur, is that this will not do. I wish for the little grandfather to talk with us and for him to understand what we say. He must stop reading his books. I will see him everyday, if I must. I will teach him our language like I taught Pep’Em Ha when she was a baby.’

Yax K’in had spoken solemnly, but the elders in the hut laughed uproariously.

Chapter 15

Hamish was reasonably drunk by evening. He could stand but not without a wobble. However, Arthur had drunk without restraint. He stumbled out of the hut often, to urinate, and each time he returned he sat heavily and mumbled the same formula, ‘Still yellow. That’s good. Brown’s bad, Hamish.’

Hamish was angry. After Arthur’s reassurances that the drinking would be moderate, he was intoxicated. However, Jim had managed all on his own, although he spoke a bit louder and was quicker to laugh.

Pep’Em Ha did not return until the last rays of the sun angled across the village. She resumed her rituals. Jim’s eyes lit up and Hamish noticed Pep’Em Ha smile at his grandson.

In the evening gloom kerosene lamps added a distinctive light and smell to the participants already overpowered sensations. In the flickering yellowed light Yax K’in analyzed dreams. It was a usual, late part of the ceremonies.

The elders narrated their dreams and then nodded sagely when Yax K’in proclaimed ‘you will eat meat tomorrow’, or ‘you will see a stranger’.

Arthur and Michelle shared their dreams and there was loud amusement when Yax K’in told them they would both be successful in hunting.

Hamish declined the request to share his dreams. It was not appropriate, he thought, for his grandson to hear his dreams. Arthur moved and sat next to him. He badgered Hamish until he relented and recounted his dream from the previous night. His memory was inexact and the sequence of events was disordered. Arthur translated, in a slurred voice, after each of Hamish’s jumbled sentences.

The KulWinik laughed often and Hamish laughed as well although he would have been mortified if he was not a little drunk. After he had reached the end of his narration, he added details he had forgotten.

Yax K’in’s eyes were stark and unblinking as he stared at Hamish.

Hamish clarified one small point and all the drunkenness disappeared from Arthur’s face, which became sheet white as blood drained from it. Hamish, in a reflex motion, backed away, thinking Arthur was about to throw up but he was sober and agitated. Arthur asked Hamish, clearly and succinctly, to repeat the detail about the handled incense burner. Arthur was silent for a moment before he spoke to the group in Maya.

All sound in the hut ceased. Faces became set and serious. Pep’Em Ha stopped chanting and placed her hand over her mouth as if she had said that dangerous thing. Jim whispered to the man sitting next to him but was ignored. Yax K’in smoked his cigar and stared at Hamish, as if he and Jim’s grandfather were the only ones in the temple hut. All eyes turned to Yax K’in.

‘It is nothing,’ Yax K’in dismissed the suspense. ‘It is a dream from a man who has suffered. It is a pity he has only one wife. He needs another wife.’ Yax K’in smiled and addressed the group. ‘Who is willing to offer one of their wives to help this sorry old man?’

Voices were raised in laughter and the merits of wives were discussed. Each man boasted on the most troublesome aspects of their spouses, as if suggesting the woman that would cause Hamish the most problems would overcome his sorrow.

Yax K’in stood. The voices quietened as the leader took his leave. It was unusual for the t’o’ohil to be the first to leave the balche sessions but he signaled that the drinking could continue without him. He smiled in a forced way, trying to not let his panic show. Pep’Em Ha had not resumed her rituals after Hamish’s confession. She waited for direction from her father. He waved his hand to indicate she should also leave.

There was no need for further balche sessions, it was no longer necessary, although Yax K’in had planned for the sessions to continue for many days. He placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and said, ‘Tomorrow you must take the little grandfather and Jim to Yaxchilan. There is one further thing I must know.’

Yax K’in walked slowly towards his hut, Pep’Em Ha by his side. She was desperate to ask her father about Hamish’s dream but waited. She glanced back towards the temple hut and saw Jim standing outside, watching her and her father as if he was about to join them. She waved her hand indicating he should stay with the others.

Yax K’in’s father had told him the stories of Hachakyum, before he had been chosen as the next t’o’ohil. Before he had heard the voices. Before he had been chosen by Hachakyum. He had not believed them literally. Who would? However, the birth of Pep’Em Ha, his youngest daughter, had confirmed them. And now? He sighed. He could not ignore Hamish’s dream. A dream of a handled incense burner meant the end of everything. He had hoped the plans the gods had made for the world could be ignored. No longer. His father, and the long line of t’o’ohil’s going all the way back to the last man to speak with Hachakyum, had been proved right.

Yax K’in scanned the night sky. The Milky Way spread above his head as it plunged like a dagger to the earth. He knew the night sky replayed the creation stories of the Maya although he had had to be told the details by Michelle. She had re-discovered them. That knowledge had been almost lost. He wondered why some stories faded but others had a stronger will to live. He needed Arthur and Michelle. He needed their help. He took his daughter’s hand and held it tightly. She was shocked at his ostentatious show of affection, it was unlike him. All KulWinik knew the meaning of Hamish’s dream but she had believed her father’s dismissal. When she saw his face and his sad affection for her, she was afraid the end of the world would occur immediately.

‘Is it true?’ she asked softly of her father.

He patted her hand, as if that would comfort all fears.

‘Yes.’

Pep’Em Ha knew what the rest of the world was like, she knew what Western science had discovered and she did not believe the literal truth of the ancient stories of the gods. She had thought her father was of the same mind, although being born in an older time he held the traditions closer. She loved the stories, she loved telling them, she loved being taught them by her father, she loved them for their construction and for their perfect cadences, for their excitement and how she could resurrect the memory of ancient lives. She loved their simplicity, for all the deaths, the harshness, savagery and loss, there seemed to be less choice in ancient times.

However, she did not love the ancient stories of the gods for their truth.

She felt the weight of her KulWinik ancestors, the meaning of their lives and beliefs were dependent on her, the last and only person able to carry on the traditions. Being t’o’ohil would be a difficult task, she knew. But she had thought the task of spiritual leadership as one of maintenance, not one of decision, nor preemptive action.

She looked up at the night sky as her father had done, hoping that would clear her mind of panic. It did. She did not believe the world would end because of a prophecy from an ancient story. That was inconceivable. She saw the age in her father’s face and she did not believe that his life was unending. It was impossible in the modern age. She would help him understand.

‘Is there hope?’ she asked.

‘Of course. There is always hope.’

The prophecy of a dream could be avoided if measures were taken to prevent it, after all, that was the reason for dream analysis.

Perhaps, he thought wishfully, the place he would ask Arthur to excavate would not be found. It was unlikely, but possible. There were many steps before the end and if any one of them failed the edifice of prophecy would crumble. Then he would drink whisky and smoke cigars with Arthur and Michelle and they would laugh at the folly of an old man.

Yax K’in’s gait did not brighten as he walked closer to his own hut but he felt a small surge of unfounded confidence and hope.

Chapter 16

The expedition’s Chevrolet Suburban was commandeered for the trip to Yaxchilan. Pep’Em Ha and her brother and Jim sat in the second back seat, Michelle and Hamish had the first back seat while Arthur sat in the front, next to their Mexican driver.

The car travelled at a high speed on the narrow roads blurring the bordering sea of maize into an irregular, indistinct and lumpy green. At times the maize grew so close to the road’s edge that they sped as if through a green tunnel.

Away from the villages, and where the maize was not planted close to the roadside, Hamish noticed many island-like mounds poking out of the cornfields. Some had a few scraggly trees holding onto life on their rocky slopes. The mounds were composed of rubble, humus and forgetfulness. Hamish pointed them out to Arthur, wondering what secrets they contained.

‘There are hundreds of these little sites,’ Arthur said. He held his body in a twisted position with an arm wedged behind the driver’s headrest. ‘We don’t know what they are. They’ve never been investigated and probably never will. I don’t think they can be significant. I mean, add to our sum of knowledge. Archaeologists have restricted budgets and there are so many of them, as you can see.’ Arthur waved his arm that did not hold his body in place. ‘They might provide a bit of excitement for an amateur archaeologist. But, you’ve got to remember Hamish, that people here view these things differently than we do. We come from places without extended, obvious, visible history. I mean plentiful ancient stone structures. In the USA you have to go out of your way to find them and in New Zealand,’ Arthur laughed. ‘People have only been there for five minutes. I mean, a thousand years is nothing around here. Lots of places around the world don’t find this evidence extraordinary. I mean, just go to Italy or Northern Africa and you’ll see amazing ruins, Roman and earlier, that are completely ignored. I remember being in Morocco, years ago, and stumbling, literally, over a local family having a picnic lunch in some ruins that were not in any guide book. They were off the side of the road, completely unmarked and undocumented. Their kids were running over one of the most beautiful mosaic tiled floors of a Roman building I had ever seen.’

Arthur twisted his body further, ‘Do you remember that Michelle?’ he asked.

Michelle did remember. Those ruins were at the beginning of a long and complex story for her and Arthur. She quickly put the memory out of her mind.

They reached the river town on the border with Guatemala that serviced the tourist trade to Yaxchilan while it was still morning.

The motor boat the group hired for the trip to Yaxchilan was long and narrow and made of timbers painted in many, unmatched, colors. It had a haphazardly maintained, harlequin appearance. A thatched awning covered the middle section but the boat’s operator sat at the rear and steered by laconically moving the outboard motor from side to side as they travelled along the Usumacinta River.

There was no jetty or ramp at the landing place at Yaxchilan. Steep concrete steps began below the surface of the water and climbed to the top of the river bank. The boat nuzzled nose-first to the steps, pushing against the river flow to hold steady, as the passengers walked off and ascended to a level area at the top of the bank.

The jungle pressed around them. There was no wind. The air drooped in place, trapped by its humidity. The artificial breeze from the boat trip had misled them as to how unpleasant the day was. It was far too hot for Hamish.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother was the first to notice a shadow that altered shape as it moved down a jungle path towards them. He raised his arm and pointed.

‘Look, we are being welcomed,’ he laughed. He pushed his sister away from the group and towards the oncoming shadow. ‘Go on, you must greet them,’ he said.

The shadow fluttered closer until the others saw that it was a mass of hundreds of butterflies that bounced and jerked on their way down the path to the river.

Arthur laughed. He said, in English, to Jim and Hamish, ‘Have you thought about what Pep’Em Ha’s name means? In Maya?’

Hamish was confused.

‘Well, this is fitting, isn’t it?’ Michelle laughed too.

‘Still don’t get it?’ Arthur said to Hamish. ‘Her name literally means, butterfly water. I think her brother is having a little fun with her.’

The butterflies headed towards Pep’Em Ha.

‘All her life the butterflies have been her friend. I think they have come to greet her. We will see,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said.

‘What do you mean?’ Jim asked in KulWinik Maya. Hamish stared at his grandson, surprised how well he spoke the language.

‘They will probably land on her,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said. ‘They usually do. She is their friend.’

Pep’Em Ha extended her arms when the butterflies came close. Many landed on her shoulders, on her head, all over her arms and one on her nose. One or two landed on the others in the group and a few fluttered nearby as if they were wary and undecided.

‘See, I told you,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother was triumphant.

Pep’Em Ha grinned. She was happy as if a party trick had been performed to perfection.

‘Can I try?’ asked Jim as he stepped forward to stand next to Pep’Em Ha. As if they were a flock of startled birds, the butterflies lifted into the air and combined again into a single mass.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve scared them.’ Jim was crestfallen, he had embarrassed himself in front of friends.

The mass of butterflies moved closer to Jim and swirled and circled above him then descended and landed. There was not a single one left in the air.

The butterflies clung all over him, to the hairs on his legs and arms, to the hair on his head and to his sweat soaked T-shirt.

‘Stay still, Jim,’ she said. ‘Then you won’t hurt them. They do you great honor.’

‘Maybe I should be called Pep’Em Ha instead,’ Jim said to her. He tried to speak without moving his lips since many were on his face. ‘They can’t bite can they?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Pep’Em Ha laughed. ‘And my name is already taken, and it is a woman’s name.’

‘What should I do?’ Jim asked her.

‘Just wait. They will decide.’

‘Can you take a picture please?’ Pep’Em Ha asked Arthur. ‘My father would be interested.’

Arthur took pictures of Jim and the butterflies. Jim grimaced a part smile as he posed.

The butterflies lifted off, a few at a time, until two remained on Jim’s shoulder. The other butterflies joined together and resumed their journey.

‘These two don’t want to go.’ Jim laughed.

Pep’Em Ha extended her arm and touched Jim’s shoulder. The two butterflies walked onto her hand. She brought them close to her lips and whispered to them. She raised her hand above her head and the butterflies lifted off. They circled above her and then flew in the direction the mass of butterflies had taken.

Everyone stared at Pep’Em Ha. She lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

‘OK, then,’ Arthur said, having noticed Pep’Em Ha’s discomfort. ‘Let’s go shall we?’ He took control of the group, as he remembered that he had the tickets. He pointed up the path. ‘We’re going up there, towards where the butterflies came from.’

Arthur waited and fell in beside Pep’Em Ha who had also delayed until after the others.

‘What language was that?’ Arthur asked her quietly. ‘It wasn’t any Mayan dialect I’ve heard.’

‘Yax K’in says it was the words spoken by Hachakyum. The butterflies are his favorite creature. It’s a respectful farewell that my father taught me. It’s a ritual I’ve kept, each time I’ve been honored, since I was a child,’ she said. She gave him a diffident smile.

‘Honored?’ Arthur asked. ‘Because they’re thought to be the souls of Mayan warriors, you mean?’

Pep’Em Ha laughed. ‘No. They’re butterflies, but my father may agree with you. Although, it never hurts to show respect,’ she said.

The heat and humidity made walking up the hill harder work than it should have been. Arthur trudged in silence beside Pep’Em Ha. They had almost climbed to the end of the path when she glanced sideways at him.

‘Just in case the old ways are correct,’ she added.

Chapter 17

The jungle track Arthur’s group followed to the entrance to Yaxchilan merged into a path flanked by stone walls. At the end an enclosed stone structure, called the Labyrinth, forced visitors to walk a short distance through a dark chamber.

Hamish, Arthur and Michelle waited on the far side of the Labyrinth. Jim and the two young KulWinik had yet to emerge. The land sloped gently away to the expansive grassed area of the Grand Plaza. Ancient stone structures, made of weathered white-grey limestone, dotted an area the size of many football fields. Lone jungle trees, the vanguard of an encroaching jungle, mixed with the ruined stone. Higher terraced areas were further on, each supported impressive stone buildings. Images in books did not do it justice. Yaxchilan was majestic, it was an archaeological site made for another world.

‘Are you impressed?’ Arthur asked.

‘Yes. Very.’ Hamish was at a loss for words. The experience of arrival and entrance, the heat and the smells from the jungle, the manicured park-like scenery and the partly restored, decayed city of an ancient people, made Yaxchilan difficult to describe. He suspected he had been reborn into some parallel world after emerging from the small exit doorway of the Labyrinth. Hamish smiled and thought he understood why Yax K’in’s silences did not require filling, if this was his ancient home.

Jim emerged from the Labyrinth. He was ashen as if he had had a fright.

‘You don’t look too well. Are you all right?’ Michelle asked.

‘Fine,’ Jim said firmly.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed as he put his hand on Jim’s shoulder. ‘He took a wrong turn inside the Labyrinth, somehow. Even though there is no way to get lost, Jim got lost.’ He laughed louder at his joke.

‘Very funny,’ Jim said tersely in English, although he was smiling too.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother let his hand slip from Jim’s shoulder. ‘Pep’Em Ha pulled him out like he was a fish she had caught for dinner.’

‘I didn’t expect it to be dark,’ Jim tried to explain away his embarrassment. ‘No-one warned me.’ He blamed others. ‘I wasn’t thinking and then I stopped. I couldn’t see or hear you guys. I just froze,’ Jim said.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed walking down the slope towards the Plaza. He repeated, over and over, ‘Jim the fish.’ The others did not follow.

Pep’Em Ha replaced her brother at Jim’s side.

‘Don’t worry about him. He’s always like that now,’ she said.

‘I’m not worried. I guess it is a bit funny,’ Jim said, seeing the humor after the fact.

‘If it makes you feel any better, my father refuses to walk through there. He always walks over the top,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

‘I didn’t know that,’ Michelle said. ‘Why’s that? Do you know?’

‘He says if he goes into the Labyrinth he will not come out again,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘He has told me that it’s one of the places at Yaxchilan where what divides us from the world of the gods is thin and easily broken. He has said the t’o’ohil needs to be wary of such places.’

‘And?’ Michelle asked.

‘No. Nothing more,’ Pep’Em Ha said brightly. ‘He hasn’t told me any more and I haven’t asked. It’s not my place to ask him about his fears.’

Pep’Em Ha’s brother called to the group to keep moving. He had already reached the Plaza. They moved off down the grassy slope as two groups, Pep’Em Ha and Jim walked behind the other three.

‘I heard voices in there, Pep’Em Ha,’ Jim said quietly, to her alone. ‘As if a whole lot of voices were whispering.’

Pep’Em Ha stopped walking and stared intently at Jim’s face. She studied his eyes, looking for any lasting effect from his experience.

‘Did you hear what the voices were telling you?’ She asked as if what Jim had heard was normal, and expected.

‘No. Just whispers. But a lot of them,’ Jim said. He was surprised at her lack of reaction but was thankful that she had not laughed.

‘That’s what my father says,’ she said.

‘Your father?’ Jim asked.

Pep’Em Ha resumed walking, Jim followed. They silently marched across the flat area of the Plaza but before they rejoined Pep’Em Ha’s brother, she stopped Jim by restraining his upper arm.

‘Yax K’in says there are voices for those chosen to hear,’ she said. ‘I wish I had heard them. There is another place to hear the voices. I will take you there one day.’

Chapter 18

The group of six was reunited momentarily before the three younger people set off on their own, only interested in their own company.

‘I think we’ll just go at our own pace, shall we?’ Michelle said to Arthur and Hamish.

‘I think we have no choice,’ Arthur said as the young people moved quickly away.

As they ambled among stone structures Arthur lectured, as if he was condensing the literature he had sent to Hamish. Hamish was a little annoyed as if Arthur had not believed he had completed a high school homework assignment.

Arthur described the classical Mayan civilization and how it flourished in the first millennium A.D. but arose out of older civilizations, thousands of years earlier. How the Mayan cities were inexplicably abandoned around the end of the first millennium and that the Spanish Invasion, begun in the sixteenth century, had destroyed most of what remained of the native culture. The KulWinik Mayans, who lived in an inhospitable location in the mountains and rain forests, near Yaxchilan, had kept the ancient traditions and had remained relatively undisturbed until modern times.

Arthur told Hamish the Mayans believed the world had been created many times but each time the gods had been dissatisfied with their handiwork and had started again. Arthur’s lecture style became animated with pride when he told the story of the most recent creation, teased out of the ancient Mayan writings translated by Michelle.

The Hero Twins, the grandsons of Hachakyum and a human woman, had outwitted and defeated the gods of Xibalba. Hachakyum’s revenge on his own kind, his fellow gods, for the death of his son, the Twins’ father, was a catastrophic end to the world he had created. That creation story, Michelle had discovered, was re-enacted in the slow rotation of the Milky Way as the night sky rotated and the year progressed.

Michelle let Arthur discuss the details of discoveries that had made her famous among her peers. She was pleased that he was proud of her career, a career he had instigated.

Arthur’s lecture came to temporary halt, after discussing the Mayan counting of time from the start of the current creation in 3114BC and forward to the end of the world, as they stood before a stone carving. He rested his hand on a life-size Mayan king in full war costume. The man was in profile, displaying the distinctive Mayan nose and high forehead.

Hamish turned quickly to Michelle, hoping to stop Arthur continuing with his potted history of the ancient Mayans.

‘What was that all about at the entrance?’ Hamish asked her.

‘I was just interested in Yax K’in’s failure to go through the Labyrinth,’ Michelle replied. ‘Did you know that Arthur?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I did,’ Arthur said. ‘I’ve been here many times with him and he’s never gone through there. He has always gone over the top or walked around.’

‘Does Yax K’in think the Labyrinth is a portal? Do you think?’ Michelle asked Arthur.

Arthur laughed. ‘Well, he’s not scared of the dark and enclosed places. So, I’ve always thought there must be more to it than that. But, like Pep’Em Ha, I’ve never asked him.’

‘Portal?’ Hamish asked. ‘What do you mean? Like unleashing devils and things?’

Michelle smiled.

‘No, Hamish,’ she said. ‘There are no devils. The Mayans believed there are fixed places in their architecture where they could, more easily, summon the gods or their ancestors. The other-world, Xibalba, isn’t like the Christian Hell or Purgatory, but then you know that from my books I’ve seen you reading. In any case, portals to the other-world can be opened anywhere by the appropriate ceremony or sacrifice or bloodletting. So, fixed buildings are not a necessity. However, the Mayans believed that the more you ceremonially used a place the more receptive it became. Hence, the portal.’

‘The reason for these portals,’ Michelle continued. ‘Was to conjure up Vision Serpents. The carvings represent them as large snakes with open mouths and inside the mouth would be a god or an ancestor. Vision Serpents were, in a rough way, how the living communicated with their ancestors and, to a lesser extent, the gods.’

‘The other way around really,’ Arthur interrupted.

‘Arthur is right, ‘Michelle said although she was annoyed at Arthur’s interruption. ‘But, the Vision Serpent was brought into being by the living performing blood-letting rites. We only know about the nobility since they commissioned the carvings, but the lower classes may have performed similar ceremonies. We really don’t know. The loss of blood and pain combined with fasting would cause visions that were interpreted as communications from ancestors from the other-world. We can guess at the importance. The visions that were set in stone were often used to ensure the legitimacy of an accession to the throne. A communication from the dead would help quite a lot.’

‘I’ve seen some of the bloodletting images in your book. They’re gruesome,’ Hamish said.

‘Yes,’ Michelle said. ‘It’s amazing what people can and will do to themselves.’

‘And others,’ Arthur said.

Michelle did not appreciate Arthur interrupting.

‘At least, Arthur,’ she said. Her voice was firm. ‘With these bloodletting rites, the ones I’m talking about with Hamish,’ she emphasized, ‘it was the kings and queens doing it to themselves and not to others.’

Arthur did not want to argue.

‘There are a number of famous lintels and stela further up in the ruins,’ Michelle said to Hamish. She pointed in the direction they would walk. ‘We’ll see them in a minute. Those are the ones with women perforating their tongue, with a stingray barb or an obsidian knife, and pulling a length of rope through.’

‘I know. I’ve seen them in your book. I felt sick thinking about it,’ Hamish said.

‘Yes,’ Michelle said. ‘I can’t imagine the pain. But the women just look like they are going about their business, don’t they? They’re unflinching. But then, I guess they would not be represented any other way. The women had to be as stoic as the men in the presence of their ancestors, the gods and, most importantly, those they ruled. The blood was collected on bark paper strips and then burnt. Out of the pain and the smoke from the burnt offering of blood a Vision Serpent would appear.’

‘I think that ceremony would bring out a vision in anyone,’ Hamish said with his face drawn into a bitter expression.

‘But,’ Michelle continued. She smiled. ‘If you’re squeamish about the ladies, then the gents would have bothered you more I assume? Did you imagine perforating your penis and collecting the blood and showing your subjects the blood stains? Eh?’ She teased him.

‘Yes. OK. OK. Enough,’ Hamish said. His face was drawn and his eyes were narrowed as if he could ward off the image Michelle had conjured.

Michelle laughed. She knew how men reacted when damage to their genitalia was mentioned.

Hamish changed the subject. He knew there were more gruesome rituals that Michelle could discuss. Many not involving willing participants.

‘So,’ Hamish asked. ‘The glyphs that surround these images are really language?’

Michelle was silent for a moment. She had enjoyed Hamish’s reaction and would have liked to continue with the same subject but Hamish had chosen his diversion well. The Mayan glyphs were her life’s passion.

‘Yes, of course,’ Michelle said. ‘You can read it, write it and talk it. Just like any other language. The KulWinik speak a variation. There is still a bit we don’t know but, mostly, we can decipher it.’ Michelle moved close to a nearby stela and touched the glyph carvings. ‘As you can see, Hamish, it’s an intricate language.’ She traced her finger around a square shape filled with a multitude of curved lines and dots. She sounded three syllables.

‘That’s what all of this sounds like,’ she said. She laughed. ‘It’s not shorthand written from dictation.’

She traced her finger around another square design but did not say anything out loud.

‘Writing the language,’ she continued. ‘Was restricted to high level officials and probably nobles or, in some of the names we’ve found, to a member of the royal family. A brother, or an uncle to the king or to one of his wives. Writing and getting your message across about how important were your claims to the throne, or recognizing who helped you get there, couldn’t be entrusted to just anybody. Then, like now, everything was politics and positioning. The scribe was an artisan and would have been near the top of the social hierarchy.’

Michelle smirked at Arthur, then her face blossomed into a genuine smile. Her enthusiasm for the Mayan languages always made her happy and generous.

‘Just like scientists now, eh Arthur?’ she joked.

The three older scientists walked on in silence, following the direction taken by Jim, Pep’Em Ha and her brother.

Chapter 19

Jim and the two young KulWinik quickly left the older people behind. Once they were well away, Jim walked backwards smiling at his two following friends. He marveled how their friendship had happened and laughed out loud. He barely believed he was in ancient ruins, in the Mexican jungle, and his friends, sort of, owned the place. His grandfather had told him he was lucky, and special, to have the opportunity to live with the KulWinik. He agreed but could never tell Hamish.

Jim spread his arms, as he walked backwards, and said, in English, ‘This is awesome.’

The two KulWinik laughed. They understood him.

Pep’Em Ha grabbed Jim’s shoulders and spun him around. She pointed up a long slope landscaped by many terraced areas. Wide stone steps led to the top.

‘We’ll go up there, to the temple of Hachakyum, and wait for your grandfather,’ she said.

Jim laughed pointlessly, simply because he was happy. He had temporarily forgotten about his mother and his father. And his brother.

They climbed the stone steps and raced through terraced areas. They passed a scattered group of tourists, walking slowly and reverentially, wending their way, stopping frequently to marvel and take photographs. The three ignored the tourists but one of them addressed Jim in Spanish thinking he was a young Mexican. Jim opened his eyes wide to signal his incomprehension. He queried Pep’Em Ha.

‘They would like to take our photograph,’ she said to Jim, in Maya. ‘He’s asking your permission.’

‘Why did he ask me?’ Jim asked.

‘Normal reason, I guess,’ she said. She shrugged to show the insult did not upset her.

‘You’re OK with that?’ Jim asked, in Maya.

‘Yes,’ she said.

The tourist spoke to Jim again, a little impatient.

‘No comprendo,’ Jim replied in a faux Spanish accent. He pointed to his own chest and laughed, ‘KulWinik,’ he said.

Pep’Em Ha calmed the surprised tourist, in Spanish. The tourist frowned and stared at Jim, perplexed by the behavior. Jim didn’t care. He heard Pep’Em Ha say, ‘New Zealand’, and thought she was explaining his strangeness by reference to his ancestry, from a place so remote and exotic that she hoped it could explain all eccentric behavior.

The two KulWinik allowed themselves to be directed and placed, so the tourist could take their photographs with their ancestor’s creation as backdrop. They smiled and tried to look regal at the same time.

The tourist thanked them but snubbed Jim. The three resumed their walk across the terrace and to the next set of stone steps.

‘Doesn’t that bother you?’ Jim asked.

‘You mean, having our photograph taken?’ Pep’Em Ha said.

‘Yes. It would bother me,’ Jim said.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s what’s expected.’

‘It seems a bit demeaning,’ Jim said.

‘It can’t be if we are not demeaned by it. Can it?’ she asked.

‘No, I guess not,’ Jim reluctantly agreed.

‘Anyway,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother interrupted. ‘The joke’s on them. My father has said the KulWinik only came to this region at the same time as the Spanish. So, we are no more local to Yaxchilan than the Mexican tourists. But we don’t tell them that.’ He laughed.

The three walked on for awhile. Pep’Em Ha frowned, she was annoyed with her brother.

‘That’s not true,’ she said to Jim. ‘That’s not what our father has said. He,’ she meant her brother, ‘wants to believe that. He thinks it’s better that way. He likes to think that he’s no different than the tourists. It will be easier for him to leave the village.’

‘Why would you say the wrong thing?’ Jim asked Pep’Em Ha’s brother.

‘She’s wrong. That is what Yax K’in says.’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother had lost interest.

They continued their climb. When they reached the next terraced area she spoke angrily to her brother, ‘I don’t know why you’re ashamed. There’s no reason to be.’

‘So, what does Yax K’in say?’ Jim asked, when Pep’Em Ha’s brother did not respond.

‘Yax K’in has told us,’ she said to Jim, ignoring her brother. ‘That when the Spanish came, our people came back to Yaxchilan.’

Chapter 20

Arthur and Hamish struggled to keep up with Michelle as they climbed the stone steps towards the temple of Hachakyum. She was younger and fitter and had to slow her pace to not drift ahead. Hamish felt no embarrassment when he frequently stopped to catch his breath. While at each standstill Michelle waited impatiently.

The white tunics of the young KulWinik were visible at the top of the steep climb that lay before them.

‘Are we going to wait for the others here or do we have to climb up there?’ Hamish examined the ascending path and inclined his head, to not waste energy raising his arm to point.

Arthur smiled at his friend’s hopeful suggestion.

‘No, sorry Hamish. Yax K’in asked that you and Jim have a close look at the temple of Hachakyum.’

‘Damn,’ Hamish said quietly under his breath. He knew Arthur could not deny a request from Yax K’in. He stood slowly then continued up the slope. When they reached the top, and joined the three others, Arthur spread his arms as if conjuring the large structure out of thin air.

‘This is the temple of Hachakyum, Hamish,’ Arthur said.

Arthur asked Pep’Em Ha, in Maya, ‘Have you been here with your father?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t been here for years. The last time he came was with my oldest brother, who now lives in San Cristobal. He’s told me he will only return here once more. That’s the time he will bring me here.’

Hamish drifted off after Jim, who had walked around the side of the temple. Hamish did not feel well, he took a drink from his water bottle but he wanted a coffee and a sit down. He looked for somewhere suitable in the shade.

‘Come over here, Hamish,’ Arthur called to him. ‘Stand under these lintels and look at the carvings. These are the famous ones.’

When Hamish did not enthusiastically rush over, Arthur called impatiently, ‘Come on. There’ll be plenty of time to rest on the way back.’

Hamish ambled over to where Arthur was standing in one of the entranceways. His face angled up to view the underside of the lintel. He was preparing a lecture on its significance.

Hamish touched the stonework on the side of the entrance, to steady himself. The world rumbled and became soft.

He was overcome with nausea, like he was riding on an ocean swell. He imagined Kate. Sorrow and despair washed over him but Kate’s face was not hers, it was the fleeting image of the Mayan woman in his dream. Instead of the pain of separation, Hamish felt the despair of death. The voice in his head screamed. His legs buckled and blood drained from his head. He put both his hands against the stonework so it could take his weight and he would not fall. The world shook harder as the ground bucked him like it was trying to shake him from it. The world did not want him.

He crumpled to the ground and put his head between his knees. He was going to faint. He felt pain in the back of his thighs as he sat on a broken ceramic pot. He observed the pain, but could not move.

‘Are you all right, Hamish?’ Michelle was concerned. Arthur squatted next to him with a hand on Hamish’s shoulder.

‘Yes, I think so,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit hot for me, I think.’ He tried to sound flippant.

Hamish recovered quickly and by the time Jim and the two KulWinik had returned from the other side of the temple, Hamish was standing again.

‘Don’t say anything to Jim. Please,’ he asked Arthur.

‘That was awesome. Did you feel that?’ Jim asked.

‘Yes, we felt it,’ Arthur said.

‘Kisin is angry,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said and then laughed. ‘Our god of the underworld must have learned something he did not like. That is what my father would say.’ He laughed again, pointedly, to show he did not think likewise, hoping to annoy his sister.

‘Well. That was exciting,’ Arthur said as if responding to an entertainment.

The three younger ones moved quickly off and down the steps away from the temple, leaving Arthur, Michelle and Hamish again in their wake.

Chapter 21

The sun had set before their return to the KulWinik village and the headlights of the homecoming car played over the sides of the huts. Hamish and Michelle went straight to the dining hut. Jim disappeared with the two KulWinik. Arthur wanted to eat as well but went see Yax K’in first.

‘That was an eventful trip to Yaxchilan,’ Arthur said to the KulWinik leader, who was sitting in his hut.

Yax K’in smiled. ‘Do you remember the trips we have made together? It has been many years since we have been there. Perhaps, we should go there again. Together. Once more.’

‘Pep’Em Ha said you will go there only once more.’

‘She said that?’

‘Yes.’

Yax K’in grunted. ‘She is young and does not yet know what to not say. Yes. Once more will be necessary. It may be soon.’

‘Why? What do you want to do?’

Yax K’in smoked. Arthur knew the silence was the answer to an unwanted question.

Arthur got out his camera and fiddled with the display until the digital screen showed the first in the series of images of Jim covered in butterflies. He held the camera for Yax K’in to see.

‘Pep’Em Ha said you may be interested in these,’ Arthur said as he flicked through the images until those of Jim were complete.

‘Are you?’

The image on the display, the one taken after the shots of Jim, was Michelle standing next to a stela, smiling at the photographer.

‘Butterflies land on people, especially when Pep’Em Ha is there.’

Yax Kin smoked for a moment before he asked, ‘Did the little grandfather go through the Labyrinth?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he hear?’

‘I don’t think he heard anything. He was surprised how dark it was.’

Yax K’in grunted.

‘Jim got lost in the Labyrinth though,’ Arthur said and smiled.

‘Pep’Em Ha was with him? In the Labyrinth?’ Yax K’in was visibly agitated. He stopped smoking.

‘Yes.’

‘Jim is unharmed?’

‘Yes. Why?’

‘I felt Kisin rumble while you were away,’ Yax K’in said, quickly, before Arthur pursued a question he would not answer.

‘Yes. It was quite strong at Yaxchilan.’

‘Did the little grandfather go all the way to the temple of Hachakyum? As I asked?’

‘Yes. The earthquake happened when we were there.’

‘Did Kisin speak when the little grandfather touched the temple of Hachakyum?’ Yax K’in asked.

Arthur was surprised at the interrogation. It was unlike the old leader to take such an interest in minutiae.

‘I don’t remember if Hamish touched the temple or not,’ Arthur said. ‘And your broken god-pot is still there, by the way. The Yaxchilan attendants haven’t cleared it up. That’s been a few years hasn’t it?’

‘Yes. It’s good that the broken god-pot of Hachakyum is still outside his temple. It kept Kisin quieter. There may be life left in it, if it was able to resist Kisin so strongly.’

Arthur stood and stretched. He was tired and had lost the will to attempt to tease a meaningful answer from Yax K’in.

‘Thank you, Arthur,’ Yax K’in said as dismissal while Arthur stood. ‘Tomorrow we will find the place for you to dig.’

Arthur left Yax K’in’s hut and headed towards his own hut. He had decided to rest and not eat but his stomach rumbled on the way and he changed his mind. He went get a quick bite of anything that was on offer.

Chapter 22

Arthur’s world darkened when he opened the fly-screen door to the dining hut. He had a visitor and the visitor was not happy. Michelle’s face was rigid with anger. Hamish was trying to be inconspicuous as he silently ate. The atmosphere was tense.

‘Hello, Roberto,’ Arthur sighed. He wished he had gone to his hut and slept. Although, he knew Roberto would have come and woken him.

‘I’ve been waiting most of the day, Arthur. In this god awful place,’ Roberto said, in Spanish.

‘I took Hamish to Yaxchilan. I wasn’t told that you were coming.’

‘I don’t need to warn you, do I? Is there something you don’t want me to see? Perhaps, like today. Spending the museum’s money on tourist trips,’ Roberto said.

‘No, of course not,’ Arthur said. He was too tired for Roberto. It was always a battle with him. Each word was scrutinized like Arthur was under oath and being cross-examined.

Roberto was the director of finance at the Museum in Mexico City. Although he was not Arthur’s superior all research funding required his approval. Roberto believed a Mexican national should be in Arthur’s position.

Roberto probed his plate of food that had hardly been touched.

‘The food here is abysmal. I don’t know how the Mexican nationals on your staff stomach this stuff.’ He pushed the plate away. ‘I spent the whole afternoon waiting for you. I was served a disgusting cup of something. They said it was coffee but it didn’t taste like any coffee I’d had before.’

Roberto sat back in his chair. He was careful to not display his enjoyment.

‘If you are on an archaeological expedition Arthur,’ Roberto continued his tirade. ‘Perhaps you should act like you are on one. Why isn’t the team staying closer to Yaxchilan? I saw them all here this afternoon, playing cards and reading books. Some were even drinking beer. I have to assume we were paying for that. In the meantime, you were having a jaunt about the countryside. I don’t know why the museum has to pay for your retirement holidays. You can be assured that the director will hear about today.’

‘I’m sure he will,’ Arthur said.

‘I know you have an affinity for these people,’ Roberto said, although he considered the KulWinik barely human. ‘But, why should I pay them to accommodate the museum’s team and not be provided with, at least, an adequate service? Like real food.’

Roberto loved seeing the older man at a disadvantage.

‘Can you tell me that?’ Roberto asked, knowing any answer was irrelevant.

‘It’s the differences in perception. Isn’t it Roberto?’ Arthur said. His annoyance reduced his tiredness. ‘I could have employed a cook, I could have negotiated with landowners to stay close to Yaxchilan, I would have had septic and waste disposal issues to resolve. Instead of doing the archaeological work I am supposedly employed to do. I did look into all of that Roberto. The planning, the alternate options and the costing for everything is in my funding proposal. I have to assume you’ve read it. Have you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have approved it. Or, were you too busy trying to look good?’

Roberto smiled. He enjoyed his jousts with Arthur. He did not expect to win a knockout blow. His was a plan of attrition to rid the Museum of him. Roberto had been in Chiapas on other business and thought he would drop in, unannounced. He had expected to be inconvenienced and you never know what might come up in evidence, Roberto had thought. Arthur’s day off at Yaxchilan was not an offense but it would help enhance the perception that Arthur was no longer a reasonable investment.

There was a lengthy silence as the two men smiled at each other. Roberto’s smile was supercilious, Arthur’s was angry and tired.

‘So, what can I do for you?’ Arthur said eventually.

‘Nothing. I just thought I’d pop in. I’m leaving first thing in the morning. I had hoped to talk to you this afternoon,’ Roberto said.

‘Have they given you a hut?’

‘Yes. They moved your American friends. The geologist and his grandson. We’re not paying the grandson too, are we?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Good. Is that the geologist there?’ Roberto indicated the silent Hamish.

‘Yes,’ Arthur said.

‘Doesn’t speak Spanish, I assume?’

‘No,’ Arthur said.

Arthur sat down next to Michelle and helped himself to some of the cold food.

‘When do you expect to be finished, Arthur?’ Roberto asked.

‘Soon,’ Arthur said.

‘Soon is not an exact term. Not as far as I understand Museum finances. I believe the funding will be exhausted in a week, at least that was the date you proposed.’

Arthur ate.

‘Are there any liabilities that have not been accounted for yet?’

‘No, it’s all been paid for. All the major items. There’s just the wages and some incidentals,’ Arthur said.

‘Anymore holiday trips expected as part of the budget? I don’t think there’s much room left for those items,’ Roberto said. He had used a false soft voice.

‘There’s just cataloguing to be finished. Michelle has almost done her bit.’

‘Good. I will look forward to seeing you back in Mexico City, next week, I would assume?’

‘Yes, probably,’ Arthur said.

Roberto wondered if he might pursue the ‘probably’, but there was little to gain by further targeting Arthur’s vagueness.

‘I’ve had a little chat with your assistant here,’ Roberto said meaning Michelle, knowing that would annoy her.

‘I’m not his assistant, Roberto,’ Michelle said angrily, accepting the bait. She disliked Roberto. She hated how Arthur was demeaned by him. She preferred Arthur’s problems to be caused by her alone.

‘No, of course you aren’t. With the amount of money your services require, the Museum couldn’t afford you on staff,’ Roberto said.

‘I failed to understand at the time of your proposal,’ Roberto said to Arthur, ‘and I continue my lack of understanding, why someone as expensive as Michelle,’ Roberto intentionally did not associate Michelle with skill. ‘Why she was needed on a project as, relatively, small as this one. It’s still a substantial expense to the museum, but you know what I mean Arthur.’

‘There’s Mayan writing to decipher, Roberto. It’s all in the proposal.’

‘Of course,’ Roberto paused as if he had not thought of that. ‘It’s all in the proposal. It was a good proposal Arthur. Well thought out and well planned. But, whatever you discovered here could have been copied and sent to Michelle. In her busy, and expensive,’ Roberto smiled at Michelle, ‘schedule she could have decoded the writing you discover while she remained in the USA. Or perhaps, for the cost of an airline ticket and a few nights accommodation, she could have come to Mexico and seen the originals, after the fact. I have the impression, Arthur, that you’re expending Museum money to holiday with your ex-partner.’

Michelle stood up abruptly. Hamish thought she was going strike the Mexican man but she simply glared and clenched her fists before walking out of the dining hut. She melted into the darkness outside. Roberto watched the fly-screen door until it had swung shut after Michelle had crashed it violently open.

‘Did you two ever marry?’ Roberto said. He knew the answer.

‘No,’ Arthur said quietly.

‘What a pity. Or a blessing.’

Hamish felt he should leave too. He stood, held out his hand to Roberto and said, ‘Good night.’

Roberto shook Hamish’s hand, while he remained seated and said, in English, ‘Good night. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.’

Hamish stopped outside in the darkness as he tried to remember which hut he had been told his clothes and other belongings had been moved to.

‘Such a nice man, that one. Quiet, for an American, that is. What’s his name?’ Roberto asked.

‘Hamish. And he’s a New Zealander,’ Arthur said.

‘Really? I wouldn’t have known by his accent. I haven’t seen his grandson. Is he nice? And where is he?’ Roberto asked.

‘I don’t know where he is.’

‘Hamish is the geologist, right?’ Roberto asked trying to be annoying.

‘Yes. You know that Roberto. You just said it. What’s your point?’

‘He looks too old to be a geologist. He’s a good friend of yours, is he? Another one on holiday here?’

Arthur laughed, loud and long. He nearly choked on his food. Roberto was perplexed.

‘Too old for a geologist?’ Arthur said, once his laughter had subsided. ‘Age, in geology, is a distinct advantage, I would have thought.’

Chapter 23

Roberto left, without farewells, before dawn the next day. The car headlights and a loud conversation with his driver were calculated to wake the village. Arthur lay in his hammock, after Roberto’s departure, with a re-found relief that he had only to cope with the immediate problems of an expedition and dwindling funds.

He got out of his hammock, dressed in the dark and shuffled to the dining hut. He tentatively opened the fly-screen door, half-fearing Roberto was still sitting there. The hut was empty. He decided to get a cup of coffee.

Inside the kitchen hut, where the KulWinik prepared meals for themselves and for visitors, a tiny fire-orange glow flickered as a shape moved to and fro intermittently blocking the light. When Arthur was close he heard the murmur of women talking in low voices. Pep’Em Ha was with her mother. He quietly greeted them. They momentarily stopped work and then continued preparing tortillas.

Arthur asked for some coffee.

‘Breakfast will not be ready for awhile,’ Pep’Em Ha’s mother said brusquely.

‘No, no. That’s OK. I don’t want any yet. Just coffee if that’s not too much trouble.’

‘Pep’Em Ha will bring it to you.’

Arthur went back to the dining hut. He sat under the single bare bulb light hanging from the ceiling and looked at the papers he had brought from his hut but he did not read them.

He had been upset by Roberto, more than usual. He could usually ignore those bureaucratic problems but in his pre-coffee, sleep inertia state, he worried about his work at the Museum. He did not know what he would do if he could not work in Mexico or if he was too old for academic employment in archaeology. What else would he do? Come back to the KulWinik village? Without Michelle? He could not stand that.

His anxiety about himself led him to think about Hamish. He had expected a more demonstrable reaction to grief from his old friend. He had expected a little conversation about Kate and his family but Hamish had said nothing. Although, he was not sure that talking would help. At the time of his own distress with Michelle, he had not wanted to talk to anyone although both Hamish and Kate had tried.

Maybe, Arthur thought, Hamish isn’t affected? Perhaps he’s just getting on with things, like looking after Jim. Arthur’s thoughts drifted as he headed towards sleep again. Although Jim needs no looking after. He would bet on Jim surviving in a hostile world more than his grandfather. He’s an amazing kid, he thought. What? Seventeen? He’d pass for twenty, easily. Older even. He gets on with everyone, my team members, the KulWinik. Even Michelle.

Arthur’s mind kept wandering. He should have stayed in his hammock but he did not want to walk back to his hut. I’m glad I was able to convince Michelle to come. Roberto was right. That was the reason. I wonder if she still thinks of those years? Sometimes, just sometimes, he thought, I wonder what it would be like to sleep with her again. No, not really. Yes, of course I do. All the time. I wonder where her husband is? I wonder if she knows? Or cares? Arthur was nearly asleep. His eyes had lost focus and his head was nodding. Pep’Em Ha came into the dining hut with a pot of coffee and a mug. She placed it next to Arthur which woke him. His body shuddered with the small fright.

‘Thank you, Pep’Em Ha,’ Arthur said a little too quickly and loudly, proving his surprise.

Arthur’s thoughts began chasing a thread that began with how much Pep’Em Ha had grown since he lived in the village. Each further thread circled and, eventually, returned to Michelle.

His coffee cooled and remained undisturbed. He slept with his head on his forearms.

Chapter 24

Michelle was the first to arrive at the dining hut. The sun had barely risen as she stood inside the doorway and watched Arthur as he slept. He was no longer the younger man she had loved. He was older and, at that compassionate moment, frail, she thought. Ten years had changed him. She quietly guided the fly-screen door shut and noticed the weathered marks and lines on the back of her hand. She felt the weight of her own age. It had happened to them both, she thought. The sleeping Arthur caused a wave of sadness as strong as a pang of hunger. It may be time to look forward, she thought, and not backward.

She sat next to him and closely examined his sleeping face. She gently roused him and he woke with a frown and incomprehension. Michelle’s face was close, he smiled. It was a pleasant way to wake.

Michelle had thought she would be with Arthur for the rest of her life. She had left her husband for him. They had lived the KulWinik subsistence lifestyle together. The villagers had refused further contact with missionaries and anthropologists. She had done that. The two of them had helped save their ancient way of life. They had fought, and almost won, the battles to save their forest.

It had taken ten years but, perhaps, she could begin to love Arthur again. She returned Arthur’s smile and placed her hand on his shoulder.

Arthur and Michelle remained in the dining hut all morning as the members of the team and Hamish came in for breakfast, ate and then left. Arthur discussed his budget problems and they talked of their expectations for the work to come. They complained about Roberto.

They were alone when Pep’Em Ha came into the dining hut in the mid-morning. She stood by the door as they talked. She hesitated, she could not interrupt. She wanted to be more like Jim, confident in the company of elders. However, the execution of that intent was too daunting. Her village social training was not so easily overcome. She had been forthright to enter and stare. The next step, to approach and intervene was beyond her. However, she was pleased, she would not have been so bold before Jim’s arrival. She was happy as if she had made progress in conquering a malaise.

Michelle noticed Pep’Em Ha.

‘Hi, Pep’Em Ha. What would you like?’

‘Yax K’in has asked me to tell you that he’s ready to go.’

‘He’s ready? Did he mention when?’ Arthur asked.

‘He did not say a time,’ Pep’Em Ha said, truthfully.

‘I’ll go and find him,’ Arthur said to Michelle, ‘and see exactly when he wants to go.’

‘Do you know where he is now?’ he asked Pep’Em Ha.

‘Yes. He’s outside. He’s ready to go,’ she said.

‘Now?’ Arthur stood quickly.

Yax K’in was at the end of the dirt road into the village, staring into the middle distance. He patiently waited as if he would remain there for as long as it took for the next task to begin.

‘Yax K’in,’ Arthur said to him in greeting.

Yax K’in smiled at both Arthur and Michelle.

‘So, you’re ready to go are you? I wasn’t told,’ Arthur said.

‘Yes, we may go.’

‘When?’ Arthur asked.

‘We may go now.’

‘OK,’ Arthur said with soft exasperation. Nothing happened for long periods of time and then, without warning, he was expected to react immediately. When Arthur had complained of that behavior, at other times, he had been told, ‘Haven’t you been waiting for this? Now we will do what you want.’ Arthur could not explain the Western ideas of planning and notice.

Arthur asked Michelle, in English, ‘Are you OK to go now? I’ll go and get a car.’

‘I guess so. Is it far?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’

‘Yax K’in, is it far from here?’ Arthur asked.

‘No.’ Yax K’in hesitated, then added, ‘It’s not too far.’ As an afterthought, he said, ‘But we will need a car, it’s too far for an old man to walk.’ Yax K’in smiled. ‘I doubt I could walk there myself and it is much too far for you, my old friend.’

Arthur left Michelle standing next to Yax K’in.

Michelle wanted to query Yax K’in’s tenderness at the end of the balche session. After she had asked him he was silent for a long time before he answered.

‘Not now Michelle. It’s not the time. Today may, yet, not happen. Let’s wait and see.’ Yax Kin smiled at her and she knew no meaningful answer would be forthcoming.

After ten minutes a car pulled up and Arthur emerged from the driver’s side. He opened the passenger door for Yax K’in. Hamish was in the back seat and Michelle got in next to him.

‘I hope you don’t mind but Hamish said he’d like to come along,’ Arthur said as Yax K’in pulled himself up and into the car by holding onto the door and the door frame.

A single lane dirt road led out of the village and when they approached the first T-intersection Arthur slowed the car. He glanced at Yax K’in, to whom maps and directions meant little, Arthur knew, and then turned in the direction towards Yaxchilan.

Arthur received no assistance at other intersections. Yax K’in appeared transfixed by the view out of his side window. The t’o’ohil was petulantly allowing the supposed inevitability to prove itself. He had decided to not help in the discovery process.

They drove for half an hour traveling in broad circles.

Arthur was exasperated and pulled the car over to the side of the road. He had not expected exact directions, he had expected some confusion but not neglect.

‘Do you know where this place is?’ he asked, almost in an unfriendly voice. His thoughts had been of Roberto and the dwindling budget while they had driven pointlessly. ‘Have you been there before?’

‘It’s not far from the village,’ Yax K’in said, as he peered out of the side window. ‘It’s the reason the village is where it is.’ Yax Kin was silent for a moment. ‘Keep going. If you wish,’ he said quietly.

‘If I wish? What does that mean?’ Arthur said angrily, in English. He knew Yax Kin would not understand.

They drove on. Arthur randomly chose directions and did not query Yax K’in again.

Hamish was enjoying himself, unconcerned by the tension in the front seat. He was pleasantly reminded of his childhood Sunday afternoon excursions, when his parents would drive their car through the New Zealand countryside, with no direction in mind, to explore and travel roads they thought were interesting. Their destination was irrelevant. They would return home in the late afternoon having passed the idle time of a Sunday afternoon together, as a family.

Arthur turned at an intersection and recognized a road already travelled. He pulled the car over, again. Fields of maize stretched in all directions. Hamish was smiling with his reminiscences while Michelle’s face was drawn and angry as she thought of the wasted time.

‘I think we should go back,’ Arthur said unhappily. ‘That’s about all we can do. I don’t know what else to try.’

‘Good,’ said Michelle firmly. Hamish smiled vacantly at Arthur and nodded his agreement.

Yax K’in faced forward and sighed.

‘We are here,’ he said.

‘Where are we?’ Arthur asked.

‘We are here,’ Yax K’in repeated.

Michelle peered though her window. ‘There’s nothing here,’ she said.

‘Let’s get out and stretch our legs,’ Arthur said. He was tired from the balche session, the trip to Yaxchilan and by his broken sleep after Roberto’s visit. He did not want to say anything with real anger to Yax K’in.

Arthur, Michelle and Hamish got out of the car and stood together in front of it.

‘Arthur, what do we do?’ Michelle said. ‘I’ve got to get back to work.’ She put both her hands on top of her head and pressed her hair in exasperation. She let her hands fall to her side.

Hamish had nothing meaningful to contribute. He kicked a small stone from the side of the road out onto the tarmac. He had no expectations for Arthur’s project. He had done no work and it looked like he was about to return home. He began planning what to do with Jim when he returned to Boston. He assumed it would be soon.

The distinct shades of purple of each, higher horizon of the Southern Mexican Highlands were finely chiseled. Hamish noticed a strangely familiar relationship between the different horizons. He followed what he thought was a logical pointer in the shapes of the mountain ridges that appeared to resolve at an ancient mound about a kilometer away. It was like the many he had noticed on the way to Yaxchilan, a hundred feet high and a regular pyramid-like shape. A clump of scraggly trees grew at the base, where there was a collection of shanty huts, roughly assembled to provide shelter for laborers in the maize fields. The huts were as abandoned as the temple mound that rose above them.

‘There’s something,’ Hamish said and raised his arm.

Arthur laughed. He walked back to the car and opened the passenger door.

‘There’s nothing here. Except for an old mound in a maize field,’ Arthur said. He rested one arm on the door and the other on the roof of the car as he bowed his head to Yax K’in.

‘We must go there,’ Yax K’in said.

Arthur sighed and gently shut the passenger door. Yax K’in stared at Hamish as he kicked at stones like he was Jim’s age.

Arthur called the others back to the car. They drove on, slowly, searching for a road through the maize that might bring them closer to the mound. They turned at the next road when they had failed to find a route. It wasn’t until they had turned again, and were on the far side of the mound, that there was a single lane dirt track leading into the field of maize.

Arthur stopped the car. Yax K’in stared fixedly out of his side window again.

‘Shall we go on an adventure?’ he asked the occupants of the back seat. Neither of them answered. He moved the car forward.

‘Let’s hope we don’t get caught trespassing,’ Arthur said.

Chapter 25

Arthur drove slowly, the track was rough. The maize grew close so that passengers on either side could have opened their windows and touched the growing maize plants. The path did not lead directly to the mound but followed its own whim until it came tantalizing close and then circled around to the opposite side. It ended in front of the shacks where there was room enough for a car to turn around.

Arthur got out, leant on the open door and shouted, ‘Ola!’, a number of times but there was no answer to his hello.

‘It looks like there’s no one here,’ he said. ‘Let’s have a look around.’

Arthur, Michelle and Hamish set off towards the summit of the mound. Yax K’in let them go. He strode away from the car and plunged into the field of maize.

‘Where’s he going?’ Michelle asked.

‘No idea,’ Arthur replied.

Hamish watched Yax K’in’s movement through the maize. The plants rose to his shoulders so his head appeared to part a way through a still, discontinuous green sea. Yax K’in stopped and looked back at the mound. Hamish almost waved to signal a hello. He turned away and resumed his climb towards the summit.

Yax K’in’s eyes ran along the lines of the distant ridges. Each one was a familiar shape he had learned, the descriptions told and re-told over many generations. He moved a few steps sideways and then back for half a dozen more, all the time his eyes were fixed on the horizons and their relationship to the mound. He halted. The perspective matched the shapes he had committed to memory. He knew beyond doubt he was standing at the location burned into the memory of his ancestors. It was the place, so the stories told, where his first ancestor had heard the last words spoken by Hachakyum. Yax K’in’s eyes fell to the ground, a little to his right. That is the place, he believed, where Hachakyum had stood when the fate of the world was decided.

He was on holy ground. There had to be a reason the stories had lasted so many generations. His father and grandfather had never been to that place, he knew.

Yax K’in noticed his two friends and Hamish at the summit of the mound.

‘Arthur will be happy,’ he thought. ‘He will have all the work he wants. And I hope, for his sake, that Michelle will be as happy.’ He was relieved. It was the beginning of the end, and the responsibility he and his ancestors had shouldered could now to be shared with his two friends from the Western world.

Yax K’in returned and sat in the shade of one of the huts to wait for the others. He smoked a cigar and stared through the curls of smoke out over the green expanse of growing maize.

The others returned. Michelle was again impatient. Arthur left her with Hamish and sat next to Yax K’in.

Yax K’in broke the silence between them. Arthur knew that was unusual.

‘You must dig here.’

‘Why this place? It’s an unimpressive site. There are hundreds all over the lowlands.’

Yax K’in stared at him with a searching, unfamiliar gaze. Arthur felt he was meeting Yax K’in for the first time.

‘There are ancient stories I have not told you,’ Yax K’in said.

‘I’ve heard most of them, I think,’ Arthur said, wryly. ‘There can’t be too many I don’t know.’ He picked up a broken piece of stone and turned it over. He peered closely at it looking for markings but it had none. He tossed it back onto the ground.

‘Yes. There are even stories you know that I haven’t heard,’ Yax K’in said. ‘That is true. But there are stories only I know. And that Pep’Em Ha now knows. They were told to me by my father. It was the same with my father and his father before him. The stories go back many generations, passed from one t’o’ohil to the next. They began with Hachakyum.’

‘Are you going to tell them to me, are you?’ Arthur asked.

‘No. I do not need to. They came from here.’

‘How do you know?’

‘While you were climbing I stood at a sacred spot. Hachakyum made this place so that it was forgotten but could be remembered by the t’o’ohil. I do not need to tell you the stories. They are here.’

‘Where?’

‘You must dig for them.’

Chapter 26

Pep’Em Ha, after she had delivered her message to Arthur, searched for Jim and her brother. She found them lounging outside Arthur’s hut, sitting at the white plastic table. Pep’Em Ha and her brother were dressed in Western clothes and the three of them would have not looked out of place as a mixed-race group of teenagers in Mexico City or Los Angeles.

‘What else is there to do?’ Jim asked as he leaned back into his chair. It wobbled, so he leant forward, worried that it may collapse on him. The chairs were old and worn.

‘What would you like to do?’ Pep’Em Ha asked.

‘I don’t know.’ Jim put his forearms on the table and drummed his fingers. ‘You’ve never taken me into the jungle. I mean, right in.’

‘You haven’t been ready,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said.

‘Not ready?’ Jim exclaimed. ‘What do you mean?’ He rebelled at the idea of restrictions.

‘Yax K’in asked us to wait and to not take you or your grandfather into the jungle,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

‘Why not?’ Jim asked defiantly.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother shrugged his shoulders. ‘How would we know?’ he said. ‘If my father says you’re not ready then, you’re not ready.’

Jim stood up and pushed his chair back out of his way. He was annoyed. ‘Well, I think I am. Where is Yax K’in? I’ll go and ask him what’s his problem.’ He put his hands on the table as he waited for one of his friends to reply. He did not really want to confront the t’o’ohil.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed. ‘You would get lost in the jungle and be eaten by a jaguar. Or scared by a howler monkey.’

‘Jim has told me about his jungles in New Zealand,’ Pep’Em Ha said to her brother, in Jim’s defense. ‘I’m sure he would be all right here.’

‘Do they have jaguars in New Zealand?’ her brother asked Jim.

‘No. But neither do you anymore,’ Jim’s face broke into a broad smile. Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed.

‘Yax K’in’s not here this morning,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘He’s gone with Arthur and Michelle.’

‘Is Hamish with them?’ Jim asked. He had an idea.

‘I don’t know,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

‘Hamish wouldn’t miss out on a trip with Arthur,’ Jim said. He hung his head as he thought, his hands remained on the table. The table surface was a dirty off-white color with mottled darker stains from spilt food and drink and from the smoke of kerosene lamps.

‘Let’s just go then. Why couldn’t we?’ Jim said.

‘I could show you how to hunt for jaguars,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said.

‘Yeah right,’ Jim said laconically, in English. The two KulWinik understood and laughed.

Yax K’in had asked Pep’Em Ha to ‘not take Jim into the jungle yet’. However, she thought, enough time had passed and Yax K’in’s ‘yet’ directive was no longer applicable. It made perfect sense to her.

‘But we should change,’ she said to her brother.

‘Why? It makes no difference,’ her brother replied.

‘Changed? Into what?’ Jim asked.

‘We should go dressed as KulWinik,’ she said.

Jim did not understand.

‘It’s a respect thing,’ she said.

‘Should I dress like you?’ Jim asked. ‘Do you think?’

Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed. ‘You have a good KulWinik nose but your red hair would scare the jungle gods if they saw you dressed like us. It would make them angry and they would set the jaguars on to you.’

Jim laughed too. ‘That would be good wouldn’t it?’ he said. ‘Then you could show me how you hunt them.’

‘Very funny,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said, in English.

‘You don’t have to get dressed like us,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

‘I’m not getting changed,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said petulantly. ‘There’s no point. You get changed if you want,’ he said to his sister. ‘I’ll wait here with Jim.’

‘Everyone wore tunics at the balche session. What’s the difference?’ Jim asked Pep’Em Ha’s brother.

‘My father is not here. That’s all the difference in the world.’

‘Would you like me to change, Pep’Em Ha?’ Jim asked, concerned for how she might feel.

‘No,’ she said firmly and stared angrily at her brother who ignored her. She left the boys and returned in ten minutes.

‘Your grandfather went in the car as well,’ she informed Jim.

‘Great. No interruptions,’ Jim said.

Pep’Em Ha had dressed in the white KulWinik cotton tunic that covered her from her neck to below her elbows to below her knees. Her black hair was tied into a single ponytail that fell to her lower back. She wore simple open toed sandals and carried a sheathed machete that she wore diagonally across her back.

Jim raised an eye at the weapon.

‘That’s for the jaguars,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed.

Pep’Em Ha carried three water bottles. She gave one to Jim and another to her brother.

The main path into the jungle, used by tourists mostly, began as a track wide enough for a four wheel drive vehicle. It narrowed imperceptibly as the three walked side-by-side until Jim had no room and he fell back to walk behind the others. The track narrowed further, and they were forced to walk single file, with Pep’Em Ha leading.

The jungle path, at the beginning of their odyssey, let in some sunlight. It beamed onto the ground in patches of brilliance or highlighted the broad leaves of the undergrowth. However, the canopy closed over them as they continued and the bright light retreated. The air became still, the humidity difficult. The path branched often and each time Pep’Em Ha chose the least used way. After they had walked for forty minutes the path had become a rarely used, arbitrary way through the forest.

Jim asked her brother why Pep’Em Ha led the way.

‘She knows the way. And she can see things I can’t,’ her brother said. He quickly added, ‘Of course, I can see things that you can’t.’

‘Like what?’ Jim said incredulous. He thought they had been walking through jungle devoid of life.

‘Like that Macaw up there.’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother pointed to the top of the canopy.

Jim stared where Pep’Em Ha’s brother pointed. ‘No. I can’t see anything.’

Pep’Em Ha took Jim’s head in her hands. She aligned his face to the Macaw perched high in the trees. He still could not see anything although he liked how Pep’Em Ha held his head.

Eventually, after some movement he saw a shape and a hint of color, perhaps red but he was unsure.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Jim said with disappointment. ‘It’s a bird. Great.’

‘You don’t see many of those anymore,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said as he peered into the canopy and then laughed. ‘Actually, I’ve never seen many of those. It’s the old men who say that.’

‘Am I becoming one of the old men?’ he asked his sister.

‘You’re beginning to look like one,’ Pep’Em Ha replied. She grabbed Jim by the shoulders and easily moved him between her and her brother. Jim was surprised at her strength. Pep’Em Ha’s brother pretended to raise his arm to strike. Pep’Em Ha giggled like she was ten years younger and ran a few steps up the path, away from her brother.

They continued along the track in single file. Pep’Em Ha’s brother gave his sister a push in the back as pay back.

‘Anything more than just birds?’ Jim complained as he trudged along last in line.

‘Yes, Jim,’ Pep’Em Ha called back. ‘We’re going to see more than just birds.’

The path through the jungle became difficult. Jim was moving into territory few Western visitors had seen. He was excited. He looked over his shoulder and there was nothing to show the way back. The ground at his feet was slightly compressed but Jim could not have found the path Pep’Em Ha briskly followed. He made sure he kept up, he did not want to be left behind, even if the two KulWinik did it as a joke.

They came to a steep incline. At that place there was a recognizable path but it was slippery from the jungle’s perpetual dampness. The two KulWinik slowed, but moved effortlessly up the slope. Jim had to hold onto tree trunks and branches to stop himself sliding back.

Jim called up the slope. ‘Slow down. I’m not a jungle-boy like you are.’ Jim had given up pretending that his limited experiences in the New Zealand forests matched living in the Central American jungles.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed at Jim bending over, holding onto the ground. Jim’s eyes were plaintive and his neck stretched upwards.

Pep’Em Ha came down to Jim and stopped just above him.

‘Don’t worry where your next step will be,’ she said. ‘It’s like that story you told me about you and your twin brother, when you jumped from boulder to boulder, on the New Zealand beaches.’

Jim’s face was at the same level as the hem of her tunic. He stared at it. It was darkened with spattered mud. Her sandaled feet, ankles and lower legs were a mottled mixture of olive skin, darker damp mud and the grey of dried silt. Jim thought she may have been about to offer him her hand to help him climb the slope. He prepared his refusal but then thought otherwise. Holding her hand and continuing to hold it after it was no longer needed for support was not a bad idea. He was surprised that he had not thought of that before. He had held her hand once, he remembered, when Yax K’in had pressed their hands together in greeting. However, he had not thought of Pep’Em as a woman. He wondered why that was.

Pep’Em Ha turned and climbed the slope without offering her hand. Jim watched her for a few seconds. He thought of the options his insight made possible. Sex, mostly, he thought. She was attractive, she liked him, at least as a friend, and that was a good start, he believed. Although he was unsure how to move from friendship to a sexual relationship. He assumed it happened spontaneously. However, he liked Pep’Em Ha too much, as a friend, so he dismissed his sexual musings. He did not yet know that a simultaneous friendship and sexual relationship was possible.

Jim began to climb using Pep’Em Ha’s instructions. He fell and slipped often but he travelled, overall, much quicker. However, his hands, knees and lower legs were filthy.

Pep’Em Ha and her brother stopped before they reached the top of the slope and observed Jim’s progress. He was glad he did not slip while under their gaze. He joined them and placed his hands on his hips as if he was waiting for a further climber to arrive.

Next to them was a natural opening into the hill. It was waist high and wide enough for a person to easily scramble through. Adjacent to the opening was a discarded cabinet, as if abandoned from someone’s living room, with two ill fitting doors that met in the middle. Over the top was a black plastic tarp that remained in place, fastened to the ground with tent pegs. The plastic covering attempted to protect the wood from the weather but had failed. The cabinet had deteriorated and was held together by chords fastened around it.

Jim’s face and eyes lit with excitement as he examined the cave entrance.

‘Is that what I think it is?’ he asked Pep’Em Ha.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed at Jim. ‘Do you mean the entrance to Xibalba and the home of the ancestors?’

Pep’Em Ha ignored her brother. His humor was feeble, as if he was trying too hard to be a Westerner. ‘The opening is small,’ she said. ‘But it’s huge inside.’ Jim’s excitement was contagious and she caught some of it.

Pep’Em Ha fiddled with the ties holding the cabinet together. She opened one of the doors and took out three flashlights. She turned them on and off. She gave one to Jim and the other to her brother. Jim saw that the cabinet contained many other things as well, like the ritual items displayed in the temple hut in the village.

Pep’Em Ha bent over onto all fours and sidled sideways into the opening. Her brother did the same after she had disappeared. He returned and put his head outside. ‘Watch out for your head,’ he said and disappeared into the hill again.

Jim was left on his own by the cave entrance. He turned his flashlight on and off then looked down the slope he had climbed. Although he was excited, he was enjoying the moment of being alone in the jungle, miles from the village. If anything happened to his friends he knew he could never find his way back. He noticed, for the first time since leaving the village, how noisy the jungle was. There were sounds of insects, many strange noises came from high in the canopy and there was a low rumble like distant traffic. Although, he thought, that may be the sound of his own blood racing. He was hot now that he was not moving. Perspiration ran down his face, chest and back. He took a sip of water then noticed that Pep’Em Ha and her brother had left their water bottles behind. He took another drink and left his next to theirs.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother’s head emerged. ‘We’re waiting jungle-boy,’ he said and disappeared again.

Jim followed.

Chapter 27

Jim had to crawl, sideways, for a few meters until he stood beside Pep’Em Ha and her brother on a wide ledge. The light from their flashlights reflected from the opposite wall thirty meters away. It was pitch dark below and above. Jim turned his flashlight on and ranged its light around the inside of the cave. The roof sloped up for a few meters behind him, followed the steep angle of the slope they had climbed then leveled off. The floor of the cave was four meters below them. There was a knotted rope that fell off the ledge.

‘This is awesome,’ Jim said in English. He peered over the edge and shone his light along the cave floor as if he intended to mark the way they should travel.

‘Have other people, I mean not KulWinik, been in here before?’ Jim asked, speaking Maya again. He hoped the answer was no. He had personal visions of great discovery.

Pep’Em Ha watched the shape of Jim’s body, she saw his movements as his head turned one way then the other, then up and down. His body shuffled in place with excitement as he stared at a fissure in the rock on the other side of the cave.

‘Just Arthur and Michelle. No others as far as I know. That was the first time Yax K’in brought me here too. I was only a child,’ she said.

‘Yax K’in performs rituals here,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘Only a few of the elders knew of this place. That only changed when I was a child. I was the first non-elder to come here, with Arthur and Michelle. My grandfather is buried here. Yax K’in says he wants to be buried here too.’

‘Do you want to be buried here?’ Jim asked her.

Pep’Em Ha laughed. ‘I never want to be buried. I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it,’ she said.

‘It has been used for centuries,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said. ‘Arthur told our father that it might have been used for thousands of years.’

Pep’Em Ha was satisfied with the cave’s initial impression on Jim. She tried to see it with his eyes. She remembered the many shadows the first time she had seen the place. She had been seven years old and the darkness had frightened her.

Jim was impatient to start exploring. ‘So, we climb down by this rope, do we?’ he asked.

Pep’Em Ha went first. She tucked her flashlight into her tunic and held the knotted rope with both hands as she climbed down to the cave floor. Jim noticed her light silhouette her legs as she climbed. His fleeting sexual image returned. He looked away and tried to make the image dissolve.

‘You go next,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said.

The surface of the cave was damp and slippery. When Jim let go of the rope his foot slipped. He put out his hand to brace himself but only Pep’Em Ha’s shoulder was there. His foot stopped sliding before his hand touched her. He withdrew his arm as he wobbled to a stop.

Pep’Em Ha led them along the ancient, well worn way to the other side of the cave. The fissure was a tall and thin tunnel, wide enough for one person and tall enough that Jim did not have to lower his head. The adjacent cave was as expansive as the one they had left. Pep’Em Ha stopped in the middle of the chamber and shone her light at the base of the rock wall, twenty meters away. It was littered with ceramic pots, some were intact but many were broken with the pieces carefully arranged together.

‘These are old god-pots. They have been buried here, just as if they had once been alive, as if they had been members of our village,’ she said. Her moving light came to the last group. ‘And these are the last ones that Yax K’in placed here.’

‘Yax K’in makes it here? Recently?’ Jim asked. He was astonished.

‘Yes, of course,’ Pep’Em Ha said with surprise. ‘He’s not so frail.’

‘I don’t think Hamish could have made it up that hill,’ Jim said.

‘Yax K’in comes at his own pace,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said. ‘It’s too slow for us. It would be a good pace for you, Jim.’

Pep’Em Ha did not like her brother’s joy in teasing. He said quite offensive things with a straight face that confused her. She wished her brother had not come. She wanted Jim’s enthusiasm to herself. She worried that the trip could easily become a loud, boys-only affair.

‘So, everyone from the village comes here, do they?’ Jim said. He was disappointed. He had an unfounded hope that the three of them had made a special, magical discovery, like ones at the beginning of stories that led the participants on an exciting quest.

‘No, Jim, not everyone,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

A chest-high tunnel led out of that second chamber. The narrow exit fell steeply for twenty meters. Progress was difficult as they crouched and steadied themselves with their hands on the damp floor and walls of the tunnel. They had to crawl in one place where the roof dipped down. They clambered out into the next chamber which was smaller. The floor climbed to a central mound four meters high. The only clear path followed the edge.

Jim trailed Pep’Em Ha as she led around the chamber perimeter. She stopped a quarter of the way around and waited until Jim was next to her. She unveiled the rock wall with her flashlight and Jim took a loud, involuntary breath. Pep’Em Ha was pleased.

Pep’Em Ha’s light revealed a display of red and black painted pictures and pictographs. They covered the wall for three meters above Jim’s head. He had seen similar images in the books his grandfather had been reading but those rock drawings were stark and beautiful beyond images in books. They were fresh and alive.

Pep’Em Ha’s light illuminated the closest image, a Mayan king with an enormously ostentatious head-dress. He had been painted in profile, his eyes following the rock wall. He had one arm bent pointing skywards and the other arm pointed in the direction he faced. He sat on a throne, a natural part of the rock wall that had been emphasized by a splash of red and a few dark lines. Seated next to the king was a woman although Jim could not have explained why he thought the image was female. Her face was as stark and angular as the seated king’s. Her tongue was extended. There was a bowl on the ground, at her knees, covered with what Jim realized represented the blood that dripped from her mouth. Over her head was a drawing of a dragon, Jim thought, with a small person sitting in its open mouth. Next to the two figures and the dragon was a series of square-shaped glyphs, the Mayan pictographic writing. Jim guessed they described the picture and who the people were.

‘Can you read this stuff?’ Jim asked Pep’Em Ha without taking his eyes from the images.

‘No,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

‘No KulWinik can read that writing,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said. ‘It’s the writing of dead people. You have to go to the gringos if you want to have it translated.’

‘Michelle can read it,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

‘Have you had it translated for you?’ Jim asked.

‘Michelle read some of it when she was here. It’s not easy to read like it’s Spanish or something,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

Jim placed his hand on the writing instinctively believing he could read the glyphs if he touched them.

‘That one is a king,’ she shone her light near Jim’s hand, ‘And the woman before him is a blood relation. The first part of her name is K’ul Kelem. There’s more to her name.’ Pep’Em Ha shone her flashlight onto the series of glyphs next to the woman. ‘But Michelle wouldn’t read it.’

‘Would Arthur know? Do you think?’ Jim asked, impatiently. The images were oddly compulsive as if they reflected a story he had heard as a child and had forgotten, but remembered that it was exciting.

‘I don’t know. Probably,’ she said. ‘She’s blood letting by pulling the stingray barb through her tongue. That’s that thing,’ Pep’Em Ha’s light shone on an object protruding from the woman’s tongue. ‘Arthur said there are similar images in other places.’

‘Her blood is collected here,’ she pointed her light at the woman’s knees, ‘and it’s burnt as an offering. Her suffering has brought to life the Vision Serpent. That’s what’s floating above her head.’

‘Who’s it eating?’ Jim asked.

‘It’s not eating anything. The picture is of an ancestor being summoned from the dead, she had brought them back to life to offer her and the king advice, perhaps. Or it could be a god that she’s summoned, from Xibalba. If you look really closely, the image is broken. There are two ancestors inside the mouth of the Vision Serpent.’

‘Blood letting has nothing to do with us KulWinik,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother impatiently interrupted. He was bored with the images so he turned and ranged his light over other parts of the cave.

Immediately above the Vision Serpent was an image of two ancient Mayans sitting cross-legged and facing each other. They wore elaborate head-dresses and held their arms out to each other, but without touching. Their faces were happy as if they had been reunited after a long absence. One of them had blotches on his skin. Next to them was a vertical series of glyphs.

‘What are those?’ Jim asked. He could see that they were twins and that was his interest in them.

‘They’re the Great Twins,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘From the creation stories. They’re celebrating their reunion, having been returned from the dead. It’s from a moment at the end of creation. Before they had defeated the Lords of Xibalba. Yax K’in says the Great Twins were the first mixing between our people and the gods. Hachakyum was their grandfather. They learnt from him how to outwit the gods. Through the Twins the world was destroyed.’

‘Do you believe all that stuff?’ Jim asked.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother answered quickly. ‘No. Of course not. It was only the old ones who are dead that really believed that stuff. I don’t think Yax K’in believes it the way people used to believe those stories. I hope not, he’s a sensible man my father. We are just the same as you,’ he said firmly, as if he was convincing himself as well as Jim. ‘Those are just old stories, although some of them are really good. Especially when Pep’Em Ha tells them. She spices them up if Yax K’in isn’t there.’

‘What about you, Pep’Em Ha,’ Jim asked.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said slowly. ‘The stories don’t sound strictly true. I think they’ve been re-told too many times.’ She laughed. ‘Although Yax K’in gets upset when I spice them up, as my brother likes, I think that has happened often over too many years. There may be a tiny bit of each story that’s true but how do we know which bit?’

She looked back to the image of the Twins frozen in greeting. They were drawn in that place to represent the enlarged image from inside the mouth of the Vision Serpent. She had not realized that until that moment.

‘Still,’ she said without full attention. ‘They’re great stories. And they’re fun to tell.’

‘How many more chambers are there?’ Jim asked. He had become uncomfortable staring at the image of twins.

‘There are more,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘But some of them have been used for burials and we shouldn’t go into those. There’s just one more I want to show you. We can look at more drawings on the way back. If you want to, that is.’

Pep’Em Ha led Jim and her brother further around the perimeter of the chamber then stopped and shone a light at her feet. There was a small opening, a dark patch no higher than her knees.

‘It’s through here,’ she said. ‘We can fit through but will you be all right?’

‘No problemo,’ Jim said. He was taller than his friends but he was not wider. The passage would not be any tighter for him.

‘You’ll have to wriggle through for a couple of meters,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

She lay face down on the rock and slithered like a snake through the opening. Her legs and feet disappeared as if she was being eaten, whole, by the rock wall. The reflection from her flashlight inside the next chamber escaped from the opening.

‘OK,’ her voice sounded from below Jim’s knees.

Jim lay down and shone his torch-light through the opening. He saw Pep’Em Ha’s legs and feet. He worked his knees, feet and forearms as he crawled. The way was tight but after a split second of claustrophobic worry half way through, he lost his fear when he knew he could move forwards and backwards. He relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of tonnes of rock pressing over his body. He smiled thinking of Hamish or Arthur trying to get through that entrance. His grandfather would not even try.

Jim wriggled along the rock floor in the new chamber until his knees were free. As he stood, Pep’Em Ha scrutinized his face, searching for fear or panic. She had taken a risk bringing him into that chamber. It was sacred to the KulWinik, only her and Yax K’in were allowed inside. She had, once, brought her brother but could only imagine Yax K’in’s reaction if he knew Jim had been there.

It was a small chamber, ten meters in diameter but it was tall, like a large chimney. There was only the single entrance. In the centre was an irregular circle of stones, each one about the size of a fist. There was blackened, burnt wood in the middle of the stone circle. There were no drawings or carvings on the cave walls.

‘It’s like hiding in a big cupboard,’ Jim said.

Pep’Em Ha took Jim’s hand in hers. ‘This is a sacred place,’ she spoke softly as if she could be overheard. ‘Yax K’in would not like it that you’re here. Don’t tell the others that I brought you here,’ she pleaded.

‘Yes, of course.’ Jim hoped she had more intense requests for him. He was disappointed when she removed her hand. He had not responded with any pressure of his own.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother emerged from the tiny entrance. Before he could stand she said, ‘I asked Jim to not tell the others about this cave. OK?’

‘Do I look stupid?’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said in English.

‘How long has this place been used?’ Jim asked.

‘Forever,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said. ‘It makes me shiver. I can’t imagine being here on my own, with only a burning torch. Like in the really old days.’

‘Jim,’ Pep’Em Ha explained as she sat down and signaled to him to join her. ‘My father and his ancestors, our ancestors,’ she included her brother, ‘came here to make offerings and perform rituals that were never done outside. This cave is dedicated to Hachakyum, our first god, the god who created us. Yax K’in would come here on his own, after my grandfather died, and perform rituals and recite stories that have been passed from one t’o’ohil to the next.’

Pep’Em Ha’s brother interrupted. ‘It is not only Yax K’in that comes here, to remember those stories, is it Pep’Em Ha?’ he said. ‘You come with him.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘At first I thought I was only here to help him. To carry things. But after being here a few times,’ Pep’Em Ha stopped. She grabbed Jim’s hand and pulled him down to sit next to her when he had remained standing.

‘It’s a special time I have with my father in here. At least there are no interruptions,’ she smiled at her own joke. ‘This is the place he has brought me to teach me the stories of the ancient times when Hachakyum lived among us. Yax K’in makes me recite the stories back to him, over and over again, until I have them word perfect. My father is patient, he expects perfection.’

‘After the first few times here,’ she said. ‘But before he began teaching me the stories, Yax K’in expected me to do all the rituals. It was fun although I was very nervous. I didn’t want to make a mistake. I don’t believe I’ll anger the gods but I wanted to impress my father.’

‘Did you?’ Jim asked. He was enthralled at Pep’Em Ha’s responsibility. He had never had such adult expectations placed on him.

‘Yes. Eventually,’ she said. ‘When I’d learned all the rituals and had done them perfectly and after he’d taught me many of the ancient stories, he made me sit down next to him. Right here,’ she patted her palm on the ground next to her. ‘We turned off our lights. He said I was ready and that I should listen for the voices.’

‘So? Did you hear any?’ Jim asked. He was intrigued and, also, a little scared as if Pep’Em Ha was telling a good ghost story. It was the right place for it, he thought.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I was disappointed that I didn’t but, how could I expect to hear voices? I thought I would be a little crazy if I did.’

‘I heard them,’ exclaimed Jim, glad to be part of the story, ‘at Yaxchilan. Or I thought I did.’

‘You heard voices? Where?’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother laughed. ‘You mean when you got lost in the Labyrinth? You are crazy, my friend. Did they sound like ghosts?’ He made ‘Woo’ sounds as he tried to imitate what he had heard in old ghost movies.

‘No,’ Jim said quickly. He was embarrassed. He had forgotten that he had not told Pep’Em Ha’s brother. ‘I didn’t hear voices talking. I heard a sound like lots of people whispering. Hamish says he hears that all the time, it’s something wrong with his ears. He said I’ll have to get my ears checked when I get home. That’s all it was.’

Jim was certain what he heard had not been tinnitus but would not admit it in front of Pep’Em Ha’s brother. Pep’Em Ha knew he was lying. She often spoke to her brother like that herself, it made serious things he did not want to understand easier to explain.

‘I brought my brother in here,’ she said to continue her story before the boys hijacked it. ‘Without telling Yax Kin, and did the same with him.’

Jim turned to Pep’Em Ha’s brother. ‘Did you hear voices? he asked but knew what the answer would be, even if he had heard voices.

‘No, I’m not crazy. And I didn’t like it. It’s too dark.’

‘So, Pep’Em Ha, you want to know if I hear your voices, in this place? Do you?’ Jim asked.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Why me?’

‘Because you had heard voices at Yaxchilan and because you’re my friend,’ she said.

‘I can try, as long as your brother doesn’t start whispering.’

‘He won’t,’ she gave her brother a hard look. ‘Even he knows this place is special.’

Her brother ignored her but she knew that he understood.

‘Why is it so important?’ Jim asked.

Pep’Em Ha hesitated. She had not anticipated that obvious question.

‘Yax K’in told me,’ she began to say then stopped. She was saying too much but she trusted Jim. Once she had led him into Hachakyum’s cave her path was set.

‘He told me I would be the next t’o’ohil. When I heard the voices, Hachakyum would have chosen me.’

‘That’s awesome,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said in English. ‘Did he? Really?’ he said in Maya again. He knelt down next to his sister and gave her a bear hug that squeezed the breath out of her as he pinned her arms to her sides.

Jim smiled, wondering why her brother was so excited. ‘Is that a good thing?’ he asked her brother.

‘It means I’m off the hook.’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother finished hugging his sister and sat down next to her. ‘Not that I was ever really in danger of being the t’o’ohil. Yax K’in would refuse to die if I was the only option he had,’ he laughed at his own incompetence. ‘I’m really free now, there’s no way I’ll be stuck here. The slight possibility that Yax K’in would insist that I be trained as the t’o’ohil was the only thing stopping me. All of his older sons are not interested and none have remained in the village. Some have even gone to Mexico City. That’s where I’ll go. Maybe I’ll come and visit you in Boston, Jim.’

‘But not yet,’ he said to his sister. ‘I won’t leave you alone with all the old people. Not just yet.’

‘It’s not certain,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘It would take years and years. And the few elders still here would not want a woman being the t’o’ohil. But there is a precedent, Yax K’in says I can rely on that.’

She placed her hand over her mouth. She had said too much. Yax K’in had made her memorize the ancient stories but had told her to never repeat them. Not even to the other elders. The subject of those old stories, when Hachakyum lived among the Mayans, was the first leader of her ancestors.

The life of Hachakyum’s human wife was a dangerous secret. She was the template Hachakyum had used for human creation.

There were some stories so strange she was embarrassed, almost ashamed that she knew them by heart. Outside the solemnity of the private story-telling sessions with her father she could not bring herself to think seriously of them. She would never discuss them, her father’s directive had been in no danger of being ignored. How could she tell anyone that her father believed, with no doubt whatsoever, that the t’o’ohil could not die. Not until the next t’o’ohil was chosen by Hachakyum. Hearing the voices was the key and she hoped to diffuse the preposterous notion by sharing it, without explanation, firstly and without success with her brother and subsequently with Jim.

The two boys had not heard Pep’Em Ha and had not noticed her embarrassment. They celebrated Pep’Em Ha’s brother’s future freedom by slapping their hands over her head in high-five's and planning their time together in the USA.

She was glad Jim had not heard but she was disheartened that he was being distracted. Pep’Em Ha withdrew her hand from over her mouth and waited for the boys to finish.

‘So, shall we listen for voices?’ Jim said once the celebrations were over.

Pep’Em asked him to turn off his light. Her brother had already done so. She then waited for a few seconds before she turned off her flashlight.

The darkness rushed at Jim, as if freed from a constraint. It filled the void left by the departed light. It pressed him on all sides and he felt it enter him and make him disappear. Jim had never known such smothering blackness and silence. The dark filled the chamber and its inhabitants as if it was the primary element. Jim was terrified. Death was like that. He thought, again, of the tonnes of rock that enclosed him and that he still had to wriggle his way out. He could not do it. The absolute void was like a set of chains restraining him, he would be stuck in that chamber forever.

He didn’t care about the consequences, he grasped Pep’Em Ha’s arm and felt down it to her hand and held it with the pressure he had forced himself to withhold when she had held his hand. She squeezed back. He was immensely grateful. She was alive and he had proof that he was not the only living thing. For a second, in his terror, he had a vision of existing apart from all things. There was nothing, he did know how to create his own world and he would live for eternity with no contrast, no contact, alone, cold and in the dark.

Jim wondered if that was what Harry felt when he died.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother broke the silence and brushed away the dark when he turned on his flashlight.

‘That’s enough,’ he said.

Jim quickly removed his hand from Pep’Em Ha’s.

‘I don’t like that for too long,’ her brother said. ‘It’s like you could get lost just sitting here in the dark.’

‘Perhaps next time we’ll have longer,’ Pep’Em Ha said to Jim. ‘Then you could see if you hear the voices.’

‘Not with me around,’ said her brother.

Pep’Em Ha was glad. Her brother made special things mundane and, she thought, Jim would have a better experience if her brother was absent. She might even tell Jim, in the same place Yax Kin had told her, the Story of the Finder of Caves, the first of the stories Yax K’in had forbidden her to tell others.

‘Let’s go,’ said her brother. ‘There are too many dead old people down here.’

Pep’Em Ha’s brother wriggled out of the chamber first. Jim crouched in preparation to lie flat on the rock. Pep’Em Ha stood over him.

‘Thanks,’ he said. She understood and that he could not have said that in front of her brother.

They retraced their steps out of the system of caves until they were again outside next to the wooden cabinet. Pep’Em Ha returned their flashlights. They drank from their water bottles.

‘I thought of my brother,’ Jim said.

‘When?’ asked Pep’Em Ha.

‘In the dark. I imagined what it was like being dead and I thought of him.’

‘I think in that cave it’s like being dead too,’ Pep’Em Ha’s brother said.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother began the decent.

‘Do you miss him a lot?’ she asked Jim.

‘Yes,’ Jim said softly so that her brother could not hear.

Pep’Em Ha quickly squeezed Jim’s hand then set off down the slope, away from the cave entrance and back towards the village.

Jim watched her for a moment before he followed her.

Chapter 28

The teenagers separated when they returned to the village. Jim went to the hut he shared with his grandfather. It was empty. I might lie down for awhile, he thought. But he stood in the entrance. It was too hot in the hut so he went for a swim in the nearby, shallow stream.

Jim swam breast-stroke against the swift flowing water. The stream was clear and cool and the activity refreshed him. Lying in a hammock would not have done so. He swam hard and kept his eyes open when he immersed his head under water at the bottom of each stroke. For fractions of a second he viewed a myopic world of sand, pebbles and rocks. When he felt the water’s pressure forcing him downstream he held onto rocks on the stream bed. Then he would stretch his body and feel the water flow over and around him. The swirling water, delineated by bubbles formed by upstream eddies, raced towards him like a blocked, impatient crowd of city people. He imagined the water was annoyed having to split, flow, eddy and merge again to continue its journey downstream and homeward. He didn’t care that he was an obstacle.

When he’d had enough swimming he simply stood up and walked back to the bank. His legs left a trail of annoyed eddies as they were forced to mix and dissipate as he waded through the water. He sat in the shade on the bank at the edge of the stream. He drew his knees to his chest and held them there by encircling his shins with his arms.

Pep’Em Ha sat down next to him. He had not heard her coming. She was again dressed as a Western teenager.

‘Thanks for today,’ Jim said. ‘I really enjoyed that.’

Pep’Em Ha didn’t reply.

‘Do you think your father will be annoyed?’ he asked. ‘That you took me into the jungle, without asking him, I mean.’

‘We’ll see,’ she said. ‘He won’t be angry with you. Just with me. But, no, I don’t think so. Or, at least, not for long.’

Pep’Em Ha laughed. She stretched her legs in front of her and placed both her hands on the ground behind her back. ‘He can’t stay angry with the next t’o’ohil can he?’ She sat up straight, crossed her legs and rested her forearms on her knees. ‘That’s a secret, remember?’

‘Sure,’ Jim said. He let go of his legs and sat cross-legged, like Pep’Em Ha. ‘When I went back to my hut, I was glad Hamish wasn’t there. I think I just won’t tell him. You really had to be there to understand. He can organize his own trip if he wants to.’ Jim laughed. ‘Anyway, he couldn’t make it up the hill.’

Pep’Em Ha smiled as Jim laughed. His joy was infectious, even though his laughter was short-lived, like a sharp ring of a bell struck only once reverberates afterwards.

There was a long silence.

‘I miss my brother,’ Jim said. ‘Today especially reminded me. I haven’t really thought about him since I came here. I feel guilty about that. Although, I’m sure Hamish would say it is all part of the natural cycle of things. You know, moving on.’ He said the last phrase in English without knowing he had switched languages. It shocked him when he realized he was thinking in Maya. He wondered at the rapidity of his language success. He tried, as best he could, to translate “moving on”.

‘Although,’ Jim continued. ‘Hamish has no concept of moving on. Not for himself. You know my grandmother left him last year?’

Jim thought how beautiful Pep’Em Ha was as she listened attentively.

‘No. Is he still sad?’ she said.

‘Sad? Not to look at him. But it consumes him. He’s one of those guys that keeps everything to himself. He’s been only worried about me. Before we came here he was trying to get me to talk all the time. He was driving me crazy. I had to tell him to shut up. But, there was no way he would talk about grandma. Not a word. I found that annoying. He wanted me to talk about everything, even things that didn’t bother me, but he would not mention grandma. Or let me mention her,’ Jim said. ‘I mean, what if what was bothering me was grandma leaving him? However, it’s been good since we’ve been here. He’s left me alone with you.’

‘I still feel sorry for him,’ Jim added. ‘It must be hard to lose your family and your wife. Especially when you’re so old. I think me being with him, here, helps him.’

Pep’Em Ha let Jim talk while she picked at blades of grass.

‘I mean,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to come at the start. To some remote village in the middle of nowhere, knowing no-one, no TV, nothing. Leaving school, my friends, to come and sit in the jungle as my grandfather wandered around in circles hammering on rocks.’

Jim continued quickly. ‘I don’t feel like that now. Back in Boston is another world. Apart from my friends, I don’t really want to go back.’

Jim picked up some fallen leaves and plucked some of the coarse grass. He strongly threw the mixture over the stream as if they were stones. They left his hand slowly and fluttered down, just reaching the edge of the stream where they were consumed and carried away.

‘I miss Mum and Dad,’ Jim said. His voice wobbled as he barely held his emotions in check. He waited and tried to control himself. He didn’t mind crying in front of Pep’Em Ha but he thought of her face, without looking at her next to him, and he was able to continue.

‘But,’ Jim said in a clearer voice. ‘I miss Harry the most. When you’re twins there’s a bond that’s not like you’re just brothers. At least I think so. We were different than our friends who had brothers and sisters. But, then again, their brothers and sisters were older or younger while Harry and I were the same age.’

Jim threw more plucked grass into the stream but that didn’t satisfy him. He twisted as he looked around his body, trying to find a stone he could throw. He had to do something physical while he talked.

‘My brother and I have a bond,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘But it’s not like you say. Like you had with your brother. We disagree a lot.’

Jim interrupted. ‘We had some big fights but we never really disagreed. We seemed different than other people.’

‘Our lives are different here,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘My brother and I are from the same father and mother but we have many siblings who are older than us who are the children of Yax K’in and other mothers. Some have children older than we are. They’ve left the village. My brother will leave soon. I’m sure of that.’

‘But,’ Jim said. ‘He said he’ll stay with you until, you know, you’re the t’o’ohil.’

She laughed. ‘That’s a wonderful idea, but that’ll be a long time. My brother will not last that long. He’s bored here. You saw him at the balche session. The elders that are left may not allow a woman t’o’ohil. There may be no next t’o’ohil.’

‘My brother won’t stay,’ she said. ‘Once you’ve gone, once there’s no more excitement from Arthur’s Westerners being in the village, he’ll drift off to San Cristobal de las Casas or, to Mexico City. Some of Yax K’in’s sons live there. That’s where he’ll go. He would stop being a KulWinik. He’s smart, he would do something,’ she said.

‘And you’ll stay here?’

‘Of course,’ she said firmly.

Jim moved forward, put his hand into the water, retrieved some stones, sat back again and returned them to the stream by throwing them out to where he had been swimming. He wanted to offer to stay with Pep’Em Ha after her brother had left.

‘Do you want to know what happened to my family?’ Jim asked her while he threw stones. It had been a difficult decision to ask her that question but easier than the offer he was considering.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not like your grandfather. I’m your friend. If you want to tell me, then I’ll listen. I know about normal things Jim. I know about people. I know the rest of the world doesn’t live like us. I know how you live. You can talk to me the same as you would with your friends in Boston or New Zealand.’

Pep’Em Ha leant towards Jim. She used her right hand to steady his face as she kissed him on the lips. She did not prolong it but it lasted longer than a kiss of greeting between familiars.

He didn’t know how to react to Pep’Em Ha’s kiss. He carried on talking and attempted to ignore it. He would have to think it over later. He didn’t know what type of kiss it was. If it was a compassionate kiss, a friendly kiss, a feeling-sorry-for-you kiss or any of the myriad types of non-sexual kisses. Or perhaps it wasn’t a non-sexual kiss.

‘It was just a stupid car crash. A stupid truck. The stupid truck driver hardly knew what happened.’ Jim punctuated each sentence by throwing a stone into the water using all his strength. ‘Just a bump to him and I lost my family. I was in the back seat with Harry. I was hardly scratched and they were all dead. If I’d been on the other side, you’d be talking to Harry now.’ Jim laughed bitterly, but it was over quickly.

‘It happens all the time,’ he continued. ‘Apparently. Although that doesn’t make it easier. It was all over the papers and the magazines. That really made Hamish upset. Grandma had become a celebrity before the accident. She left Hamish and she became famous,’ Jim laughed uneasily. ‘For a little while, that is. So they made a big deal out of it. Hamish said he was so upset because people were making money out of the death of his son and Harry. He yelled at grandma, when she called him, just before we came here. He was really mad with her. He just boiled over. Completely.’

‘He’d been hiding how angry he was,’ Jim said and then laughed at a memory.

‘He tried to hide his anger from me. Then, for no reason, he’d go berserk at random people. Never with me. That was the only thing I found funny at the time,’ Jim said. He looked back over the water and out to where he had been swimming. He wanted to be under water again, hassling the oncoming stream.

‘Hamish insisted I come down here,’ he said. ‘He would have brought me no matter what anyone said. I get that impression. I don’t think he wanted to be alone or maybe he thought the truck would come and get me while he was away. I shouldn’t make fun of him. Should I? He’s the only family I have. Grandma doesn’t count.’

‘You being here has made all the difference. Thanks for that,’ Jim said. ‘And your brother, of course,’ he quickly added, wondering if he sounded too familiar. Pep’Em Ha’s kiss confused him and he didn’t want to presume any special meaning.

‘No problemo,’ Pep’Em Ha said using the same faux Spanish accent Jim used when he spoke those words.

Chapter 29

Trespass and discovery concerned Arthur at the new archaeological site. His first idea was that each morning he would make the other cars in his procession of workers wait on the main road while he and a driver journeyed up the bumpy single lane track. If there was occupation, his flimsy excuse was to be that he was a lost American tourist. He would ask directions to a nearby tourist site and would leave. However, that ruse necessitated that each evening they pack up completely, leaving behind disturbances that hinted at recent occupation but left no physical evidence. Arthur believed he could then repeat his innocence the following morning.

Michelle pointed out the obvious problem with his plan. Daytime discovery was unexplainable. Arthur remained inclined to initiate his plan but Michelle overruled him, refusing to waste time packing and re-packing the equipment.

The huts were empty the first morning of their arrival and Arthur’s team erected an open sided tent, started a small generator, set out water and food and made coffee before they began work.

They dug and shifted rubble like they were roadside maintenance workers, concentrating their efforts immediately below the summit. Arthur was horrified at the destruction he authorized, in his attempt to complete the excavations before his funding finished. He walked to the summit and scanned the countryside, intentionally not watching his team work.

Michelle saw him leave. She knew his concern and assumed his role. When Arthur returned he left her in charge, revoking his power of veto. Michelle organized the teams so they would ring the mound using two groups in tandem. One team dug until she decided there was nothing to find, it would then move to an adjacent location while a second team replaced the removed rubble.

Jim, Pep’Em Ha and her brother worked side by side, sometimes excavating and sometimes returning rubble to its original location. Jim thought about Pep’Em Ha’s kiss every time she smiled at him, which was often. He had never been in love before, although he thought he might have been. Pep’Em Ha was different from every other female peer. He felt stronger about her than he had with any other girl and closer than any friend. She confused him because he was convinced she was a friend and he could not be in love with a friend. He kept an eye on her as if by watching her carefully he could work out his own feelings. He was not successful.

Hamish did not feel obliged to work with the same vigor as the younger people. He helped with some of the digging and he replaced rubble at times but he spent more time sitting enjoying the view. The Southern Highlands’ ridges were oddly familiar although he decided they reminded him of trips to the South Island of New Zealand as a younger man. However, the shapes did trigger a compulsive sadness over and above what he considered his background noise of woe about Kate and his son’s family. He dismissed the feeling, knowing his paranoia could take unusual turns but each time his eyes were drawn to the horizons his extra sadness returned. When it became too much he returned to work removing and replacing rubble.

They finished work after the first day and had found nothing.

The sun had set and it was almost night as Arthur and Michelle prepared to leave in the last car. Michelle waited as he took a flashlight and ranged over the ground where they had set up camp. He flicked the light from side to side then bent over and pick up a piece of plastic wrapper and examined it as if it was proof of a major crime.

Michelle impatiently called to him. ‘Does it have your name and address on it Arthur? If not, then leave it and lets go. I’m hungry and I’m tired. Some of us have been digging all day,’ she said.

Arthur peered at the shape of the car, it had lost distinction in the diminishing light. He put the plastic in his pocket and walked back to the car to sit in the drivers seat.

‘I find it surprising,’ he said on the way back to the village. ‘That there has been absolutely nothing found.’

‘It’s only the first day, Arthur. Don’t be impatient.’

‘But there have been no ceramics, no shards of pottery, there’ve been no markings on any of the rubble, and the rubble does not look like worked stone at all,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen a Mayan site where there was nothing,’ he said. ‘Paths made out of the excavated rubble at tourist sites have more interesting artifacts. It’s strange.’

‘I’m tired,’ Michelle said. She was also exasperated. ‘I don’t want to think at the moment. But if you are forcing me to, then I would say it could be a natural, small hill with some occupation traces. It may not be anything to do with ancient Mayans. It may not be cultural,’ she said.

They were silent for the rest of the trip back to the village.

Michelle walked from the car and disappeared in the darkness. He waited until he saw a light burn inside her hut. He desperately wanted to join her.

Arthur entered Yax K’in’s hut without ceremony and sat heavily on the floor. Yax K’in thought his friend was distressed but then his eyes relaxed and he laughed out loud when he saw only weariness in Arthur.

‘You’ve spent too many years away from the milpa, my old friend,’ Yax K’in said.

Arthur agreed with a single wordless sound.

‘I have confidence,’ Yax K’in said. ‘Your skill will find what’s there.’

‘I have my doubts. It is not like any other site I’ve worked on.’

‘It is unique.’

‘Unique? How do you know that? Can you tell me more now? I’ve waited for ten years Yax K’in.’

‘It is still not the time,’ Yax K’in said quickly and firmly.

Arthur laughed. ‘It will have to be the time within a few days because that’s all that’s left. I have financial constraints. I could keep digging on my own, if that will help, but my team and everyone else will be gone in less than a week.’

‘Then Pep’Em Ha and I must pray to Hachakyum,’ Yax K’in said as a matter-of-fact.

‘Pray?’ Arthur knew that KulWinik prayer was a long and involved procedure. He did not want to lose Pep’Em Ha. She was a strong and willing worker. ‘If I lose her it will slow us down. Now is the time for work not for guidance.’

Yax K’in was pensive for a long while. ‘I have missed my father’s guidance since his death. Do not laugh my friend,’ Yax K’in waved his finger at Arthur who had not laughed. ‘Even us old men, beyond the years when we should also be dead, still miss the wisdom of those older than ourselves. That’s why we should look to Hachakyum. To discover our own wisdom, from the quietness of prayer and ritual.’

‘That won’t help, Yax K’in. It may help you but not us with the labour of digging. That’s all that’s left. There’re no gods involved in this, just shovels and younger people’s muscles,’ Arthur grimaced as he felt his stiff neck.

Yax K’in smiled. ‘You are almost a KulWinik, Arthur. I have missed your friendship since you left us. I enjoyed those years. I enjoyed the talks, all the balche we have drunk together.’

‘What’s there, my friend?’ Arthur asked quietly. ‘Should we save everyone the trouble and stop now?’

‘You Westerners are always pressed for time. Perhaps I should meet you part way,’ Yax K’in said. ‘It is a tomb,’ Yax K’in announced. ‘It is the most important tomb in the world.’

Yax K’in drew his body up straight. ‘It is the resting place of the consort of Hachakyum. The first human.’

Chapter 30

Arthur stared at his watch in the early light. The sun had yet to rise above the trees surrounding the village. The cars were lined up ready to go to the excavation site and people milled around them. As if he was the starter in a race, he gave the OK to leave.

Pep’Em Ha was not there. Her brother called to Jim that their car was leaving.

‘Where’s Pep’Em Ha?’ Jim asked.

‘She’s not coming this morning. She’s with Yax K’in. She may come out later, I don’t know.’

‘Where is she? Is she in Yax Kin’s hut?’ Jim said. He set off away from the cars before receiving an answer.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother watched Jim for a moment before he yelled out to him. ‘She’s not that way. She’s not in the village.’

Jim ran back. ‘What do you mean?’

Pep’Em Ha’s brother looked around him to confirm that only Westerners were nearby before he said quietly, in Maya, ‘She left with Yax K’in during the night. She’s gone to the place that you’re not supposed to know about. There is nothing you can do to find her. You’d get lost and the jaguars would eat you,’ he said, with an attempted smile.

Jim stared angrily at Pep’Em Ha’s brother as if he had stolen Pep’Em Ha from him. He walked away without a word, got into the car, shut the door and stared fixedly out the side window like someone on their way to a punishment.

Chapter 31

Jim was especially surly that morning with Hamish. He wanted to know why Jim was upset but knew the reaction he would get if he asked. Michelle agreed to talk to Jim. By lunchtime she had not done so.

Jim excused himself from the lunch table, with food remaining on his plate. He ignored his grandfather. Hamish prompted Michelle again.

‘Hamish!’ she said. ‘Let him rest. I’m sure he’s just tired and grumpy and missing the comforts of home.’ She looked pointedly at Arthur. ‘We all feel like that.’

‘Please, Michelle?’ Hamish pleaded.

Michelle’s unfinished cup of coffee tempted her to stay but without another word she stood and followed Jim.

She returned after a few minutes absence.

‘So, what’s the problem?’ Hamish asked.

Michelle laughed. ‘The boy’s in love and he doesn’t know it yet. There’s no problem Hamish.’

‘In love? With who?’ Hamish asked, refusing to understand.

Michelle laughed again and then said to Arthur, ‘Let’s get back to work.’

Michelle and Arthur walked together up the mound, leaving Hamish behind to ponder his new worry.

‘So, Jim really is OK?’ Arthur asked.

‘Of course,’ she said.

When Arthur’s face remained concerned, she asked, ‘Why wouldn’t he be?’

‘Don’t you think it’s all a little strange?’

‘What is?’

‘Well, Jim comes here and, you’ve seen him. In, what? Five days he’s as fluent in KulWinik Mayan as you and I. Don’t you find that strange?’

‘I hadn’t until you just mentioned it. But, yes, it’s the fastest I’ve seen anyone learn a language. Maybe he read some of Hamish’s books before he came.’

Arthur’s face displayed skepticism.

‘It could be true,’ she said. ‘What else could it be? Maybe he’s just a talented young man and has found what he excels at.’

‘Well, he definitely excels at the Mayan language.’

Michelle laughed at him. She did that a lot now and he didn’t mind, he loved hearing that sound.

‘Look who he’s learning from,’ she said. ‘He’s a seventeen year old, well, man and he’s learning from a beautiful young woman. I think, Arthur, that he’s concentrating on his lessons.’

Chapter 32

In the mid-afternoon heat, Hamish sat on a smooth rock further around from where Michelle ringed the mound with her excavations. It had become his favorite place to sit. It would be a day or two before he would have to give it up to the excavation team. His head was in his hands, he worried about Jim.

Arthur sat down next to him. They were silent for a long time.

‘Michelle’s a bit of a slave driver,’ Arthur said. He picked up a stone to hold. He investigated its texture and weight without seeing it.

‘She’s fitter and she’s younger too,’ Hamish said lifting his head from his hands. ‘I don’t think she understands how easily us old guys wear out and break.’

‘I think she might understand, actually. And that’s what she enjoys,’ Arthur smiled.

‘Maybe.’

A distant car sailed passed the dirt road leading into the huts. Arthur swung his head quickly to watch it and did not breath until it had gone.

‘You’re worried, are you?’ Hamish asked.

‘Worry doesn’t begin to describe the feeling.’

‘Then why are you doing it? Why don’t we pack up now?’ Hamish asked.

‘I can’t,’ Arthur said. ‘No, that’s not true. I don’t want to. I’ve based a large part of my career on what I’ve learned from Yax K’in. That’s enough without also, our friendship. It’s important to him so it’s important to me. But, I can’t keep it up much longer. The money will be gone.’

Arthur juggled the stone in his hand and then gently lobbed it down the slope. He picked up a replacement.

‘I’ll have some major problems when I return to Mexico City,’ Arthur said. ‘I actually ran out of money yesterday. I don’t know how I’ll pay for this last bit. I’ll have to juggle my funding somehow and try and sneak it passed Roberto.’

‘I didn’t like him. He was a supercilious prick,’ Hamish said. ‘Those admin types are the same everywhere, it’s only about money, budgets, nothing else.’

‘How’s Jim?’ Arthur asked, after another silence.

‘Surly as ever,’ Hamish said. ‘I’d forgotten how hard it was parenting teenagers. Even good ones like him.’

‘He’ll be right,’ Arthur said. ‘He’s a good kid. He’s probably just missing his friends in Boston. That’ll be the reason for his fixation with Pep’Em Ha. Apart from the obvious reason.’

Hamish looked at Arthur like he had made an inappropriate comment.

‘He’s seventeen,’ Arthur said pointedly. ‘And she’s attractive.’ Arthur shrugged his shoulders. Hamish searched for the form of his grandson among the workers.

‘And you?’ Arthur asked.

‘Fine,’ Hamish answered tersely.

‘And what about you?’ Hamish said. He was smiling again. ‘What about Michelle?’

‘What about her?’

‘Exactly,’ Hamish laughed.

‘She’s good value, isn’t she,’ Arthur said, evading an answer.

Hamish stood up, stretched and then sat down again. ‘I wouldn’t know.’ He placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, as if Arthur was the one with the problems and needed reassurance.

‘You’re just going to let her go?’ Hamish asked.

‘What else can I do?’

‘Pity,’ Hamish said, then asked quickly, ‘Who’s that?’ Hamish pointed to a car bouncing down the one lane access track.

‘Oh, shit,’ Arthur said and jumped to his feet. He closely examined the approaching car then hung his head and put his hands on his knees as if he was resting after hard exertion. He spoke to the ground between his feet.

‘That’s all right. It’s a village car. It’s just someone from the village,’ he said.

Arthur left Hamish sitting in his favorite spot and walked across the slope to Michelle to wait and greet those in the car. Hamish saw the two back doors open and out of them emerged two figures dressed in white KulWinik tunics. Jim had run down the slope and then merged with one of the figures.

Chapter 33

Jim was the first to see the approaching car. He threw down his shovel and bounded down the slope willing the car to contain Pep’Em Ha. When she opened the door and stepped out, she looked drawn and haggard, as if she had not slept the previous night but, to Jim, she was wonderful. She broke into a broad smile when she saw him. He ran around the car but came to a self-conscious, jerking halt and did not know what to do next. However, Pep’Em Ha spread her arms and fell into him, hugging him so tightly that he could not breath. Her happiness and her strength were exciting. She spoke into his ear.

‘I heard the voices,’ she whispered.

She let Jim go and stood back from him before walking around the car to her father. Jim remained on the spot of her embrace. He did not want to move from the hallowed ground nor let that memory fade.

Pep’Em Ha and Yax K’in climbed the mound. Jim quickly followed.

‘So, you have come then?’ Arthur said in greeting.

‘Pep’Em Ha is ready,’ Yax K’in said. ‘Hachakyum has spoken to her.’

Everyone gathered around as if Yax K’in was about to say something momentous.

Yax K’in looked for a place to sit and found one that was less dusty than elsewhere. He sat down while all eyes were on him.

‘I will dig as well, if you like?’ Yax K’in said, after a few seconds.

Michelle and her team were disappointed as they returned to work, shoveling and removing rubble. Pep’Em Ha stood by watching them but with a scowl on her face.

‘Pep’Em Ha?’ Yax K’in said.

She looked quickly to her father.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘That’s not the place,’ she said with certainty. She raised her arm. Everyone stopped working and looked to where she pointed.

‘That is the place,’ she said.

Hamish had observed the group of Jim and the two KulWinik’s climb the slope. He had seen the group of workers congregate around Yax K’in and then, reluctantly, return to their work. He watched Pep’Em Ha raised her arm. All eyes turned as one and rested on him.

Pep’Em Ha pointed at Hamish.

‘What have I done now?’ was the first thought that passed through his head.

Michelle relocated her team and shunted Hamish out of the way.

‘This is much easier. It’s almost soft.’ One of the workers called to Michelle from where he dug.

Michelle stood next to that worker and watched him work for a second. Below a thin layer of rocky rubble it was like compacted soil. She instructed her team to make the trench wider. The group strung out, side by side. Hamish picked up a shovel and placed himself at the far end of the line of workers. He was pleased when he struck solid stone almost immediately so that no more digging was possible. He poked at the stone under the rubble. He cleaned away an edge, slowly, and then alerted Michelle.

She ran over, knelt down and used her hands to delineate the edge of the solid stone. Arthur rushed over and stood behind her. He took one look and strode to the far end of the line of workers. He took the shovel out of the hands of the last person in line and began to dig. He found what he expected. He got down on his knees and used his hands to clear away another edge of solid stone.

Arthur, still on his knees, looked along the line of standing workers. Michelle was on her knees at the far end, no longer digging but staring at Arthur, her face expectant. Arthur smiled and like the passing of flag signals between ancient ships on the ocean, Arthur’s signal was returned with a smile broader than his own.

They had found the entrance to a tomb.

Part III

Chapter 1

A dozen steps into the structure were quickly uncovered. The sides of the stepped passage angled and narrowed the entrance the further it descended. At the bottom, the way was blocked by a triangular slab of rock. The broad base and height would have allowed a person to pass through, but the rock slab sealed the entrance and prevented further progress.

The excavation workers were dismissed. Hamish was especially pleased to sit in the tent with a cup of coffee, it did weigh on his mind that he rested often while others labored. After the site had been cleared of people, Arthur and Michelle again examined the triangular stone entrance. Arthur scratched his head with the same hand that held his hat. Michelle’s arms were crossed, neatly folded over her chest.

They were unsure how to continue.

‘We could dig from above and behind,’ Michelle volunteered.

‘We could.’

The triangular stone slab was a door, that was obvious.

‘The best option,’ Arthur laughed. ‘Would be to go through. After opening it. Somehow.’ He slapped his hat against his thigh, to dislodge the dust on it, and then resumed scratching his head.

Michelle unfolded her arms. ‘It’s a big bit of stone.’

‘OK,’ he said. He had made a decision. ‘We’ll cut through the corner, at the bottom, and have a look inside before we decide the best way forward.’

Arthur replaced his hat on his head now that his itchiness caused by indecision had gone. He crouched and put his hand on the bottom left corner.

‘We’ll drill through here. You agree?’ he asked.

Michelle nodded her head.

Arthur inspected the sky, gauging how much light was left in the day.

Michelle touched the rock barring their progress. She smiled at Arthur.

‘Is it really here?’ she said.

Arthur loved that smile when it was directed at him.

Yax K’in had not left with the others. He had also been scanning the stone slab, from the top step. His eyes often came to rest on a slight imperfection, more an irregular indentation, about chest high and near the left edge. Yax K’in carefully descended the steps. He placed his face close to the stone then traced his finger over the irregular pattern. He knew that shape. He picked at it with a finger and some compacted material dislodged and revealed more of the shape.

He did not need to reveal the rest of it. He knew what to do.

Yax K’in spread the fingers of his hand and placed his palm over the indentation.

He pushed.

Nothing happened.

He shifted his hand and pushed again.

Nothing happened.

Arthur put an arm around him, in a patronizing embrace, as if Yax K’in was not responsible for his actions.

‘What are you doing, old friend?’ Arthur asked kindly.

Yax K’in shifted his hand and pushed again.

‘I think you’ve done your bit,’ Arthur said. His voice was soft and compassionate. ‘We’ve found what you expected. We can do the rest.’

Yax K’in laughed.

‘It was worth a try,’ Yax K’in said.

Arthur laughed with him and drew him away from the doorway.

‘That was the first thing Michelle did,’ Arthur said.

Yax K’in knew what he had to try next. The responsibility was no longer his.

Arthur, Yax K’in and Michelle climbed the dozen steps to the top. They paused there and gazed over the camp site and the green plain of maize.

‘I’ll have to contact Roberto,’ Arthur said to Michelle, in English. ‘There’s going to be all kind of shit now. We’ll need a permit.’

‘Do we have to wait?’ Michelle had waited long enough.

‘We should wait.’ Arthur was not convinced.

‘No more waiting,’ Michelle said firmly. ‘Let’s at least see what’s behind the entrance. Just a small hole. It’s the minimum that anyone would do.’

Protracted excavation may be ahead of Arthur to clear a way down into the tomb. Pacal’s famous tomb at Palenque had been back-filled with rubble and had taken years to clear before the tomb could be entered.

‘All right,’ Arthur agreed. ‘I’ll call Roberto from the car and get the procedure started. I,’ he hesitated, ‘probably, won’t get deported. I’ll just be sacked…’

‘Don’t be melodramatic,’ she said, impatiently. ‘You’ve found something important. This is unique. Let the politics sort itself out. They might get a bit angry but they won’t do anything to you now. They can’t, not with this.’ She pointed down the steps.

Yax K’in followed Michelle and Arthur down. Arthur went to the car to telephone Roberto. Michelle went to see if any food was available.

Arthur joined Michelle at one of the tables when he returned. He had also scrounged himself a plate of food.

‘OK. That’s done. Roberto was not happy,’ Arthur said. He began eating.

‘He’s a lawyer,’ Michelle said. ‘He’s not supposed to be happy. And working with you would add to anyone’s stress. I would know.’ She smiled.

‘Well, he’s more stressed now. In any case, it’s out of my hands, I’ll leave it to him. He can call me back if he has a problem.’

Michelle and Arthur ate in silence. After a few minutes Michelle noticed that Arthur was beaming a smile as if he had no problems in the world.

‘You’ve turned your phone off, haven’t you?’ she asked, quietly.

‘Yes.’

She laughed. ‘You’ll just make him angrier.’

‘Whatever the case,’ Arthur said. ‘He didn’t tell me to stop and he didn’t tell me to wait. So, we can look behind the entrance. I’m sure he’ll find a way to contact us tonight, even if he was to send someone from San Cristobal. We’ve got the rest of the afternoon.’ Arthur’s eyes sparkled.

She knew there had to be more to his happiness.

‘You’ve just told him what we’ve done,’ she said slowly as realization dawned on her. ‘And then hung up on him before he had a chance to reply, haven’t you?’

Arthur laughed. ‘Yes. And then turned the phone off. And then asked the others to turn their phones off.’

Jim appeared behind Arthur.

‘Where are they going?’ Jim asked. Yax K’in and Pep’Em Ha were halfway up the slope. Pep’Em Ha had been ushered away from Jim by Yax K’in, and Jim had been told to stay behind.

‘I don’t know,’ Arthur said slowly as he watched the two KulWinik.

‘Let’s go and see,’ Michelle said. She left her plate on the table and set off after Yax K’in and Pep’Em Ha. Jim immediately followed her.

‘It’s OK I come too, isn’t it?’ Jim asked Michelle as he walked quickly beside her.

‘Of course,’ she said.

Arthur had stood up after Michelle and fell further behind on the climb. He reached the crest of the steps down to the tomb’s entrance after the others.

‘What are you intending, old friend?’ Arthur asked Yax K’in.

‘To help,’ Yax K’in said. ‘Although I am no longer the one to help. Pep’Em Ha is the one.’

‘What do you mean?’ Arthur asked.

Yax K’in did not reply. He walked down the steps, Pep’Em Ha followed after he beckoned her to come. He studied the place he had tried to push. He was sure what it was. His father had told him. It was a part of the stories of Hachakyum. The same stories he had taught the next t’o’ohil.

Pep’Em Ha was earnest but confused. Michelle, Arthur and Jim did not interfere. They waited to one side.

Yax K’in took Pep’Em Ha’s wrist. She resisted but did not pull her hand away.

‘No,’ Yax K’in said, softly. ‘Please?’

He placed her hand over the irregular shape and pushed, as if he was attempting to merge her hand with the rock.

Nothing happened.

Yax K’in removed his hand and asked her to push against the rock.

Nothing happened.

Yax K’in sat down on the last step. He hung his head. He was confused. He must be misinterpreting something from the stories, he thought. His daughter stood over him, worried about her father.

Yax K’in asked Michelle to sit next to him. He patted the hard, carved stone of the ancient step. Michelle quickly sat like she had been summoned to the side of a revered teacher. Arthur was perplexed that he had not been summoned.

‘My father,’ Yax K’in spoke to Michelle in Maya while they both stared at the stone slab as if it was a cinema screen about to erupt with images. ‘My father told me to remember a shape. I have faithfully recounted that description in my mind since that day.’

‘Hachakyum told my first ancestor it is the way into this tomb,’ he pointed at the rock face before him. ‘I would like you,’ he said to Michelle, ‘to hear the description. You would be the first non-KulWinik to hear it. Actually,’ he said. ‘You will be the first person who will not be t’o’ohil.’

Michelle nodded and glanced meaningfully over her shoulder to Arthur.

‘Yes, yes,’ Yax K’in dismissed her look as irrelevant. ‘I know what you two think.’

‘Please listen,’ he added, as if Michelle had interrupted him.

Yax K’in described the shape. He had never spoken those words outside the cave where he had learned them from his father.

‘OK,’ Michelle said vacantly as if she had been supplied with meaningless information. She stood up and put her face close to the rock surface and traced an outline with her finger. ‘You think this is it?’ she asked. Michelle turned her head to look at Yax K’in as she asked the question but turned it back before he could reply. ‘It doesn’t look like that description to me. This part looks like the bottom bit,’ she traced her finger over the shape again. ‘But that’s all there is.’ She picked at the rock where Yax K’in had picked previously.

‘Oh, I see,’ Michelle said with surprise. ‘It’s covered. We should remove all that and then we can see if it’s the same.’

‘We’ve got a wire brush, haven’t we?’ she raised her voice to Arthur.

‘Yes,’ he said.

Michelle stopped picking at the rock and turned to her audience.

‘All right,’ she said, taking charge. ‘Not that I believe this, mind you.’

She barked an order to Arthur, ‘Why don’t you and Jim go and get a wire brush and the other gear? That’ll get us started.’

Jim and Arthur left. They returned accompanied by Hamish and a few others from the team. The newcomers carried a small generator, a compressor, a drill and a camera with various attachments. Arthur was confident that the entrance would not be opened by Yax K’in. Once Michelle had finished humoring him he would get on with drilling a small hole and then placing a video camera on the other side of the rock slab. Two of the team had sauntered along after the group carrying the equipment. They had brought coffee for themselves and, as if it was a stage show, sat on the topmost step and waited to be entertained.

Arthur used compressed air to clean the edges of the sealed doorway while he waited for Michelle to finish. She carefully brushed the irregular shape in the rock. When she was certain that it was a natural imperfection she used the wire brush to vigorously scrape the surface clean. Arthur halted his work when Michelle stood back from her handiwork.

‘Well, you might have something Yax K’in,’ she said. ‘This is definitely the shape you described.’

There were many logical explanations how the shape had made it into an ancient description passed from one generation to the next, she thought. She traced her finger around the shape and was amazed how well the oral history had been preserved. It exactly matched Yax K’in’s description. She was already planning a research paper on the, abnormal, success of oral history in this case. Yax K’in came close and ran his finger along the chaotic indentations while he silently mouthed the description. He could not bring himself to say it out loud again.

‘Yes. Exactly,’ he agreed.

Pep’Em Ha decided action was needed to save her father from embarrassment. There was a crowd watching and she decided that she would be the one to look foolish, not her father. She pushed between Yax K’in and Michelle. She placed both her hands flat against the rock slab. She crouched and braced her legs. She lowered her head and pushed with all her strength.

The stone slab grunted as it moved a little. The last of the dust and dirt that adhered to the edges dislodged and, hinged on the base of the triangular slab, it fell away from Pep’Em Ha. Michelle grabbed her around the waist and held her as if she might be sucked into the vortex like the falling doorway was a sinking ship.

The slab slid downwards for a few meters and then came to rest. The sound of the collapse slowly dissipated as it raced down the tunnel, obscured by a cloud of dust, as a herald of intrusion to whatever lay below.

Michelle let Pep’Em Ha go as Jim raced down to stand next to her. He would have loved to have been the one to save her.

To Michelle’s impatient annoyance, the dust appeared to defy gravity and refused to settle but once she could see part of the way inside, she stared at Arthur as if challenging him to deny the fantasy. He quickly glanced at her but did not want to take his eyes off the unfolding scene.

The two coffee drinkers stood, spilled some of their coffee and craned their necks forward as if the suspense and excitement was manufactured. The absent doorway, once filled by the triangular stone slab, had left a hole and there were steps that became lost in the darkness.

‘Arthur,’ Michelle said. Her voice bubbled with excitement as if she could talk for a month. ‘There’s no rubble. It hasn’t been back-filled. It’s perfect.’

‘No,’ Arthur said absently, not taking his eyes off the void before him. He was barely listening to her.

‘We’re going to also need a flashlight,’ he said slowly.

Chapter 2

‘Like the fuck you will,’ Michelle exclaimed after Arthur had suggested that he enter the passageway alone.

‘Where you go,’ she said. ‘I go.’ She didn’t care that an audience heard.

‘It may not be safe,’ Arthur said weakly. ‘We should, really, have it checked out first. Maybe we should wait.’ He prevaricated.

‘A second ago it was safe enough for you. Now it’s not safe at all? Arthur, please,’ she exclaimed.

He was worried for her safety.

‘It’s not the nineteenth century and I’m not a weak woman,’ she said. She was not angry with him. She knew where his apprehensions came from. She worried for his safety too.

‘Roberto could shut this down tomorrow. You know that,’ she spoke softly. Rational arguments worked better with him. In response to her angry moods he became withdrawn and morose, or combative.

‘We have a choice until then,’ she said. ‘Go now, and we can still go slowly and carefully if you are really concerned about safety or, wait. And then who knows when we’ll go down there.’ She pointed to the dark passageway. ‘Or if we’ll be the ones. They could get someone else. You know Roberto would prefer a Mexican national.’ Michelle folded her arms. ‘It’s your choice. Or are you all talk now that there is a gaping passageway in front of you?’

Arthur had been convinced, before Michelle’s histrionic prodding and more so after her quiet arguments, that they had to explore the tomb immediately. Roberto was an issue, of course, but he felt his destiny. He was about to enter the ranks of archaeologists who had made discoveries singular enough to be reported in the popular media. He did not want to defer the moment of discovery.

They entered the passageway and began a slow descent. The steps were dry and sturdy but they did not trust them for support. They edged over each step, keeping one hand on the step above, and allowed their feet to slowly take their weight. The walls sloped to a point above their heads and the sides were roughly hewn as if construction had been abandoned before decoration was added. The pathway down was wide enough for Michelle and Arthur to progress side by side, if they kept close together.

They descended to a landing where the steps turned 180 degrees and plunged into complete darkness. Arthur squeezed Michelle’s hand and was pleased to feel his pressure returned. They turned away from the light and the outside world was lost to them.

They descended to another landing. The stairs then turned at right angles. Thirteen further steps were carved out of the natural slope in the bare rock. Arthur and Michelle halted in a small antechamber, tall enough to stand at full height. A rectangular hole, big enough for a person to crouch and pass through gaped before them. Through it was a black void.

Ancient cold air stretched to meet them.

They both put their heads through the opening. Their flashlights illuminated a large, natural cavern. The ceiling was six meters high. The far side was thirty meters away. The walls had been covered and smoothed with plaster. Arthur’s light methodically moved along the wall of the cavern at a constant pace. Michelle randomly shone her light on the cave floor, the roof and the walls.

‘Holy shit, Michelle,’ Arthur quietly exclaimed.

The wall, all the way around, was covered, to a height of four meters, with densely packed writing. Michelle watched Arthur’s light, ignoring her own, as it worked its way around. As soon as Arthur had completed his lap of illumination she trained her light to follow Arthur’s path again, as if to ensure that what she had seen was not a trick and had disappeared in the meantime. The glyphic writing remained. She had not seen so much ancient Mayan writing in a single location. The rest of her working life, she knew, would be spent translating the text on those walls.

‘Holy shit,’ he sighed.

‘You’ve said that,’ she said. ‘Can we go in?’ she asked but pushed passed him.

‘That would be yes,’ he said to Michelle’s back.

The opening led onto a ledge two meters above the floor of the cavern. Carved stairs fell to a natural, not smoothed, cave floor.

Michelle picked her way carefully, because of the uneven surface, to the centre of the tomb. She zigzagged her light over the top of a raised, rectangular sarcophagus, looking for markings but there were none. It was, unusual for a sarcophagus, a smooth slab of rock.

Arthur had not followed Michelle but waited on the cave floor at the bottom of the steps. He heard whispers and scrapings.

‘Michelle,’ he called out. ‘There something coming.’

‘What?’ she asked, not hearing him properly among the echoes.

Yax K’in emerged through the entranceway and on to the ledge, Pep’Em Ha followed and then Jim. Arthur swore softly. He regretted leaving the outside world without explicit instructions. He imagined a line of people behind Jim, queuing like it was an amusement park attraction.

‘Are there anymore behind you Jim?’ Arthur asked, in English.

‘No. Hamish stopped everyone after Yax K’in and Pep’Em Ha. Except me, he couldn’t stop me.’

‘I’m glad someone has some sense,’ Arthur said.

‘Is this as you expected Yax K’in?’ Arthur asked, speaking in Maya.

‘Yes. It is as it has been described to me.’ Yax Kin smiled at Arthur. ‘I knew your skill would find this place.’

Arthur laughed. ‘Well, we dug under your instruction. So our skill at manual labour has been proved.’

Arthur flashed his light on the writing on the wall. ‘Are these the stories?’

‘You will have to ask Michelle, once she was studied them. I cannot read them, no KulWinik can.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me this was here, ten years ago?’ Arthur asked. ‘I could have organized a bigger team, more funding.’ He laughed. ‘Television crews.’

‘It was not the time. I can only do what I have been told.’

‘How do you know? You don’t keep a record of time,’ Arthur said and then laughed again, he was as happy as he had ever been. ‘You don’t know what year it is.’

The KulWinik had lost the ancient Mayan ability to count the cycle of days and years. They had no ritual that depended on the passage of time.

Yax K’in gave a little laugh and nodded his head. Then he was serious. ‘I know because of my daughter. The years have been waiting for her.’

‘Did you know about this place, did you?’ Jim asked Pep’Em Ha after listening to Yax K’in.

She hesitated. ‘I didn’t believe the stories were real.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur said. ‘But I don’t want you three to stay. We don’t want too much breathing down here. Not until we know what there is.’

Yax K’in ignored Arthur and walked down the steps to the cave floor. Pep’Em Ha followed. Her torch-light lit Yax K’in’s feet.

‘I have not come down those steps from outside to look,’ Yax K’in said. ‘There are two things for me in here.’

‘What things?’ Arthur asked.

‘I will tell you when I find them,’ Yax K’in said.

Arthur was worried. It was getting out of hand. Yax K’in’s talk of messages from the past was troubling. The accurate descriptions were disturbing. Yax K’in was possessed by a task he had never shared and Arthur found the prolonged secrecy difficult.

Yax K’in added, ‘I will not touch anything until I have spoken to you.’ He laughed and said, ‘I will not breath until I have obtained your permission.’ He sucked his breath in and held it.

‘You can breath,’ Arthur said, rather reluctantly.

‘Jim,’ Arthur said in English. He would worry about Yax K’in later, his first concern was to get the three of them out of the tomb as quickly as possible. ‘Be very careful OK? The floor is uneven. If you fall then, still don’t touch anything. We can fix you up but we can’t fix what’s here. Make sure the others understand that.’

Arthur joined Michelle near the sarcophagus.

‘Have I done the right thing?’ he asked Michelle quietly. He was worried about damage.

‘You don’t have a choice. It’s his place isn’t it?’

Chapter 3

Yax K’in slowly followed the wall around the cavern, like he was a disinterested patron at an art gallery. He stopped and sighed when he discovered the focus of his search. It was lying against the north wall wedged into the corner and covered in a layer of dust. He felt his life was subservient to the needs of inanimate objects. It may not have been found by Arthur or Michelle for sometime, but it would have eventually been discovered, unfortunately, he thought.

Yax K’in stood over a tied bundle of ancient paper. His eyes followed the line made where the lime-washed wall met the rocky floor and found the second object he required. He called to Arthur.

‘These objects are what I have found,’ he said and waited until Arthur stood by him.

‘What do you want with them?’ Arthur asked.

‘I must have them.’

‘To take away?’

‘Yes. When you are ready for that,’ Yax K’in said quietly. He had to convince Arthur that they must be removed quickly. He had a foreboding that time was short.

Arthur called Michelle over.

‘You can’t take that away,’ she said angrily. ‘What sort of site would it be if you did that?’

‘I think we should let him,’ Arthur said. He did not want Yax K’in’s departure delayed by arguments. He could retrieve the objects later.

Michelle examined Yax K’in as if she was waiting for a detailed explanation. He kept his eyes downcast and fixed on the bundle as if he was wary of it and it required constant watching.

Michelle relented. ‘Let’s open it here. Then we can decide,’ she said.

Arthur gently moved the bundle. He and Michelle knelt while Jim and Pep’Em Ha shined lights for them. Arthur, with precision and gentleness like he was a surgeon, unrolled the ancient paper. It contained a stingray barb and two worked shards of obsidian. They were still razor sharp. The contents and their wrapping were unremarkable, there were no markings.

Arthur rolled the paper again, lifted it like it was a folded flag at a military commemoration and presented it to Yax K’in, who immediately passed it to Jim.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘And the other object too.’

Arthur examined a god-pot. It had never been used and had distinctive markings but no glyphic writing. He was reticent to let it leave the chamber.

‘Why do you want this?’ he asked.

Yax K’in held out his two hands and sighed with relief, when Arthur reluctantly gave it up, as if an explosive had been diffused.

‘This,’ Yax K’in raised the god-pot so that it was level with his eyes, ‘was made by the hand of Hachakyum. It is part of what is to come.’

‘What is to come?’ Arthur asked but was glad that Yax K’in ignored him and left the chamber. Jim and Pep’Em Ha followed.

Chapter 4

Arthur and Michelle began a quick survey of the walls of the cavern, after summoning a small, select group to help. They started side-by-side and wound their opposite ways around the cave walls. They met up again, on the far side of the cavern, immediately before dawn. Arthur’s next task was the precise mapping and image recording of the writing on the walls. But first, he needed sleep.

Arthur emerged from the tomb into the pre-dawn morning like he had successfully completed a tour of the underworld. The last and strongest of the stars were all that were left. The horizon was a dark shade of blue. He stretched his arms skyward and yawned as if he was saluting the approaching sun. It was an attempt to wake his body, although his mind was calm and serene.

He placed his hands on his hips and smiled. But he did not smile for long. The headlights of a car jiggled up and down as the car bumped its way along the access track. When it stopped behind the other cars, a door opened and was then slammed shut. Arthur heard the voice of a Spanish speaker raised in anger.

He sat down on the topmost step resting his forearms on his knees. Arthur, with a sunrise beginning behind him, and alone, watched the dark shape of the mountains disentangle from the night. He thought he could see the beginnings of color in the expanse of maize.

Roberto would discover his location and would then climb to him. Arthur waited.

Chapter 5

‘Roberto, you have come.’ Arthur greeted him wearily, in Spanish, while he remained seated.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘What else could I do when I can’t reach you and you surprise me like that? You made me travel all night,’ he said vehemently.

There was sufficient natural light that Roberto’s expression was visible, while Arthur’s was hidden with the new day beginning behind him. His eyes were downcast, he was an older man wearied by years of administrative hassling.

‘The Director is not happy,’ Roberto said.

‘No, I guess he wouldn’t be,’ Arthur said as he stood. He placed his hands on his hips, for somewhere to put them. ‘Are you here to fire me?’

‘Not yet,’ Roberto replied.

Arthur opened his arms and made to guide Roberto down the steps to the tomb.

‘Let me show you what we’ve found.’

‘It’s not what you’ve found, Arthur. It’s how you found it that’s important.’

Arthur led Roberto down the passageway. They progressed easily, the steps had proved themselves sturdy. Arthur called Roberto through the small entrance and presented the sight of the tomb with a flourish, like it was a newly discovered wonder of the ancient world. Which it was. Roberto silently gazed at the cavern interior. It was eerily illuminated by the cold lighting used for the cameras, like it was an alien environment. The lights reflected sharp and silver from the camera tripods and the metal equipment boxes. A few people worked quietly and reverentially as if the years could be disturbed by too much movement and sound.

Roberto immediately understood the advantages for the Museum. He would have to decide if that advantage would be shared with Arthur.

Michelle was euphoric after a night of rewarding work. She stopped work and traced a path across the uneven cavern floor to the ledge where Roberto and Arthur stood. She greeted Roberto enthusiastically.

Roberto did not like Michelle. She could not be bullied because she did not work for the Museum and she was too confident and strong willed. Roberto believed her greeting was contrived but he responded graciously.

Michelle had begun the detailed imaging of the walls. Every square centimeter would eventually need to be mapped. She refused to recognize her tiredness, like she intended to stay working in the cavern for the months it would take to complete that work.

Michelle returned to her work.

‘There is still a problem,’ Roberto said once Michelle had reached her destination.

‘Even with all this? Do you think?’ Arthur said.

‘Of course,’ Roberto turned slowly to examine Arthur. ‘There is always a problem with the authorities, even when things are done correctly.’ Roberto gave a supercilious smile. ‘And this was not done correctly.’

Arthur’s euphoria evaporated, he was overcome by tiredness. His excitement and concentration had kept his weariness at bay but, quite suddenly, he felt like after a drug had worn off. Intrigue and petty battles could wait. He watched Michelle work, simply wanting Roberto to be gone.

‘I don’t care anymore,’ he whispered, not realizing he spoke out loud.

‘Someone has to. And that someone, I’m afraid for you, is me.’

Arthur was shocked that Roberto had heard him, like he had read his thoughts.

Roberto ostentatiously expressed his tiredness by stretching and yawning, like an imperfect actor rehearsing a scene.

‘I’m very tired, Arthur,’ Roberto said once his arms were again by his side. ‘Your escapade, the all night travel, has wearied me. I need to rest. I suggest that you rest also. You will need your strength. We can discuss your predicament later.’

‘There is a predicament, is there?’

‘Oh yes,’ Roberto said. ‘There is most certainly a predicament.’

Arthur stayed on the ledge. He heard Roberto’s voice echoing down the passageway and knew that was not a good sign. He was on the telephone as soon as he was outside. Arthur wanted Michelle to come back to the village with him. He felt anxious, tender and alone like he had been bullied by an older sibling.

He suggested that her tiredness may compromise her work. She disagreed.

‘The tomb’s been here,’ he said. ‘For more than a thousand years, Michelle. It won’t disappear overnight.’

She began to unscrew the camera she had been using from its tripod.

‘What are you doing?’

‘You’re probably right, I do need a rest but I can work while I’m resting. I may as well get started on these images,’ she said. She tucked the camera under her arm and set off, letting Arthur follow if he wished.

Arthur did not argue that a change of work was not rest. They returned to the village, where no-one had seen Roberto. Arthur headed enthusiastically to his waiting hammock. Refreshment was to take second place to sleep.

Chapter 6

Arthur settled into his hammock and hoped to sleep forever. He was shaken awake. He thought he had slept for minutes.

‘What? What!’ he said angrily.

He opened his eyes and saw it was Jose, one of his Mexican team members. The angle of sunlight in his hut had changed, he had slept until mid-afternoon.

‘I’m sorry Arthur. I had to wake you,’ Jose said in Spanish.

‘It’s all right.’

Arthur sat up in his hammock. He felt better than the morning, his tiredness was from a disrupted sleep cycle not from the lack of sleep.

‘So,’ Arthur said trying to sound bright. ‘What’s the news?’

‘You must come out to the site. Now.’ Jose was urgent.

At the turnoff into the access road to the site there was a parked police car. Two burly, sour-faced Mexican policemen dressed in black stopped Arthur and Jose, machine guns were slung over their shoulders. Their demeanor and suspicion was a scary proposition when their attentions were personal.

Arthur was admitted only because Jose accompanied him.

The shanty huts had been commandeered by the police and people Arthur had not seen before. His team members were sheepishly congregating around their camp site. An acre of maize was in the process of being cut down and more tents erected in the bare field. The site was an ostentatious hive of activity. The change was miraculous, as if Arthur had slept for days not hours.

Jose directed Arthur to one of the huts but did not follow. He had a shamefaced, apologetic look in his eyes.

‘Ah, Arthur. Thank you. You’ve saved me a trip.’ Roberto sat behind a small, makeshift table. It was covered in papers. There was a fold-out chair before the desk. Roberto indicated that Arthur should sit down.

Roberto was condescending and spoke with false compassion.

‘I’m very much afraid that I have shut you down,’ he said. Arthur was not surprised and did not argue.

‘Your tenure, here, finished when your budget ran out. You know how these things work, as well as I. I am running this now, out of my own budget. It is a great pity Arthur,’ Roberto emphasized Arthur’s name with a smile, ‘that you did not have the foresight to plan this excavation correctly. Especially, as I have discovered, that you expected something like this. Bad planning is inexcusable.’

‘Only Mexican nationals will work here from now on,’ Roberto commanded. ‘That is until after we do a complete survey and have catalogued what we have here. Then there will be a consultative process and the Museum will decide who are the best people to work here on a continuing basis. It may well be you Arthur,’ Roberto sounded as if he would severely resist that option. ‘It could even be Michelle. Who knows until I have that report?’

‘Until then, the site will be out of bounds to you and Michelle, all of the non-Mexicans on your team and, most especially, any KulWinik natives. We can’t have untrained people wandering over this site. Regardless to their claims of ownership,’ he said. ‘Do they claim ownership, Arthur? I have not had time to query that.’ Roberto shuffled among his papers as if the answer may lie in an official form.

‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them,’ Arthur said in a clear and strong voice. He was not angry yet, he was able to think clearly.

‘Well, whatever the case may be,’ Roberto stopped rummaging among the papers. ‘That is something to be debated by others at another time. I have the absolute,’ Roberto said with slow emphasis as if he expected Arthur to misunderstand, ‘confidence of the Director. Do you understand, Arthur?’ Arthur was becoming annoyed with the repeated use of his name as if Roberto had to make certain to whom he was talking in a crowd of people.

‘The difference is,’ Roberto continued, ‘that I have been open and frank with my superiors. They appreciate that. Unlike how you have conducted your recent affairs. It is a pity, it could have been a career changing event for you.’ Roberto smiled superciliously. ‘It may well still be a career changing event for you.’ He became serious again, attempting to be helpful. ‘I would suggest you return to Mexico City and see what you can do to protect what remains of your reputation at the Museum. See if your personal efforts may preserve your position there. I doubt it very much.’

Roberto straightened his back in his chair, as if he worried about his posture during a long interview.

‘I cannot make you leave. You are, of course, free to stay in the village with the KulWinik natives.’ He spread his arms. ‘I don’t know, perhaps, you could take a holiday and remain there.’ Roberto rested his forearms on the papers on his desk as if there could be a breeze and he needed to be ready to stop them blowing away. ‘All your team members are re-locating here. I have taken the liberty of dismissing all the non-Mexicans. I’m sure you will have no objections since, I believe, they have worked for the last few days for no pay. I have informed them that the Museum will not be forthcoming in paying them beyond your original budgeted amount.’

Roberto changed his tone of voice again, trying to end their conversation in a non-combative manner. He sat up straight again, drawing his forearms closer to his body while they remained on the desk.

‘I am not vindictive Arthur. Contrary to what you think. It is simply unfair that you take a position a Mexican national could fill. I grant you, perhaps not as well, but a younger person could grow into your role and be of greater use, long term, to the Museum. Forty years ago you would have been in the same position yourself. In these days, as you are as aware as I am, there is less and less money available to fund your type of position. Go back to the USA, Arthur.’ Roberto thought he was offering helpful advice. ‘There is more money available there. Mentoring roles, as you could most ably fill, are plentiful. Leave our small budgets here to be spent on local people who need it, and appreciate it.’

‘Anyway,’ Roberto came to the end of his chat. ‘You may not enter the site again. Passes will be issued and you and Michelle will be specifically excluded.’

Roberto stood behind his desk. He pushed his chair back and came around the table as Arthur stood to leave. Roberto laid a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and shepherded him outside the hut. They waited, as if only the final pleasantries needed to be exchanged.

‘I wish you the best of luck with your future endeavors, whatever they may be.’ He smiled and extended his hand so that Arthur had the choice to shake it or not. Arthur did. He quickly held and released Roberto’s hand.

Roberto smiled as if Arthur’s gentlemanly behavior had redeemed him, a little, in Roberto’s eyes.

Roberto called to a waiting policeman. ‘Please ensure that Arthur is escorted out to the main road.’

He led Arthur to one of the cars, opened the driver’s door for him while the policeman got into the passenger’s side. He struggled a little with his machine gun.

‘You see, I am not vindictive. You may take this Museum car back to the KulWinik village.’ Roberto shook Arthur’s hand again and then turned to leave.

‘Oh, by the way,’ Roberto added. Arthur had yet to shut the car’s door. ‘I will need all the cameras, images, drawings, notes and everything else you have to do with the tomb. Please assemble those things and I’ll get one of your team members to return them to me. Thank you.’ Roberto shut the car door on Arthur and went inside his office hut.

Chapter 7

Arthur drove carefully back towards the KulWinik village. He was in shock. He did not trust himself as he negotiated the Mexican roads and after he had turned through two intersections he pulled the car over to the side. He slumped forward onto the steering wheel and rested his forehead on his arms. Roberto’s kindly malevolence had unnerved him. Arthur raised his head and stared at his hands. They shook. He clasped the steering wheel to stop their involuntary movement. He took a deep breath to calm himself as if he was about to plunge into deep water and then let it release slowly. His side window framed the top of the mound peeping over the maize plants. He had stopped at the place Hamish had first noticed the mound. It was a beacon, attracting him with what he knew lay hidden there. He banged his hands against the steering wheel in anger and frustration. He would have to do something.

The aftermath of his small display of anger left him feeling old and tired as if it was a new thing. It swamped him, removed his confidence. Arthur gripped the steering wheel feeling that living was a too difficult process of habit without purpose. As the anger drained and left him empty, he lost the will to even restart the car. He stared fixedly at the mound and his knuckles became white as he involuntarily strangled the wheel. After such a success, he thought, and then to have it immediately shattered, like an ecstatic night dream turned into a nightmare upon waking. His anger renewed. It gave him purpose and a spurt of confidence, enough to restart the car and return to the village.

He went to the dining hut. His anger had deserted him and he was again drained of energy. He was hungry and, also, needed companionship. Michelle was there and he was as happy as he had ever been to see another human. She smiled expectantly, but his sickness showed. She frowned with worry. He told the story of Roberto’s intrigue.

She did not provide the solace he had hoped for.

‘That’s ridiculous. You just let him do it?’ Michelle was indignant. Her voice was shrill and strident. She was angry at Arthur’s weakness. She stared at him with dark eyes, their lifelessness frightened him. Her anger anticipated his sorrow, as if his failure had been brought on by himself.

‘What did you expect me to do? There were police. With guns,’ Arthur replied angrily at first but he finished with a quiet whimper.

‘What do you propose to do now?’

‘I don’t know. I really don’t,’ he said in a plaintive voice. It was a cry for help that Michelle chose to ignore.

Arthur buried his head in his hands. Michelle turned her head severely away. She could not stand to see him like that.

Michelle was angry, as parents are when their children make bad decisions and the child’s happiness is compromised. She could not provide him with reassurance. Not immediately. She wanted him to fix his own problem quickly. She wanted him to not have had the problem in the first instance. She was so angry at his weakness that her first thought was to leave the village. She could use the images they had, fortuitously, captured before Roberto arrived or, she could return to other work. But she knew she couldn’t leave. Her annoyance gained strength. She was powerless to do anything but help him.

She could not stand watching Arthur wallowing in self pity. She would say something hurtful if she remained. She strode out of the dining hut. Hamish passed her and he slowed his pace and smiled a preparatory greeting but she ignored him.

Arthur told the story of Roberto again, to Hamish.

Hamish drummed his fingers on the table as if he had an answer to Arthur’s concerns on the tip of his tongue.

‘There must be something you can do,’ Hamish offered, not helpfully.

Arthur suggested that Hamish return to Boston, there was no reason for him and Jim to stay.

‘I don’t have to, do I?’ Hamish asked.

‘No.’

Arthur brightened with what he thought was Hamish’s show of support.

‘Jim likes it here,’ Hamish said. ‘We haven’t been here that long so we might stay on a bit. I think it’s doing him good.’

A procession of four cars entered the village. Their headlights ominously ranged over and through the huts in the evening light. The first car in line stopped before the spider monkey’s cage and the others halted simultaneously as if responding to a bureaucratic order. The spider monkey dashed and screamed from one side to the other of his cage in aggressive agitation.

Roberto stepped out of the first car, then each car disgorged four policemen. Arthur strode across the grassed village compound to Roberto, where he waited as if for a parking service. Hamish followed Arthur.

Arthur halted before Roberto and made no greeting. He folded his arms and stared at his adversary with his confidence returned. Hamish moved forward to stand next to his friend.

‘To save any misunderstandings later on,’ Roberto said. ‘I thought it best to come immediately and retrieve the items you have. Jose will make sure we do not overlook anything.’

‘Jose!’ Roberto angrily ordered. The shape of a person hid inside the car. ‘Come out please.’

Jose extracted himself from the car as if it was a difficult and time consuming process.

‘I’m sorry, Arthur,’ Jose said, his eyes downcast.

Hamish folded his arms, copying Arthur. Roberto smiled. Americans amused him, as if their place of birth made them powerful and untouchable. He felt an urge to teach them a lesson, to show them how vulnerable they really were. Within a loose interpretation of the rule of law he could do what he liked. He wished he could find a way to unleash the policemen that did not increase Arthur’s self righteousness. However, he thought and changed his mind, it was not important. He had won on all counts and to gloat in his complete success was not seemly and not necessary.

Roberto directed the policemen around the two Western men. Arthur and Hamish followed as if their delaying tactic of baring the way had surprisingly failed.

They took everything that was electronic in Arthur’s hut and confiscated all hand written notes. They went on to Michelle’s hut. She waited at her doorway, she had seen Arthur confront Roberto. She now understood his powerlessness at the mound. She was proud of his show of defiance before the crowd of burly policemen.

Everything to do with archaeology was removed from her hut as well. Michelle wretchedly watched the police ransack her belongings.

The police went on to the hut shared by Hamish and Jim. Hamish stood in their way, he spread his arms and tried to block their entrance.

‘There’s nothing in here,’ Hamish said defiantly. A large policemen gently pushed him out of the way with embarrassing ease like Hamish was a flimsy curtain. Four policemen searched Hamish’s hut. Roberto oversaw the process.

Jose waited outside. He fidgeted. The policemen waiting with him made him nervous. He had no choice, he justified to himself. Roberto instructed him, Roberto paid him. Arthur’s treatment was unfair but, with a figurative shrug of shoulders, Jose knew life was not fair. Arthur could return to the USA and work. However, if he defied Roberto, because he liked Arthur, then he would not work at all. He was convinced that he had no choice.

A policeman rummaged through Jim’s belongings and found a music player. He showed it to Roberto, who nodded his head. The policeman added it to the confiscated items.

Hamish’s anger snapped. He lost reason and, as if his mind was overtaken by a beast, accosted the policeman who had so easily brushed him aside upon entry.

‘That’s Jim’s,’ Hamish yelled and pushed the policeman who was at a loss to understand the action of the older man. ‘You can’t take that.’

He could live with any difficulty but would not tolerate an inconvenience for Jim. The loss of even a small item for his grandson was too much. He would not allow Jim to suffer more, even the absence of music. Hamish grabbed the policeman and tried to wrestle the music player from him. The policeman easily pushed Hamish away. He fell heavily. He hit his head against the small work table and crumpled to the floor. He lost conscious for a moment. He then tried to stand but could not. He wanted to resume the tussle over Jim’s music player but his body did not respond to command. He was filled with indignation. His anger made his body shake. Jim’s slight loss warranted the death of the two men. His mind raced. If he had the strength, he would fight the policeman. He would fight Roberto. He would fight the world to its end. It was unfair how easily he had been overcome, how he had been treated with disrespect. That should happen among civilized people.

At that incongruous thought, of the violence of well meaning, civilized people, some of his reason returned. He laughed senselessly. His anger made him as bad as them, he thought. His anger subsided. It was lucky his strength was insignificant otherwise he would have had a violent action to regret. He giggled childishly.

Arthur rushed to his friend. Arthur’s face contracted with worry.

‘I’m all right, Kate’ Hamish said.

Hamish stared hard at the person who touched him. His mind had wandered, he was young again and Kate had returned to him. She was ministering to his hurts. She was contrite and her touch was gentle and loving. Hamish stared at the face hovering over him and wondered how the young Kate had turned into the older Arthur. His mind tried to correct the error and melt Arthur’s creased face into the tight skin of a young woman.

He failed. He remembered where he was. He was depressed and empty as if he had lost the long years between youth and an older age in those seconds when he remembered. The face really was Arthur’s and his own face would be just as creased and worn. It came back to him in waves of disappointment. There was no Kate for him, young or old.

Hamish made another effort to rouse himself. He lifted his body and propped on an elbow. He watched, with some comprehension, the policeman as he continued searching the hut. Hamish was not surprised at the policeman’s behavior and he smiled as he remembered the consuming hatred that would have struck the man down if he had the strength. He would buy Jim a dozen music players at the airport on the way home. Hamish felt the stale, empty and embarrassing residue of subsiding extreme hatred.

Hamish placed his hand on his forehead and it came away covered with blood. He lay back on the floor of the hut. He felt old, tired and oddly cold.

‘There could be files and documents hidden on that music player,’ Roberto said to Arthur, as justification. ‘It will be returned once it’s been examined.’

Arthur loathed Roberto at that moment. He did not wish violence but he was determined to return a severely embarrassed Roberto to his desk in Mexico City. He would do whatever was necessary to achieve that objective.

Arthur scooped an arm underneath Hamish’s back and helped him sit. He and Michelle then got Hamish to stand. They led him slowly towards Michelle’s hut.

‘Arthur, wait,’ Roberto commanded. Arthur halted before realizing he was obeying an order. ‘I understand some items were taken by the KulWinik from the tomb. We will have to have those too.’

Arthur turned away and he and Michelle continued on with Hamish.

Chapter 8

Yax K’in was alone in his hut sitting cross-legged on the floor when Roberto and four policemen entered. He patiently listened as Roberto brusquely explained his purpose.

‘Of course,’ Yax K’in said in Spanish, as if Roberto’s request was reasonable.

Yax K’in did not know where the items he had retrieved from the tomb were and he was unconcerned by their absence. They were not in his hut when he returned there late in the afternoon. He had noticed but not questioned their absence, as if they had made their own decision to remove themselves and would return when they were ready.

Roberto was angry. Yax K’in’s hut smelt foul with the residue of years of family living, and the close smell of harsh tobacco. The smell had attached to him, lessened him and he was frustrated because nothing had been found.

He asked Yax K’in in a voice of distaste and distrust. ‘Where are the items you took from the tomb?’

‘I do not know,’ Yax K’in said truthfully and smiled at him. It was a smile of pleasure and in no way represented the sarcastic antagonism Roberto expected. He smiled back without knowing that he did.

Roberto, ultimately, did not care about the items taken from the tomb. He wanted them for an inventory that was incomplete but their importance must be minor. He respected Arthur’s judgement and if he had let them be removed, without being catalogued, then they had to be insignificant. He could live without their retrieval but would include their removal in his first written report. They would serve a purpose as well if found or not.

Roberto gathered together his troop of uniformed men and their booty. Yax K’in accompanied them to their cars. He was a small, insignificant, almost childlike, attachment to the group of adult men. Roberto opened his car door and noticed Yax K’in had followed them.

‘I will need those items returned,’ Roberto said menacingly. He got into his car and then led the procession out of the village.

The invasion had lasted less than fifteen minutes.

Yax K’in watched them go like they had been invited visitors that must receive a fitting farewell. Jose turned in his seat as the car departed. Yax K’in’s faded, spectral, indistinct white shape made him shudder with a fear that the man himself would have been surprised to have invoked.

Yax K’in returned to his hut once he could no longer see the red tail lights of the cars, as if to ensure they would not change their minds and return. The items from the tomb were waiting for him, as was his youngest wife. He smiled at her and simply said, ’Ah!’ as his heartfelt thank you.

He sat, again, in the same place Roberto had disturbed him. He returned to his interrupted thoughts. His options had reduced and the leisure of sufficient time was a significant loss.

Tomorrow, he thought, I too must go to Yaxchilan.

Chapter 9

Hamish was unwell that night. Jim and Pep’Em Ha and then Arthur and Michelle took turns to stay with him. He was much improved the next morning although his head hurt where it had been cut and he had a major headache.

Arthur enthusiastically let Pep’Em Ha borrow the Museum’s car to drive her father to Yaxchilan. His responsibility for Museum property, his worry about damage, his concern for insurance liability vanished after Roberto’s behavior in the village. If she damaged the car then all the better, he thought.

Jim insisted on accompanying Pep’Em Ha.

During the first minutes of their trip Jim was surprised that Pep’Em Ha could drive. He wondered why that was. For all his respect of her KulWinik abilities and her intelligence he had not expected her to have a normal teenager’s capabilities. Jim watched Pep’Em Ha from the back seat. Her face was narrowed and her eyes steady on the road ahead. He was glad he had not expressed his surprise when only the three of them had got into the car. His barely averted embarrassment reddened his face. He turned away and appeared to concentrate on the countryside through his side window.

Before midday they had arrived at Yaxchilan and were ascending the pathway to the Labyrinth. Yax K’in’s stride was strong and he did not slow the others. He veered from the path before the dark entrance. Pep’Em Ha followed her father but Jim halted and watched them as they began to climb the rise that led over the top.

Pep’Em Ha waited for a moment, torn between following her father, as she should, or staying with Jim, as she wanted. Her head turned from Jim to her father and back again.

Yax K’in attained the top and then saw Jim walking up the path to the Labyrinth. His daughter was with him.

He yelled as loud as he could, ‘No.’

Jim and Pep’Em Ha stopped. They looked quizzically at each other, Jim said something and then Pep’Em Ha began to climb to Yax K’in. Jim resumed his way towards the Labyrinth.

Once again, Yax K’in yelled as loud as he could, ‘Pep’Em Ha! No.’ He pointed to Jim, not trusting that Jim would understand his command.

Jim stopped, his confusion obvious. He turned off the path and re-joined Pep’Em Ha. They climbed to her father.

‘You must excuse me,’ Yax K’in said to this daughter. ‘I am an old man. I should have reminded you that you cannot pass through the Labyrinth again.’

‘Why?’ asked Pep’Em Ha.

Yax K’in began walking, down the slope into the park-like scene of the grand plaza of Yaxchilan. ‘Because you have heard the voices,’ he said once the other two had caught up and were walking next to him. ‘That way is shut for the t’o’ohil.’

‘Why did you stop me then?’ Jim asked.

Yax K’in pulled up and peered at Jim’s eyes, examining them each in turn as if searching for something lost. His face relaxed into a grin as if he had been satisfied with the result of his inspection.

‘Because you have also heard the voices. Pep’Em Ha told me of your visit here. I am sorry that I doubted but I had to make sure. I hope you will forgive an old man,’ Yax K’in said. He turned his head from Jim and tried to imagine Yaxchilan in its glorious heyday.

Jim raised his eyebrows to Pep’Em Ha, querying if she had also told her father about their experience at the cave.

Yax K’in dragged his eyes away from the past.

‘You were lucky that my daughter was with you when you passed through the Labyrinth. She had not yet heard the voices. She had not been accepted by Hachakyum. If she had not been there, and she had not acted quickly, you would not have returned. You would have joined your brother again,’ Yax K’in said. ‘Once we have heard the voices,’ he continued. ‘We cannot go in there. What separates our world from Xibalba is thin in that place. The t’o’ohil must be wary, there are many things that must concern us.’

‘Why did I hear the voices then?’ Jim asked. ‘I’m not KulWinik.’

Yax K’in was silent for a long time. Jim thought the old man had forgotten that he had been asked a question. His grandfather did that often, when he was distracted. It annoyed Jim.

‘Because you are one of the gods,’ Yax K’in said, seriously.

Yax K’in moved off quickly and down the slope, expecting the others to follow.

Jim wanted more of an answer than that. And a sensible answer. Yax K’in’s mention of his brother made him angry and anxious. Jim ran in front of Yax K’in, blocking his progress. It was a presumptuous act.

‘What do you mean?’ Jim angrily put his hand against the old man’s chest. ‘How could I be a god? I’m just me. And what did you mean about my brother?’

Pep’Em Ha wrapped her hand around Jim’s wrist and with a strength that Jim could not resist, moved his hand off her father’s chest. Jim was crestfallen as if her action was a betrayal but then concentrated on the feel of her skin encircling his wrist.

‘Would I have died, if Pep’Em Ha hadn’t been there?’ Jim asked, his anger gone.

‘No,’ Yax K’in said firmly. ‘You would have rejoined your brother.’

Jim laughed. The tension broke. ‘It’d get smelly in the Labyrinth with all the bodies piled up, wouldn’t it? They should put a warning sign outside,’ Jim said. His smile faded against Pep’Em Ha’s worried expression. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said to her. He did not want to upset her.

Yax K’in expected behavior commensurate with experience and Jim was young. He smiled, he understood Jim’s need for humor.

‘No, Jim,’ he said in a softer voice. ‘No-one dies in the Labyrinth. A chosen KulWinik would journey to Xibalba. They would need to be summoned to return to this world. Pep’Em Ha stopped you beginning the same journey as your brother.’

‘And what about my brother?’ Jim asked apprehensively.

‘Yes, yes,’ Yax K’in said. He was impatient to continue to the temple of Hachakyum. ‘Of course. He is waiting. That is why we are here.’

Yax K’in moved around Jim and continued down to the grand plaza. His face was set, focussed and unresponsive. He would answer no more questions about the Labyrinth. Jim waited with Pep’Em Ha.

‘Do you think I’m a god?’

‘Don’t bother him anymore with that, please?’ Pep’Em Ha asked Jim. ‘Let’s let him do what he has to do for now. We can talk with my mother when we return to the village.’

She had been holding his wrist the whole time and only gave it up after they began to walk again, following Pep’Em Ha’s father.

It was a busy day at Yaxchilan and many tourists stared at Yax K’in and Pep’Em Ha. Soon there was a buzz around the ruins as people became aware of the two KulWinik like it was an unannounced royal visit. The tourist groups with guides became especially agitated when the extraordinary circumstance of a visit from the leader of the KulWinik was explained.

Jim walked behind, feeling like an attendant. He wished he had dressed as a KulWinik, although it would have been embarrassing anywhere other than in the village or at Yaxchilan with Pep’Em Ha and her father.

Yax K’in climbed steadily to the temple of Hachakyum. He stood before the ancient facade inspecting it as if returning home after an absence and he was scanning for casual damage. His eyes wandered down from the stone structure to the base of the temple. His face broke into a smile.

‘Ah!’ he said with pleasure.

He gathered pieces of broken pottery and sat down on the topmost step. He fiddled, like he was engaged in a puzzle, and fitted the pieces together into their original, unbroken, order. His face broke into a larger smile when he succeeded.

He put the pieces of pottery into a bag and stood, ready to return to the village.

Chapter 10

The morning Yax K’in went to Yaxchilan, Arthur and Michelle sat side-by-side at the table outside Arthur’s hut. They quietly talked of Arthur’s problems with Roberto. They reached no resolution.

Michelle turned her head away from Arthur and peered into the jungle that began a few meters away. She thought of the years living in the village with him. That was a satisfying life, she remembered. She searched for the break in the jungle that led to their old milpa and found it. She turned right around and fondly examined the hut behind her, the hut she had lived in with Arthur. She smiled.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said as she gently touched his hand and then squeezed it.

Arthur’s mobile telephone rang from inside the hut. He retrieved it and then sat down again while holding it at arms length like it was dangerous.

‘It’s Roberto. Should I answer it?’ he asked her.

‘That’s up to you,’ she said.

The telephone stopped ringing while Arthur was still deciding.

‘I’d better call him back. You never know,’ he said as he pressed the button to return Roberto’s call.

‘Roberto. It’s Arthur. You called?’

Arthur listened and did not say anything for a long time. His face was vacant as if he was being mesmerized by a tone from the telephone.

‘Yes. All right.’ Arthur placed his telephone on the table and resumed his vacant staring.

‘Not good news, I expect?’ Michelle asked.

‘What?’ Arthur asked, his mind elsewhere. ‘No. Not for Hamish.’

Arthur flattened his hands on the table.

‘He’s obtaining a deportation order. “Worried after Hamish’s violent display yesterday.” That’s what Roberto’s calling it. Unbelievable, isn’t it?’

Michelle shook her head.

‘He’s got in touch with Kate too,’ Arthur continued. ‘She wants Jim back in the States. Apparently Hamish yelled at her, over the telephone, before he came down here,’ Arthur said. ‘Shit!’ he exclaimed. ‘He yelled at Kate? That’s all?’ Arthur was incredulous.

Michelle laughed bitterly. ‘I’m glad that’s not a universal requirement. The number of times I’ve yelled at you,’ she said.

‘Jim’s still a minor, theoretically, and if his grandmother wants him back in Boston I don’t know what we can do about it,’ Arthur said.

‘That would not help,’ Michelle said. ‘Jim’s his focus at the moment.’

Arthur agreed. ‘Do you think we should tell him?’ he asked.

‘It would be better coming from you, wouldn’t it? Better than from Roberto’s police. Hamish wouldn’t do anything stupid would he? Like shoot someone?’

‘Depends who he shot,’ Arthur replied quickly.

Chapter 11

When Yax K’in returned from Yaxchilan, with his cargo of broken pottery, he had his youngest son glue the pieces together. The mend was not pretty. The edges joined roughly and the white PVC glue had oozed out of the cracks as pressure had been applied to the joins. The repaired god-pot rested on the floor of his hut. He sat quietly next to it, bathed in the low evening light. He watched over the god-pot as if the adhesive cure needed nursing.

He chose a place on the side of the pot and squeezed out some glue from a tube. He sat back and viewed his handiwork as if he had performed a delicate and difficult task. He lifted a separate piece of ceramic, that had not been retrieved from Yaxchilan. He weighed it in his hand and turned it over and back. He chose an end and added a liberal amount of adhesive.

He put the tube down and glared at the piece of ceramic as if he was under duress to continue. With his spare hand he pressed against the side of the god-pot opposite where the glue had been applied. He placed the ceramic piece so that the two glued places met. He applied pressure with his two hands, as if they were trying to meet through the pot. He sustained that force for a minute while outside his hut the world slowly changed. Darkness seeped out from the jungle as if night was contagious and had become intense, foreboding and dangerous.

Yax K’in released his hands. He sighed when the added piece of ceramic remained in place, as if he had hoped his repair would fail.

He stood, scrutinized the pot and then left it alone in his hut, to heal like it was a patient that required solitude and undisturbed rest.

The god-pot of Hachakyum had been remade and a handle had been added. Yax K’in would know the next day if the god-pot’s strength had been lost by its long abandonment at Yaxchilan.

He expected, and feared, that it would be as strong as it had ever been.

Chapter 12

‘I’m not leaving! No way,’ Jim was loud and angry. His body was taut. His fists were clenched by his side as if he was ready to fight.

The morning sun filtered through the tops of the jungle trees, but was not high enough to burn its presence on the village. Hamish’s head was bandaged but the second night after his injury had passed with normal sleep. Mild medication was enough to reduce the pain in his head to a dull, and manageable, ache.

Hamish and Arthur faced Jim outside Arthur’s hut. Michelle sat at the table.

Hamish sighed. ‘It may be for the best,’ he said quietly to Jim. ‘We can always come back. But if your grandmother is that desperate to have you then I can’t stop her.’ He was trying to be reasonable when he didn’t want to be.

‘I don’t care what grandma wants. She can get fucked.’

‘Jim!’

‘Why don’t you go back to Boston and I’ll stay here?’

Jim stormed off in search of Pep’Em Ha.

Hamish’s retelling of Arthur’s news from Roberto had not gone smoothly although it had gone as expected.

‘What will you do?’ Arthur asked after they had watched Jim disappear.

‘I don’t know. I’ll leave it for awhile.’ Hamish sat down. He faced Michelle across the table. Arthur sat down next to her.

‘I’m sorry Hamish,’ she said. ‘It must be really hard at the moment. If there’s anything Arthur and I can do, then just ask.’ As she said that, she thought of herself and Arthur as a couple again. She moved her hand to cover his where it rested on the tabletop.

‘Thanks,’ Hamish said absently. He noticed Michelle’s hand touching Arthur’s and smiled. ‘I can’t make him go. He’s not a child anymore.’ Hamish laughed. ‘He’s stronger than I am.’

‘No, but Roberto could make him leave,’ Arthur replied. Hamish’s face dropped. ‘And he would, I think.’

Hamish sat back in his chair. He surveyed the roof-line of Arthur’s hut.

‘I don’t need this just now. This aggravation won’t help. Why would she do that?’ he asked, meaning Kate.

Jim came running and repeatedly yelling Arthur’s name.

‘You’ve got to come. There’s something weird going on in Yax K’in’s hut, with Pep’Em Ha,’ Jim said breathlessly. He turned away and ran from them, back the way he had come and towards the KulWinik section of the village.

Arthur, Michelle and Hamish burst into Yax K’in’s hut at the same time. The men were breathless. Jim was transfixed just inside the entrance as if something prevented him from moving further into the hut.

Arthur watched the scene inside with a horror that made him physically sick.

Chapter 13

Yax K’in sat cross-legged on the floor, his daughter faced him with her neck stretched towards her father. The repaired god-pot of Hachakyum rested on the ground between them. Waves of incense smoke rose from it, caressing Pep’Em Ha’s face and floating towards the ceiling. The smell of copal resin was intense. Beside the god-pot was the bundle Yax K’in had retrieved from the tomb. It had been unwrapped and the obsidian shards lay next to the beaten-bark paper. The stingray barb was in Yax K’in’s raised hand.

As Arthur and the other two entered the hut, Yax K’in’s hand plunged. The stingray barb pierced Pep’Em Ha’s tongue. She screamed but did not move. Blood flowed over the top of her tongue and cascaded from the point of the stingray barb. It streamed over and under her chin. It ran down the front of her white tunic. Blood splattered into the smoldering pot and over the ancient paper.

As Yax K’in struck his daughter, Arthur reacted, as if he had been released from a restraint. He pushed passed Jim and ran across the hut. Even so, Jim reached Pep’Em Ha before Arthur. Jim‘s hand grabbed towards Pep’Em Ha’s mouth, about to pull out the stingray barb. Arthur screamed an inarticulate sound, as loud as he could. It was enough to delay Jim as he flicked his head to see what greater problem there was. Arthur grabbed Jim’s arm and with great difficulty pushed it away from Pep’Em Ha’s mouth.

In a voice that was panicked but he forced to sound calm, Arthur said slowly and carefully, ‘We can’t pull it out. It has to be pulled through. There are serrated barbs on the edges.’

In an embarrassingly easy movement, Jim brushed away Arthur’s hold on him and squatted next Pep’Em Ha. He placed one hand underneath her tongue, sliding the protruding point of the stingray barb between his fingers. He cradled and supported the bloody mass. His other hand grabbed the end of the protruding barb, his fingers were slashed but he did not feel pain. Her blood and his gushed over his hands and arms. He pulled the stingray barb through her tongue in one short, swift motion. She screamed again.

Jim threw the barb away. He hugged Pep’Em Ha tightly as if his arms could be the tourniquet to restrict the blood flow through the wound in her tongue. Blood that was on his hands and arms smeared over the shoulders of her tunic while it flowed freely again from her ruptured tongue.

Pep’Em Ha sobbed and bubbled.

When Arthur had run towards Pep’Em Ha, Michelle had run the other way, back to her hut. She returned with a medical kit. She passed Jim a gauze bandage to press firmly around Pep’Em Ha’s tongue to stem the flow of blood. She gave Pep’Em Ha a painkilling injection and then rummaged through the kit looking for a tetanus shot and an injection of antibiotics.

Before that moment in her father’s hut, Pep’Em Ha had not been aware of the full extent of the experience of pain. The agony, and her own blood, scared her. There was so much blood, it was all over the front of her tunic and her lower face was wet with it. She had never felt blood stream as a flowing liquid that ran and eddied. She concentrated on not fainting. That would be embarrassing for the next t’o’ohil. She focussed on Jim’s hand pressing against her tongue. The agony in her mouth reduced as the painkilling injection began to work. She relived the relief as Jim had removed the barb and had thrown it away like it was a living thing that had caused her pain. Her body slumped. She was so tired.

Yax K’in shook uncontrollably as he sat down a distance away from the others. The shock of the injury he had caused his daughter labored his breath and his head slumped forward. He believed was about to die and that would be good, he thought. His body recovered a little, once his head had slumped forward. His eyes moistened with relief as he watched Pep’Em Ha being cared for. No-one had looked to him. He expected to be forever a pariah.

It had been a brutal act. A senseless sacrifice at the biding of others. Yax K’in wished he had died, years ago. Before the burden had become his. Before Hachakyum had spoken. Before Pep’Em Ha had been born. The blood letting performed on Pep’Em Ha had none of the ritual of the ancient ceremonies, it was a simple and brutal torture of his daughter. The ancient ceremonies were not arbitrary, Yax K’in knew that. He had instructions from his father, and his father from his father, back to Hachakyum. Arthur, also, had told him what archaeologists had discovered. The full ceremony required days of ritual and of fasting and abstinence. The pain of the bloodletting alone was not enough to induce the visions that were depicted in the ancient carvings. Pep’Em Ha’s pain would not give the result Hachakyum expected. Pep’Em Ha’s sacrifice would be a useless act.

Yax K’in had no choice. His haste in performing the blood-letting was Yax K’in’s variation and that would be the flaw in Hachakyum’s plan. Jim’s imminent departure had panicked him to act too quickly. He did not have the days required to perform the ceremonies. Hachakyum’s plan would be undone by Yax K’in’s inadequacy and the interference of others.

Yax K’in noticed the blood spattered ancient bark paper that rested, untouched and unnoticed, on the ground next to his daughter. He remembered the next step. There’s always one more thing, he thought. His life was determined by the priorities of others. Each horrendous step required yet another.

Yax K’in placed his hands on the floor and gingerly pushed himself up to standing. He wavered unsteadily. He shuffled over to his daughter. She looked at him, through the crowd around her, with forgiveness and love.

Yax K’in picked up the ancient paper. He placed a blood-covered corner over the smoldering god-pot. The blood and paper mix began to smoke.

Arthur glowered at Yax K’in. He yanked the paper from the god-pot and threw it away. It fluttered, spraying droplets of red, and fell to the ground not far from where Yax K’in had retrieved it. The paper no longer burnt. Yax K’in watched and waited.

The smoke in the god-pot swirled and thickened. It became a solid mass extending from the floor to the ceiling. A seed formed in the stream. It grew, like the view of a distant traveller coming closer, until it was the shape of the head of a snake. The head grew larger. It swung from side to side gathering the rest of the smoke into its enlarging design. The smoke congealed further. An open mouth formed.

Arthur watched the smoke change shape. He saw the framed figure of Hamish, through the smoky haze, as he stood in the entranceway of Yax K’in’s hut. It was as if Hamish had appeared in the mouth of the serpent shaped smoke.

However, Arthur remembered that Hamish had entered the hut with Michelle, he had helped her retrieve a separate medical bag and had raced over to Pep’Em Ha to tend to her. Arthur turned around, to the group around Pep’Em Ha, and saw another Hamish, the real one assisting Michelle.

Hamish surprised Arthur’s look of distrust and disbelief before Arthur turned back to the stream of smoke. They both saw the shape as it stepped out of the mouth of the Vision Serpent.

The figure was not a replica of Hamish, it was a replica of Jim.

It was Harry.

Chapter 14

Yax K’in smiled grimly, without satisfaction, as the figure of Harry emerged from the Vision Serpent. The ceremony had worked, despite the haste. He studied Harry critically as if he was a specimen.

The smoke from the Vision Serpent wreathed Harry, giving him a ghost-like appearance, blurring the edges of his body. The smoke flowed in his wake like a cape. He ignored everyone but the young woman who had summoned him. He was not Harry at that moment, a wise old creature stared at Pep’Em Ha with Jim’s eyes.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly like a sigh. He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head so she was forced to look at him. Jim’s replica terrified her. She strained to see the original Jim out from the corner of her eyes. The apparition was of her own making, she believed, out of her pain, shock and fear.

Harry smiled. She returned his smile despite her fear and the ache in her mouth. Harry, somehow, had forced joy upon her.

Harry pushed Jim’s hand away. He threw away the blood soaked bandages and placed his hand on the messy and bloody flesh of her tongue. The smoke that clung to him flowed down his arm and into her mouth. Her wound melted and merged and healed.

Harry became distinct as the smoke left him. He shook his head as if he had been frightened awake while sleep walking. His eyes grew wide, he did not know where he was. He flicked his head from side to side in panic. The people and objects before him made no sense. He recognized the person holding Pep’Em Ha. He tightened his eyes as if he was trying to focus but could not believe what his brain told him.

‘Jim?’ Harry said incredulously. He crumpled in a faint.

Hamish caught Harry and held him tight like he was, again, his infant grandson. Hamish’s eyes glistened and his mouth shook. He did not believe what he held in his arms but like a vivid, returned memory he would fight to not let it fade.

Harry regained consciousness almost immediately. The close, concerned face of his grandfather was momentarily incomprehensible to him.

‘Granddad?’ Harry said.

Hamish hugged Harry to him, squeezing him hard.

‘OK, granddad,’ Harry said as the breath was squashed from him. ‘I’m all right.’

Hamish let Harry go, a little, so that he could see his face again.

‘Where’s your father Harry?’ Hamish asked in a voice that shook with desperation. He hoped that his joy at a returned grandson, real or not, could be complemented by the resurrection of his son.

‘Dad? How would I know?’

Harry recognized another face. ‘Uncle Arthur?’

Harry struggled and shrugged off his grandfather.

‘Where is dad?’ he asked with a rising panic. ‘Jim? Where is everyone? Where are we?’ He twisted his body to and fro as he tried to make sense of his location.

‘You’re dead,’ Jim said in a dispassionate monotone. He had one arm around Pep’Em Ha’s shoulder.

‘What?’

‘Mom and Dad are dead,’ Jim said viciously and clearly. The apparition was not his brother. It was a tormenting figment. He was terse as if testing the humanness of the creature before him.

‘What? How?’ Harry spluttered. He believed his brother. ‘When?’ The trauma of discovery was too much, even for a young man among strangers and he began to cry. Jim watched the display for a moment and then let his eyes fall to the ground in embarrassment. It was no apparition. Jim wrapped his arms around his twin brother. Pep’Em Ha’s blood as well as his own smeared over Harry’s shoulder. Harry sobbed into his brother. Hamish tried to encircle them both with his arms.

Michelle tore her eyes away from the reunited family and crouched next to Pep’Em Ha. She examined her mouth. There was blood everywhere, it had coagulated inside her mouth, around her lips and lower face and it covered her clothes but her tongue was whole.

‘Can you talk?’ Michelle asked.

‘Yes. There’s no pain,’ Pep’Em Ha said, although speech was difficult with the blood remaining in her mouth.

Arthur passed her water to rinse her mouth. Michelle smoothed Pep’Em Ha’s hair in a mothering motion and then began to wipe and clean her face with a damp cloth.

Yax K’in wobbled on his feet and fell hard into a sitting position. He was emptied of life. It had all been for nothing. The blood-letting ceremony had failed after all. He lifted his head, to again observe Harry and Jim. What had gone wrong? Any of a myriad of things, he thought. The haste and lack of ritual or the badly mended god-pot. Paramount in his mind was his own unworthiness. He would have to find the error, before the ceremony was repeated. He shook himself. No, he thought angrily and with conviction, it won’t be repeated. There would be no further suffering. Hachakyum’s plan had failed upon execution. He let his head fall into his hands. He would have to think. He would have to try to understand.

There had to be another way.

Chapter 15

Harry was taken, in a distraught state, to the hut shared by Jim and Hamish. They put him into Jim’s hammock and he fell immediately asleep. Hamish pulled out the chair that was drawn into the little work table. He placed it next to the hammock and sat beside his grandson. Nothing else mattered. He would be there when Harry woke.

Hamish believed the miracle of the resurrection of his grandson. His eyes told him a truth he wanted to see. He did not question how it could have happened, as if doubt would cause his grandson to disappear. Hamish’s world was restricted to Harry’s rhythmic breathing. Nothing else mattered, not his loss of Kate and, now, her unreasonable demands, not his anger, embarrassment and frustration from Roberto’s police, not the pain of the injury to his head, not his confused and befuddled mind, and not even, for the moment, the death of his son.

Jim watched Hamish watching Harry for a long time until he remembered Pep’Em Ha. He quietly told his grandfather that he was leaving in search of her. Hamish nodded his head but did not take his eyes off Harry.

Pep’Em Ha was lying in a hammock in her father’s hut. Her face was clear of the evidence of her attack. Yax K’in sat, on the floor, next to her, replicating the scene of careful attention in Hamish’s hut. He was smoking a cigar. The blood streaked paper had not been moved, neither had the mended god-pot of Hachakyum. Pep’Em Ha’s mother sat, like a silent but angry protector, on the other side of the hammock. Her face was drawn with worry.

She blamed herself, her lack of oversight, for Pep’Em Ha’s injury. Her daughter and Jim had come to her the night before, worried about Yax K’in’s behavior at Yaxchilan. She had reassured Pep’Em Ha that her father was sound and no danger to himself nor to others. She had been proved wrong. She should have known better.

Yax K’in had harmed his daughter before.

Pep’Em Ha slept lightly. She woke momentarily when Jim entered, smiled at him and then fell back into sleep. Jim watched her rhythmic breathing, which replicated the movement of his resurrected brother. He wondered if her torture had been worthwhile. She was healed and sleeping, she appeared physically unharmed, so her sacrifice possibly was justified, he thought. But, he would never have agreed to her harm if he had been asked beforehand, not even to return his brother.

Jim was angry with Yax K’in. The sight of him sitting, much as he did at any other time, next to his daughter after being the cause of such pain made Jim clench his fists. He would not strike the old man, but he wished him injury by some means other than his own. Yax K’in did not invite Jim to sit and because he was not asked, Jim sat down heavily.

‘How could you?’ Jim whispered at Yax K’in, trying to be quiet and angry.

Yax K’in glanced at Jim then back at Pep’Em Ha.

‘Do you love my daughter?’ Yax K’in returned Jim’s question with another.

Jim was surprised by the query. He made sure Pep’Em Ha was sleeping and said as quietly as he could, ‘Yes.’

‘There are many stories where harming a loved one is asked for by others. If you love my daughter then you may understand some of my anguish. In your Bible there is the story of the father who is asked to harm his son.’

‘I’m not a Christian, I’m not anything,’ Jim interrupted. He would disagree with Yax K’in without exception.

Yax K’in nodded his head and grunted.

‘Since Pep’Em Ha’s birth, since the time her name became hers, this ceremony has been inevitable. Hachakyum himself commanded it when he told my first ancestor.’

‘You can’t know that!’ Jim exclaimed loudly and then lowered his head as if that might quieten his words, after he had spoken them. ‘How could anyone know that Pep’Em Ha would be born?’

‘We accept many things we do not understand. We apply judgement and we decide if those things are reasonable. You do not understand everything but you accept some things. True?’ Yax K’in continued immediately. ‘The stories I have been told, as they were told by Hachakyum himself, are true. I am like your scientist that cannot explain his wonders because you do not have the faculties to understand. The logic is flawless, Jim, I assure you of that. I would not have done what I have done, and Pep’Em Ha would not have let me, if it was not so. She understands. She will be a great t’o’ohil.’

‘How could anyone, years ago, know about Harry?’ Jim asked.

‘Ah! No-one did,’ Yax K’in said, triumphantly, as if he had received an expected question he could answer easily. ‘The return of your brother was not the expected result.’

‘Not expected? I reckon,’ Jim spoke in English, which Yax K’in did not understand.

‘So, it didn’t work?’ Jim said maliciously, reminding Yax K’in of Pep’Em Ha’s wasted mutilation.

‘It did not work,’ Yax K’in repeated, sadly.

‘What will happen to Harry? He’ll disappear? He might die? Again.’

‘No. He will not die.’

‘What does that mean? Everyone dies,’ Jim said, sneering.

Yax K’in watched his daughter as she breathed slowly and rhythmically.

‘Not everyone dies,’ Yax K’in said, softly.

‘Whatever,’ Jim said, in English. He hated Yax K’in, his refusal to answer questions sensibly annoyed him.

Jim stood abruptly. He towered over Yax K’in, clenched his fists again and wondered if he might be able to strike him but spun on his heels and left the hut.

His anger dissipated immediately he was outside. He felt empty, bored and disappointed when he realized he had nowhere to go. His returned brother was sleeping, as was Pep’Em Ha. He had the choice of watching two people sleep. He became acutely embarrassed, guilty and angry. His anger was directed at himself. He wondered how he could be bored after the return of a dead twin brother and with a woman he had admitted he loved.

Yax K’in scurried out of the hut and nearly ran into Jim. The old man was surprised by Jim’s presence and walked quickly away as if he was late and in a hurry.

Jim thought about following but did not. He went into the hut and sat in the place he just left. Pep’Em Ha’s mother scowled at him, as if his presence was dangerous but he ignored her. While he thought of other things he watched Pep’Em Ha’s hammock swing in resonance with her slow breathing.

Chapter 16

Arthur and Michelle had left Yax K’in’s hut once Pep’Em Ha had been cleaned up. Her mother had taken over and pushed them out. She had been unsure who had been responsible for her daughter’s injury and, in the meantime, trusted no-one. They went back to Arthur’s hut, the hut they had once shared. It was the closest place of safety and security, it was like a home. They had not immediately talked of what they had seen, or thought they had seen. They attempted to make sense on their own, as if it was embarrassing to discuss such a ridiculous event. They sat at the outside table. The sun had climbed over the top of the jungle trees and beat down at them.

‘We have to discuss this,’ Michelle said. She did not know what there was to discuss but was angry with Arthur for not beginning the conversation. ‘What just happened?’ she asked, as if Arthur should know.

Arthur was unsure of everything, like he had woken next to Michelle after a night of shared dreams. His world was soft and fragile and he did not know where the dream ended.

‘We need answers,’ Michelle said. She wanted Arthur to say something, anything. She wanted to touch him, to make sure he was solid and real.

‘Do you really want answers?’ Arthur said. His face frowned but not in anger. ‘And what would be the questions?’

‘I don’t know. Anymore than you do,’ she said plaintively. ‘The pain inflicted on Pep’Em Ha worries me.’

Michelle touched Arthur’s hand.

‘It was gruesome. Unnecessary,’ she said.

Arthur spoke in a small voice, as if he was unsure that discussing Harry’s re-appearance was safe. ‘Yes. It was horrible. I don’t know about unnecessary.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked abruptly. She withdrew her hand.

‘It achieved a result. I can only assume that Yax K’in knew what he was doing,’ Arthur said.

‘We did see what we saw, didn’t we?’ Michelle asked quietly, afraid of the question.

Arthur laughed. It a was small, stuttering, unconfident laugh that contained no humor. ‘I don’t know. Did we?’

‘This is all wrong. It isn’t possible unless there’s some delusion. I don’t know how that works. Do you?’

‘No.’

‘It has to be a hypnosis thing. Caused by something, by stress maybe...’ Michelle trailed off as her argument failed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said with exasperation. She let her head fall onto Arthur’s shoulder.

‘No, neither do I, Michelle.’ Arthur placed his arms around her shoulders and drew her close to him.

There were two positive results, Arthur thought. The, apparent, return of Harry from the dead and Michelle’s anger with him had completely disappeared.

Chapter 17

Yax K’in silently appeared, like a specter, before Arthur and Michelle.

‘Please,’ he sounded almost pitiful. ‘I need your help. I need to understand my failure.’ Arthur prodded Michelle to lift her head.

Michelle stood up but did not move from behind the table. She wondered if the old man was safe. He had to have changed to have hurt an innocent, own, child. She shuddered as she thought of Harry’s hand touching Pep’Em Ha’s mouth. He had been something to be afraid of at that moment but she doubted her memory. The shock of seeing Pep’Em Ha attacked, her heart wrenching scream of pain, the volume of blood, Michelle’s rising panic and the overpowering smell of the smoke had overloaded her senses. A distinct and rational memory was impossible. It would be tainted, it would be reconstructed. The logic of those minutes in Yax K’in’s hut became fuzzier as she recovered from the shock and surprise. And, she thought, the cause of it all had been Yax K’in.

However, her compassion overwhelmed her as the small, unkempt, old man held out his hand to her. She thought he was pleading for forgiveness. Her charity began immediately, she lost her fear and her anger. She could never understand how he did that horrible thing to his daughter. His compulsion was beyond her understanding. He needed help and he was asking for it. She could not refuse.

She smiled grimly as she navigated purposively around the table. She did what she had never done before. She ignored his proffered hand and enfolded the frail man in her arms as if she was the resurrected mother of the aged leader of the KulWinik.

Yax K’in accepted Michelle’s embrace. He let the hug run its course. She let him go and, self consciously, backed away.

‘Thank you.’ Yax K’in said softly. ‘I need your skill,’ he said in a clear and steady voice. ‘Can you come with me now? Please?’

The group of three followed the path Pep’Em Ha had taken Jim to the KulWinik cave. Arthur and Yax K’in climbed the final rise, while Michelle ambled at their slower pace. Yax K’in did not rest until the group were in the third chamber, where the Mayan writing and drawings adorned the walls. He flashed his light, searching, until he saw the set of images that had interested Jim and Pep’Em Ha, the blood-letting rite of the kneeling woman with the bubble of the Vision Serpent hung over her head.

‘These drawings were made by my ancestors,’ Yax K’in said. ‘Many generations after Hachakyum lived among us, they were made against his directions. He forbade my ancestor to write his stories in any place other than the tomb you found, Arthur,’ he said without taking his eyes from the images. ‘However,’ Yax K’in shrugged his shoulders. ‘My ancestors wrote some of his instructions here. I cannot read them. The writing is lost to me, so, perhaps, Hachakyum was correct. We could not rely on writing to be remembered but the oral stories continue.’

Yax K’in let his torch-light fall off the wall. ‘And that could be the source of my error,’ he said to Michelle. ‘The stories may have been inexpertly re-told, perhaps that has happened. The history I have has been altered from the words of Hachakyum. I do not believe that all failures are mine alone.’

‘Perhaps my ancestor wrote these stories because he was worried that his memory was imperfect. I do not know.’ Yax K’in shook his head. ‘I only know my assigned tasks and, in these, I have failed.’

‘Pep’Em Ha’s blood-letting was not correctly performed and I do not have access to the originals in the tomb. Even Hachakyum cannot anticipate everything.’ Yax K’in smiled but without humor. ‘The disobedience of my ancestor may yet prove fruitful. Can you read this for me Michelle?’

‘What do you mean the task was incorrect?’ Arthur said.

‘The task is incomplete,’ Yax K’in said.

Arthur was not satisfied. ‘What else is supposed to happen?’

Yax K’in ignored Arthur’s question as he shone his torch-light on the set of images again. The woman had an object inserted through her tongue. Her blood flowed onto strips of paper. The smoke rose from a god-pot and made the Vision Serpent, inside which a seed of a figure was seen. The image replicated the gruesome attack that had taken place in Yax K’in’s hut. It shocked Michelle.

She shone her light on the block of glyphs near the drawing of the woman. She ran her hand over the shapes as if she was braille reading.

‘“Her sacrifice, something, no, two somethings, return”,’ Michelle translated, then silently read further. ‘The glyphs mean child or children,’ she said.

Michelle sounded four glyphs that were written next to the figure of the woman. Michelle spoke softly like she was testing their poetic construction, while she brushed her hand over them.

‘The woman’s name is K’ul Kelem Pep’Em Ha. Divine Strong Butterfly Water,’ Michelle said reverentially.

‘Yes,’ said Yax K’in quickly. ‘That is Pep’Em Ha’s name. It has been used once before.’

Michelle ran her hand along the name glyphs again, and spoke them quietly.

‘What a beautiful name for a woman,’ she said.

‘When was the last time?’ Arthur asked. He did not enjoy being ignored when he was, supposedly, the expert.

‘It was the name of Hachakyum’s consort. The first, and greatest, human. She was the template upon which all modern people are made,’ Yax K’in said. ‘You have found her tomb.’

Michelle remembered the other time she had visited that cave, ten years ago. Pep’Em Ha had been a child and Michelle smiled at the memory of the young girl, so serious, trying to assume her father’s solemnity but scared of the cave and its darkness. Her eyes had darted from side to side with a young person’s fear of the unknown. She had taken Michelle’s hand and squeezed. Michelle knew Pep’Em Ha could not have sought that reassurance from her father.

Michelle shone her light above the woman. ‘There’s two things in the snake’s mouth. What do you think?’

‘I don’t know,’ Arthur said, a bit disgruntled at being ignored.

Michelle traced her hand over other glyphs. ‘I’m sorry Yax K’in,’ she said with real compassion. ‘This says, “In the tomb of K’ul Kelem Pep’Em Ha, she performed her sacrifice. The two, children, return.’

Michelle articulated the problem. ‘Yax K’in,’ she said. ‘Your blood-letting ceremony was intended to take place inside the tomb.’

Chapter 18

Harry opened his eyes. It was dark in the hut but the light was strong outside. A halo edged the human shape sitting in a chair beside him. He studied the shape for a moment without awareness, until he knew who it was.

His grandfather’s chest moved in unison with the sound of his slow and regular breathing. Harry wondered where he was. Then with a shock that made his heart thump and caused him to hold his breath, he remembered. He closed his eyes and tried to forget.

Hamish was dozing, close to the edge of oblivion, and the images of his grandsons flickered and wavered like ghosts in his dream.

Hamish relived, as he dozed, the first time he had seen the twins. He had been astonished by their appearance. They had his dark, red-tinged hair, olive skin and regal nose.

He and Kate had been summoned to their son’s home for the first viewing of the twins. Both families lived in Boston so it was a short drive. Hamish had just emerged from the car when out of the open front door of his son’s home two laughing toddlers ran onto the front veranda, flew down the front steps and then raced around the lawn. They were chased by Hamish’s son. He had his arms straight out before him, in a position ready to grab a twin if one should, foolishly, come close.

The twins saw a kindred spirit, at least physically, in their grandfather, and after one lap of the lawn they held onto his legs as if he was a safety zone from their pursuing father.

‘My god!’ Kate exclaimed and put a hand to her mouth.

The children held onto Hamish’s legs as they giggled and waited warily for their father to approach. When he came too close, they both pushed off Hamish and ran into the house.

Kate’s hand remained covering her mouth, even after the running children had disappeared inside. Hamish reluctantly tore his eyes from the open front door. His son broke into a laugh.

‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ He put an arm around his father and led him towards the house. ‘It sort of makes you think, doesn’t it Dad?’ He patted his father on the back. ‘What were you doing, and with whom, three or so years ago?’ Hamish’s son laughed loudly.

‘How is it possible?’ Kate said as she walked next to her son up the front steps.

‘It’s just a coincidence, Mum. They were the ones the agency offered. We took one look at them and, well, it was a no brainer.’

Kate stopped and took her sons hand before they went inside.

‘Well, I’m happy for you. I think it’s wonderful. As for you,’ she turned to Hamish who had stopped walking as well. ‘I’ll have to talk to you later,’ she said sternly. Kate led the group inside for the official meeting between grandparents and grandchildren.

Kate had no doubts about her husband’s fidelity.

Chapter 19

The family of four, the twins and their parents, had a last holiday in New Zealand. They were met at Auckland airport by relatives. Their father’s uncle and aunt and some cousins hugged and kissed the Americans in the arrivals area. The twins’ great aunt held them in a long and embarrassing embrace, then she pushed them out to arms length, while still holding their shoulders firmly and remarked how tall and strong they were. Their great aunt smoothed each one’s hair and brushed her hand across a cheek while praising their attributes to their mother like they had been manufactured satisfactorily.

The twins enjoyed their trips to New Zealand, for short bursts that did not take them away from their school friends for too long. Hamish’s immediate family entertained the American visitors with tramps through the temperate rain-forests, camping on the coast and, sometimes, with stays on a Maori marai. They experienced nature, learned of indigenous people and experienced bucolic life. For this holiday they spent a few weeks driving around the North Island visiting relatives and camping on the east coast beaches. They returned to Auckland a few days before their departure.

Their penultimate day was spent on a trip to Raglan, a small township (or, at least, it had been the last time Hamish remembered being there but that had been when his son was a teenager) on the rugged west coast of the North Island, a few hours from Auckland. They drove through the township and out to the dormant volcano, Mt Karioi, and parked at a place where black sand beaches had been invaded by large, worn, volcanic boulders.

The prior time Hamish’s son had been to that place was with his father. He had been a late teenager, the same age as the twins. It had been the last time that he and his father had been alone, together, overnight. Their lives had diverged afterwards. He had gone away to college, he grew up and holidays with his father had not been repeated. He was nostalgic for, what became, the last holiday of his childhood. It was the first time his father had treated him as an adult. The two of them had ranged over the beach, clambered over the boulders, dodged the white water and talked as equals. His father had shown, for the first time, interest in him without judgement.

He hoped that there may be some residual, familial magic about that place. He hoped to replicate, as unlikely as that was, the same experience with his own sons.

His plan failed immediately. When the car stopped and everyone got out, his sons raced ahead. He followed slowly. He held his wife’s hand and did not speak of his lost intention. When he had reached the shoreline, the twins were a hundred meters away. The waves were breaking heavily and running up onto and through the large volcanic boulders. He began to call to the boys, to tell them to be careful but did not bother. They were too far away and they would know. He squeezed his wife’s hand.

‘Dad and I came here. That was the last time I was here. I was the same age as them.’ He looked longingly to his retreating sons.

She squeezed his hand and tugged him into motion, along the path taken by their sons.

The magic was still there but it was his magic, it was not for the twins.

Access to the beach and the rocky point was across farm land and the twins had jumped the farm fence and ran quickly across the paddocks to get well away from their parents after they had been cooped up for two hours in the car. There was a large swell that day and the waves, running at nearly right angles to the rocky point, came and went over the boulders along the waters edge. Not too far out the moving water made temporary islands of the bigger boulders. The twins jumped from the top of one boulder to the next as the white water raced towards them. It passed them by, violently filtering through the spaces between the rocks and, just as violently, raced back to sea. They liked to believe they were in physical danger. They were an age where they were adults but had recent memories of irresponsible childhood. Among a group of peers they would have acted like their parents, walking sedately, talking, joking and admiring the ocean and the bracing, salty, fishy smell. But, alone together, they let loose child-like behavior that had been smothered by only a few years by willful forgetfulness.

Harry jumped easily from boulder to boulder. Jim could not. At each choice, where to place his next step, Jim hesitated as he planned the second and subsequent jumps and he would become hopelessly confused by the plethora of choice. He used his hands to steady himself and methodically levered his body between the boulders.

Jim worked hard, jumping then waiting, then climbing on and over the boulders to reach where his brother waited, impatient at Jim’s slow approach.

‘How do you do that, Harry?’

‘Do what?’

‘Jump over the rocks like that. I can’t do it.’

‘You just do it. Just go for it. One jump at a time. You’re doing it like you’re studying for an exam. Stop worrying, just let each step worry about itself.’

Jim shared everything with his brother, in a relationship that was slightly weighted by his brother’s extra confidence. Jim liked the cosy, secure feeling knowing he was two people. He had a sounding-board to confirm every action and inclination. One of Jim’s few worries was to be separate from his brother, not physically but to be different, to have a real argument based on incompatibility.

Jim was determined that his inability to jump like his brother was a temporary aberration. He removed his rational mind from the process of jumping. Jim launched himself and jumped to an adjacent boulder. He jumped again. Then again. Then again. He did not think other than to make a single decision of which boulder to jump to next.

Harry followed but could not catch him.

‘Ha!’ Jim exclaimed when he had stopped and Harry had caught up. ‘What’s your problem, slow-poke?’

Harry laughed.

The twins stayed away from their parents while they could but after a few hours of clambering, discovering, hiding and talking, the family re-assembled back at the car.

The actual moment of a departure can be important. The exact minute, the exact second. That moment signifies a beginning of what is to follow. However, there is no separate and absolute beginning. Perhaps, the beginning for what was to follow, on the twins’ trip to Raglan, could have been the time of their departure from Auckland that morning. Or by their father’s choice of destination, or by their grandfather’s choice to take his son there years ago. Each choice determines the result but what is the weight of responsibility assigned to each of those choices? Does the weighting increase the closer the choice is to the end? Hamish was uncertain of the answer.

Perhaps, a greater weighting could be applied to the slow service when they stopped for afternoon tea on the way back to Auckland. Or, perhaps, the responsibility could lie with the service that should have been slower still. There are a series of results that are never known, that never happen, because something in a string of events going back forever is changed. A difference of a minute or a second can alter everything. Where should the responsibility for that difference be apportioned? Certainly, mostly in the recent past. But not all of it.

Hamish thought of that responsibility constantly. Awake and when dreaming it consumed him.

There was a positioning problem on the Auckland Motorway, an unfortunate conflict that lacked space between two trucks. An improperly secured load on one of the trucks shifted. Their car was squashed to a quarter of its size. Jim remained, as if protected in a cocoon, in the quarter that the rest of the car folded around. Harry’s side of the car compacted, his body vanished. The engine, the front of the chassis, the dashboard and the front seats merged into a tiny space that formed the boundary to where Jim was trapped in his bubble of safety. He remained confined for a long time, conscious and wishing he wasn’t, living with the mixture of metal and body parts that had been his parents.

Jim was not completely uninjured. He had scratches and cuts, some were deep enough to leave scars, and he broke some bones. Those injuries he recovered from. Other injuries he did not recover from.

Hamish shared those other injuries.

Chapter 20

‘Granddad? You awake?’ Harry said softly as if he did not want to wake his grandfather. Harry gently swung in his hammock after raising his head.

His grandfather’s body shook with the shock of the sound of Harry’s voice. Hamish’s heart beat loudly and arrhythmically. Despite willing himself to stay awake, he had slept. He was, again, overcome with the shock and sadness of memory.

‘Yes, Harry,’ he said in a disoriented way.

Harry noticed the bandage on Hamish’s head.

‘What did you do to your head?’ Harry asked.

Hamish touched the bandage. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I fell over.’

‘Where are we?’ Harry asked.

‘We’re in Mexico.’

‘Mexico? How did I get there? Here,’ Harry asked and corrected himself.

‘I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me. Jim and I have been here for a little while.’

‘Where’s Jim?’

‘He’s around somewhere. What do you remember, Harry?’

‘Of what?’

‘Of the accident. And afterwards,’ Hamish said.

‘What accident?’

‘The car accident in New Zealand. When you were coming back from Raglan.’

‘I don’t remember anything, granddad. I remember Raglan. I remember stopping to eat on the way back but then, nothing. The next thing I remember was standing in front of that girl all covered in blood, and Jim.’

In the dim light of the hut, Hamish studied Harry. He looked like Harry, there was no doubt there, Hamish thought. His eyes were Jim’s eyes, they were the give-away.

‘Do you remember what Jim told you? About your father and mother?’

‘Yeah,’ Harry said softly. ‘Is it true? Was he right?’

‘Yes,’ Hamish said. ‘There was a car accident on the motorway. Jim was OK but your mum and dad died. You...’ Hamish halted and could not finish.

Harry sat up in the hammock. Hamish helped him out of it. The result of an ungainly process was the two of them standing facing each other in the centre of Hamish’s hut.

Hamish did not know what to do next. He asked the only question he could think of.

‘Are you hungry?’

Chapter 21

Jim left Pep’Em Ha to sleep. He had waited next to her for an hour but she showed no signs of waking and, obviously, did not require his constant attention. He had stood up, ostentatiously stretched, yawned and had then ambled off as if he had not been forced away by the uncomfortable, angry stares of her mother.

He went and sat next to the little stream, at the place Pep’Em Ha had kissed him. He assessed that kiss. He picked up inanimate things and threw them. The heavier objects made a satisfying sound and splash when they breached the surface of the water. He did that for a long time while he thought. His mind flowed randomly while he believed he was systematically solving problems with his new life that included a returned, twin brother and being in love with a beautiful, Mayan woman.

He lent back and lay down on the grass, intending to watch the sky and trees overhead but immediately fell asleep. The stress of Pep’Em Ha’s injury and his brother’s return was released.

Jim woke with a start. He did not how long he had laid there by the stream. He raced quickly to Yax K’in’s hut. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom inside. It was empty. He ran to the hut he shared with Hamish and it was empty. There was no-one at Arthur’s hut as well.

Jim sat down at the table outside Arthur’s hut. He attempted to examine his declaration to Pep’Em Ha’s father. He tried to think about what it meant to have his brother back. A surprising reversal of a loss was as great a shock as the loss itself.

He wasn’t a ponderer, he didn’t want to think about options. He wanted to see his brother. He wanted to be with Pep’Em Ha. He set off to find them.

Jim halted outside the dining hut when he heard the sound of voices and laughter. He crept closer, as if he did not wish to be discovered, until he was near enough to see inside. It was an unreal scene. Arthur, Michelle, Hamish and Yax K’in were focussing all their attentions on Pep’Em Ha and himself.

Harry spoke a word in Maya and laughed as his pronunciation was corrected by Pep’Em Ha. She laughed with him. It was as if Jim’s world had been re-made and his twin brother had taken his place. Jim thought of the world if he had died in the car crash instead. This would be it. He was a ghost observing his own happy family but forever forbidden from joining them. His first impulse was to run away. His dead brother had taken over his life and, maybe, the contra-payment for Harry’s resurrection was to be Jim’s unhappiness. Jim was to be denied and forgotten.

He was jealous of his brother, when he should have been happy. He really was happy, he corrected himself, but he was also jealous. There was nothing wrong with being both.

Pep’Em Ha surprised him as he watched. She opened the door of the dining hut, and instead of merely beckoning Jim to join them, she strode towards him with purpose. She slammed into him and enfolded him in a hug that took his breath away. She buried her head into his shoulder. After hesitating for a second, and only because there were so many people he knew watching, he encircled her in his arms and leant his head into her hair.

Harry smiled at his twin brother. As did Arthur and Michelle. Yax K’in observed with an air of satisfaction but not happiness. Hamish looked worried.

Chapter 22

The next morning, before dawn, while the world was anxious, Hamish, while still asleep, felt a crash against his hammock. It swayed violently. He heard Jim swear. There was a dark beast loose in their hut cannoning off the sleeping bodies.

Hamish called out in English, ‘Who’s there?’ Wondering, after he said it, who would answer that request, in a foreign language, in a KulWinik village, on a dark Mexican morning.

‘OK, OK,’ Jim’s voice called louder and louder, ‘OK.’

Hamish heard whisperings in Maya. It was a female voice. He heard Jim answer in Maya.

Hamish got out of his hammock and tried to find the torch he had left on the ground. A hand firmly grabbed his wrist and he heard the word, ‘No,’ whispered into his ear.

Jim whispered, in English, from across the hut. ‘We’ve got to get out. Right now. No lights.’

Harry moaned inarticulately.

‘Help me, Hamish,’ Jim said firmly to his grandfather. ‘Harry isn’t waking up.’

‘What is it? What’s going on?’ Hamish whispered fiercely. He did not know why he spoke quietly, only that he felt compelled to follow Jim’s lead.

‘Pep’Em Ha’s mother’s said we have to leave. Immediately.’

Jim struggled with the solid mass in Harry’s hammock. Hamish helped Jim lever Harry to standing. They put their arms around Harry and began to leave.

Hamish halted. ‘Maybe we should take some of our stuff. How long will we be away?’

He felt a shove in his back and fierce Mayan words spat into his ear. ‘Go. Now.’

He and Jim half-carried Harry as they struggled across the spongy, large bladed grass. It was damp and Hamish was reminded of his first morning in the village. He had returned to his hut at that time and put sandals on. He wondered if he should do the same.

The three of them had just made the first of the jungle trees on the perimeter of the village when an explosion of light erupted within their hut which was filled with the shapes of half a dozen men, each with powerful torch-lights and stick-like shapes that may have been guns. Hamish heard Spanish spoken loudly. The intruders were not pleased.

The strange men run out of the hut and into another. As Hamish and Jim carried Harry further into the jungle the men moved systematically from hut to hut. He heard Michelle and Arthur simultaneously yell, loudly and indignantly.

Hamish smiled. ‘They must be sharing the same hut again,’ he thought and was glad for their reunion and their happiness. He, Jim and Harry moved further away from the village.

They waited in the jungle. They talked in whispers. The sun rose and they still waited. They could not see the village and did they know what had happened. Hamish believed they were lost, even though they must be only a few hundred meters away. Jim and Harry wanted to return but Hamish insisted they wait.

An hour after sunrise, Pep’Em Ha appeared before them as if out of thin air. Hamish had been listening intently, he believed, for the sounds of nearby danger but had not heard her approach through a jungle he thought dense and difficult.

‘It’s safe again now. You can come back to the village,’ Pep’Em Ha said.

‘What happened?’ Jim asked.

‘Police came to take you and your grandfather.’

‘Is everyone all right?’ Jim asked.

‘Yes. No-one was hurt.’

‘Your mum is awesome. How can we thank her?’ Jim said.

Pep’Em Ha smiled. ‘You don’t need to, but I’ll tell her what you said and that will please her.’

Chapter 23

The village was silent, wary and tender.

‘I’ll have to go back. There’s no way I can stay here,’ Hamish said, and then laughed. ‘How can I possibly explain Harry?’ he said.

‘Maybe you don’t,’ Jim said. He had a bright idea. ‘Maybe you go back to the States with Harry and I’ll stay here. Harry could become me. I don’t want to go back in any case,’ he added as if that would be a deciding factor. ‘I want to stay here with Pep’Em Ha.’

‘No,’ Arthur said. ‘That wouldn’t work, Jim. You’d be a non-person. You could never go back to the USA, or leave here, or get picked up by the police for anything. You wouldn’t have a passport and would have a hell of a time explaining who you were and why you’re here.’

‘No different than Hamish will have anyway with Harry,’ Jim responded angrily, reminding Arthur he had forgotten the obvious.

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Hamish said. ‘How will I get Harry into the USA? How do smugglers do those sorts of things?’

‘Being dead is a real problem, isn’t it,’ Harry said.

‘Well, no,’ Arthur said and smiled. ‘Being dead isn’t a problem. It’s being alive, again, that’s our challenge.’

‘I could never tell anyone what really happened with Harry. Could I?’ Hamish asked.

‘No,’ Michelle said quickly.

‘I’ll telephone Roberto,’ Hamish said reluctantly. ‘I’ll tell him I’m leaving. That should at least stop a repeat of what happened this morning. I can’t put the village in danger. We’ll go and stay in a hotel in San Cristobal de las Casas.’

‘Well, I don’t give a fuck what you do,’ Jim exclaimed. He was angry that he had been ignored. ‘I’m not leaving.’

Jim folded his arms as if that made him immovable. ‘Pep’Em Ha needs me,’ he said. ‘At least until after all this stuff about the tomb is finished. And, after that too.’

‘Wait on. Wait on,’ Michelle said to Arthur. ‘He’s right. If we want to help Yax K’in, we need to fix the problem of the tomb and I might have an idea.’

Michelle vacantly stared through Arthur. ‘Yes,’ she said to no-one, as she thought. ‘That might work. If we’re quick.’

‘Do you trust Jose?’ she asked Arthur.

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘How long would it take to get here from Ocosingo,’ she asked, ‘if you left in, say, thirty minutes?’ She answered the question herself. ‘I reckon you’d be here well before noon, eh?’

‘You do need to call Roberto,’ she said firmly to Hamish. ‘Tell him you’re leaving the village today at, say, noon to drive to San Cristobal and then fly back to the USA. All right?’

‘I guess,’ Hamish said, a little confused that there was a plan to do what he had suggested anyway.

‘I’m not going!’ Jim said. He was extremely agitated.

Chapter 24

Pep’Em Ha’s brother drove the museum’s car towards San Cristobal de las Casas. He and his passengers left at noon and, under protest, he wore his KulWinik tunic. Michelle had insisted.

He drove a few kilometers from the village before he turned onto a main road that led, eventually, to San Cristobal. A few more kilometers along half a dozen police cars, their lights flashing, had set up a blockade. Barriers forced all traffic through a cordon of police. Traffic banked up as it waited to be inspected.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother turned to the back seat passengers.

‘Michelle was right. I have lost a bet with my sister.’ He laughed and faced forward again. His body was tall and erect like his occupation was official driver of distinguished guests.

When they came to the head of the line of traffic, a policeman bowed down to the open car window and asked where they were going.

The policeman waved his hand to the group of police cars and Roberto emerged from one of them. He smiled superciliously and sauntered to the waiting car. Pep’Em Ha’s brother also smiled, like he was trying to put on a brave front before overwhelming odds.

Roberto gazed along the line of waiting traffic as if surveying the remnants of a great and successful battle. He told the policeman to get everyone out of the car.

Pep’Em Ha’s brother scrambled out quickly and slammed the driver’s door. He smiled an idiotic grin as he placed his hands on his head as if he was being arrested and must keep his hands away from concealed weapons.

The plight of the KulWinik was well known to middle class Mexicans. The loss of their rain-forest and their deception by corrupt politicians and logging companies were occasional national, and international, news items. The sight of grim faced and armed policemen detaining a KulWinik native, dressed in his traditional costume, was a newsworthy event.

Two people jumped out of separate cars in the waiting line of traffic. They held large, professional cameras. The smiling KulWinik being held at gun point was photographed before their cars sped away. The occupants of other vehicles held up their mobile phones to take personal photos.

Roberto was shocked. His grim face was centre-stage in all images, obviously in charge of detaining the KulWinik native. As Michelle expected, there were too many people for all images to be confiscated. Michelle’s plan to delay and embarrass Roberto using two journalists from Ocosingo had succeeded.

Roberto was furious. He was determined to punish the car’s occupants. He angrily told the policeman to open the back door and get the Americans out. He barked orders to dismantle the barriers and disperse the traffic.

The police dragged the occupants out of the back seat and lined them up next to Pep’Em Ha’s brother, who kept his hands on his head. Roberto swore loudly. The two occupants of the back seat were men from the village, dressed in Western clothes.

For the benefit of the traffic that had begun to move, Pep’Em Ha’s brother called loudly, in Spanish, ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!’

He laughed at Roberto’s crestfallen face.

Chapter 25

Arthur, Michelle, Hamish and his grandsons along with Yax K’in and Pep’Em Ha left the village soon after Hamish had made his telephone call to Roberto. They drove two old village cars to the place where Hamish had first seen the mound. They waited until a line of police cars left the archaeological site and Arthur received a text message.

‘OK,’ Arthur said. He was resolute, his body tense as if he was ready to lead a platoon into battle. ‘Let’s go.’

Michelle thought Arthur barely resisted a steely “come-on” wave of his arm to move his troops forward. She laughed at him.

They were a strange fellowship of shoulders and heads that skimmed through the green sea of shoulder-high maize. Arthur and Michelle led as they tramped side by side through the field. The plants rustled and parted before them. They did not talk. Arthur’s eyes strained as he scanned for movement both on the mound and on the access track. He and Michelle both wore filled backpacks and strode onwards like impatient hikers on a day trip.

Yax K’in walked with a regal dignity that was battered by the annoyingly located maize plants. Only half of his head surfaced the maize tops.

Jim marched beside Pep’Em Ha. He carried the repaired god-pot of Hachakyum on his stomach with his arms encircling it as if it was a buttress and a weapon to part the determined maize plants that blocked his way. Pep’Em Ha had, initially, insisted on carrying it but Jim had wrested it off her. Jim also carried, wrapped in a plastic bag, inside his backpack, the ancient paper smeared and streaked with Pep’Em Ha’s blood. He would not let her carry the means nor the result of her sacrifice.

Harry followed Jim, tracing the same path through the maize. He had refused to be left behind, to be treated as infirm. He did not need to sit and contemplate nor lie and rest. He required distraction and activity. His own, apparent, death was nonsensical and was not a reason for idleness. His absence of sensation and loss of memory after the return drive from Raglan was not an illness.

Arthur and Michelle had hoped for a sleek and efficient raid upon the archaeological site to gain access to the tomb. However, Harry’s dogmatic determination to go with his brother, who, in turn, would not be parted from Pep’Em Ha, had led to Hamish’s inclusion, who would not let his grandsons out of his sight. Their raiding party had become a mini-circus.

The group of seven rippled through the maize field until they arrived at the edge of the access track, where it wound around the base of the mound. Arthur drew everyone close together, like they were at the final stage of a dangerous espionage mission. He wondered how the group could possibly remain undiscovered.

Arthur sent a text message. Jose’s voice replied immediately from the other side of the track.

‘Yes, I’m here Arthur,’ Jose said in Spanish.

When Roberto and the contingent of police had left, Jose had invited all workers in the tomb to an early, and extended, lunch. Jose’s suggestion had met with no resistance. The tomb was empty and the shacks were populated with pleased and distracted workers. Jose confirmed the execution of Michelle’s plan and left to rejoin the workers in the shacks.

The group of intruders climbed towards the top of the mound, on the unsighted side. Arthur then shuffled around until he could see Roberto’s camp. He waved the others passed him like they were prisoners escaping under the noses of inattentive guards and then, last in line, gained the entrance of the tomb and gratefully accepted the cover of darkness. He descended the steps, a little dizzy and disoriented after the flawless success of the plan feeling, he imagined, a little like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.

Arthur breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction when he attained the ledge, as if he had returned to a personal sacred place. Clusters of low temperature lights illuminated some places in the cavern with stark light while elsewhere it was dark and gloomy.

The six others were already occupied. Michelle had set herself up at the northern wall and continued her work as if no time had passed during her absence from the tomb. Yax K’in placed the god-pot near the sarcophagus. He moved it around a little until he found a level position. He grunted his satisfaction then sat down, cross-legged, before attempting to ignite the contents of the pot. Pep’Em Ha sat opposite her father, with the god-pot between them.

Jim hovered, standing, next to Pep’Em Ha. He removed his backpack, took out the wrapped piece of ancient paper and placed it on the ground next to her. He waited for a second before picking it up again. He removed the paper from the plastic bag, gingerly held it at a place that did not contain Pep’Em Ha’s blood, and re-placed the unwrapped paper beside her. He returned the plastic bag to the backpack and then put it down. He stared at Pep’Em Ha.

Harry and Hamish wandered around the tomb. Hamish talked quietly, explaining what he knew to his grandson.

Arthur worried about the conservation consequences for his raid, about Yax K’in lighting the god-pot and the incense smoke residue. He wondered if he should remind everyone to not touch anything. Or whether he should return to the entrance and be a lookout. But there was no point, there was no way out. Arthur left the ledge to check on Michelle and ask how long she wanted to stay. She was brusque.

‘I’ll be the last one out. When Yax K’in has finished, come and tell me,’ she said.

Arthur wandered over to observe Yax K’in, he then put his hands behind his back, affecting a nonchalance, and joined Harry and Hamish as they toured the tomb.

Hamish had explained to Harry all he remembered from the books he had read. Arthur joined them and gave an impromptu, not requested, lecture on Mayan funerary rites. Hamish left Arthur and Harry, who showed surprising interest in Arthur’s explanations. He offered to help Michelle. She politely, and firmly, refused. Hamish wandered off and sat down on the last of the steps that led down from the ledge.

Yax K’in lit the god-pot containing pungent copal incense. Hamish had seen Yax K’in doing the same thing in a similar place before. He was not at all surprised when Pep’Em Ha stood and then crouched before the god-pot. She firmly grasped the handle, lifted it and presented it as an offering to her father before replacing it on the ground but in Hamish’s direction.

The shock of recognition made Hamish dizzy. In a repeat of the motion in his dream, Pep’Em Ha brought the ancient paper around her body and placed a corner, that was soaked in her blood, into the god-pot. Hamish stared at the woman performing the action. His mind said Kate’s name but he saw that beautiful Mayan woman from his dream. The smell of incense was overpowering. He was going to faint. He put his head between his knees. He heard whispering voices inside his head. His other, separate voice was not screaming, it was asking, pleading. It was clearer, as if it was approaching and slowly gaining substance and focus. He lifted his head intending to move towards Pep’Em Ha and Yax K’in. He genuinely believed he could float across the cave floor.

Hamish got unsteadily to his feet and stumbled over to Yax K’in. He had intended to float but had staggered. He sat down, heavily, before the god-pot.

Yax K’in smiled and said, ‘Thank you.’ Hamish did not know why Yax K’in was thankful. Hamish searched for a bowl of balche, to make the repetition of his dream complete.

The smoke in the god-pot, that was thin and weak to begin with, thickened when Hamish sat down. The mixture of blood and paper turned directly into a stream of smoke that wafted across the floor and climbed and flowed over the sarcophagus. Michelle, Arthur and Harry stopped and watched. A kernel within the smoke appeared and grew into the shape of a serpent’s head. It grew larger by drawing the smoke into itself as it rhythmically swung from side to side. It solidified further into the shape of a wide open mouth. A solid, but small, object coalesced inside the mouth.

The seven people in the tomb were transfixed as the object in the mouth of the serpent split into two and began to jerk and bounce, growing larger, or coming closer. It was impossible to tell the difference. The Vision Serpent disgorged two butterflies into the tomb. They left a smoky trail like they were bursting from a cocoon in full flight. They jerked and bounced above Pep’Em Ha’s head.

She held out her hand to them, as she had done to butterflies her whole life, and they circled slowly then landed. They gently flapped their wings while they sat on her outstretched finger, waiting for a command prior to re-launching themselves into the air. Pep’Em Ha brought them close to her face and whispered. Their wings beat strongly as she raised her hand above her head. The butterflies lifted off.

They circled the sarcophagus, as if they had gained purpose after a moment of indecision. They landed near the top of the north wall and perched on the vertical face. All human eyes watched the butterflies.

Hamish felt faint again. Like a dispassionate observer, he scrutinized the approaching blackness of his unconsciousness. He struggled to his feet which made his dizziness worse. He stumbled like he was attempting a panicked escape then toppled sideways onto the floor.

It was always leading to that moment, when Hamish would lose himself, when his life would be stripped, when he would no longer care if the world existed or if he remained a part of it. He wanted to return to the void, to forget everything, to never have known the loss that had been his. He wanted to forget the love of the perfect woman, to forget his love for the perfect woman. Kate was gone and, again, that loss hit him hard. He was more distraught than when he received her text message at his Boston home. Time had passed and she had not returned. Before that moment as he lost consciousness he had had hope, hope that she would eventually return. His hope vanished, she would never be with him again. It was as if she had died, as if her death was the result of his own actions, or worse, inaction. His life, and therefore the world, the whole of existence, was irrelevant. He wanted his loss erased. He did not want to inflict pain or suffering on others, he was not an angry man, he wanted his life and everyone who had come into contact with him to have never existed. He wanted to wipe the world clean of all he had ever done or been, or known.

The smoke hovering over the sarcophagus lost it’s distinct shape, the head of the Vision Serpent dissolved and the grey mass that had disgorged the two butterflies became an amorphous cloud. The six conscious people in the cave held their breaths in expectation. Silence was everywhere.

But nothing happened.

Chapter 26

When Roberto had been frustrated by Pep’Em Ha’s brother’s ruse, he went, with a police presence, to the KulWinik village and had the village searched. He did not expect to find the Westerners there and wondered where Arthur and Michelle, and Hamish and Jim would have gone. His most likely guess was that they had gone to San Cristobal de las Casas the other, much longer, way. They had anticipated him, and he was disappointed that he had fallen for their trap. He had underestimated Arthur’s small minded nature in performing such an irrelevant evasion so as to embarrass him. It was unimportant. It did not matter. Arthur would be permanently embarrassed at the Museum and he chastised himself for his enthusiasm in arresting and deporting Hamish. Wanting to hurt Arthur had overcome his usual, good judgement.

He had won. The game with Arthur was over and he did not need to press victory further. He glared at the caged spider monkey in the centre of the KulWinik village. When the police reported the lack of foreigners he banged the side of the cage and set the spider monkey screaming. He laughed with pleasure and left the village.

Chapter 27

Yax K’in was distraught. He let out a wail of disappointment and anguish. He hung his head. He had failed, again. The plan entrusted to his ancestors, given to them by their creator god, kept in secret for generations had failed when it was required. His anguish turned to anger. He wished Hachakyum would destroy him utterly. He did not know how to proceed.

Pep’Em Ha wrapped her father in her arms. Jim did not know what to do and was embarrassed at the old man’s display of emotion.

Arthur shivered when he heard Yax K’in’s cry, he had never seen the old leader demonstrably display despair. It was a breakdown in the natural order of things, Yax K’in quietly absorbed the punishments of his world. Arthur, then, noticed Hamish lying on the ground. He called to Michelle as he raced and stumbled across the uneven floor to his unconscious friend.

Harry ran behind Arthur, and Jim left Pep’Em Ha.

Hamish regained consciousness to the concerned stares of four sets of eyes. He groaned when he realized he was alive but then smiled at the obvious worry of his friends and family. Jim and Harry levered Hamish’s body until he, again, sat on the bottom step.

‘I’m all right,’ he said groggily. No-one believed him. ‘It was the smoke, the heat, I don’t know.’ He let out a single explosive sound that was intended to be a reassuring laugh. ‘I guess, it was everything.’

Michelle sat down and put her arm around him. That was what he wanted, Hamish knew. He wanted the care, the reassurances, the physical attention, the love of a woman. But not Michelle. He stretched his mouth into a wan, forced smile as a thank you. She smiled grimly back.

Silence stretched through the cave as the two groups tended to their wounded. The two butterflies watched on like guardians.

Yax K’in wobbled over the cave floor, under protestations from Pep’Em Ha, to join the group around Hamish as if the Westerner, more than forty years younger, had the greater claim to ministration.

The pockets of silence in the cave were interrupted by rustling sounds from shifting clothed bodies, the wash of Michelle’s hand as she rubbed Hamish’s back and the rush of breathing. Yax K’in broke the silence of words.

‘That is the third time I have failed in that ceremony. I have proved that I am unworthy,’ he sighed.

‘Please help me,’ Yax K’in asked Hamish.

Chapter 28

The new born baby girl was placed into Yax K’in’s hands. His lips were drawn together in a thin line and his creased face frowned.

‘I hope you are pleased enough, Yax K’in,’ the baby’s mother said. ‘I have given you a daughter.’

Yax K’in nodded his head, once, in acknowledgement. The mother, his youngest wife, was perplexed, thinking he was upset at the production of a daughter. I have already given him a son, she thought with aggravation.

Yax K’in heard the tone in his wife’s voice. He was not upset that he had a daughter and he smiled at the baby first and then at the mother.

‘She will need a name,’ the mother said brightly.

Yax K’in’s smile faded, his face again became dark.

‘She already has a name,’ he said sadly.

The mother’s bright mood faded, again. She was proud of her position in the village. Although a husband many generations older had initially worried her, she had produced two beautiful, healthy children and she was the favored wife of the leader of the KulWinik. She believed in her husband’s importance. She was glad Yax K’in’s older children had left the village, the aggravation they had caused their old father had hurt her as well. She would ensure that her children grew up knowing the proper respect for the ancient traditions and their father’s position in the hierarchy of ancestors. She was old fashioned, she knew that, her own family had teased her.

‘K’ul Kelem Pep’Em Ha,’ Yax K’in said wearily to the baby.

‘What?’ his wife asked.

‘That is her name,’ he said. ‘It has been waiting for her for thousands of years and she has arrived to claim it.’

Yax K’in placed more of the hard copal incense into the god-pot. The smell swelled and wafted through the temple hut. He chanted as he performed the ritual of appeasement to Hachakyum. The gurgling sound of his baby daughter, as she lay next to him, mingled with his rhythmic monotone. A cup of balche rested on a mahogany coaster on his other side. He dipped his finger in the liquid from time to time and sprinkled it over the smoldering resin.

Yax K’in lifted his baby daughter and cradled her. He felt for her hand, her fingers curled around one of his and held him tight. He smiled grimly then plunged a needle into one of her fingers. She screamed. A few drops of her blood fell into the pot. Yax K’in quickly placed her pricked finger in his mouth and tasted the salt of her blood. He was mortified at the pain he had caused. However, he was attempting to pre-empt the greater pain that was expected of her when she was grown. A smaller pain now, quickly forgotten, would be preferable to later agony.

It was not part of Hachakyum’s plan, but Yax K’in hoped it would suffice.

The smoke congealed and thickened. It rose to the ceiling of the temple hut and filtered through the thatch. A seed formed in the smoke that grew to be the head of a serpent that waved from side to side coalescing the resin residue into itself. A mouth formed and then collapsed. The smoke began to lose definition. Yax K’in was frantic. He added more resin and sprinkled more balche. He would not add more of his daughter’s blood. The smoke spluttered and re-thickened to form the open mouthed Vision Serpent.

The centre of the smoke splintered. Two images grew in size and took human shape. His youngest wife rushed through the periphery of the cloud and scooped up her screaming daughter. His wife’s eyes were dark, angry and lifeless.

She heard the plaintive cries of two babies. She fell to her knees, almost dropping her daughter. Yax K’in’s wife peered, in fear, at the two crying naked forms lying in the dirt of the temple hut as if any moment they may become a danger to her and her daughter.

Their skin was lighter than a KulWinik baby’s. They had large, regal noses but their short hair, which was abnormally developed, was a thick, angry mass of dark red.

The crying babies were identical twins.

Chapter 29

‘And you think Jim and Harry are those babies?’ Arthur asked Yax K’in, puzzled and unconvinced, when the old man had completed his tale.

‘Yes,’ Yax K’in replied quickly. ‘They are those children.’

‘It can’t be them,’ Michelle said. She laughed, incredulous. ‘Just look at Hamish and the boys.’

‘Yax K’in could be right,’ Hamish said. ‘I don’t know why the twins look like me, they were adopted by my son.’

Michelle stood quickly and backed away from Hamish as if he was diseased, as if he was responsible for the unlikely tale of the appearance of the twins. She shook her head.

‘No, no,’ she said. She could not believe. She was a scientist and there was no logical explanation for Yax K’in’s witchcraft, the resurrection of Harry, the appearance of the baby Twins. The logic of the physical world was unassailable. She did not doubt a world of vivid imagination but the existence of such things in the real world was impossible. She was delusional, she believed, but lucid. They were all suffering similar symptoms. She had suspended the real, physical world for some reason that her conscious mind could not fathom. She felt perfectly well but, she had to be going mad, it was the only logical explanation. What she touched and felt, and saw and heard had been drastically filtered for some unknown reason. She shook her head again.

‘But I feel so damn normal,’ she whispered, loud enough to be heard. Arthur hugged her. She did not resist, that part of the unreal world she could accept.

‘Yes,’ Harry said. ‘Hamish is right. My oldest memory of him is holding onto his leg and being chased by my father, his son.’ He smiled at the sweetness of a simple, secure childhood memory.

However, five pairs of eyes stared at Harry as if he had, at that moment, appeared naked and crying from a coagulated cloud of incense smoke. The Westerner’s and Pep’Em Ha’s mouths were agape.

‘What?’ Harry asked. He was perplexed at their astonished attention.

Michelle tore her eyes away from Harry. She could not look at the apparition she did not believe, as if she had alone been the one to hear Harry talk in an ancient language he could not have known.

Chapter 30

Shuffling noises echoed down the passageway. It was the sound of many footfalls.

‘Oh! This is wonderful.’ Roberto said as he stepped out of the entrance then made way for a line of policemen. They lifted Hamish to his feet and roughly pushed the others out of the way.

Roberto’s smile beamed as he regally descended the steps, then became a stifled laugh when he saw the scowl on Arthur’s face. Roberto was enjoying himself again, after the anger of returning from the KulWinik village and finding all the workers at lunch. He checked himself, he did not want to gloat at Arthur’s extra misfortune, being caught trespassing and tampering with an archaeological site. He would be magnanimous and would only demand Arthur’s immediate departure from Mexico and not ask for criminal charges.

The KulWinik were another matter. They could be an ongoing problem.

Roberto said to Yax K’in, in Spanish, ‘The young man driving the Museum’s car, he is your son? Is he?’

Pep’Em Ha answered. ‘Yes, he is,’ she said angrily. She clenched her fists.

‘So what?’ she added defiantly.

‘He has been arrested, of course,’ he said to Pep’Em Ha, ignoring the old man who had not replied. ‘His driver’s license was not in order. And he was not authorized to drive a Museum vehicle. He may or may not be charged with motor vehicle theft. That will be the decision of others.’

Roberto let a silence last for a few seconds. ‘He is not too well, either. He hurt himself while he was resisting his arrest.’ Roberto was serious with false compassion.

Pep’Em Ha’s face became white with rage. Jim restrained her as she made a move towards Roberto.

Pep’Em Ha shrugged off Jim’s hold. ‘I have to get back to my brother,’ she said. However, a policeman blocked her way out.

‘Who’s this guy?’ Harry said to Arthur, contemptuously ignoring Roberto.

Roberto disdainfully stared at Harry for a long time, then addressed Arthur, as if he was personally responsible for Harry’s disrespectful youth.

‘I don’t think this is the place for children,’ Roberto said.

‘You don’t like him, do you,’ Harry asked Arthur.

‘And you,’ he said to Michelle, ‘can’t stand him. I can feel that. And you,’ Harry smiled at Pep’Em Ha. ‘You hate him.’

Harry stepped forward and from close range glared at Roberto as if he was evaluating the worth of a man’s life.

Roberto was found wanting.

Where Roberto had been standing became space. There was no sound and no change to the dim light in the cave but he was no longer there. Arthur swung his head around searching for Roberto like he was playing a panicked version of hide-and-seek. The policemen had also disappeared and Jose, standing nearby, shuffled nervously like he had forgotten something important.

‘Where is he?’ Arthur asked anxiously. But didn’t know who would answer his query.

‘Arthur?’ Michelle asked, horrified. She was sick with worry. A life had ended.

The memory of Roberto’s life slipped from Arthur, Michelle and Jose like he had inhabited an unremarkable dream.

Roberto’s life had been erased.

Chapter 31

Pep’Em Ha’s head spun from Harry to Jim and back again. She stepped away from the Twins. Jim tried to take her hand but she pulled it away sharply.

‘What did you do?’ she asked Harry. She was appalled with what had apparently happened.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Harry said.

‘He’s gone.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Harry said.

‘But he’s not just gone,’ she said, horrified. ‘He was never here. He never existed.’

Jim looked quizzically at Pep’Em Ha. ‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘I can feel that too.’

‘Well,’ Harry said. ‘I don’t know what happened. I didn’t do it. But, he was prick anyway. No-one liked him.’

Michelle smiled, quickly and vacantly, at Pep’Em Ha as she wandered off and back to the work she had been doing, making a detailed record of the glyphs on the north wall. Pep’Em Ha watched her go.

‘She doesn’t know,’ Pep’Em Ha said to the Twins.

‘And neither does Arthur,’ Jim said as he observed his grandfather’s friend.

Arthur was frowning, worried about something he may or may not have forgotten. He lifted his head, and gave the Twins a quick and vacant smile, just like Michelle’s. He also wandered off, annoyed with himself that he had forgotten what he had been doing. He felt his age, that feeling of beginning a task and forgetting what it was or why it had begun was happening too often, he thought.

Pep’Em Ha looked to her father, hoping he would explain away what she had seen. But she knew the ancient stories, she knew what was expected of her, she knew what was to come. She knew the power the Twins had.

Yax K’in took his daughter’s hand. ‘Do you know who these boys are? Do you understand what that means?’ he said quietly.

‘Yes,’ she said clearly.

‘I am no longer t’o’ohil,’ he said. ‘Hachakyum’s blessing has passed from me.’

‘I know,’ she said. She nodded a grim acknowledgement.

Yax K’in understood, at last, why the Vision Serpent ceremonies had failed. The first had failed because Yax K’in had rushed. Pep’Em Ha was too young, she was not yet t’o’ohil and the implements had not been found. It was not the right time. The Vision Serpent had been incomplete.

The second ceremony had failed because Jim should not have been already present.

The third ceremony had succeeded but was incomplete. His daughter was the t’o’ohil, only she could implement Hachakyum’s plan. Only she could fully resurrect the Twins.

Yax K’in looked up at the north wall, to where the butterflies had landed. He could not see them but knew they must be there, waiting.

Hamish felt fragile and tender and could not trust himself to stand any longer. He again sat down on the last step. He wondered how he had gained the idea that Harry could erase a life. Hamish assumed it had all played out in his own mind. Roberto had gone. He had never existed and Hamish wondered if he had done that himself, if his delusion was enough to make his eyes see space where a human had been. He remembered Arthur’s anger and frustration when Roberto first came to the village. His own anger at Roberto was vivid and also at the policeman who had knocked him down. He remembered feeling so much rage that he wanted both men dead and marveled that he had been able to remove Roberto so easily, so painlessly, and so effectively. Perhaps, he thought, as his delusion accelerated all kinds of things would start to disappear. He resolved to not get angry with anyone, just in case he had the power to end all life. He lowered his head into his hands.

The erasure of Roberto’s life was an imperfect loss for Arthur and Michelle. They remembered something had happened since the discovery in the tomb but few specifics. They could remember being upset and distraught but not the reason. They remembered what they had done, like hiking with the group across the maize fields and leaving the village cars by the side of the road but not why they had done it. Many of their actions made no sense.

Michelle’s mind was not fully on her task when she resumed work. She halted, knowing mistakes would be made in her current frame of mind. She placed her hands on her hips as she stood before the wall of glyphs. Arthur noticed, and being glad to find some occupation, he went, stood beside her and joined in her reverie.

‘How’s the recording going?’ he asked.

‘Good. I’m just not feeling focussed at the moment.’

‘Have a break then?’

She laughed. ‘Arthur, there’s years of work here. There’s no time for a break.’

‘Well, why don’t you read to me?’ He smiled. ‘Tell me what it says. Is it an ancient story? Like Yax K’in expects it to be?

‘It’s more than that.’

Chapter 32

The story of the end of the world

“These words are for those who come last,” Michelle read slowly and methodically. “This is Hachakyum’s account. I am 18-Smoke-CryingFace,” she translated literally. “I write to remember what has been for those that come last.

The Great Twins wait. Upon their return the counting of days will not continue.

In the beginning there were no kings, there were no scribes. Our people lived,” Michelle said then added, “That must mean ‘only’ lived, with no meaning to their lives or lived simply.”

“Hachakyum chose the form of our people. He was not pleased except for one, the greatest hunter. The world was re-made in her image. K’ul Kelem was the first of all people.

K’ul Kelem was like our people but was not of our people. Her life continued,” Michelle said. “I think that must mean she lived for a long time.

Hachakyum was dissatisfied with our people. The world was again re-made. K’ul Kelem and Hachakyum lived alone in this place for twenty cycles of thirteen.”

Michelle frowned at Arthur. “Does that mean what I just said?” she asked him.

“Twenty cycles of thirteen, right?” Arthur said and looked at if he was adding numbers in his head. “More than a hundred thousand years?”

“It must mean something else,” Michelle said and carried on reading out loud.

“Hachakyum and K’ul Kelem Pep’Em Ha.” Michelle smiled. “There’s her name mentioned again. She traced out the series of glyphs and repeated them. “Hachakyum and K’ul Kelem Pep’Em Ha produced Hun-Hunahpu,” she said. “Here’s the first mention of the Maize God, from the Popul Vuh. The father of the Hero Twins,” she said.

“Hun-Hunahpu was of Hachakyum’s race but born of this earth. Others of the race of Hachakyum did not know of Hun-Hunahpu.

He used the powers of the race of Hachakyum.

Hun-Hunahpu took his wife from our people. She was not of the earth, she was not of the race of Hachakyum, she was of our people. She died giving birth to the Twins. Only the first born gazed at the living form of his mother. The Great Twins were the first, and only, mix of our people and the race of Hachakyum.

Hun-Hunahpu was in great sorrow after the death,” Michelle said. “Of his wife, I assume that means.

The race of Hachakyum were displeased. They had not known of Hun-Hunahpu. Others of the race of Hachakyum appeared in many shapes before him. Hachakyum hid the Great Twins. The lords of Xibalba could not harm Hachakyum but Hachakyum could not stop their punishment. They destroyed Hun-Hunahpu and took his remains to Xibalba, since he was of the race of Hachakyum. K’ul Kelem was destroyed but her remains were left since she was of this earth. Hachakyum returned her remains to this place,” Michelle said and then turned around, noticing the crowd that had formed behind her. Jim, Harry and Pep’Em Ha had joined her to listen as well. “So, that confirms that the sarcophagus contains the remains of K’ul Kelem Pep’Em Ha. Yax K’in was right.

The Great Twins reached the age of manhood, in strength and in beauty. They are instructed by Hachakyum. The race of Hachakyum lived in them. The race of Hachakyum’s grandfather lived in them. Our people lived in them.

The Great Twins learn of the destruction of their father. They learn how to remember,” Michelle paused for a moment. “I don’t know what that series of glyphs means,” she said. “It has similarities to resurrect, or wake from sleep, or cheating death or just remembering something forgotten.” She smiled at Arthur and then laughed out loud. “I’m going to spend decades in here.

The Twins took their ball playing equipment to the ball court and began playing. They played their game using their powers of the race of Hachakyum. Many of the race of Hachakyum appeared before them in many shapes and asked many questions. They destroyed the Twins.

The Twins remembered in the form of our people. They knew all of the race of Hachakyum and of our people. The Twins again took their ball playing equipment to the ball court and began playing. They played their game using their powers of the race of Hachakyum. Many of the race of Hachakyum appeared before them in many shapes and asked many questions,” Michelle said. “OK,” she ran her hand down the series of glyphs. “This goes on for a few more times. It almost exactly echoes what’s in the Popul Vuh. I’ll skip to where it’s not repeated.

The race of Hachakyum was angry,” Michelle continued reciting the tale.

“The Twins summoned Hachakyum using the god-pot fashioned by his own hand. He remembered. The lords of Xibalba caused the death of K’ul Kelem. The rage of Hachakyum is uncontrollable. Hachakyum summoned the lord of the lords of Xibalba. The brother of Hachakyum.

The lords of Xibalba feared. Hachakyum’s power knows no bounds. Hachakyum is great. Xibalba is destroyed. His brother is destroyed. The lords of Xibalba are destroyed. The curse of the name of the son was complete. The sorrow of the god of gods is impossible to resist.

It is the time for the end of the world. Of all worlds.

I have been told these words by Hachakyum. These words are for those who come last.”

Chapter 33

The Twins had been listening to Michelle as she told the ancient Mayan story.

‘I remember staring at that dying woman, Jim,’ Harry said quietly. ‘How’s that possible?’

‘Dunno. I don’t,’ Jim replied.

‘Well,’ Michelle said with a sigh, as if she had been exhausted by her own story-telling. ‘That’s a tale with a twist. It’s similar to the Popul Vuh but a fair bit is different as well.’

She hovered her hand over more glyphs at the end of the series she had been methodically reading.

‘Ah,’ she hesitated. ‘These are a whole series of dates. But I’ll have to sit down with them.’

Michelle was very happy but did not want to dissect the reasons for her happiness in case it dissolved like the vague feeling of loss she retained after Roberto’s erasure. Although, when Arthur had come close he had smiled and Michelle understood one reason for her exhilaration. A restored love can be as satisfying as the original.

‘I know that story,’ Pep’Em Ha said. Arthur stared hard at her, she had an odd look that reminded him of her father from decades ago. ‘I have been told it by Yax K’in. However,’ she smiled. ‘The full story that this partly represents takes hours to recite. It’s an exciting story,’ she added. ‘And, I had always thought it fiction.’ Her smile disappeared.

‘Pardon?’ Arthur asked, wondering if Pep’Em Ha had also been affected by events in the tomb, although as he thought of that objection he could not remember what those events were. Arthur noticed Jose milling aimlessly next to the sarcophagus. Jose did not look well and Arthur wondered if he had been drinking over lunch, in which case he had better get him out before he touched anything or tripped over and damaged equipment.

Arthur was tired and was also worried about Hamish’s health after his fainting spell. He decided to pack everyone up and return to the village. He wanted a good night of sleep, as if that would wash away the messiness of recent, imperfect, memories. A new day would mean a new start. He assumed others felt the same way.

‘The stories I have been told by my father, the full stories that this is a small part of,’ Pep’Em Ha said, then waited as if it was too difficult for her to continue. ‘These stories,’ she began with diffidence but then cleared her voice so that it was clear and strong.

‘The creation stories of the Maya are not of what has been, they are the plan of Hachakyum’s revenge. They are of what is yet to come. They are the account of the end of the world.’

Chapter 34

Pep’Em Ha had spoken nonsense, Arthur almost began to smile until he noticed that Michelle was again concentrating on the glyphs. She was agitated as if a basic error in her judgement had easily been discovered. She obviously took Pep’Em Ha’s pronouncement seriously.

‘The creation stories of the Maya have a single origin,’ Pep’Em Ha said. ‘They come from Hachakyum. The stories are his plan for the end of the world. There will be no new creation, that part did not come from him. Harry and Jim,’ Pep’Em Ha said, and Arthur looked at the boys as if they had just materialized, ‘are the Hero Twins, or will become them, with my help. They will defeat the gods. They will summon Hachakyum, who will gain his revenge for the death of K’ul Kelem, and for the death of his son.’ She stared compassionately at the boys for a moment,. ‘For the death of their father.’

‘You what?’ Arthur said. What Pep’Em Ha had said was insane gibberish.

Pep’Em Ha smiled. ‘I didn’t believe it either,’ she said and then her face hardened. ‘But, it’s true and there is nothing that can be done to stop it.’

Jim became excited, an amazing idea had just struck him.

‘Even if what you say is true,’ Jim said. ‘But it can’t be, can it? Anyway, whatever, we don’t have to.’ He glanced at Harry and then gazed expectantly at Pep’Em Ha, ignoring the others.

‘Don’t have to? What?’ Harry said.

‘Exactly,’ Jim said. ‘This plan thing depends on us. Apparently. And Pep’Em Ha.’ Jim’s head swiveled excitably from his brother to Pep’Em Ha and back again. ‘We don’t have to.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Harry said.

‘Has being dead made you stupid?’ Jim laughed and pushed his brother. ‘Hachakyum’s plan depends on us implementing it. That’s the whole reason. You know, revenge for his wife being killed.’

Jim thought his idea was brilliant.

‘It’s perfect,’ he said to Pep’Em Ha in emphasis, when no-one took up his suggestion. ‘Doing nothing would be all it would take,’ he laughed triumphantly.

Pep’Em Ha thought of the ancient stories of Hachakyum and K’ul Kelem she knew, about the god’s love for a human woman. He had twice re-made the world for her. Maybe, she thought, that love could be replicated, with Jim and her. She was euphoric at Jim’s suggestion and her eyes sparkled with hope.

Then Pep’Em Ha hung her head and tears formed in her eyes. The glorious second of hope was demolished. She understood the fault in Jim’s idea.

‘No,’ she said and almost cried. ‘It’s too late.’ She steadied herself, lifted her head and stared Jim in the face. ‘It’s too late, Jim,’ she said.

‘It’s never too late,’ Jim said, and smiled at her.

‘In this case it is,’ she whispered. ‘That Mexican man was erased.’

Jim refused to understand.

‘The gods will know that you are here,’ she said.

Jim stared vacantly at her. Tears formed in his eyes as well. It was too late. Their option of choice had vanished as if the Roberto’s erasure had been meant to force their hand.

Yax K’in had been listening to his daughter. He was proud of her. She was wise. She will be a great t’o’ohil, he knew. She could be the greatest t’o’ohil. Hachakyum had been correct to wait for the life of his daughter, the namesake of the first modern human.

‘Arthur,’ he said quietly to his old friend. ‘You have waited these ten years. Your patience deserves reward. It’s time you heard the stories only the t’o’ohil has kept since the last time Hachakyum lived among us. The stories of the first humans, and the woman in whose image we have all been made.’

Michelle turned to Arthur. ‘Ten years? What does he mean ten years?’ she asked.

He took her hand and gently squeezed it.

‘What happened ten years ago was not by choice,’ Arthur said.

‘What do you mean?’ She angrily withdrew her hand from his. ‘It was premeditated?’

‘I never knew why Michelle. I did as I was asked,’ he said.

Yax K’in turned away and walked up the steps to the ledge overlooking the cavern. He halted there and his eyes passed from one person to another, in turn, as if he was completing an inventory. The t’o’ohil who could not die had brought them to that place, at that pivotal moment. But, Yax K’in was mortal again. His life would end with his next illness, or after an injury while working in his milpa. He smiled grimly, satisfied and relieved. But the t’o’ohil, his daughter, could not die.

And, he thought with pride, the gods again lived among the KulWinik.

Yax K’in left the tomb that contained the remains of K’ul Kelem Pep’Em Ha, the god’s template for modern humans.

###

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Table of Contents

Part I

Chapter I

Part II

Chapter I

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Part III

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34