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ANCIENT MAYAN
TEXTS

THE CREATIVE TRINITY

Tepeu, Gucumatz and Hurakán
The Popol Vuh
(For this new English translation of this important work, the
translator is Suzanne D. Fisher; editorial comments, inserted in
the text, as it proceeds, are by Dr. Bruce S. Fisher. Several
Spanish versions of this work have been availed upon for this
English translation, including that of Ermilo A. Gómez.)

Prologue: History of the

Translation of the Popol Vuh

Part I - The Patriarchs

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter
Part II - The Wizards
Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9
HUNAB KU - The Galactic Center

The Chilam Balam

(For this new English translation of this important work, the
translator is Suzanne D. Fisher; editorial comments, inserted in
the text, as it proceeds, are by Dr. Bruce S. Fisher. The Spanish
version of Antonio Mediz Bolio is being used.)

Books of the Chilam Balam of

Chumayel
To Unique and Unusual Esoteric
Books!

THE POPOL VUH

PROLOGUE

History of the Translations of the Popol Vuh

There are several translations of the Popol Vuh. The first and second
correspond to the discoverer (of the original version written in the
Quiché Mayan language) - P. Francisco Ximénez. Then in 1861 appeared
the French translation of Abbé Brasseur who availed himself of the
Quiché copy and of the first version of Ximénez. This author was able to
consult with the learned Indians of Guatemala as to many of the more
difficult passages. Unfortunately, however, he added to the errors of
Ximénez's translation his own errors, and these are more serious
because he attributes to the Mayan Indians a kind of understanding of
occidental culture, which they, in reality, did not possess. In 1913 Noah
E. Pohorilles translated the Popol Vuh into German, availing himself of
the French version of Abbé Brasseur, although he says that he did the
translation directly from the Quiché language. Later, in 1925, Georges
Renaud published another French version. This translator, likewise,
leaned on the works of Ximénez and the Abbé; but it is evident that he
worked more rigorously and amended not a few errors of the previous
versions. In 1927, the version attributed to J. Antonio Villacorta and
Flavio Rodas appeared which also, as modern critics say, suffers from not
a few errors-above all in the translation of the names of the gods
themselves and of the princes. The most exact version is attributed the
erudite Adrián Recinos. He appeared in Mexico in 1947. This version was
based upon the first Castillian version of P. Ximénez whose original
version included the (names of) the avatars; it was in the University of
Guatemala library, passed to the care of Abbé Brasseur, and then it
became part of the library of the North American Edward E. Ayer and
now is in the Newberry Library of Chicago. This discovery allowed Mr.
Recino to undertake a new Castilian version. He was able to accomplish
better comparisons with the copies of that manuscript, which are
preserved, and a more adequate and scrupulous redaction. The Recinos
version is a faithful translation of the Quiché text, but the author
comments: "It would be easy to give the narration a literary form more
agreeable to the ear of the modern reader, but this only would continue
to sacrifice the faithfulness that the translator must preserve as a proper
standard in a work of this nature." But we (Gomez's comment) think that
with the eagerness to preserve primitive forms - in this case passive and
repetitious statements - the reading becomes arid, tedious and slightly
less than tolerable. On the other hand, the Quiché Mayan Indian speaks
to us in the same way. The Indian, independently of his metaphors and
his symbols, speaks with clarity and simplicity in an extremely
captivating manner. To do anything else is to pretend to respect an
artificial and almost eclectic form, strange to the nature of the people.
Preserving archaic forms of any literature - spoken or written - is to
condemn it to be forgotten. Because something in classic Greek or Latin
is translated into the modern idiom of England, Germany, Italy, France
and Spain, we have admirable versions that afford us the sheer pleasure
of the original without losing its essence and its esthetic character. Thus
we see it in actual editions from the classics which are utilized not only
for the reading material of a large sector of the public, but also in order
to undertake technical studies in the universities.

In the version which is reproduced here the errors have been corrected
that were suggested by Ximénez as well as the Abbé Brasseur; that is,
the order of the legends (which are only two: The Grandfathers and The
Wizards) is structured in such a way as to earn comprehensibility for the
book though modernized syntax and orthography, which makes the
reading easier and more ductile. One here finds a Popol Vuh, which is
alive, and not a hermetic Popol Vuh comprehensible only for the erudite.
The powerful and mysterious world of the Quiché that preserves the
pages of the Popul Vuh is opened before the reader's eyes as is opened a
landscape on a sunny day.

PART I
The Patriarchs

Chapter 1
At that time (before the creation), there were no people, no animals, no
trees, no rocks, nor anything. All was a wasteland, desolate and limitless.
Above the inert flatness, space lay immobile; while above the chaos, the
motionless immensity of the sea was resting. There was neither structure
nor activity. What was below was unlike what was above, not one thing
was seen standing. Only the deaf calmness of the waters was felt, which
seemed to be precipitated into the abyss. In the silence of the shadows
lived the gods who are called Tepeu, Gucumatz and Hurakán - whose
names guard the secrets of creation, of existence and of death, of the
earth to be formed and of the beings who will inhabit it.*

* This alludes to the creative trinities common to a number of

traditions - in which there is a form-creating, form-preserving
and form-destroying aspect, as in the Hindu trimurti of Brahma,
Vishnu and Shiva; and the Christian trinity of Father, Son and
Holy Spirit. In the Book of Formation (Sepher Yetzirah) of the
Kabbalah, it is said thet "God created the world through three
sepharim or universal books or numerations, namely, numbers,
letters and sounds - which in him are one and the same."

When the gods arrived at the place where the shadows were deposited,
the shadows, speaking among themselves, made known their sentiments
and agreed among themselves what should be done.

They thought about how they would produce the light, which would
transmit nourishment from the universal source of energy. Light then
was made in the bosom of what was to be created. Thus they
contemplated the original nature of life that is in the bosom of the
unknown. Propitiously, the gods then saw the existence of the beings
that were going to be born; and in the presence of this certainty, they
said:

"It is good that the earth is empty and the waters divide from the low
places, in order that these may be cultivated. In them (the waters) the
seed will be fertile because of the dew from the air and because of the
subterranean humidity. Trees will grow, will be covered with flowers and
will give fruit and will scatter its seed. From the fruit trees harvested, the
inhabitants will eat what is produced. In this way they will have nature as
the source of their food. Never will they have another source. They will
die the day that it is done differently."

Thus was resolved the field of existence where the new beings would
live. Then the clouds parted which filled the space that was between the
heavens and the firmament. Beneath them and over the water of the
firmament, hills and mountains began to appear that are seen today. In
the valleys were formed clumps of cypress, oaks, cedars, and poplars. An
agrarian and sweet aroma was emitted from the very rich sap of these
trees. Then the path was opened that divided the dry space from the
humid space.

Upon seeing what was done, the gods said:

"The first creation has been concluded and it is beautiful before our
eyes."

Immediately they wanted to finish the work they had proposed. They
then said:

"It is not good that the trees grow alone, surrounded by shadows; they
need to have guardians and servants."

In this way they decided to place under the branches and next to the
trunk rooted in the earth, the beasts and the animals that according to
their fiat, obeyed the commands of the gods, but remained inert in the
place of their birth as if they were blind and insensible. They moved
without order or direction, bumping against the things that were in their
way. Upon seeing this, the gods said:

"You, beast, you, animal, you will drink in the rivers; you will sleep in the
caves; you will walk on all fours, and you will have a soft, mushy head,
but in time your back will serve to carry burdens.* And because of all this
you will not resist nor boast of rebellion, not even of exhaustion. You,
bird, you will live in the trees and you will fly through the air, reaching
the region of the clouds, you will touch the transparency of the sky and
will not be afraid of falling. Thus you will multiply and your children and
the children of your children will do the same, and will continue in every
way your example and your grace."

* This statement alludes to the theosophical, and other,

teachings - that the first races or forms did not possess rigid or
bony structures, as do the plants, animals and humans of the
present epoch, but were ethereal, gelatinous or, at most,
cartilaginous in consistency.

The beasts, the animals and the birds fulfilled what was commanded of
them: the beasts looked for their dens, the animals their meadows, and
the birds made their nests among the branches.
When these beings were tranquil in the places of their choosing and
convenience, the gods came together again and said:

"Every being should be humble within his natural world, but none must
live in silence for silence is ruin, abandonment and death."

Then, with a voice that resounded throughout the confines of space, one
of the gods called to them and told them:

"Now, according to your species, you should say our names so that you
know who created you and who sustains you. Speak to us and we will
respond by helping you."

Thus it was done.

But those beings didn't speak; without knowing what to do they

remained astonished. They seemed mute, as if in their throats the
intelligent voices had died. They only knew how to cry out, as
appropriate to the class to which they belonged. Upon seeing this, the
gods, sorrowful, among themselves said:

"This is not good; it must be remedied before it is possible to do another

thing."

Immediately after hearing counsel among themselves, they again

directed their attention to the beasts, the animals and the birds in this
manner:

"Because of not having known how to speak according to that which was
mandated, you will have distinct ways of living and diverse food. You will
not live now in a placid congregation; each one will flee from his kind,
fearful of his hatred and of hunger, and will search for a place that hides
his stupidity and his fear. Thus it shall be done. Know more: that for not
having spoken nor of being aware of who we are, nor having given signs
of understanding, your flesh will be broken up and eaten. Among
yourselves you will crush each other and eat each other without disgust.
This and no other will be your destiny, because in this way it is our wish
that justice be done."

Upon hearing this, those irrational ones felt scorned and they wanted to
recover the favors that they had had. With a ridiculous effort they tried in
some way to speak.

In this attempt, also, they were clumsy - only cries came out of their
throats and of their snouts. Not even were they able to understand each
other; even less could they get out of the predicament in which they
found themselves before the gods. Then the latter abandoned them to
their fate, among the evil and filth where they were groveling. There
they remained resigned, putting up with the sentence that was dictated
to them. Soon they would be pursued and sacrificed and their flesh
broken, cooked and devoured by the peoples of better understanding
who were going to be born.

Chapter 2
The gods ideated new beings capable of speaking, and of harvesting, at
the opportune moment, the food that had been sown and grown in the
earth. For that reason, they said to each other:

"What must we do so that the new creatures who appear will know how
to call us by our names, and understand - for it is proper that they
venerate us as their creators and their gods? We remember that the first
beings we made did not know how to admire our beauty, and not even
did they realize our splendor. Let us see if, finally, we can create beings
who are more obedient to our purpose."

After saying such words, they began to mold, with damp clay, the flesh
of the new being which they were imagining. They formed him with care.
Little by little they made him, without neglecting any detail. When he
was complete they realized that this creature, unfortunately, would be of
little value because he was just a lump of black clay, with a straight and
stiff neck; a toothless mouth, wide and distorted; and blind eyes, faded
and empty, placed without art or grace at different heights and at each
side of the face, near the temples. Beside all this, they saw that this
mannequin could not remain standing, because it crumbled and
decomposed when doused by water.

Nevertheless, the new being had the gift of speech. The words that it
uttered sounded harmonious as never any music had sounded. and
vibrated beneath the heavens. The mannequin spoke, but was not aware
of what it said, so that it has heedless of the meaning of its words. Upon
seeing the new creatures thus made, the gods said:

"You will live in spite of everything, while better beings are being
created; you will live until those who will replace you arrive. During this
wait you will struggle in order to reproduce yourselves and to improve
your kind."
And so it happened. The gods contemplated with sadness those fragile
beings, which drew away, and said:

"What can we do to form other beings which are truly superior; which
can hear, speak, understand what they say, and venerate us, knowing
what we are and will be in time?"

They (the gods) remained in silent meditation while tremendous

manifestations were developing during the dark night. Then the light
from a lightning flash illumined an awareness of the new creation.

The new beings were made of wood so that they could walk upright and
firmly upon the surface of the earth.

The created statues seemed like real people; they gathered together and
copulated in groups, and, after a time, they produced children. But they
appeared to be heartless in their relationships, being devoid of feelings.
They could not understand that they were beings, which came to earth
by the will of the gods. They walked through the jungles and through
open trails on the slopes of the mountains; they skirted the beds of the
rivers and climbed up to the highest treetops. They were becoming like
abandoned beings, aimless, without any guiding light or purpose. They
were always on the verge of falling, and when they fell, they could not
get up again. They perished in the mud. In their dullness, they could not
guess their origin, or the place where they were, or the route that they
were following. They wandered about like useless robots. They were
living dead - zombies. And because after many journeys, they never
understood who the gods were, they fell into disgrace. They spoke, they
had knowledge of what they were saying, but there was neither
expression nor feeling in their words. Besides, as they had neither heart
nor sense of justice, nor agile legs, nor strong hands, nor useful digestive
tracts, they ended up extremely handicapped. In their dullness, they did
not comprehend either the presence of the gods and fathers or the lords
of everything that breathes and matures. They lived during many
generations, deceived by the rigidity and egoism of their spirits. It was
their fate not to be better than any one of the punished beings that
existed before them. When they would talk, it was noticed that there was
neither reason nor order in their words. Their swarthy faces, like the
color of earth, remained immobile and stiff. Because of their slowness,
they seemed stupid. For all of these reasons, they were condemned to
die. When they least expected it, a rain of ash came among them that
wiped out their existence. The ash fell on their bodies, violently and
constantly as if it were thrown with fury by a strong hand and from
above. Then the gods arranged for the land to become filled with water;
and that this should run through all parts, flooding the abysses and cliffs
- obscuring them - and rising above the rocks and hills, above the tallest
mountain peaks - grazing the fringes of the clouds. Thus it happened.
This flood, that lasted many moons, destroyed everything. Still, the gods
continued to make new beings using new natural substances. From tzite
man was made; from espadaña, woman; but these figures did not please
their creators. For this reason the bird Xecotcovah was introduced, which
dug his claws in the earth, and with his beak, took out the eyeballs of
these beings. Then came the great cat Cotzbalam, which ravaged their
bodies, ripping their veins and chewing up their bones into splinters.
Immediately there came other wild beasts, no less cruel, that raged in
their spoils.

It happened that, at the root of all this, the land became darkened with
great obscurity, and in a fearsome manner, as if a thick blanket
descended upon all of creation. It was as if the earth was populated with
shadows. In the midst of this desolation, beheld by the survivors who
debated among themselves morbidly and almost without hope of
salvation, small beings appeared whose souls had been invisible until
then. Irritated and vociferous, these beings began to speak in terrible
high voices. To those survivors who still had hope, they said:

"You should hear us because all of what has happened is just retribution.
You believed that we were empty things. This was our deceit. You made
us suffer, but now we have become tired of so much iniquity. Now you
will suffer tremendous punishments. From today forth your flesh will be
food."

The millstones said: "You exhausted us; day after day, from dawn to
dusk, you were scratching and grinding us. Always you were grinding
and that grinding hardened and blackened our bellies. Continually was
heard the holi-holi and the hugui-hugui that the mass of mashed corn
made beneath our arms and on our chests and our shoulders. Our feet
became soaked with the humid and smelly residues. Such was your
disdain and such was our suffering. But how great was our deception!
Now we see, after all this rime, that you do not deserve anything. Now
you will lose our strength; this will be our vengeance; and this your ruin."

And then the dogs said: "How many times, by your fault, did we not taste
a bite of food, nor lick a bone, nor did we drink a sip of water, nor did we
succeed in finding a corner of fresh earth on which to sleep; and racked
with hunger and thirst, weakened with tongue hanging out, we remained
like useless junk in the garbage dump of the hut. From afar, we looked at
you with eyes of fear and supplication. Crouched and shaking, we were
living a life of suffering because of you. We maintained ourselves upright
in your presence. If we approached you in order to sniff your hands, you
would speak harshly to us and kick us. Our real mentors have
complained of this treatment, yet still our backs have been injured. We
were always treated with this cruelty and tyranny in your houses and
plots of ground. But, you fools, why did you not foresee the eventual
consequences of such treatment? Sooner or later the time would come
when that would all be ended. Now we rise up against you - you are
ineffective and powerless. It is a shame that we will cause your ruin. Now
we must dismantle and kill you. We will do this without consideration or
compassion. It will be useless to defend yourselves. Know that you will
not even have time to lament. Immediately, to your misfortune, you will
experience the strength that we cave accumulated in our teeth and
paws."

The waves (of water) said: "You made us suffer by burning and smoking
our mouths, our ears, our bellies and our necks. You always had us on
the fire and on the red-hot coals. With so much heat, our flesh chaffed. In
order for you to rest, you left us on top of the hot ashes or in the midst of
the embers. Difficult and interminable was our task. No one had
compassion or pity for us, in spite of all we did, singing at night from the
dark corners of the kitchens or next to the stoves on the patios. No one
offered us peace or calm, or gave us rest or consolation. But our
martyrdom has ended. Now we shall eat you; but, before this, we will
torture you by putting your bodies upon a grill over a bonfire. We will be
deaf to your cries."

The jugs said: "You caused us much constant pain. We do not wish to
remember it because it will increasingly inflame and anger us. But now
the moment of our retaliation has arrived. It will be difficult for you this
time, because you will be battered by a hail storm, and a blizzard will
come to afflict your bare backs."

When those pitiful humans heard so many accusations, they gathered

together like ears of corn, frightened and trembling. Thus squeezed
together, next to each other, they endeavored to escape, as if they were
fleeing from some smelly place. They panicked, stumbling over one
another. They climbed up on the roofs of the houses, but the frames and
beams collapsed under them, crashing down around them; they tried to
climb up the trees, but the branches broke; they entered the caves, but
the walls crumbled upon them. And still, those who did not die beneath
the huts, or break their bones falling from the trees, or bleeding and
battered in the caves, blind with fear and rage, they ended by tearing
each other to pieces. The few who did not suffer the remorse of their
foolishness were transformed into monkeys. These went away and were
lost in the mountain, filling it with the uproar that issued from their
snouts. That is why monkeys are the only animals that are similar to, and
evoke the form of, the primitive human beings of the old Quiché land.
Chapter 3
Then the gods gathered together again to devote themselves to the
creation of a new race of people, which would be made of flesh, bone
and intelligence. They had to do this quickly, because it was imperative
that it be all completed before the dawn of the new day. Accordingly,
when they began to notice vague and tenuous lights on the horizon, they
said:

"This is the propitious time to bless the food of the beings who soon will
populate these regions."

And thus was it done. They blessed the food that was spread out upon
the moist fertile ground of these places. Afterwards, they offered
invocations, which resonated throughout, the creation like a great burst
of lavender essence that filled the air with fragrant aromas. There was
no visible being who did not receive its influence. This essence was the
source of that marvelous substance that was to become man's flesh. As
this was happening, nothing prevented the sun, moon and stars from
appearing in the sky. From hidden places, as named in the chronicles,
special creatures - cat, fox, parrot magpie and crow - came out
auspiciously to announce that the yellow, maroon and white ears of corn
had grown to maturity. Through these same animals, water was
discovered that would be placed in the veins of the flesh of the new
beings. But the gods first put the water in the grains of those ears of
corn. When all which has been said had been revealed, the ears of corn
were threshed and the loose grains, dissolved in the water which came
down as a gentle rain, the gods concocted the elixir needed for the
creation and prolongation of the life of the said beings. Then with the
yellow dough and the white dough they formed and molded the flesh of
the trunk, arms and legs. They reinforced the structures with reeds in
order to give them strength. Only four people of reason were first
created in this manner. Then the bodies were completed with all of the
members and appendages placed and shaped in appropriate proportion
and juxtaposition so that they were capable of proper movement. All this
was required of them so that they could think, speak, see, feel, walk and
reach out to all that existed and was unfolding around them. Soon they
demonstrated the intelligence with which they were endowed, as a
natural out flowing of their spirits. And they both perceived and
understood the reality that surrounded them. They knew also all that was
beneath the sky, what stood erect upon the land, what active forces
vibrated within the hidden space, and actualized through the wind.
Although the surface of the earth was still immersed in shadows, the
new beings had the power to see what had not yet been born or
revealed. They showed signs that they possessed wisdom which, merely
through willing, they could communicate to the shoots of the plants, to
the trunks of the trees, to the cores of the rocks, and to the secret
bonfire enclosed within the cavities of the mountains. These four beings
were named Balam Quitzé, Balam Acab, Mahucutah and Equí Balam.

When the gods witnessed the birth of these beings, they called out to the
first one and said to him:

"Speak and tell us on behalf of yourself and for the rest who accompany
you: What ideas do you have about the feelings which move you? Is your
manner of walking good and graceful? Do you exercise your glances with
refinement? Is the language that you use accurate and clear? Do you
remember to use this language properly on all occasions? Do you
understand that here one speaks and one makes suggestions? If all that
you do is perfect, will it be easy for you to see the nature of the life force
within things that have been ripened and fructified? If this is so, you
should go to gather them and possess them. Make your brothers proceed
in the same way as you. If it is not so, remain quiet in your place; from
there do not move and try to have your brothers follow your example.
Everyone should take stock of and assess his own powers."

Upon hearing these words, the new beings saw that their feelings and
manners were perfect and they wanted to show their gratitude. To show
it, Balam Quitzé spoke, on behalf of the others, in this manner:

"You have given us existence; because of it we know what we know and

we are what we are; because of it we speak and walk and know what is
inside of us and what is outside of us. In this way we can understand that
which is large and that which is small, and even that which does not
exist and is not revealed before our eyes. Thus we perceive now where
the four corners of the world rest and are supported, which mark the
limits of what surrounds us above and below."

It must be pointed out, though, that the gods were not pleased with the
self-confidence and self-satisfaction with their knowledge and abilities,
which the new beings expressed with such frankness. For this reason,
the gods conversed among themselves:

"They understand," they said, "what is large and what is small and they
know the cause of this difference. Let us think about the consequences
that this can have on the practice of living. The energy put forth as a
result of this lucidity must be noxious. What shall we do to remedy the
obvious danger inferred in such activity? Let us meditate on it. Let us see
to it that the new beings know only one part of the land that surrounds
them. Only that which exists shall be revealed to them. They will not
know everything, because they will not know how to understand their
senses or use them to good advantage. They will deceive each other as
to the secret of making order out of chaos. It will be necessary to limit
their faculties. Thus their pride will be diminished. In this way the
misconducts they commit will be of less import. If we abandon them to
their own volition, and they have children, these, without a doubt, will
perceive more than their progenitors, and there will come a time in
which they will understand as much as their gods and creators. That is
why it is necessary to reform their desires and dreams, so that they will
not be bewildered or disappear when the clarity of the day that is now
opening up on the horizon comes. If this is not done, they will pretend, in
their deviousness and craziness, to be as much or more than us. We are
just in time to avoid this danger, which could be fatal to the fertile order
of creation."

So that these people would not be alone, the gods created others of the
female sex. They formed them as will now be told. They made the males
sleep and while they slept, they created the females - which they placed
nude and quiet as if they were polished wooden mannequins, next to the
males. When these awakened, they were pleased with what they saw,
because, in fact, the females were beautiful. Upon seeing them so svelte,
of skin so shiny and smooth, and having such a pleasant aroma, they
were filled with joy and pleasure, and they (the males) took them (the
females) for companions. Then, to distinguish them, they were given
appropriate names which were very enchanting. Each name evoked the
image of rain according to the seasons. Once these couples saw each
other with pleasure and knew each other in the intimacy of their bodies,
they engendered new beings with which the earth began to be
populated. Many of these beings that were born were, in time, great and
skilled in special and secret arts, not revealed ever to the more ordinary
people. For that reason the gods, since the shadows, chose them to be
Worshipers and Sacrificers, who belong to a dignified caste, in which not
everyone is eligible or suitable to belong. The first people engendered
possessed the same beauty as their mothers and the same power as
their fathers, and knew how to divine the mystery of their origin.

In this way, Balam Quitzé and the other Patriarchs became the
forbearers of the people that then lived and developed during the
migrations, and formed the seat of the tribes of the Quiché. The names
that are spoken in order to know the ancestry of those born later have
been immortalized. These primitive beings propagated themselves
throughout the land that is in the region of the East (or original
continent).*

* This could allude to the fabled antediluvian continent of

Atlantis, where the Toltec race has been said to originate.
Chapter 4
For a time they lived in quietude, but then they decided, for reasons that
are hidden, to depart toward strange destinations that are designated of
the caves and of the cliffs. Thus they left the place where, until then,
they had been prisoners. In this migration they had to climb a series of
mountains. Upon crossing these peaks, they suffered, with inexpressible
pain, the cold of those places, because the fire that they had brought
with them was extinguished by the turbulence resulting from the
electrical storms that raged above them. In their hands, the hot coals
needed for their warmth and for cooking became ash and smoke. This
was their fate and their trial. They had to pause (in their journey). They
were on the verge of returning to the place they had left - so cruel was
the martyrdom they were suffering beneath the blizzards from above.
Upon seeing this, Balam Quitzé said in desperation:

"Tojil, give us the fire again that you bequeathed to us; give it to us,
because my people are suffering from the cold."*

* Tojil was evidently the name that the Patriarchs, at this time,
gave to their god.

Tojil, for the first time during the migration, spoke:

"I say to you that you should not grieve or despair, because, in time, you
and your people will have the fire you have lost. Meanwhile, strengthen
your resolve and make your people do the same. The privations that you
are suffering will not last much longer."

Balam Quitzé transmitted these words to his people. Then the people,
filled with hope, united (behind him). In order to warm themselves, they
rubbed up against each other; they danced unceasingly; and they beat
their chests with their hands. They blew their warm breath on their
numbed faces. Upon noticing such painful resignation, Tojil, in the
darkness that concealed him, struck the leather of his sandal with a rock,
and from the rock, instantly came forth a spark, then a glitter, and
immediately a flame, and the new fire glowed splendidly. Upon seeing it
shine, he took it in his hands and gave it to Balam Quitzé, so that it could
be shared with the people. These, who were already dying from the cold,
received the fire with joy. With it they warmed themselves; they livened
up and felt relief, and with determination, resolved to continue their
travels.

But, at that time, the tribes that had lagged behind the vanguard
arrived. With great compulsion, they cried out for the fire that they had
lost. It was pitiful to see and hear them. These laggards were crippled
and stiffened due to the cold to which they had been exposed, and which
penetrated to their bones. The flesh of their bodies split and cracked,
and water and pus trickled from the cracks. Their feet were afflicted with
sores that opened up on the rocks on which they walked. They could not
even speak, because their clattering teeth caused them to bite their own
tongues, which were bleeding and tearing into pieces. Before the
vanguard, which had regained the fire, they said:

"Pity us; do not be ashamed of us; because with these words and hands
we pray to you to give us some of the fire which you have received. If
you do not give it to us, we shall die. We no longer can endure the cold
that overwhelms our flesh!"

Balam Quitzé heard these words of the laggard people, but hardly
understood them, and beckoned them to approach. When he saw them
up close in their submissiveness, he cried out to them in this manner:

"Tell me: what language do you speak? From where have you gotten
these strange sounds that come out of your mouths? Have you forgotten
the idiom that everyone was using in the land of Tulán? What have you
done with the words that we used to know, and are familiar with, and
which are pleasant to our ears? Into what confusion have you fallen?
Why do you look at us thusly with embarrassment and confusion, without
showing any signs of understanding or sensibility? You seem mute,
notwithstanding the prattle issuing from your mouths."

Balam Quitzé spoke angrily and in a mean-spirited manner, with the

intention of mistreating these people. If he had had his way, he would
have finished with them. They drew back, humiliated, when suddenly
there appeared an envoy sent by Tojil, who spoke thusly:

"You must all know, both our own people and the foreigners, that Tojil is
our god. To those who already have fire, I say to them: do not share it
until the laggard tribes say what they will do with it. They will be justly
punished for their negligence, and because, without reason, they
changed their language."

The envoy who thus spoke was tall and dark and had shiny wings on his
back, like a bat. With voices which everyone heard, and could predict,
the laggard people again demanded the fire, because they truly could no
longer survive in the situation in which they found themselves. Naked,
they had their hands under their armpits and groaned like wet rats. To
the Patriarchs they again said:

"Don't you have compassion for us in our humiliation? Did we not used to
gather together before under the same roof, near the same tree, while
we were drinking, from identical mugs, our communal drink? Without
discord or rancor did we not light, enliven and enjoy the fire that we all
inherited from our ancestors? If we are to suffer so much, why did we
leave Tulán when there we had peace and happiness and peaceful
dreams under the stars that were reflected in the water of the lakes?"

The answer given to them was:

"Now you have heard - what will you give us in exchange for the fire that
you lost and that we now have?"

One of the closest ones replied:

"We will give the precious metals that we brought from our ancient
homes from up over there and far away."

"We do not want them."

"Then, what is that you want?"

"Wait: soon you will know what we ask for in exchange for the fire."

The Patriarchs withdrew, and in an appropriate and hidden place, they

spoke with the shadow of Tojil (whose corporeal figure was still invisible
to them) and said to him:

"Tojil, hear us and answer us: what would be a good thing to ask the
laggard tribes for in exchange for the fire that they want so
desperately?"

Tojil answered:

"When the kettledrums sound will they want to express to us adoration

and offer us the tribute of their lives, without fear or repugnance? If they
accept these conditions, tell them not to delay in showing their consent."

The Patriarchs transmitted this answer from Tojil. Upon hearing these
conditions, the laggard people, without restraint, without giving any
consideration to the extent of the requirement, happily shouted:
"We accept Tojil as our god and will adore according to the mandate and
we will submit ourselves to the demands of his devotees!"

As soon as they had said this they received the fire, which the tribes of
Balam Quitzé had already multiplied. With the fire they received they
recovered; they returned to tranquility, to life, to reason, and to
happiness. They were satisfied as if they had never suffered at all. In
their contentment they began to sing songs, which, filled with
sweetness, came out of their mouths. Pleasure erases the memory
of pain. Then they burned resinous wood and drank the juice of acid
fruits. Tojil, upon seeing so much submission, no longer demanded the
sacrifice he had asked for. Scarcely had these tribes gotten the fire,
another tribe, with an aggressive and warlike reputation, dared to take it
forcibly and surreptitiously from the same hands of the people who
already had it. This tribe that was so daring lived under the command of
the god Chamalhán. This god had the form of a vampire and he
displayed sharp-pointed claws, curved like the talons of an eagle, rat-
shaped ears and long, white, sharp teeth. It was known that this tribe did
not know how to ask for or beg for anything: neither for food, nor bed,
nor the shade of the trees. They considered everything as being their
own - snatching it away violently without being deterred by any
resistance, even on pain of death, from those who opposed them. This
tribe, nevertheless, had its virtue. With pleasure and submissiveness, it
knew how to hand over, for the sacrifice (to its god), the slaves who were
fattened and locked as bait in reed cages. The Sacrificers received them
with gusto; they adored them and then, in a ceremony of show and
ostentation, they removed their (the slaves) entrails. This tribe brought
with them, from previous places, among other good things, the custom
of fasting. They fasted according to their rite, the symbol of which was
guarded as a secret. On the days assigned on their calendar, they only
ate crumbs of bread and grains of corn. They continued this ritual,
without taking in anything else during a time that was measured with
precision. This custom, which originated in ancient times, had never
been broken. They delighted in the solitude in which they lived. This tribe
was capable of contemplating both the starry night and the morning
sunrise; it was comforted by trials of hardship. Under its sign it leaned to
have faith in the destiny that was reserved for it. Thanks to this faith it
could, at last, hear the words of Tojil when he said to the humble and
related tribes:

"Now hear what I say to you. Because of the integrity with which you
have undergone trials, I am changing the law that you should obey. As a
sacrificial offering, you will bleed only the ears and elbows; do this in
good spirits and smiling faces; show valor before me because
cowardliness will serve you badly.
Thus it was with pleasure that this unruly tribe submitted. The faith it
carried in its heart saved it. Since then Tojil scattered the benefits of his
power and influence among all of the tribes. In particular, the boon of
ineffable joy grew in the spirit of everyone.

Chapter 5
Our people, with the aid of the aforementioned gods, finally abandoned
the ravines and narrow passes of the mountains (where they had
suffered so much hardship) and descended to lower places where one
was able to view the sea - of which they had only heard of in vague and
mysterious ways. While still advancing toward the south, they were
confronted with swamps and inlets filled with dangers and difficulties.
For this reason, the Patriarchs said, in anguish:

"Tojil, do not abandon us; give us your word; show us the path that you,
more than anyone else, knows, and through which we will arrive at the
land that you secretly promised us. Do not leave us fallen."

When the Patriarchs decided it to be necessary, they announced to the

people the second stop they should make. They found themselves in a
strange and rocky land that was too inhospitable for them to camp in for
long, because it was laced with cliffs, fissures and crevices out of which
came obnoxious animals which filled the air with plague, fear and noise.
The water they found was dark and murky; and the winds that blew,
harsh. The branches of the trees overhung the neglected trails and
canyons - places through which rivers and torrents formerly ran. For this
reason, without waiting for further guidance, they abandoned these
useless places as a resting place for the people. Thus they continued
walking through lands that had already been crossed by other travelers.
They advanced through sinuous trails, bordered abundantly with weeds.
The hikers crossed the flat terrain of extensive marshes infested with
swarms of poisonous insects that relentlessly attacked them. They did
not stop until the grandfathers ordered the third halt. They were now in
the land of Chi Pixab, where even the hills did not protect the people
from the wild beasts that populated the area. They fought desperately
against them. Unceasingly, men were dying form the claws of the tigers
that stalked them, or they perished in the teeth of the large reptiles that
slithered away by the side of the water holes and beneath the puddles.
They fought with painful determination with no time to rest or to find a
more secure refuge. In light of this, the grandfathers again consulted
Tojil and, as a result of his advice, broke camp to continue the pilgrimage
to the places that will be mentioned further on. The next stop was made
at the edge of an earthy prairie. Then Tojil said to the Patriarchs:
"It is not good that you stop here either. Soon these places will become
parched by the winds that come down from the distant mountains, which
cover the southern horizon. Walk further on, until you receive a sign.
Notice the hour of the dawn that approaches. At this time you will know
how to better make out the appropriate place, and that is indicated on
the calendar of which you do not yet know."

The Patriarchs, agreeing with this advice, then said:

"It is true; let us look for other sites more adequate for our security and
comfort. Let us advance to the edge of the horizon, where the shade of
yonder mountain stands out; let us get there as soon as possible."

They took down their huts, loaded the statues of their gods and
continued walking. The Patriarchs went on ahead, keeping a watchful eye
on their destination. In everyone was born the premonition that the end
of his or her journey was finally approaching. The men, the women, the
children and the elders were all heartened and energized, and their
fatigue diminished. At the end of an indeterminate time, they arrived at
the borders of the mountain that they had first seen from afar. It was tall
with steep slopes, covered with thick vegetation, part thorny and part
soft. From the time they first saw the mountain they called it Hacavitz.
They climbed up the western slopes, crawling among the rocks and the
weeds. Upon arriving at the top, the more audacious ones announced
that this was wide and solid and that it offered a pleasant site for their
rest.

The Patriarchs were more thorough; they examined with their hands and
eyes the nature of that place that seemed to be the end of their
migration. When everyone had ascertained that the place was
appropriate for their refuge and happiness, their spirits finally were at
rest. They increasingly rejoiced because they saw that the morning star
was lit above the horizon, and recognized this to be a clear sign of good
tidings - a lucid announcement by their god. Before his presence, as a
heartfelt testimonial offering, they burnt incense. The incense was
transformed into a cloud, which, in the serenity of the morning, ascended
up on high - further than their eyes could see. According to the dictates
of their faith, each Patriarch burnt a different potion. While burning their
incense, they cried and sang with joy and pleasure. Among the people a
clarity filtered down that never before had come upon the earth and that
penetrated even unto the caves of the Levant. As soon as they were
sufficiently enraptured in these contemplations, Tojil said to them:

"It is good that you have occupied this mountain and these slopes
through which water is drained from the rain and from the secret
fountains born under the rocks and pebbles. One day you will discover
their source and you will understand from it the nature of life and of
establishing roots. I speak on my own behalf and for the gods who
accompany me. Now I say to you: as we are of you, so you are of us.
From this time on, nothing can separate us. In this hour of trial, invoke
whom you must. Be ever vigilant as to the feelings of the devotees and
followers, because you are to know that to only the good ones will be
given advice and counsel, and our help. Be careful in what you think and
do, and what you accomplish through your mandate. Learn to take care
of yourselves, guarding our memory; but you will not torment us with the
history of your sufferings that are just and inevitable. Know that even
without words we know your intentions. Know that we hear you in
silence. Give us, in exchange, the little children of the birds and the
beasts that inhabit these places. Give us your blood without endangering
yourselves, for we do not ask you for death but for life. Whoever asks
you where we are, tell them what you know from our presence, but no
more. Great things you will be able to do if we see in you submission and
agreement with our devotees and followers."

Upon hearing this, the Patriarchs said, in a pleasant tone:

"Now our names will be immortalized, because the gods spoke and
because we are united in our cause. Out people will never be dispersed.
Their destiny will be to survive any misfortune that may come in the
unpredictable future. They will be assured of retaining their roots in the
place we have occupied."

Then, as they uttered these words, they gave a name and title to the
tribes that had gathered together. Thus the tribes who had prevailed to
this time were known and distinguished. This done, they waited for the
morning star, which had briefly been seen before, to reappear. In the
meantime, in the steepest part of the mountain Hacavitz, the Patriarchs
discovered a place filled with fish and reptile scales and the teeth and
claws of dead animals that had been sacrificed in the past. With these
remains, they prepared proper essences that would be effective in
warding off evil influences and to allow good influences to take root.
They knew that the teeth of a hare would prevent discord, and that the
bones of the hicatee turtle would encourage useful abilities. After
hurrying to complete this task, the Patriarchs were relieved and calm in
spirit. Then in their hearts they said:

"Let us hope that here we will finally see the sunrise. Do we not deserve
this reward? Did we not visualize this site in our minds? If it is so, nothing
should separate us now, in the face of this clearly propitious omen. Joy
rises in the horizon. In the solitude of the shadows that envelope us, we
will see the heavens open and we will be strengthened."
Upon uttering these words, the dawn of the new day that they
anticipated so eagerly in their imagination appeared in its entire
splendor.

The Patriarchs hid themselves, fearful that the more vulgar people,
excited because of the light, would scorn them. The sun rose in the sky
and its light spread throughout the land. Every one began to tremble,
fearing for their lives. But the sun's heat was not intense enough to burn
the flesh and embrittle the bones. One had to wait for the dog days of
summer to heat up the air and to dry up the leaves and shoots of the
plants so that the people could walk bravely on top of the ground, and
not get muddy.

When this happened, the animals, both large and small, reappeared,
expressing the various sweet and untamed inclinations of their natures.
From the top of the mountain, as it is said, the people looked at the width
of the prairie that opened up to their view, the path of the rivers, the
dark mass o the forests, an in the far distance, the purplish reverberation
of the sea which blended in with the immobile line of the sky. From the
top of the cliffs broke forth the roar of the jaguars and tigers, the snort of
the javelinas, and the meow of the wild cats. From the water holes and
creeks could be heard the croaking of the frogs and toads with their
protruding black and greenish eyes. Through the swamps could be seen
the brown spotted lizards with their mouths open; and among the
thistles, snakes slithered through the mire. The parrots, at that moment,
uttered their most strident and prolonged cries. When the people heard
these sounds, they were filled with joy. The door of life had opened up for
them - the event that they had awaited from time immemorial.

And so it was that the tribes of which we speak established themselves

in these plots of land. They soon built roads and trails that ran between
the jungle and the weeds, climbing, from time to time, along the ridges.
In this manner, the said tribes communicated among themselves. They
built mounds of rock and mud to serve as observation points from which
sentries could see afar and warn of any approaching dangers. In fact, the
most skilled and experienced men climbed up these watchtowers to see
and listen. They remained in position for hours on end, scrutinizing the
horizon or paying attention to the slightest noise in the surrounding
fields. At the slightest sign of anything unusual, they sounded warnings
through the blowing of conch shells and pipes. These warning sounds
reverberated loudly through the populated areas, causing fright and
agony among the people who clenched their fists and dug in their heels
with tension. To better maintain their privacy, the Patriarchs were living
hidden in the mountain, under straw roofs or in open caves on the slopes
of the mountain, on the side where the sun sets.
Only those people who understood the mystery of the life of those
Patriarchs had access to these hidden places. Even these initiated ones
barely knew the way to the trails and roads that led to the places where
the chiefs were hiding.

It should be known that the Patriarchs, at night, especially a night that

was dark and filled with silence and mystery, would leave their hiding
places and would start to cry out, howl and groan like wild beasts
anxious for blood and destruction. Upon hearing these sounds, the elders
among the people living near the mountain of Hacavitz, frightened,
assembled into a group and said:

"Those that cry out thus want to scare us and put fear in us. They must
have some sly intentions in doing this. Let us be on alert. Undoubtedly,
they wish to provoke us with their cries. Do they dare to think that we
will abandon this land they now have in their power to take for their
own? Is it possible that such a thing could happen among us? These
intruders overwhelm us with their threats. It would seem that they want
us to flee from the places that have belonged to us from days of old. We
have always lived here; it is only proper that we continue living where it
pleases us and where we want to die. Only here can we flourish; in
leaving these parts, we would never again be fulfilled and our pain would
be eternal. Who has the right to deprive us of what is rightfully ours?
Perhaps these newcomers aspire to take control of the supplies our men
carry on these paths, from town to town, and from village to village. We
will, nevertheless, know the truth and with the truth we will know the
intentions of the intruders, and thus we will be able to act accordingly."

The tribes that thus conferred, gathered their food and prepared it
according to the arts that they had learned from their elders. Thus they
ate the food next to the hearths of their homes, next to their women,
their children and the grandparents of their children. Their way of life
was patriarchal. They nourished themselves with bee honey, venison and
turtle fat. They drank the water that came of the wells that from years
before had passed from generation to generation undiscovered. They
seemed happy in their quietude and sobriety. Until then no one had
disturbed that repose. After eating, they took a nap next to the irrigation
ditches that crossed the patios of their estates. Above their heads, the
swallows in spring and the sparrows in winter flew with graceful
enthusiasm. Something, nevertheless, was not right in their lives, that
thus they saw themselves threatened. In them, egotism and hatred
predominated. This was the sin rooted in their nature. Meanwhile, the
Patriarchs said:
"Tojil, hear us and look at us. We give you this. This is the blood of the
beasts that belong to us; this that of our ears; this is that of our elbows;
this is that of our feet. Receive it with kindness; look at it with
sympathetic and understanding eyes. For the good of everyone accept it
in amends for our neglect and our faults. Guard our life and do not take
away our strength nor diminish our will."

Then they added:

"Let us be at peace with ourselves; let us not ignite disputes and

disagreements. Let us work with peace and quiet in our hearts. If we do
not work in such a way, who will wash the bodies of our dead ones?
Perhaps we will have to bury them, as in the days of war, dirty and
impure, on the fringes of the cliffs or in the loneliness of the jungle, in
order to free them from the teeth of filthy animals. Let us hope that this
does not happen! Let us hope that if it does, we will not have to witness
it with our own eyes!"

The blood they say was deposited on the rock of sacrifice. They did this
when Tojil let his rulings be heard:

"Weep and you will preserve yourselves. Weep and you shall not perish.
Tears are good for the body and spirit. Remember that from Tulán we
parted; consider that even the footprints that we left on the open roads
between mountains and thickets, and steep and seemingly inaccessible
places, have not been erased. Even today our march to the sea is
remembered. Next to the coastal rocks the waves shone and broke when
we crossed places that were indicated in our itinerary."

After hearing these words, the Patriarchs began, with zeal, to kidnap,
during the night, the dispersed and strange people that were found in
nearby places. They took them and punished them and caused them
grief by twisting their feet and hands between forked sticks. When the
Patriarchs saw that these wretches were confused and ready to faint,
they let them go in the middle of the forest. Thus stumbling along as well
as they could, the unhappy ones looked for their familiar roads and
returned to their homes. They arrived there filled with panic, not knowing
what to think or what to say. They could hardly imagine what had
happened to them. It was as if they had come out of a dream, or a
bewitchment. The story of their frightful ordeal was spread like dust in
the wind during summer dog days.

Later, the same Patriarchs wanted to make things even worse, with the
worst cruelty. Their spirits turned sour and dark. The kidnapping was no
longer enough for them. They decided, then, to sacrifice the people
which they surprised and seized near the mountain of Hacavitz. They
took them by force and killed and mutilated them, putting the dead
bodies before the presence of the gods. They presented them as an
offering. But the blood of the victims spread through the paths and the
decapitated heads, and the pulled apart limbs appeared on the rocks.
The people of the prairie tribes, with sour words and wrathful spirits,
said:

"It is the tigers of the high places that attack us. They should be hungry
and thirsty. They hardly carry an evil spell in their spirits. The arid
mountain expels them and thus they arrive here in this pleasant,
populated region. They should approach anxiously, desirous of satisfying
their appetites and getting rid of their worries. Let us look for them and
kill them."

Others commented:

"Might not this be the work of the gods who have camped on the
mountain top that they call Hacavitz? Won't their devotees look upon our
flesh as food? Let us try to discover the truth and do whatever is possible
to remedy this evil. Let us first find out their hiding places and refuges,
and afterwards, let us find out who are the followers and devotees of
such gods. To learn this, let us follow the foot tracks and the trickle of
blood that flows from the victims. Let us also note the route that the
vultures in the sky follow when they watch and smell the carcasses
abandoned on the mountain."

After giving due consideration to these comments, the people of the

pursued tribes agreed to defend themselves against these threats.

They, in fact, set about to follow the above-mentioned tracks which were
discovered in the humid earth of the paths and trails. They soon saw,
however, that the tracks disappeared among the thistles of the
mountains. Thus they failed in their attempt to discover the refuge of
their enemies. Tired, racked with pain and filled with misgivings, they
abandoned the task that they had undertaken. Discouraged, but not
beaten, they returned to their houses. In their imagination, they plotted
a new way of proceeding with their searches. Artfully and cunningly the
gods began to scrutinize the mountain for the most inaccessible and
difficult places. At sunset, they had taken shelter in the natural caves or
in the holes that people of olden times had made in the rocks. They also
camouflaged themselves beneath the dense shade of the thistles. From
their hiding places, they incited their followers and devotees so that they
would continue in their undertaking of destruction, lying in wait and
killing the people of the local tribes. It was in this way that the desolation
increased among the peaceful peoples of the prairie.
Chapter 6
Know also that the gods appeared in the form of boys when they wished
to dictate their orders and decrees. It was a pleasure to see them shine
with such splendid mature grace. If they wished to relax, they came out
of their hiding places with caution, and went to bathe themselves at the
shore of a wide and clear river, near which were meadows covered with
flowers and herbs. On one recess were seen flagstone slabs rounded and
smoothed by water erosion from the frequent rains and river currents.
That is why the river was called Tojil. The people who were acquainted
with it would say:

"This is the Tojil river."

Or they would say:

"This is the bath of Tojil."

When, by chance, the gods were observed, they would immediately

disappear without leaving any tracks. No evidence of their footprints
remained on the loose soil. With art that only they knew, they would lose
themselves in the most inaccessible part of the forest. No one ever
succeeded in discovering their whereabouts. They vanished as if the
earth had swallowed them, or imprisoned them in its depths. Nor were
they seen even as ghosts. Nevertheless, the people soon knew that the
Patriarchs were accomplices of the newly revealed gods and were kept
concealed by them. What they knew, they divulged to widely separated
individuals among themselves. Then the tribes that had suffered so
much from the abuses of these beings (the gods and their accomplices),
decided to unite and mount a vigorous defensive action.

As they intended, so they acted. They gathered in council and agreed to

destroy the abusive gods and those who, in the name of these, caused
so much desolation. With this purpose in mind, they decided to rise up in
mass and fall upon these chiefs, snatching their instruments of power
from them and occupying the places where, falsely and wrongly, they
had taken root. Among the agitated tribes, the people spoke thusly:

"We have to be finished with these Quiché people of Cavec. Not one of
these foreigners should remain free or alive inside our region. They
should be treated like an abscess; let us cut away this infected and
spoiled meat and discard it, so that this dark and evil abomination is
extinguished and its influence comes to an end."
"If they have to wound and kill us, so be it; but, before this happens, let
us be done with the intruders and with those who, in a hypocritical way,
incite them against us. If Tojil is so great and strong as the voices of the
ones who have witnessed him say he is, we want to see him with our
own eyes; we want to make sure of the reality of his strength, and if it is
invincible. If we succeed in knowing this, then we will adore him as if
destiny had imposed it on us. We will make no resistance."

Now in agreement with these words, they told those who were taking fish
from the river where, according to custom, Tojil and the other gods were
bathing:

"Come, listen and understand: if those who bathe in that river are mortal
gods, let us go to them, let us fall upon them and decimate them down
to their bones. Let us do more; let us cause their accomplices - or should
we say, their devotees and priests - to perish with them."

Afterwards, in the heat of their resolve, they added:

"To capture them we shall do the following: we will arrange to go to the

said river at the proper hour, two damsels - the healthiest and most
astute among those born and raised in the region. In that place they will
prattle like scatterbrained girls about their duties and intimacies. They
will speak cleverly so as not to disclose their intentions and our purpose.
They must be cautious. They will not appear to look about or desire
anything in a careless manner. With shifty caution they will begin to
wash our clothes at the river's edge. If the boys approach them, the girls
will undress in order to better attract them. If the boys, upon seeing the
girls naked, show signs of desiring them and wanting to come near to
them, they (the girls) will have been instructed to feel free to grant the
boys pleasure. If the gods then ask the girls who they are, they will
answer: 'We are daughters of lords; but our parents will not want to know
more about what we will be doing here, because we will not say
anything,' This said, they will ask the boys for some personal effects as a
souvenir of their meeting. If the boys give these to them and also caress
them, they will immediately give themselves over submissively to the
boys' desires."

In accordance with this thinking and this scheme, they instructed the two
best girls of the place to go and do what has been stated in front of the
gods, when these gods appeared at the river. The damsels chosen for
this task were named Ixtah and Ixpuch - and they were truly beautiful.

Without delay, the girls went to the river and crouched next to the rocks
by the waters edge. The people of the tribes, meanwhile, hid
themselves, in silence and at a distance, behind the bushes. According
to what is remembered, the girls began to wash the personal articles of
clothing at a bend in the river. Suddenly the damsels noticed, with a
start, the presence of Tojil and the other gods. The girls realized who
these were because they were seen to be beautiful and erect. Their
golden flesh shone as if they had a light under their skin. Also, their eyes
glowed with a strange light.

At first, the gods observed the girls in their duties as washwomen; but
upon seeing the gods approach, the girls shook with fear and emotion.
Then they took off their clothes, as they had been instructed. When, with
their feminine instinct, they knew that they had been noticed, they
showed off their nudity. Upon being surprised, they acted ashamed, but
not so much so that, by their attitude, they would be taken as shy or
evasive. Among them all, there was, at first, a long silence. But, contrary
to the hopes of the damsels, neither Tojil nor the other gods showed any
lust for them, nor did they caress or flatter them, nor even hint at
anything of this sort. Upon approaching, the gods spoke thusly:

"Where did you come from? What are you looking for in this place? Did
no one warn you that this river is ours by natural right, because we
found it untilled and without custodians? Do not pretend to be
scatterbrained. You should answer our questions. We are waiting for your
answers. Speak."

After hearing these words, uttered with such hardness, the damsels were
even more bewildered; and having been accosted with such candor, they
said what they had been urged to say, and nothing more. They could not
lie to these beings. A hidden force obliged them to say what they knew.
Besides, it was not in their nature to lie. After listening to the girls'
confession, Tojil said:

"It is well. Now I will bring to you the sign that your mentors desire,
which will convey to them the gist of our conversation and the manner in
which we negotiate."

The gods said no more. They left immediately and debated about what
they should do. Being in agreement, they took three cotton cloaks and
handed these to the Patriarchs, who were nearby, waiting expectantly.
Thus Balam Quitzé drew a tiger on one of the cloaks; Balam Acab
sketched an eagle on another; and Muhucatah, on the third one, drew a
horsefly and a wasp.

The gods never appeared again; they were swallowed up in the darkness
of the jungle. In their place, the Patriarchs came near and spoke with the
damsels.
Balam Quitzé, after greeting them in the name of the gods, spoke in this
manner:

"Here are the signs that your masters wished you to bring back; these
are the tokens that Tojil and the other gods promised you. To the lords
who sent you to this place, you will say: 'This they gave us; with these
cloaks you should cover yourselves and show off. Here it is. This is all.
Expect no further words from us.' "

The Patriarchs also disappeared immediately. The damsels did not know
how and where they had slipped away. They remained alone with a
certain sense of anxiety. With this message and the cloaks, the damsels
abandoned that place and arrived at the center of the tribal community.
There, restrainedand uneasy, they looked for the elders who had sent
them, and before these declared:

"Here we are."

"Have you seen Tojil and the other gods, as well as their devotees?" they
were asked.

"Yes, we have seen them, and have spoken with them."

"Then, what sign do you bring us as a token which will verify the truth of
what you say?"

"This is the token," they answered.

And upon saying this they turned over to the elders and other tribal
members the cloaks that they had received from the hands of the
Patriarchs. Everyone drew near to look at them with curiosity and
astonishment - to look at those fabrics and the strange figures that had
been drawn upon them - a sight never before seen by these people.
Immediately, the tribal leaders expressed their wish to place these
cloaks around themselves in order to appear important.

Upon hearing these pretensions, the girls said:

"It is good what you want to do. Tojil ordered that the tribal leaders
should use these tokens. They are in favor of this."

The elders did not wait any longer and covered their shoulders with the
cloaks. Nothing happened with the first two men - who had the cloaks
with the drawings of the tiger and the eagle; but something unusual
occurred with the third one - who had the cloak with the drawings of the
insects. He hadn't put it on well or adjusted it to his waist, when he
began to feel bites and scratches and pain all over his body. Desperate
and astonished, he threw off that cloak and said, among anguished
shouts:

"What kind of fabric is this? What material have you brought me? What is
this made of? What kind of scheme is this? What is it that moves, is
agitated and grows beneath its drawing? Why does this pop up, come to
life and become unloosened from the fabric?"

The other elders, frightened, also took off their cloaks. The people of the
tribes saw, in another sign, how powerful must be the action that they
must take in order to effectively defeat these gods and their followers.
They saw this sign as a warning of possible failure in this fight they were
attempting. They remained sad, but not dejected. They knew that it was
necessary to fight, and they were ready for it. In consideration of all this,
the people gathered together again in council to discuss what they
needed to do to defend themselves against the attacks and persecutions
of such gods, as reflected in the strategies of their servants. At the
meeting, the oldest ones said:

"Only with astuteness can we free ourselves from these persecutors. Let
us give this some thought. First we should spy on them. We shall work
without danger, because there are many of us and few of them. But we
have to proceed diligently, before it is too late, lest our enemies become
apprehensive and arm themselves."

With this in mind, the elders decided to act without delay. They gathered
together the tribal warriors. While these young men were preparing
themselvesfor the fight, the elders encouraged them with words and
canticles. The women, far from being cowed, also incited the warriors
with smiles and pleasant flattery. The whole assembly seemed like an
excited swarm of bees. Everywhere they were responding to the call,
solicitous and determined. Everyone knew that upon the outcome of the
battle would depend the survival or ruin of the tribes to which they all
belonged.

Meanwhile, from atop the mountain of Hacavitz the devotees of Tojil

were vigilant and watched below and were on alert. Balam Quitzé and
the other Patriarchs began to gather weapons. They equipped their sons
and grandsons with these. They left their women in a safe and pleasant
place. With great care, they instructed their young men in the use of the
arms. The fight was coming. From above they observed the landscape
and the enemy's movements, which were becoming increasingly
excitable. They saw that the tribes below, being very agitated and
bellicose, were gathering in the prairies; They saw that the people
gesticulated excitedly, and that the audacious ones were damaging the
ramps that led to the mountain top. They saw how the rashest ones
began to climb up upon the defensive ramparts that were placed there in
trench style. Those that conquered these obstacles crawled some
distance along the lap of the mountain; and then with a leap, returned to
their position, giving shouts of joy. The rapacious ones clapped their
hands in unison.

Everyone seemed impatient to fight. The cries of the elders, who

remained on the plains, became increasingly fierce. The women, angrily
weeping, made it appear that any cowards would be dead or converted
into slaves forever.

In the face of this prodding, the warriors accelerated their preparations

to ascend more quickly through the twists and turns and slopes of the
mountain. Beneath the sun their arrows, clubs, lances, shields and
bucklers sparkled. Thus they began to climb. They advanced,
nevertheless, with caution, crouching behind the rocks and the bushes
along the paths. Thus they went, climbing along the diverse slopes,
without stopping to rest. No one came out to meet them. At this point,
they had made good progress. The lap of the mountain was seen to be
swarming with enemies, when something unforeseen happened. It is
quite difficult to explain it. Suddenly, the assailants, not knowing when or
how, fell asleep. They remained as stiff as tree trunks or as beasts. They
appeared to be dead, so deep was their sleep that it dominated and
subdued them. Upon seeing them fall, the people of Hacavitz lowered
their guard, they abandoned their parapets, and among strident shouts,
descended through the folds in the mountain, their clubs held up high in
the air, and their feathers ruffling in the wind. In this way they surprised
the sleeping ones. They fell upon them and disarmed them, even taking
off their clothes. To shame them even more, they cut off their beards and
their eyebrows, and removed the blades from their axes and spears; they
tied their feet like birds and they painted their faces in a ludicrous way
as if they were circus clowns. Then they abandoned them to exposure to
the harsh weather of the mountain. For the ultimate insult, the Patriarchs
urinated on the defeated warriors. When these, after some hours, awoke
and saw how ridiculous was their appearance, so great was their shame
that some actually fled from one another to hide behind the bushes and
tree trunks. They covered their nakedness with banana leaves. They did
not know what to do or what to think. In their desperation, they said:

"Why did we fall in this way, defeated by a sleep that we have never
before known? Who made us sleep, in such a change manner, while we
were advancing so attentively toward the enemy? Who stopped our
march and paralyzed our feet on the slopes of the mountain? Who bound
our hands and feet, took away our weapons, tore off our clothing, made
a mockery of our bodies, cut off our hair, greased our faces with soot and
paint and rubbed our hands in filth? Who tied our feet as if we were
imprisoned animals? Would they be bandits who attacked us from a
hideout? Would they possibly be the same enemy gods who previously
insulted us and hurt us? Truly we do not know what happened or can we
explain what has been done to us.

And while the humiliated tribal warriors were descending the mountain
to return to their towns to recuperate, and to regroup for a new attack,
the Patriarchs arranged for their people to raise wide defenses near the
top. They gathered together the strong and agile men and with the help
of all, they dug a circular ditch. To hide it, they covered it with a net of
interwoven vines and tree fronds and spines. Behind the ditches they
made a wall of tree trunks, flagstones and adobe. Then, against these
walls, they propped up various mannequins of wood that resembled
people. Between the arms of these mannequins they placed the
weapons they had taken from the defeated tribal warriors. The winds
made the arms move and agitated the hair, made from corn silk, which
the mannequins had under their palm hats. From a distance and through
the haze, such mannequins really looked like warriors posted in defense
of the place. Upon finishing these preparations, the Patriarchs went to
ask the gods for advice. Before these, they said:

"Do you wish to tell us if in this fight we will be conquered or will be the
conquerors?" Keep in mind that our enemies are many and are
courageous in their hearts, while we are few and poorly armed, and
there is no hate in our spirit, but we only obey the will of destiny."

Tojil let his voice be heard:

"Do not torment yourselves thinking about what must happen, because
we are here and in due time we will know how to dispense that which is
necessary in order to overcome the threat against you."

This said the gods, using the arts with which they were skilled, attracted
swarms of horseflies and wasps. These darkened the air with their wings;
they settled submissively on the nearby rocks; here they remained quiet,
obedient and incapable of continuing their flight any longer. Then, by
revelation, Balam Quitzé said these words to their united people:

"Take these obnoxious insects and guard them in sealed wooden crates.
Place the wooden crates near the barricades and wait for the appropriate
time to open them. These pests will defend you from the attacks of the
warriors from below. You must remain alert against the danger. Be awake
to your ingenuity and your astuteness. Do not interrupt your vigil while
watching the paths that descend to the valley of the enemy."
Indeed, they put those horseflies and those wasps in reed boxes. It
seemed like the insects were going to break their enclosures with their
wings. Inside their prison, they buzzed, spreading their dreadful noise.
The people doubled their vigilance.

The sentinels on the paths and trails of the slopes remained alert.
Mutually, they began to appraise any suspicious movement of the
enemy. Any news on the ground or in the air was announced with sudden
urgency.

Meanwhile the enemies, recovered from the defeat they had suffered,
hurried about in preparation for a new fight. With undisguised agitation,
they went from one place to another, consulting with one another, and
preparing new weapons. Astonished they looked up, and with their eyes
and hands threatened the warriors they believed they were seeing
behind the barricades. More and more people continuously gathered on
the plain, which was surrounded with spiny plants. The hate they felt for
the intruders was also increasing. Their cries announced this hate, and
they struck blows upon the ground as if possessed. It was evident that
they were ready to die defending the land that had belonged to them
from time immemorial. No one doubted the right they had to possess the
land that now looked to be invaded by foreigners. For this reason nobody
remained lazy; nobody just stood around idly. Some stretched deer skins
for armor; others adorned themselves with flexible reeds which would
shield them from blows; others sharpened strong wooden sticks for
spears; others moistened the tips of arrows with poisonous resins; others
filled backpacks with sharp-pointed objects; others gathered pebbles
which could be shot from blowguns; others twisted strings of cotton to
make masks and belts; others stretched bladders onto turtle shells to
make drums; still others were perforating reed tubes to make them into
flutes. Everyone performed his or her task with solemn haste, while
thinking about the undertaking that would soon begin.

At nightfall, their work slackened; but the vigilance of the defenders on

the paths and slopes was doubled. In the most dangerous places, they
burned torches in order to better illuminate the area and to glimpse from
afar the enemy's presence that would pretend to surprise them behind
the security of the shade. Along with their red-hot coals and their
splendor, one saw the rough, cone-shaped faces of the warriors who
slithered about ready for combat. The reflected light from their lances,
which were stuck into the ground, flashed and sparkled.

At daybreak they began to play their tunhules, their hicotea drums, their
flutes and their hornpipes.
Noisy as a storm they scattered about the area full of courage. The
shouts, the aggressiveness, the manners and the gestures of the
warriors instilled dread among the peaceful people who contemplated
these bellicose preparations. The children clung at the side of their
mothers' skirts, covering their faces, while the elders shook their fists in
a fearful and threatening manner.

Thus the youths, newly armed, began to climb again through the rugged
paths of Hacavitz Mountain. They climbed placing their feet firmly upon
the stone slabs and the clods of earth. To be more secure, they took
advantage of the places that were less steep. They climbed agilely, like
deer and mountain goats, among the rocks surrounded by brambles and
spines. They climbed in long stretches and then stopped to rest and
drink nourishment, while the lookouts advanced in order to observe the
places occupied by the opposition. At each moment they expected to
meet up with these sentries; they were sure they would succeed in being
triumphant against their adversaries. Neither ambush was possible. From
time to time the guides would cry out and signal, by waving cloth flags,
that the path ahead was unobstructed, or that there was danger, or that
it was necessary to stop, crouch, wait, or reverse or change direction.
The elders and the women that remained below prodded the warriors, in
disorderly voices, not to falter in their undertaking. They were going from
one place to another, running and hoarsely intoning brave songs. They
were dancing strange dances, lewd and warlike, around very high
bonfires fed with logs cut from redried tree trunks. At times they took in
their hands still hot ashes, they threw them directly on their faces, or
first muddied them, so as to appear fearsome and ferocious. The
carnivorous birds, excited by the tumult that they saw, flew level with
the men and beasts. The coyotes and jackals jumped over the ditches
and holes, biting their own lips and wounding them, so ravenous were
they.

The defenders of the mountain, although distressed by the danger and

threat that advanced before their eyes, they trusted in the providence of
the gods who were favorable to them. They were sure that, in the
appointed hour, they would not be abandoned and that, for the same
reason, would not perish. Destiny would have to reserve for them eternal
glory. They reassured one another with gestures and words. The
cleverest among them, acting as sentries, posted themselves in
inaccessible places, ready to sound the alarm if danger was imminent.
With hidden caution, they observed the movements of the enemy who
were already nearing the summit - making bellowing sounds and
showing signs of fury never before seen, not even in the days of the
most malevolent war. Thus there came a moment of anguished
indecision for both factions. The shouting by those who ascended from
the prairie hit against the cry of those who defended the crest of the
mountain. Now the faces of some and of others could be seen among the
thicket, like ears of corn among the tall stalks - of men armed with lances
and clubs. The rustling noise of the shields became perceptible; and the
heaving of the chests of those who stopped behind the rocks or of those
who climbed over the trenches, due to deep and exhausted respiration,
could be guessed.

One instant more and the enemies from above fell upon the enemies
from below which, destroying the barricades, greedily approached the
cusp of the mountain. a number of rocks, already dislodged by lances,
ricocheted off the shields of some, producing a dry, deafening sound.
The encounter, so feared, had finally begun. At the top, some arrows
began to fly, whistling. The slingshots and blowguns shot pieces of
sharp-pointed stones. Suddenly, the howl of pain of someone wounded
was heard, like thunder that hits and reverberates. At this same instant,
when the adversaries were about to grapple angrily with one another,
the Patriarchs opened, according to what had been foreseen and ordered
by Tojil, the tops of the baskets in which the horseflies and wasps were
enclosed. In an instant the insects emerged with an impelling force,
saturating the air with a buzzing and ominous noise, and fell like darts
upon the enemies from below - who were climbing recklessly and
irrationally - stinging their hands, arms, legs, thighs and faces. This
terrible attack by the swarms of stinging insects first dispersed and then
stunned and intimidated the climbers, who did not know what to do. In
attempting to defend themselves from such unusual and strange
aggression, they threw away their weapons. Bows, arrows and round
shields fell to the ground. The afflicted warriors, relentlessly pursued by
the horde, threw themselves though rugged paths, trails and abrupt
places, trying to free themselves from the attack. Behind the fleeing
men, the wild animals ran furiously, struggling against the onslaught
against their own flesh. At the moment in which the disbandment spread
and confusion was rampant, the people of Balam Quitzé descended and
raged against the now disarmed fugitives. With their clubs, lances and
slingshots they destroyed and killed all those within their reach. The
laments, the complaints, the blasphemies and the curses uttered by the
conquered ones were both dreadful and pitiful. The air was filled with
dust, and the rocks covered with blood - this scene bearing witness to
the great desolation that had occurred.

The image of the great defeat was visible even on the prairie below. The
joy of the conquerors spread like the wind that was blowing strongly as if
someone, from an invisible place, fanned and propelled it. The bodies of
the defeated ones fell off of the precipices, and were dashed and torn
apart. Bits of their flesh clung to the rocks. The mountain of Hacavitz was
thus a place of triumph for the gods and the Patriarchs.
In this way the tribes faithful to Tojil and Balam Quitzé won that property
forever for themselves. Meanwhile on the prairie, the few people that
remained of those that had been defeated prostrated themselves at the
feet of the conquerors.

The dwellers that had stayed on the mountain of Hacavitz understood

now that the defeat of the enemies had been consummated and that the
power of the gods was invincible. As a gesture of respect they raised
their hands and shook them up high holding bunches of herbs and
flowers.

Thus ended the fight between the tribes that arrived originally from
Tulán and those who, because of their egotism, did not know how to
defend or retain the land of their ancestors.

After establishing the dominion of the loyal tribes, the Patriarchs had a
premonition that the hour of their death was nearing. With this thought
in mind, they called the women and their children and their children's
children. When these were gathered together before them, the Patriarchs
were greatly moved - their faces afflicted with grief - and they burned
perfumed incense. They hoped that the smoke would rise up on high and
be dispersed by the wind. Then Balam Quitzé spoke in this manner:

"Know, and do not forget, that we, the Procreators, must go away. Know
also that we will return at a time that will be indicated to you.
Understand, finally, that the moment has arrived in which we must
return to the place from where we came. According to the dictate of our
consciences, we will return to the place of our origin. But before parting,
we have to make provisions in accord with our obligation. For this
reason, understand, without discord, that now we distribute the
treasures that belonged to us. To those to whom it is owed, we have
revealed our secrets. It has been revealed from on high that only those
who should know should be given these secrets, and nobody else. Gather
the grain and the seeds and the seedlings, because times of drought and
hunger are approaching. Sharpen your weapons, because enemies
hidden behind the mountain and the hills will not hesitate to covet these
lands. After our departure, remember us. Do not leave us in oblivion.
Evoke our faces and our words. Out image will be nectar in the hearts of
those who wish to evoke it. We say more to you; care for your houses
and your plots of land; walk through the paths that we open, because
this and no other thing is what we command. Remain here, lest you
forget the origin of your ancestors. This is the just thing to do. Do not
expect the strangers to know what is necessary; know that only you will
have the awareness and the spirit to fulfill this duty. Everything good and
proper that you do must arise from your own initiative."
Thus spoke the patriarchs at the time that they were saying farewell to
their loved ones. There was a moment of silence, and then the
Patriarchs, with heads held high and their robes trailing on the ground,
walked on top of the mountain. They soon began to descend the western
slope. Then a dense cloud hid them.

Among the people of the mountain of Hacavitz the advice that had been
given remained vividly in their memories. As a sign of respect for and
compliance with its meaning, they burned aromatic herbs before the
heavens. While the hot coals were burning, the oldest among them
uttered these words that remained written in the spirit of everyone:

"Hurakán, heart of the night, giver of virtue, creator of our children,

return to us. Do not deprive us of your presence. Give life and strength to
our descendents so that they can grow and become strong in the good
and know how to propagate out faith and to say your name, which will be
invoked on the paths, on the cliffs, in the rivers, and under the trees, and
beyond everything possible. Give to our children and the children of our
children, sons and daughters."

"Prevent them from falling into sickness, danger, or curse of any kind. Do
not allow them to stumble or hurt themselves. Make them always be
united and clean. Do not let them be surprised or ambushed by enemies;
or suffer from thirst or exhaustion. Do not let them become fornicators or
sly deceivers. Send them strength so that they can go safely through
open trails, without suffering misfortune or enduring magic spells.
Protect them in their well-being and their feelings; but do not let them
become vain with wealth or be made weak with kindness. Make them
always be strong-hearted."

This said, they saw that the greatness of everyone was equal; that no
advantage of one person over his neighbor resulted from better lineage;
and that nobody aspired to a higher rank than his progeny. They
remembered that in the council of the tribes were the best men of each
house. And thus it was until dispersion and death came.

END OF PART I

PART II
The Wizards
Chapter 1
We will now speak about the mystery of the life and death of the Ahpú
brothers. We will also tell of the adventures of Hunaphú and Ixbalanqué
in their own land, and the tribulations they suffered in Xibalbá, a place of
desolation and ruin.

At a time that is not possible to determine there lived the Ahpú men,
who were renowned in the Quiché land. According to the ancient legend,
these men were the sons of Ixpiyacoc and Ixmucané. The father,
Ixpiyacoc, died when the Ahpú were children. One of the Ahpú had
Ixbaquiyaló as a wife, from whom were born Hunbatz and Hunchouén.
Ixbaquiyaló also died soon after.

The Ahpú were endowed with wisdom. Among the arts they possessed
stood out those concerned with magic and spells. They were not
egotists, but rather prodigals. They offered with pleasure their skills to
those who were in need of help or aid. In addition, they were singers,
orators, jewelers, writers, engravers, carvers and prophets. They saw the
future in the stars, in the sand, and in the palms of the hands. They also
were acquainted with the movement of the clouds. There was no craft
that was strange to them; they understood and mastered them all. They
performed them with grace and skill. They were satisfied with their
diverse professions. For enjoyment, they adorned themselves artistically
and played ball in the squares - a popular sport of that time. They were
so skilled in this game, that they were the envy of others.
Enthusiastically, they showed off this skill only on occasions of frolicking
and diversion.

During this obscure time, there lived in Xibalbá malevolent beings. Two
of these were named Xiquiripat and Cuchumaquic, whose spirit was
contrary to that of the Ahpú. Among the mean-spirited and outrageous
acts that Xiquiripat and Cuchumaquic committed is the following: They
occupied themselves with afflicting the blood of the people who lived in
the area. They accomplished this through the occult methods of sorcery.

Two others of these black magicians were named Ahalpú and Ahalganá.
These beings created trouble by fomenting in others destructive
instincts. As a natural tendency, they occupied themselves with
provoking the conceits that were prevalent among the people of the
region. They injured the legs and feet of the travelers. They turned the
faces of those who were early risers yellow, crippled them by injuring
their spines, and then abandoned them at the precipices of the
mountains. If people got sick from other evils, they approached them,
grabbed them by the feet and dragged them to inaccessible places
where they would die without being found by anyone.

Chimiabac and Chiamiaholom also had evil intentions. They were mace-
bearers. They were dedicated to breaking the bones of people. They
performed their deeds with knotted cudgels, which they swung furiously
in the air. They left intact the heads of their victims, so that they would
suffer more and for a longer time. After these lay bruised for a time, they
took their bodies and carried them toward hidden places in which they
could not be found and helped. Of the same ilk were Ahalmez and
Ahaltoyab, who were strong enough to provoke misfortune and ruin
among the people of the place. They did violence to the last of the
victims by hanging them up, piercing their shoulders and taking out their
eyes. These poor wretches were black and blue and swollen, and were
choking for breath. They did this in a very cruel way. At night they took
the victims and led them to places they knew to be conducive to their
death. There they left them nude and face up, looking up at the sky. The
carnivorous birds tore out their insides and spread them over the land.
Of even worse nature were Xic and Patán, who busied themselves by
cornering those who were dying on the paths and on the slopes of the
mountains; those who were dying suddenly; those who were ending their
days, throwing up blood from their mouth; and caused these to stop
breathing in a violent way. With everyone, they squeezed their throat
and knelt on their chest to collapse their ribs into their lungs.

During the time these beings existed and fulfilled their destinies, the
sparrow hawk messenger of Hurakán knew how skilled and how different
were those of the Ahpú. He came down from the clouds in narrowing
circles; he rested on the branch of an oak tree and then, in one jump
placed himself before them (the Ahpú), at the moment in which they
began to play ball. The sparrow hawk felt happy seeing them so skilled
and spirited. In fact, the Ahpú were playing with more dexterity than
ever. Their shouts of enthusiasm were not moderated, nor did they care
about the uproar they were making. They clapped their hands like young
noblemen in love. Their cheeks were bright red and their mouths were
half open. They concluded one game and began another, each time
more excitedly. But when it was evening, the men of Xibalbá heard their
noise. These, proud as they were, spoiled with their power, felt offended
by the lack of modesty and moderation of the Ahpú men. Filled with
anger they wanted to know who was upsetting, in such an insolent way,
their peace and quiet. Oppressed by misfortune they gathered together
and with envy they said, "Who are those who play near our city? How do
they dare to make so much noise with their voices and the blows on their
balls by their paddles? We did not know that there were such audacious
people in this vicinity. Let us go out soon to look for them, and bring
them, dead or alive, for we wish to see their faces. If they come alive we
will play the ritual (ball) game with them and if they lose we will be able
to punish them, as they deserve, without anyone believing us to be
unjust. Let us send, then, our most skilled messengers to find them and
inform them of our desire.

The men of Xibalbá were in agreement with the plan of their elders, and
they sent four messengers to give their message to the players. The
messengers - who were owls - had distinct faces and each looked
different. They spoke with diverse voices. One shouted; another laughed;
another growled, while still another whistled. Without waiting for a new
order, they fulfilled their task; they set themselves down on the house of
the Ahpú, which was next to a neighborhood known for its richness, the
abundance of its fishes, for its placid wind, and filled with aromas that
always wafted through the air. The atmosphere of their alleys and their
patios was saturated with essences and music. The many birds of the
region flew over the roofs of the houses and stopped fearlessly on the
brambles of the gardens. No one harmed them. There they spread the
lullaby of their songs. They came down to the meadows and ate from the
ears of corn, drank water from the irrigation ditches and fell asleep in the
brambles - their stomachs inflated and satisfied. The messengers left the
roof and advanced to where the Ahpú were. When they were near them,
they communicated the message that they brought.

One of the Ahpú, interrupting the game, answered:

"Is this message you bring to us true?"

"You have already heard it. What we say is true. We have been sent to
you and we do not bring words of deceit."

"Before we fulfill your order, you must wait, because we need to say
goodbye to our mother."

"You may do everything which your conscience dictates. We will wait

here."

Then the Ahpú left the game field and went to their house. In it they saw
Ixmucané and said to her:

"Our father Ixpiyacoc is dead, only you are left, you know it well. Your
power is the security of our authority. We have no other support. Well, we
say to you what we would have said to him if he were alive. You must
know, then, that the messengers from Xibalbá have come for us. They
bring us a message from the men over there. We should respond to their
request, because it is not possible for us to dismiss their order. We know
what this means. Give us your advice regarding this matter.
Upon hearing this news the mother became sad and answered:

"It is well. If it is necessary to fulfill the order of the men from Xibalbá,
fulfill it. Leave then your ornaments of splendor and utensils of the
game. Here I will guard them in secret, so that no one will know but me,
because no one must ever touch them without your permission."

They answered:

"If that is what you want us to do, that shall we do."

"That I want you to do, because that is our duty," answered the mother
without raising her eyes from the ground.

Thus they did it. They deposited their instruments in a hole that was in
the loft of the house, under the straw roof, on a beam that joined the two
walls. Then they said to their mother:

"When we return from the visit we are going to make, we will take them
again."

"While your absence lasts, there they will be. You will find them intact,"
added the mother.

Then she put her hand on one of their shoulders and said to them:

"Sons, wherever you are do not abandon the crafts that Ixpiyacoc taught
you, because they are crafts that come from the tradition or our
forefathers. If you forget them, it will be as if you betray your ancestry.
Do not stop writing, or engraving, or singing, or praying. These
occupations belong to you and not to others. Do not part from these
crafts; remember that I live and that your father watches over you."

"Thus shall we do it." the Ahpú answered. As it was time to depart, they
saw that Ixmucané was weeping, and they said to her:

"Do not cry, do not be sad, for we are not dead yet. Our children, who
are your grandchildren, remain by your side. They will know in the
meantime to honor your old age."

The mother did not respond to these words. The Ahpú then departed;
they walked through hidden paths and entered the mystery of Xibalbá.
The men of the town took them as prisoners.
Without justice and after various trials, they declared the Ahpú to be
defeated (in the ritual ball game). They were manacled and enclosed in a
dark and narrow dungeon. The anguish of their solitude did not last long.
The light of the morning shined when several executioners approached
them.
These were tall and strong, and their faces were painted red and yellow.
On their lips were painted teeth, so that they appeared to be laughing
with a perennially cruel smile.

Fearlessly, the Ahpú saw them approach. They hardly moved their eyes
before their presence. The executioners remained silent. The order they
were to carry out was certain and precise. With their clubs, they killed
the Ahpú with a single blow. When they saw them lying motionless on
the dusty floor, they took their bodies, quartered them and buried the
pieces in a luxuriant place called Pucbal Chah.

Then they took out the severed heads of the slain ones and, as a trophy,
hung them from a branch of a corpulent tree that had grown in that
place for a long time, such that the people called it the Grandfather. This
tree had never produced either a flower or a fruit. The night that came
after what has just been described was the darkest that anyone was able
to remember in Xibalbá. Not one star was seen in the sky, not one firefly
glowed, as in other times, among the humid thickets; not even the owls
with their silver spots could be discerned in the density of this night. The
fire that the rustic ones had kindled was extinguished. Soon a rough and
tepid wind began to blow in gusts. Having grown, it lasted all night,
sweeping the debris from the paths, and shaking the branches and reeds
from the trees. The tree trunks swayed as if they were on the verge of
breaking due to the force that was pushing them. The dust that was
raised veiled all of the surroundings, as if everything was immersed in a
thick fog. In the distance was heard the grunting of a pack of javelinas.
The bowls of the earth shook. The paths cracked and split. At daybreak
the great tree flowered and bore fruit. It appeared to be a mass of
vitality. No one had ever seen anything like this before. The men of
Xibalbá were astonished upon finding out about this event. But they
were more astonished when they discovered that the heads of the slain
Ahpú that had been hung there had disappeared. Then the Camé, the
despotic elders of Xibalbá, fearful, decreed that no one was to get near
the great tree and that no one was to dare to touch the shell of the fruits
which had formed on it. All of Xibalbá was thrown into a state of panic.
The people enclosed themselves within their huts and did not dare to
comment aloud about the events that were developing in that place.

Chapter 2
As if by magic, the news of these events reached the ears of an
important maiden from the land of Xibalbá. This maiden was named
Ixquic and was the daughter of Cuchumaquic. When Ixquic discovered
what the people of the village were saying about the great tree and the
fruits that were hanging from its branches, she wanted to find out for
herself the truth behind all that had happened. Submissively, she
approached her father and said to him:

"Father, according to what I have heard, the tree you know about has
beautiful fruits. If you wish, let us go see them."

The father, a fearful man, did not want to go; he predicted that in the
presence of those fruits constant misfortunes would befall their family.
For this reason, he answered his daughter:

"Daughter, curiosity is unhealthy - above all in a woman; and worse yet if

this woman, like you, is inexperienced and unfamiliar with the evil ways
of men and the spying of enemy forces that live around us. From
curiosity results misfortune, and perhaps death. Defend yourself from it;
do not allow yourself to be seduced by its temptations if you wish to live
in peace with yourself. Do not expect my consent. It would be frivolous if
I gave in to your request. Distressed by her father's rejection, Ixquic left,
intending to disobey his will, and excited by the mystery, wanted to go
alone to the tree. In silence, and with emotion, she reached the place
where the tree of the heads was located, filled with leaves. Next to it,
Ixquic, without knowing why, shook and became pale. She thought:

"What fruits are these? Is it true, as they say, that they have a good
flavor? Is it true that they give out a good aroma? If I try them will I
regret it, as my father warned? But what could happen to me? I am sure
that neither my body nor my spirit will suffer."

As if these thoughts were heard by whoever could hear them and have
authority to answer them, a voice that came out from among the fruits
said:

"What are you looking for and what do you want, Ixquic?"

And before Ixquic could respond, that same voice declared:

"Answer, Ixquic; speak, tell: what are you looking for and what is your
wish? We want to hear your voice; we want to listen to you."

Ixquic, without flinching, as if everything she was hearing was natural

and familiar to her, replied:
"I am looking for all of you and I desire you all."

"If it is true what you say," exclaimed the same voice, "extend one of
your arms to see your hand."

Ixquic, obeying directly, raised one of her arms, extending it toward the
tree. Then one of its fruits threw out saliva onto the palm of her hand.
Ixquic withdrew her arm; but when she tried to see what had fallen on
her hand she saw nothing; she found it to be clean and dry, as before.
The voice then spoke to her in this way:

"The saliva that fell on your hand is the sign that we exist; but it also
indicates that our life is full of suffering. Understand it thus. Our heads
are empty; they have only bones. Yesterday, as you know, we were great
lords, powerful and wise; the people feared our ire; they cried for our
justice and were pleased to see our faces, because these were
resplendent, without being (blinding) like that of the sun. They respected
us. Our presence was good and we knew how to practice magic arts. For
these reasons our enemies looked upon us with envy and with rancor.
They could not hide their ill will. They lived while keeping watch for a
chance to destroy us. They never had a legitimate opportunity to satisfy
their desire for evil. At last they made use of a pretext to trap us.
Deceitfully they lured us before their presence. It was within our
capability to free ourselves from them, but fate decreed, within our
consciousness, that we should be quiet. You already know the rest. They
declared us to be defeated (in the ball game), they killed us and then
they broke our bodies into pieces. They hung our heads here; these
heads disappeared because it was not good that they mocked us; in their
place came up the fruits that you are looking at. The people who see
them flee fearfully; but, as you also know, they have no reason to fear
them. We are clean fruits, as clean as the spirit that sustains us. For this
reason hear us in peace, such as you are doing. With this attitude, no
harm will come to you; neither will you repent having come before us.
Obey your destiny and hear the hidden voices that come from the land
upon which you tread. You must know that the pleasure and pain of the
parents is transmitted to the children, so, by means of the sign you
received on your hand and which your eyes did not see, the nobility of
our caste will be perpetuated in you. And thus it will never perish. Pay
attention to what we are telling you here because in you will be reborn
our lineage. Go, go away now from this place and return home because
you will not die without knowing that what we have announced to you is
reality. Be chaste, discreet and try to understand the meaning that these
words you have heard carry."
And so it was that these slain men, the Ahpú, fulfilled the eternal
purpose that was to be fulfilled though them and that desire, from
above, that Hurakán had instilled in them at the moment of creation.

Ixquic, filled with joy and amazement, returned home. She had enjoyed
the events that she had just experienced, but was alarmed at something
inside of her, the nature of which she could neither understand nor
grasp. In her being, in fact, had been accomplished what the words of
the Ahpú had announced. In this way, she conceived in her womb the
brothers Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué. During the first period Ixquic
remained silent and hid from everyone's sight. No one offended the
timidity of her glance or the intimacy of her secret. She was a virgin in
her eyes and everyone else's, but at the end of two moons,
Cuchumaquic saw that his daughter was pregnant. She did not suspect
or realize that fact until her own father revealed it to her. This happened
as will now be told:

Cuchumaquic looked for Hun Camé and Vacub Camé and before them,
he said gravely:

"It is true that my daughter is pregnant - which is her dishonor and mine.
Ashamed, I say it to you."

The lords answered him:

"If you say so, so shall it be; proceed then according to the law. Make her
speak; make her confess the truth and reveal the name of the guilty one.
But if she does not obey you, punish her, as is your duty. Take her far
away so that none of the people from here will see her any more.
Everyone should ignore her forever."

"The advice you give me is good, it is according to what I believe; I will

consider it. With your permission, I withdraw," answered the father.

Cuchumaquic withdrew; he returned, in silence, to his home and called

his daughter and spoke to her:

"Whose is the child you carry inside you?"

"I do not know, father, because I still have not known the face of any
man."

Cuchumaquic did not believe, as is natural, the words of his daughter.

Filled with pain and anger he called the Owls and said to them:
"Take Ixquic and carry her far away; and between the fork of a tree,
sacrifice her. When she is dead, yank out her heart and as witness to
your having fulfilled my mandate, you will bring the heart to me in a
glass container."

The Owls prepared to obey. They searched for a flint and a glass
container made of obsidian. Then, in front of everyone, they took the
maiden and raising her from the ground, carried her through the air to
the place where they were to sacrifice her according to her father's
order. When they arrived at the tree they knew was the chosen one they
prepared to kill her. Ixquic understood it and said:

"Do not kill me, for I tell you that it is not dishonor that I carry in my
womb. The being conceived is the son of the Spirit of the Ahpú. They
thus revealed it to me themselves when I went to visit the tree of Puchal
Chah. This is the truth. Do not do anything against me before reflecting
upon my words. You have to know that my heart does not have an
owner; it belongs to me, it is mine; and, therefore, you are not obligated
to punish me, obeying unjust words. Remember also that nobody can,
without just cause, take another's life. For this reason I say to you that in
your time Hun Camé and Vacub Camé will die, because they are evil men
and because they do not know how to fear the presence of the spirit
hidden in the innocent heads of the Ahpú.

The Owls answered:

"We do not want to hear you. Your father, as you know, has told us to
bring your heart to him in a glass container. In this container that you
see shall we take it to him."

"Proceed according to your conscience," Ixquic responded.

Upon hearing this the Owls went aside and discussed among themselves,
saying:

"We must not allow ourselves to be seduced by the words which Ixquic
says to us. We must fulfill the order of Cuchumaquic, in spite of the fact
that she pleads before us."

The maiden interrupted them:

"I know what you are saying; do not speak with such blindness, because
you will not regret having heard me. Now, put the glass container that
you brought under the tree.
Seduced by the voice that was hidden inside Ixquic, the Owls did what
she told them to do. Then, into the container fell some drops of blood
that coagulated into the form of a heart. Upon seeing this, the Owls
exclaimed:

"Blood of hearts!"

Next, they added with astonishment:

"It is well: we accept the truth of what has happened; we shall go away
and we will tell your father that this blood is what you gave us in place of
your heart."

"Make it so," answered Ixquic.

And so it was done. Without touching the maiden, they abandoned that
place, and with the blood that had fallen from the tree they returned to
Xibalbá. They flew through the air in the path that they knew. When
Cuchumaquic saw them come, he went forth to meet them, and
prompted by the Camé, he said to them:

"Did you carry out my order?"

Here is the blood, replacing her heart, that Ixquic gave us," answered the
Owls.

"Give it to me; the men of Xibalbá must see it."

And when the men emptied the coagulated blood into another container,
it shone like red-hot coal. Hum Camé said:

"Put this blood in the fire."

The Owls obeyed. Then the blood burned and the smoke issuing from it
was smooth and sweet smelling, as if it had come out of a bunch of
herbs and tender roots. Then, those that witnessed this remained dazed,
were driven mad or dispossessed by their spirits. Upon seeing this, the
Owls spread their wings and flying among the shadows descended to
where Ixquic was. When they alighted near her their wings fell and they
became her slaves. Ixquic gave them names, as an appropriate gesture.
She did nothing more. And so, the lords of Xibalbá were subdued by the
force of the spirit within the maiden.

Chapter 3
While all of this was happening, Hunbatz and Hunchouén were resting
peacefully with their grandmother. The maiden named Ixquic
approached them at their house. She said to the grandmother:
"Hear me; I have come from my house; I approach you because I am
your daughter-in-law; I am your adoptive daughter. Take me as such."

The grandmother answered:

"Who are you? What are you saying? How did you come here? By any
chance, in your house, did you know one of my sons, the Ahpú? Is it
possible that you do not know what everyone else in these lands knows,
from days gone by? Is it true that you ignore the fact that my children
died an unjust death in the land of Xibalbá? To tell you the truth, I do not
understand what you say. The only beings that partake of my blood are
those that you see here, who are called Hunbatz and Hunchuén. Do not
come near me now. I am afraid of you. Your face does not instill
confidence in me. I do not know what are your intentions or where you
come from. You should be thrown out of her. Yes, you should be thrown
out because of your boldness. Yes, leave here, leave soon. Go away, I say
to you. I do not want to look at you any longer; I do not want you to be
near me. Go away and stay out of my sight. You cannot be in my house,
which is a house of respect. Do not pretend to shelter yourself here."

Ixquic replied:

"Do not be irritated with me, because what I come to say is true. I say to
you that I am your daughter-in-law. The child I carry is the son of the
Ahpú. I conceived him with only my presence from what remains of them
in the land that you know. At that time, the existence of their lives, which
endured as spirits in the invisible region, was revealed to me. Soon you
will appreciate how adorable my son is!"

The old lady, angrier now, said again:

"You lie in all that you say. You cannot be my daughter-in-law. Besides, I
do not want you to be part of my family. The charms of my grandchildren
are enough of a consolation for my loneliness. Look how tall and strong
they are. They seem like giants of stone and wood. You will know
Hunbatz by the width of his shoulders and the height of his knees; and
Hunchouén you will recognize by the firmness of his legs and the
thickness of his hands. What you carry in your womb is dishonor. Do not
bring dishonor to me here, because I do not wish to be ashamed because
of that which is your fault. You deceive me with your words because my
sons, as you well know, have died."
Ixquic answered:

"I tell you again that I am not deceiving you. Believe me."

After a moment the grandmother said:

"If, in truth, you are not deceiving me, go away, run, and bring me
something to eat. Do not delay; I will wait for you here. If you are not
lying, as I believe you are, you should know what is necessary to fulfill
my desire."

Ixquic replied:

"I will do as you wish."

And then she immediately started out for the cornfield that Hunbatz and
Hunchouén had seeded near the house. But in the cornfield, only one
clump of corn was growing, weak and choked among the reeds and
thistles. When Ixquic saw this she became heartbroken, and thought to
herself:

"I am a harborer of many evils. How will I be able to take an armful of

ears of corn if the cornfield is dead and there is only one poor clump in
the middle of the field that hardly sustains an ear of corn and is already
withered and burnt by the sun?"

Desperate, she invoked those who could help her in this predicament. In
her anguish she said:

"Chacal, who takes care of the planting of seeds, listen to me; Ixtoh, you
who knows how to prepare the nixtamal - the food of Hunbatz and
Hunchouén, help me."

Painfully and sadly, she repeated this invocation several times. There
was a moment in which she felt that she had failed and that her death
approached. Thrown up against a tree, she began to sob. Soon the
invoked beings responded to her call for help. Before Ixquic could dry her
tears, those beings showed to her the power of which they were capable.
They made the cornfield grow and gave it abundant and sweet-smelling
fruit. It produced so much, that the corn stalks were doubled over on the
ground. Ixquic began gathering them. The ears of corn were so copious
that her arms, weakened, could not gather them, and she could not hold
on to them.

The beings that she had invoked had themselves to come to her aid. On
the backs of some animals that came by, and that kneeled submissively
to receive the cargo, Ixquic loaded the ears of corn and was able to
transport what she had gathered. She deposited the harvest in the barn
that was near the porch of the house of Ixcmucané, the grandmother.
Then she called the old lady so she could see the abundance of the
grains that had been gathered. Upon seeing such richness, the old lady
said:

"From Where did you get so much food? But, tell me, with such a cargo,
haven't you trodden down the furrows that my grandsons made on the
plot? Didn't you break the irrigation ditches through which the water
runs, and the flowerbeds where the roses grow? I fear that you have
destroyed everything. I myself will go to see what has occurred, because
I predict that some damage has been done. I would not forgive you for
any destruction. You will pay for it dearly."

Ixquic answered:

"Do what you will."

Then the old lady went to the plot and saw that the land was not dug up;
that the furrows and ditches had not been damaged; that in the middle
of the corn field were, opened, the irrigation ditches, and that in one
corner, next to the mud walls, the protective border was raised. She saw
also that in the middle, was erected, as always, one single spike. Upon
seeing this, she was filled with amazement. Upon returning home she
called the maiden and said to her:

"Because of what I have seen, it is certain that what you said upon
arriving at my house is true. I take you as my daughter-in-law; I will look
out for you; I will care for the beings that you bring because they will be
twins - for this is the condition of the Ahpú from the olden times of their
origin. In my arms I will receive the descendants of my sons."

Chapter 4
Now we will tell about the birth of Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué. When the
designated day arrived, Ixquic separated herself from everyone and hid
herself in the solitude of the mountain, to be sheltered beneath the
magical abundance of its aromas and music. Thus she bore two boys, in
the midst of the dark stillness of the place. No one, not even the old
lady, was present for the birth of the twins. Ixquic took them in her arms,
and with ecstasy she pressed them against her bosom. In this way she
carried them home. She lay down next to them and lovingly and
solicitously watched over the objects of her dream.
The twins looked as strong and as tough as wolf cubs, even as to the
sounds that they made. The old lady contemplated them with weeping
eyes, so great was her happiness. When the youngsters awoke, they
began to cry out. They cried furiously like pursued animals. As the days
passed, their cries became terrible and sustained, to the point that the
people of the area could neither rest nor be tranquil. They indeed
seemed like the young cubs of ferocious beasts, with their large hands
that hit their mother's chest, and their toenails that tore the matting of
the floor. The grandmother could no longer endure them, and said with
great discontent:

"Ixquic, although it will be hard for you, take your sons outside, take
them far away and throw them against the rocks so that they may die,
because we can no longer stand their terrible cries or tolerate their
toenails or the strength of their hands. They have claws, not fingers.
They seem more like the sons of a tiger than of a woman."

Upon hearing these recriminations, Ixquic leaned over her sons and,
filled with anguish, began to caress them as if she feared losing them
right away and forever. Her eyes became filled with tears. (She did not
understand the meaning of the grandmother's order and, to tell the
truth, the grandmother herself did not know the secret of the voice that
dictated the order that had been given.) With the boys in her arms,
Ixquic left for the mountain where, without being noticed by anyone, she
could wail to her heart's desire. Next to a rock, she spent hours and
hours sobbing. At nightfall she returned home with them. Upon seeing
her enter with her sons, Hunbatz and Hunchouén, full of anger, scolded
her for disobeying the grandmother's order. They took the twins away by
force; they seized them from Ixquic's arms, they took them from the
house, and not caring about the pain or desperation of the mother,
almost dragging them, they took them far away, to an inaccessible and
inhospitable place farther than the mud walls that surrounded the plots
of the village. They abandoned them there. They left them next to an
anthill so that the ants would attack and devour them. In the silence of
the night, even at the village, the cries let out by the twins were heard.
They were like the howls of beasts being relentlessly driven by fire or
hunger. Their shrieks made the leaves of the trees shake. The animals of
the place constantly perked up their ears. The mother burned her ears
with hot ashes in order not to hear their laments. The grandmother cried
fearfully.

But it happened that the ants did not touch the boys; earlier, departing
from them, they cleaned up the spot where they were lying; and,
besides, they brought them banana leaves and other plants for their
comfort. Know also, once and for all, that Hunbatz and Hunchouén did
what they did because they had witnessed the power that in time these
twins would have, and the terrible way that they would use this power
wherever it was encountered.

Thus it was how Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué were raised in the roughness
of the mountain, exposed to the elements like beasts with a spirit.
Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué, like others of their caste, were growing up in
freedom full of courage and boldness that no being, not knowing them,
would be able to understand or explain. When they were older, they
began to practice the special arts, like initiated adepts. They were
singers, poets, writers and stonecutters. They grew, conquering, by
themselves, all obstacles, necessary tasks and calamities. As a result,
they acquired skill in many arts, exercising and applying their wisdom.
This wisdom was not obtained through study, but though discovery of
that which was already within them, as a natural thing born with their
blood. The magical secrets of their ancestors were revealed to them
though voices that came by the road in the silence of the night.

Thus they lived among beasts, pests and bugs. All the beasts of the
forest obeyed them as if they were docile, domestic animals born and
raised next to the kitchen hearth, not leaving the side of their
mistresses. The animals would follow behind them, submissive, shy and
mute, with heads bowed. None dared to rebel against their authoritative
voices.

Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué kept themselves alive by pulling herbs and

roots from the earth, or hunting birds and insects, that were good for
eating. They hunted with their blowguns, which they made from strong
dried reeds. They drank water from the coconuts and pineapples that
burst forth on the edge of the paths, in clumps filled with sweet and sour
juice very pleasurable to the palate. This rough outdoor life did not
prevent them from visiting their mother, their grandmother and their
siblings. They treated everyone with simplicity and, when it was
convenient, they demonstrated to them their skills in the arts that they
knew. So, as time passed, and precisely because of the superiority that
they displayed, they were hated more and more by their older brothers.
It was a silent hatred hidden behind the hardness of their faces. They
suffered in secrecy. The life of the family was proceeding as is being told
here. At noon, first the owners of the house ate; next, at a separate
bench, the young twins ate. Over this bench the mother and
grandmother placed portions of cooked meat, raw vegetables and corn
tortillas. They let the twins eat by themselves, as if they were suffering
from some filthy disease or smelled offensively. But they did not become
irritated because of this show of ill will, or did they dare to show any
worry or ill will themselves. They accepted such treatment with
gentleness and good humor. When Hunbatz and Hunchouén were eating,
they left nothing on the slightly roasted banana leaves, which the old
lady served them. They devoured everything avidly as if they feared
losing any little crumbs of their food. Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué, on the
other hand, were sober and hardly tasted small portions of the foods
they were given. After eating, the four men went out to the mountain to
hunt. In the mountain they waited for the sun to descend and for the sea
breeze to calm the wind; then, in the semi-darkness they hunted to their
pleasure. They all demonstrated that they were skilled in the use of their
blowguns. It seemed as though they were competing with one another.
With the hunt collected they returned to their hut. After some time
Hunbatz and Hunchouén, moved by their egotism, departed from the
twins and went to the places where diverse games were played.
Hunaphú and Ixbalanqué, as always, returned from the mountain loaded
with rabbits, partridges, ducks and javelinas. The mother and
grandmother prepared and preserved these meats following ancient
recipes. Some called for salting, others for cooking, and still others for
smoking. The prepared meats were hung on hooks beneath the shelter
of the plot.

But once it happened that upon returning home, almost becoming dark
and when the light of the evening star was prominent in the sky, the
twins did not bring any bird or animal of any worth. The grandmother,
showing anger, said to them:

"What happened to you in the mountain? Why have you come back so
late? For the first time in a long time you return without bringing
anything. Perhaps you no longer know how to hunt? Have you forgotten
the art of shooting your blowguns? By chance have all the animals that
inhabit the forest fled? Why didn't you bring venison and javelinas and
partridges and turtle doves like other times?"

They answered submissively:

"This is the reason, grandmother: the birds that we hunted flew so high
that upon falling, they got stuck in the branches of the trees. Even
though we worked diligently, we did not succeed in gathering them. They
did not fall to the ground even when we struck the tree trunks and shook
the branches and threw rocks at them. Their wings became entangled
among the leaves and the twigs. Do you want our brothers, who are tall
and strong, to come with us and help us to get them down and bring
them?"

"If they wish, let them go," answered the grandmother.

"Why wouldn't they want to help you?" added the mother.

Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué then called Hunbatz and Hunchouén and told
them what they had previously related to the grandmother. The latter
answered reluctantly that the next morning they would go to the
mountain to help them get down the hunted birds. Here, now, will be
clarified what was occurring in the hearts of the twins. Hunahpú and
Ixbalanqué understood the evil that lived inside Hunbatz and
Hunchouén. They thought to themselves:

<<Our older brothers seek our death out of fear and envy of us. They
think that we are here only to serve and obey them, as if we were their
slaves. We have to punish them for this malicious deceit in which they
live; only then will they learn to know what we re, what we value and
what we can do. It is just for them to suffer the consequences of their ill
will and of their indifference to doing good.>>

Thus did they think, and with this understanding, they lay down to rest
on their mats. In the silence was heard the up and down rhythm of their
breathing. In the darkness the monotonous announcement of the
crickets stood out. When dawn arrived, the four brothers got up, bathed
next to the well, and left the house; they walked through the mountain
and stopped at the foot of the cacao tree, which is luxuriantly leafy and
perfumed. It was here that the twins were shooting their blowguns at a
variety of birds of diverse plumage and different sizes. It seemed like the
jungle was agitated; it was as if all the fickle and contrary things in the
region had conspired to meet. But it happened that the birds they were
hunting did not fall to the ground because they remained caught up
among the branches at the treetops. Upon seeing this Hunahpú and
Ixbalanqué said to their brothers:

"Now you see, the birds remain caught in the branches. You can still
those that we hunted yesterday. They are beginning to decompose and
to fall to pieces - those that have not been devoured by the vultures. You
can smell the stench of the decaying carcasses even down here. Let us
go a few steps forward."

Hunbatz and Hunchouén saw that, in fact, what the twins were saying
was true. There, up above, the wounded birds struggled helplessly
among the branches. Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué added:

"The wind has carried away the bad odor. Why don't we take advantage
of this respite to take down the entangled birds more comfortably? Climb
up now, since we cannot. You are tall and strong. Go all the way up and
disentangle the wings of the birds that are helplessly struggling there."

"All right; we will climb up, if you desire it," the older brothers responded.
And right away they climbed up to the highest branches of the tree. Bur
when they got to the highest pint, they noticed with astonishment that
the tree began to grow and grow as if it were stretched, as if its trunk
had dilated and its branches had been pulled out longer and its
segments were twisting while lengthening. Upon seeing this they wanted
to get down immediately, but they couldn't; they were too high up,
balancing themselves on the branches that separated more and more
from each other. Each time they found themselves further from the
ground; from the place where they were, they were able to see the
expanse of the jungle. How high they were! They began to cry out:

"This tree scares us! What is happening to this tree? We have never seen
it this way; it seems like something different. It is as if suddenly it had
been transformed into a giant with monstrous leaves and roots. We are
sure that when we climbed it, it was not so corpulent or did it have
branches so knotted and entangled."

Upon hearing these words, Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué said, cupping their
hands to their mouths:

"Do not be afraid any longer. Take off your belts; fasten them under your
belly, so that the umbilical is outside and let drop the holes of the belt
behind you as if they were tails. Only in this way will you be able to get
down without causing damage. We will wait for you down here."

Hunbatz and Hunchouén did what was suggested. But at the very
moment they did this, they were transformed into monkeys with hairless
rumps and elongated curled fingers. Without delay they began to jump
from branch to branch and to shriek desperately. Swinging, hanging from
the rattans and the reeds, they went away from that place and entered
into the jungle. Thus they were lost in the darkness, under the trees. Far
away their squeals were heard. Little by little these were absorbed into
the background murmurs of the countryside until disappearing as if
swallowed up by the thick silence of those places.

In this manner Hunbatz and Hunchouén ended up forever, victims of the

power that Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué exercised over them. They suffered
the punishment they deserved due to their ignorance, their dullness and
their lack of heart.

When Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué returned to their home, with stealth, they
said to the old lady, who was waiting for them:

"What could have happened to our brothers? They were with us while we
were hunting birds, when suddenly, just like that, we saw that when they
climbed a tree to retrieve the birds that were stuck there, they began to
squeal in a strange way, desperately; next, we noticed that they were
hunched up and doubled over; after that they became hairy and big-
snouted; immediately their hands and feet got longer and they grew long
and thick tails. They had changed into monkeys! Hung by their tails, they
were balancing and jumping between the branches; and squealing and
making faces, they went away and were lost in the thickness of the
mountain. We could not catch up with them. It even seemed like they
were mocking our motions and our voices. One minute we heard their
strident shouts and the next we no longer heard anything."

The old lady, without raising her head, answered:

"If you did this to your brothers, know that you disgust me. I was not
expecting this from you. Such news fills me with sadness. Truly I say to
you that what you have done with your older brothers is not good; they
did not deserve such treatment. Their blood runs also through your own
veins. You have betrayed them."

"Do not be sad, grandmother, because you wish that you will see them
again. They have to come again to the house. Soon they will return, but
when they do, but when they do, and look, for food, do not laugh at
them. We warn you now."

"If what you say is true, I will act accordingly," responded the old lady,
inclining her head toward her apron that covered her legs.

Then the boys began to play a tune, which, to this day, is called the Tune
of the horn blowers who hunt monkeys. They played it on some reeds, in
some hicotee shells and on some deerskin drums. Upon hearing this
music that extended in a strangely pleasant way, as if its voices and its
echoes formed one melody, the jungle became veiled in a pallid
brilliance. Attracted by the noise, Hunbatz and Hunchouén - converted
into monkeys - approached by jumping. When they were near, the old
lady saw that they really did have monkey faces with funny expressions,
were squealing, were tangled up in their tails and were hanging by their
arms. Then she began to laugh so much that she had to hold her
stomach and her jawbone. Izquic, from a corner also laughed without
knowing why, but with a certain joy that she did not fully understand.
Then Hunbatz and Hunchouén were furious, noisily ashamed and hurt
because of the way they were laughed at and mocked.

Hunahpú said:

"We warned you, old lady. Your grandsons have returned to the
mountain, because you laughed at them and their monkey faces. Now
we tell you that we can call them only four times. Three opportunities are
now left. We shall call them again; but remember: when you see them,
don't laugh. Your laughter offends and shames them. They will end up
forgetting you."

The twins sat down next to the fire and with green sticks removed the
hot coals from the bonfire. While the new wood was burning and the
smoke was thickening in the air, and the roof and walls were blackening
more and more, they began again to play the tune mentioned before.
They played it without stopping, making it, at times, intense and grave.
In a little while Hunbatz and Hunchouén returned dancing and squealing.
They arrived in the kitchen, jumping and making faces. They climbed on
the large earthen vat and up on top of the chimney; they ran through the
mantelpieces and turned somersaults upon jumping down near the old
lady's legs. She again laughed noisily. Her laughter was heard through
the whole house like an echo of a stream under the trees. Immediately
the monkeys returned again to the mountain. Ixquic followed them with
an astonished look. Hunahpú said:

"What have you done, old lady? Due to your laughter you lost them
again. We shall try, nevertheless, a third time; but don't laugh; do
whatever is possible not to laugh." And without waiting any longer, the
younger brothers again played the tune. Soon the monkeys returned.
They were dancing and romped unceasingly. They climbed with agility to
the beams of the house. Their snouts got longer, they scratched their
armpits and with their four hands they did fun-loving acrobatics.
Afterwards, as a joke, they hid their faces between their legs. At first, the
old lady resisted laughing. But when she saw their faces, so full of
wrinkles and hair, she again laughed. Right away the monkeys jumped
away in terror and were lost in the distance. The younger brothers then
said:

"Don't grieve, dear old lady. Your laughter again has offended them. But
we shall call them again."

And, in fact, they again played the now familiar tune. But the more they
played it, their cheeks puffed out and their fingers moving over the holes
in their flutes, Hunbatz and Hunchouén did not appear again. Then
Hunahpú said to the old lady:

"Now you see, they don't want to return. You have been to blame, not
we. Don't think or say that we did not warn you in time. But don't be sad;
we ourselves are staying. In good faith, as you know, we will feed you,
defend you and entertain you. Trust us, as you trusted them. Don't feel
burdened for it is possible that you have come out ahead in the
exchange. Believe in the words we say to you in which there is no deceit
or fraud."
The old lady said nothing and with her hair she cleaned her eyes. And
that is how Hunbatz and Hunchouén suffered the punishment they
deserved because they were vain and filled with ill will and stupidity in
front of their younger brothers. The evil they desired was turned around
against themselves. The strength they had was not sufficient to free
them from the ruin that opened under their feet. Hunahpú and
Ixbalanqué began to fulfill the destiny they brought guarded in the
marrow of their bones.

Chapter 5
During that time, in a place of the Quiché land, lived Vucub Caquix.
Vucub Caquix, filled with pride, said:

"After the flood that the rains brought is over and the earth dries up, the
people who survive the ruin will receive my wise and imperishable
teachings. I will be one of the superior beings who will impart this
wisdom. I, myself, with my power, will transform myself into one of the
creator gods. All will be in me and all will come out of me. I will be
greater than the beings that have been and that will be, because my
wisdom is inexhaustible and profound and my power has no limits. This
will be so because my eyes are like polished emeralds, my teeth are like
precious stones and my nose is like quartz behind which the light shines.
The land is illumined and one rejoices with the splendor that I distribute
when I come out of my refuge - which is a sacred and hidden place for all
living beings. Because of me the children that from this day on will be
born in the land will be educated and will be intelligent. It will be so
because my vision is far-reaching, to the place where no one else is
capable of seeing."

Thus spoke Vucub Caquix - dazed and deceived by the pride and
insolence in his heart. But he was not as he believed, neither sun, moon
nor star. Nothing of this could ever be. He believed in such greatness
because he was seeing his metallic plumes shine with the reflected light
that came from the sky.

He was deceived by this reflected splendor. Nor did his vision reach as
far as he claimed. Much, very much, was hidden from his view, and even
more from his intelligence. Understand that Vucub Caquix was proud and
conceited because he was plunged into the shadows of himself.

Know also that Vucub Caquix had two sons. One was called Zipacná and
the other Capracán. Both were sons of Chimalmat. Zipacná thought that
he born to make the mountains, with only rules of his pleasure and
whim. Capracán did not imagine himself less powerful. He believed his
position consisted of agitating and removing the boiling entrails of the
mountains. These three beings thus constituted a danger for the
tranquility of men and a malignant example of pride.

Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué, in the presence of such perfidy, spoke thusly:

"These vulgar beings are filled with pride for no good reason; their
conceit is based upon that which is merely a brilliance which comes from
outside themselves; upon that which is a natural process resulting from
that which lives and takes place for their benefit. Nothing of what they
believe they do is actually done by them, but, rather, is a result of the
creative processes of life. What these beings say is derived from their
own vanity and conceit. Beyond them is truth as it is. Nobody should be
conceited with what is due to others and which is outside his own being.

While the twins were talking, Vucub Caquix was saying, in solitude:

"I am the sun."

Zipacná said:

"I made the mountains that are seen on the land."

Capracán said:

"I agitate the heart that is beneath the visible."

In this manner, father and sons were feeling the same thoughtless pride
and, with conceit, were going everywhere announcing the power they
imagined they were executing. For that reason Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué
agreed to put an end to such ill-fated beings. And as they thought it,
they were ready to execute it with their arms and their arts. Their plan
will now be explained.

Vucub Caquix sat down under a tree to eat the fruits that were falling,
ripe, yellow, soft and perfumed, producing honey. There, while he was
eating, pleasantly, grinding the seeds, he amused himself with his
thoughts of power. Suddenly he noticed that, by the tree trunk where he
was leaning, two beings were climbing to the high branches. They were
Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué. These two settled among the branches and
crouched beneath the treetop. There they remained, in silence,
imperceptible, as if they were wooden dolls. They spent a long time
there, immobile, so much so that birds fearlessly alighted on their heads.
When Vucub Caquix was more entertained by his food, Hunahpú, who
was the more daring, shot a pellet at him with his blowgun. He,
Hunahpú, left his perch swiftly and went straight to Vucub Caquix who
rolled on the ground with a broken jawbone. Upon seeing him fall,
Hunahpú lunged at him in order to seize him, but could not because the
agile, violent, wounded man stood up, turned against his aggressor,
grabbed him by the shoulder, knocked him down and with rage,
wrenched off an arm. Only one shout was heard.

Then Hunahpú, in pain due to his defeat, said:

"It is well that this has happened to me, because I did not kill Vucub
Caquix immediately. What has happened to me is my own fault. I should
be resigned to suffer for it. I should feel ashamed. I deserve my pain and
will endure it with pleasure."

Vucub Caquix, as he could, went to the cave where he was living and
certainly was not far from the place where the struggle had occurred. He
took with him the bloodied arm of Hunahpú. He entered his cave and
rested. Then he began to shout with pitiful and prolonged cries,
unworthy of his almost divine status. Upon seeing him wounded and
hearing his lamentations, Chimalmat approached and said:

"Tell me, who tried to kill you?"

"Don't say' who is he' but 'who are they'; they were those mischievous
and unruly boys whom you know by the things they come to do
wherever they are present, which hidden among the branches of a tree,
they shot me with their blowguns, using some hard and large and
pointed pellets. Now you see how much damage they have done to me;
but they did not kill me, as they wanted to. If they had killed me, right
now the rogues could be threading me on a stick over hot coals."

While Vucub Caquix was saying this, Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué were also
talking, seated on a flagstone on the side of the road. They were
speaking with an old lady so bent over and withered by age and poverty
that she was looking downward without raising her eyes; and with an old
man with white hair and long beard that, in the same manner, only
looked at the ground. The old lady was called Zaqui Nim Ac and the old
man Zaqui Nimá Tzíis. The boys were saying to them. Looking sideways,
without facing them, these words, in a convincing manner:

"We have been lucky to bump into you in this opportune way. You have
arrived just in time. You will go with us to the cave where Vucub Caquix
is sheltered, because we have to recover the arm he took away. We will
do so. We will go behind you; when we arrive at Vucub Caquix's cave,
alluding to us, you will say to him thus":
"These are our grandsons; it has been a long time since they have lost
their parents. What they suffered was a disgrace. With these boys we go
through the roads begging. But we are not adventurers or idlers, since
we have a well-known trade. We know how to take the worms from the
mouth"

"So shall you say and no other thing. You will say this so that Vucub
Caquix will not suspect us and so he will trust us and reveal to us,
carelessly and trustfully, his feelings."

At these words, the old lady answered:

"We have understood; we shall do it so. Let us go, for it is getting late."

The old man added:

Let us walk, for night is coming upon us."

And with the motives that were mentioned, they went to the cave. Vucub
Caquix was crying out because of the pain that his broken jawbone
caused him. Upon seeing the old couple approach, he said to them,
stretching his neck as much as he could, but reluctantly from anguish:

"From where do you come, old ones, and at these hours?"

The old ones answered in chorus:

"We walk looking for a man we can serve."

"Good; I hope you find him; but, tell me, how have you lived in these
lands so isolated? And those boys who come behind you, who are they?
Perchance are they your sons? Why do they wear soot smeared on their
faces and their hair painted with yellow dirt and their teeth stained
purple? No one could know them with such a disguise: who they are, or
what face they have, or whether they were born here or in some other
place. And what nice things they know how to do! How they jump! They
look like deer - they are so agile and graceful!"

"They are not our sons; they are our grandsons; and with them we are
looking for work, and beg when we can't earn something with our efforts.
What we readily earn or what people give us, we share with them. They
are courteous; they are of good disposition; they have the same spirit as
their dead parents who were teachers in many arts. With their charms
they entertain us. With them we laugh wholeheartedly. Because of what
they do in our presence, life becomes tolerable for us."
Then Vucub Caquix turned to them to ask:

"But tell me once and for all what is your trade?"

"We take worms from the mouth; we cure the evil in the eyes and the
pains that bones suffer."

"How lucky I am, then! Destiny brought you to my cave. I beg you to
please come near me and you will see why my jawbone hurts do much. I
believe it is broken. The pain allows me no rest or sleep. Besides, my
eyes torment me; I can't even close them. They are swollen; it seems like
they are going to pop out. I can hardly see with them. Woe is me! I have
never been in this kind of predicament. But now I will tell you what
happened. Know that two reckless boys treacherously hit me with pellets
from their blowguns and caused these wounds in me and also these evils
that I suffer from. If I knew where they are I would go in search of them
to punish such boldness. As I have told you, I have a broken jawbone; I
feel that my teeth are loose; I can hardly talk; it really is hard for me to
open and shut my mouth. Each word I pronounce causes me pain and
exhaustion. So that my teeth will not fall out, I have to hold on to them;
they oscillate in my gums as if they belonged to an old man."

"We have heard you attentively. Let us look at you now. Good. They are
worms that bother you; we are certain they are worms - malignant ones,
no doubt. We'll take out your teeth. Come closer; lie down and put your
mouth upward; don't move; wait calmly."

"You can't do this to me because the teeth I have constitute my pride

and richness; they are made of emeralds."

"For that reason, be patient; we will put in your mouth others that are
new; we will give you some that look like they are made of white bone. In
your mouth they will shine the same as the ones you now have. There
will be no difference."

"If it is as you say, I'll agree; take out my teeth, but let it be quick, for I
can no longer stand the pain."

Then the old ones, with the art that they knew, took out Vucub Coquix's
teeth; and in their place they placed in him grains of white corn that
shined like real teeth. Next, holding his face back, they acted as if they
were curing his eyes. With a thorn, in an instant they emptied them out.
When Vucub Caquix cried out, he was now blind; he opened his arms, sat
up desperately and fell back defeated. He was dead.
So it was that Vucub Caquix lost the teeth that he thought shined like
emeralds in his mouth; and the apparent brightness in his eyes was
turned off. And only thus, with his death, could his pride be ended, that
was accomplished, as is said, thanks to the tricks of the Hunahpú and
Ixbalanqué boys. As soon as Hunahpú saw that Vucub Caquix was inert
and couldn't move, he took his arm. The old ones placed it again on his
shoulder and soon he could use it as if he never had lost it. As he wished,
he was able to move it perfectly.

Chimalmat, grieving next to a silk-cotton tree, died also. They say that
her hairs, entwined in the bark of the tree, one morning flowered and
bore fruit. Then Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué fulfilled the mandate of
Hurakán, and went home calmly in their bodies and quiet in their spirits.

Chapter 6
Let us see, in the meantime, what Zipacná was doing. Zipacná was
repeating, unceasingly, to the four winds, like a madman:

"I make the mountains! I make the mountains! No one except I can make
them! Only I know how to make them so large and so high and so filled
with ravines and so inhabited with animals and so covered with
vegetation."

Be said this again and again, standing in a calm river with clear and
aromatic waters, among the blossoms of numerous lemon and orange
trees growing near the bank. He was speaking in this way when some
boys - 400 in all - appeared, shouting and making a fuss, who, with great
difficulty, were dragging a tree they had cut down on the mountain. They
were taking it to use for making the beams for their houses. Upon seeing
them so tired and noisy, Zipacná, leaving the river where he was
submerged, asked them:

"Tell me, what are you doing?"

One of the boys, stopping, sweating, answered:

"It's as you see; we are transporting this tree trunk."

"I see now; but why do you want it?"

"To make the beams for our homes," answered the same boy."

"That's good."
"So we believe."

"I will help you; I'll take the tree trunk because I am strong and untiring."

"If it is your pleasure to do so, we won't oppose it."

"Yes, it is my pleasure. Tell me where I should take it."

"To our ranch, which is near here, behind that hill."

"Well, let's go."

Opening a wide space between the 400 boys, Zipacná began to drag
that tree trunk - which was really large and knotted. The boys conferred
with one another, pondering slyly, while Zipacná was working for them.
They decided to finish him off. They decided this because they knew
about his pride, his pretensions, his absurdities, and because they knew
how dangerous he was due to the monstrous strength that was in his
entire body. They were also sure that he lacked conscience. His conduct
appeared to entirely instinctive and impetuous, like that of an animal.
They saw that he could use his strength for good as well as for evil. It
was all the same to him. As soon as Zipacná was far enough away
dragging that tree toward the ranch, the boys agreed on what they had
to do. Then they said:

"Let's open a hole and we'll make Zipacná go to the bottom. We will tell
him thus: 'Go finish our chore, now that you have shown yourself to be
kindly. Finish helping us. Dig also, for we now are tired.' And when he has
dug enough, we will throw one of the large beams we cut so that he will
die in a bad way from the blow and under its weight."

Then, in concealment, the boys began to open a hole in the land that
belonged to them. When they had dug some, they called Zipacná who
had by now left the trunk he had dragged in the appropriate place. He
was resting on a rock, sweaty and flushed. His arms and legs were
swollen - so much was his strength. He again was saying:

"I make the mountains! I make the mountains!"

The boys interrupted him:

"We know that, but now come with us. Help us, for we have dug enough.
We are fed up with so much work. Continue digging for us, for you have
vigor and don't ever get exhausted."
Zipacná felt flattered by these words; his vanity swelled; he came closer
to them and said:

"I see that you know me well. That's good; I will continue digging if you
ask me to do it."

"When you have dug enough call us," the boys added.

"I will. You can relax for I will finish the rest of the work."

But Zipacná understood the trickery with which the boys proceeded; he
knew that they wanted to kill him, although he did not why. When they
told him what he had to do, he went into the half-dug hole. Once inside,
instead of starting to work in the center, to make it larger, he began to
dig a new cave in one of the walls. When it was made he put himself in it
to save himself. From there, crouching, he cried out:

"Come down and carry away the earth I have dug out!'

Several times he had to call them. Upon hearing him, the boys
approached the hole astutely. In a low voice they spoke among
themselves thusly:

"Let us be attentive; let us hope that he calls out again. Meanwhile let's
put the biggest log at the edge of the hole and when he calls again we
will throw it on him."

This they did; and when Zipacná called again, they quickly threw the
beam on him. At that moment, Zipacná let out a cry as if he had been
wounded; then he groaned several times to simulate agony; after that he
remained silent as if he really had died.

"He's dead," the boys said in a low voice. "That's good it has turned out
just as we intended! To celebrate the proud Zipacná's death let's make
our drink. Tomorrow we'll come to see him and we'll observe if the ants
and worms come out of the ground. This will be the sign of the stench of
his body. If this occurs we will happily drink our fermented brew."

But, sadly, Zipacná heard from the depths of the cave what the boys
were saying. He decided to get revenge. Just as the boys expected, the
next day ants and worms were seen on the nearby earth that were
dragging strands of hair and pieces of fingernails. Noticing this the boys
began to shout, excitedly filled with morbid joy. They shouted in this way:

"That evil man is finished now! That evil man is finished now! That evil
man is finished forever now!"
But Zipacná, as has been warned, was alive, for he did not suffer any
wound, not even a scratch. He himself had given the ants strands of his
hair and pieces of his fingernails. Deceived, the boys joyously prepared
their drink. They let it ferment in a warm, dry place and at the end of a
few days, got intoxicated from it. Drunken and worn out, like beasts, they
were stumbling along on the roads and trails of the ranch where they
lived, even falling in the doorways of their houses or against the mud
walls of their plots or in the middle of the squares where they used to
play. They were all open-mouthed. They were perspiring a cold and
smelly sweat, while between their teeth, thick and blackish slobber
dripped from their mouths. An acid stench was emitted from the open
pores of their skin.

While this was happening, Zipacná abandoned his hiding place; he

slipped in among the reeds and rubble of the old houses; gathered up
the strength that was left in his arms and thighs and neck; he limbered
up by stretching and twisting; he advanced to the center of the ranch; he
raised the posts of the huts and without having any feelings for anyone,
he detached them from their forked logs. Then he quickly let them fall in
one blow. Thus the roofing of the boys' houses collapsed. All died,
crushed under the weight of the beams and branches. Only one long and
sharp cry was heard. This and not another thing occurred in this land.
But, know that the history of this episode does not end here, as you will
soon see.

Chapter 7
Now it will be told how Zipacná was finally conquered, thanks to the
wisdom and the trickery that was the pride and glory of Hunahpú and
Ixbalanqué. These two were saddened by the death of the 400 boys.
Grieved, the twins meditated in solitude about what they must do to
punish Zipacná, who was causing so much trial because of his pride and
through his evil deeds.

They soon found the solution and propitious moment to carry out what
they had imagined. It happened that Zipacná was looking in the
waterholes and tide pools for fish, crabs, lobsters and shrimp to eat. By
day he went from one place to another searching for food. What he
found tasty and fresh, he placed in a safe place where nobody could take
it from him; and so when he was hungry, he could devour it in peace. At
night, according to his whim, he dedicated himself to moving the mass of
the mountains from one region to another. He did this, in his delusion,
with the greatest dexterity and in silence. Nobody noticed what Zipacná
did. He had been living happily in this lie since he was born.

When Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué saw what Zipacná was doing during the
daytime hours, they fabricated a large crab. They made it out of clay.
They gave it eyes using the yellow flower that grew in the waterholes.
They gave the body the appearance of flesh in the same way; with reeds
they formed the claws and legs, and with a polished gray rock, the
stomach and shell. When they had finished making this figure, they put it
in the bottom of a cave that was located at the foot of a mountain called
Meaván. Then Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué decided to look for Zipacná
where he was in the habit of sniffing about for his food. They went and
found him, in fact, next to a river that slithered among pebbles and
ferns. There he was poking the waters of the current with a stick. Seeing
him so entertained, they asked him:

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for my food," he answered.

"What are you looking for with so much effort?"

"Fishes and crabs; but I'll tell you that today has been a bad day for me. I
haven't found anything. It's been a long time since I have succeeded in
catching what I want, that's why I'm so hungry; my guts are so empty
that I feel them. The skin of my belly is stuck to the bones on my back."

"Don't grieve, all will end up well," the twins responded, almost at the
same time. "Know that we have just seen a crab at the foot of Meaván
Mountain. It is so large that it surely will be enough to sustain you for
several days. It should be full of fat and meat. It is so fat that it can
hardly shake itself. We tried to trap it, but couldn't in spite of our
attempt; it is too strong, too powerful, and besides, we haven't finished
in the cave where it is hiding. We fought with it in vain; in a careless
moment it tried to yank our hands off with its claws. They must be very
hard and powerful because, furiously, it began to crush some rocks that
were there. We were really afraid. Do you want to see it? Do you want to
come with us? Do you want to trap it? We'll tell you the exact location
where it is hiding."

"Yes, I want to see it."

"Then let's go."

"We'll walk by the edge of the river that passes by here; we'll follow its
course and when we arrive at the foothill of the mountain we told you
about, we'll stop next to the entrance of the cave where the crab lives."

"With your company, the trip will not be so tedious. Meanwhile, on the
way you will be able to hunt birds. This will be a good diversion that we
all will enjoy."

"That's good, we like your resolution. Let's go, then; we'll accompany you
to the place where the cave is. But we warn you this one time: you will
have to trap it alone, without our help."

"Agreed."

"We also tell you: at the cave you will enter face down, so you can slide
down better and with out making any noise."

"So I'll do it, if it is necessary."

"Let's not waste any more time."

"Let's walk."

They arrived at the place where they had set that simulated crab. On
seeing it so large and paunchy, the claws shining and the shell covered
with mildew and mold, Zipacná was filled with joy; slobber dripped from
his mouth and his teeth protruded almost outside of his lips, enlarged
and swollen. The boys approached the crab and they feigned terror and
fear that it would be impossible to trap it. On seeing this, Zipacná,
deceived, said:

"You really can't trap it? Is it so ferocious?"

"Now you have seen it. It's impossible to grab it. We have told you - we
are afraid of it. Only entering face down and dragging yourself cautiously
on the ground will it be possible to catch it. Go, take heed, entrap it;
don't let it get startled and escape; approach it with caution and do not
let it destroy you with its claws; try now, if you wish."

Then Zipacná entered the cave just as they had told him to do; that is,
he entered crawling on his belly. He slipped smoothly and cautiously.
Later, to see his prey better, he slid mouth upward, on his back. But the
minute his feet disappeared beneath the edge of the cave entrance, the
brothers approached to see what he was doing. He was about to grab
the figure of the crab when they shook the rocks from the cave and
made them come down with thunderous noise and dust. Zipacná
remained crushed under the debris. He gave out a cry; his body
trembled for a moment, and immediately was changed into stone. From
that place come those smooth white stones that travelers and hikers
encounter on the paths of the Quiché land. They say that when it rains
and they become damp, they lament as Zipacná did at that time. In this
way, the life of that one who boasted, filled with pride, of moving
mountains and hills and of being the son of the deceased Vucub Coquix
was ended.

Chapter 8
Now it will be told how Capracán, the second son of Vucub Caquix, died.
It happened in this way. Hurakán came and told Hunahpú and
Ixbalanqué the following: "Do not forget what I tell you. It is necessary to
conquer Capracán. This is what I want you to do, because it is not good
for Capracán to pretend to be equal to the greatness of the most high.
His greatness does not in any way approach the shadow of the greatness
of any god. Everything in him is foolish deceit and pride. You are to
secretly take him to the place where the sun rises. There you will work as
you must."

"We shall do it," answered the twins.

"Do it with9out delay," added Hurakán.

"We shall do what you say, because it is just. We understand that it is not
good that Capracán is as he is; nor is it good that he says that he does
what he does without being certain of it."

"Fulfill the mandate," Hurakán said in conclusion.

The brothers then left.

At that time, precisely, Capracán was occupying himself with his

deception; that is, he was undertaking to poke under the ground beneath
the mountains. With light pressure of his feet he believed that he was
cracking the mountains apart. He was entertaining himself in this way
when the youths found him, as it is told.

Upon seeing him, they asked him:

"What are you doing, Capracán?"

Now you see: I'm cracking the mountains; I do this so that the light will
come and so that daylight will approach. But now that I look at you, tell
me: what are you doing in this remote place? I have never before seen
your faces. Who are you and what do your names signify?"

"We have no name or have we ever had one. As you can see, we are
blow gunners; we're poor; we lack everything. No adornment shines on
the linens of our clothing; no feather in the hair of our heads; we don't
wear either necklaces or rings. We only know how to set traps to catch
birds. This and nothing else is our life. We really say to you that we set
our traps well. No one arms them better than we do. No bird escapes us.
And so, for the adventure, we go walking around through the rugged
paths in the mountains. For this reason comes the story that we tell you
about now; we come from a great mountain that looks like it is cut at the
peak. Is it true that you can crack the mountains and take the light out of
its large rocks?"

Capracán answered:

"Of course it's true! Who can doubt it? But, is it true also that you have
seen that mountain of which you speak? Can't you tell me where it is? I
need to know it and to see if its stone structure is good and if the site
where it is located is convenient. If you wish let's go to the place in which
it is raised up. You will see what I do with it, according to what is allowed
me."

"It is over there, where the sun comes out," answered the twins.

"Show me the road."

"If you wish, it's better if we accompany you to the place where the
paths begin to rise up from the foothills. You could get lost among the
rugged trails of the forest that surrounds them. Besides, the region is
dangerous because there are many wild and venomous animals there.
Let's go together, so that we can mutually help each other. We'll go with
you; come with us. For your safety, you'll go in the middle, between us.
Wile we walk we shall see if at last, and by chance, we can hunt a bird,
although we doubt it, because the strong wind there blows them far
away."

"I agree, then; let's go."

So the three of them walked on the above-mentioned paths. The youths

went ahead, happily, because, contrary to what they expected, at each
step they had the chance to try the marksmanship of their blowguns. But
know that in shooting them, they did not put in any pellets - not of wood,
or of clay, or of anything. They only blew in them with their breath, which
was so strong that the birds fell wounded. This Capracán admired. He did
not know what to think or what to say.

Around noontime, after having walked quite a distance through steep

places, they stopped, sweaty and eager, in a propitious location - shaded
by the branches of a thick-topped tree. There they breathed at will. The
breeze beat against their faces. The boys lit a fire; they loaded a roasting
spit and in it they strung some of the birds that they had hunted in such
a mysterious way. On one of the birds they smeared gypsum clay. With
the odor of cooked meat, Capracán felt hungry, and said so to the
brothers. These drew apart and said to themselves:

"Thanks to this bird smeared with gypsum clay, we will make his hunger
cease and his death begin. If he asks why the meat is so blanched, we'll
tell him it is the color that gives the best smelling herb that serves to
marinate the meat of the birds. We'll tell him also that our mother, who
knows all the culinary arts, taught us this."

While talking thusly, they were turning the skewered row of birds over
the hot coals. The golden birds gave out a sweet and sour aroma that
was very pleasant and mouth-watering. The blood and fat sizzled; and
through the air, there rose a placid smoke. With this smooth stimulus,
Capracán's nostrils flared, his lips became moist, the saliva dripped down
and his tongue moved constantly. Anxiously, he ended by saying:

"That food certainly has a wonderful aroma! Give me now a piece of

meat, even if it be small, because I'm so weak with hunger. My appetite
exhausts me. I can't do anything more."

Then the boys slyly gave him a piece of the meat from the bird that was
muddied with the gypsum clay. Without noticing anything, Capracán ate
the morsel greedily, with relish. He licked his lips again and sucked his
tongue. After having eaten more, without leaving the slightest fragment,
not even the smallest bit, he devastated the bones and breathed with
satisfaction. The twins removed the other cooked birds from the spit and,
as if nothing had happened, they put them in their game bags and
continued walking. Between telling jokes and discussing facts they were
approaching the mountain, when suddenly Capracán's arms went limp,
his knees bent, his neck twisted and his vitality ebbed visibly. Weakened
and almost inert, he stayed on the ground. Overcome with anguish, he
rolled over on the ground. This happened as they were arriving at the
edge of the mountain of Meaván. Thus defeated, Capracán could not do
anything in front of it. He did not even feel like scratching the earth. He
remained on the ground, crippled. The twins relentlessly urged him on to
fulfill his task. They mocked him for his failure to do so. Seeing that he
cold neither blink nor open his eyes, and that he was a useless hulk, they
tied his hands behind him and bound his head to his feet. Thus bent
over, they put him in a hole in that place. They finished impacting him at
the bottom with stones and then covered him with dirt and garbage. In
this way, Capracán, because of the pride in which he had glorified
himself, was buried here in the Quiché land. Those who had been
entrusted with executing this justice, in the name of Hurakán, were the
twins Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué.

Chapter 9
Having related the death of Vucub Caquix and his sons Zapacná and
Capricán, it will be appropriate to speak now about the crafts that the
twins practiced. This will be done in the following pages of this chronicle.

After doing what has been already told, Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué
thought that they were obligated to maintain and enhance their
reputation with Ixquic and Ixmucané. They discoursed all night about the
plans they would have to develop in the future. At sun up, as the
turtledoves let out their mournful song, they realized that it would be
good to grow ears of corn on a plot near the house. With this idea, they
approached the old lady and said to her:

"Don't be sad, grandmother; you must know that we will seed the plot
you inherited and that we will feed you comfortably with what it
produces. We will play our games in your presence so that you will be
entertained, along with Ixquic, and you will rejoice, and the evening
hours will be shortened for you. In this way you will not miss our
departed brothers.

The grandmother listened to these words in silence and with hidden

pain, answered them in a low voice:

"So be it if such is true and this is the will of my grandsons."

Ixquic added:

"Do what you wish, if it is just."

"We shall do it, because our hearts dictate this to us," answered the
twins.
Then Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué got ready to go to the country. They took
their hatchets and hoes. They carried their blowguns over their
shoulders. As they were about to leave, they said to the grandmother:

"When you see that it is noon, prepare some food for us, put it in a jug,
along with some tortillas, and bring it to the plot where we will be
waiting. We will eat beneath the shade of some tree."

The grandmother, feeling uneasy, answered without raising her eyes

from the ground:

"I will fulfill your command. At midday, as you wish, I will bring the food
to you."

And so the brothers left for the countryside in order to work the land. In
i8t they made ditches and seeded corn, beans, chayote and vegetables.
Later they cut branches, reeds and trunks. They gathered up the
branches and tied them up to take them to the house. They made pyres
with the logs, and heaps with reeds. While performing these activities,
they saw that a turtledove had climbed up a tree and in the highest part
was making a nest with her beak. They called to it and said:

"Go up still higher and be watchful. When you see a dear old lady, whom
you know, call out so we will know she is approaching. Thus we will be
prepared. You know why we want this."

The turtledove, stretching her head, answered:

"Don't worry, I will carry out your order."

The two brothers, then, assured of the warning that the turtledove would
give them, abandoned their labor and devoted themselves to hunting
birds.

They hunted them with their blowguns. They had to sharpen their
marksmanship since there was dust in the air. In fact, the southern wind
was crossing over that place in intermittent flashes, dragging up
fragments from the ground and stubbles of the ages. When they were
most engrossed in these practices, they heard the cries of the
turtledove. They hurriedly grabbed their hoes and pretended to be
working the land. Thus, the old lady foundthem sweaty and fatigued.
With their mimics they made sure she saw that they were tired from the
agricultural work they had done without interruption since the morning.
The old lady, in silence, left the food she had prepared on top of a
flagstone. The boys, squatting, began to eat with gusto. The old lady
remained without saying a word, as if a profound sorrow overwhelmed
her. Her eyes were deeply set. When they had finished eating and
drinking gulps of honey water, the old lady gathered up the lec and the
gourd that had contained the food and drink and returned home. The
twins threw the leftover crumbs on the ground to feed the birds. On
seeing themselves alone, again, they took up their hunting game again.
At nightfall, they gathered up their work tools. They crossed over the
mountain the moment that the sun sank behind the hill and the lights
were lit in the heavens. On arriving home they left their tools in a corner,
sat down in their armchairs, stretched out their legs and arms, yawned
noisily and rubber their eyes. Then, without any reason for it, they said:

"We really are tired."

"Then you should be quiet," the grandmother said to them. They

remained speechless for a long time, submerged in somnolence; then, as
it grew dark, they approached the hearth of the kitchen; they poked the
hot coals and blew the ashes. In the darkness, they were inundated for a
minute with a multitude of sparks, which exploded in the air and
extinguished quickly. Outside, behind the mud walls, were heard the
howls and growls of the animals that ran through the countryside and
circled the house. Among the shadows flew bats and martins. I seemed
like they were suspended from a thread that was swinging incessantly in
the shadows. They were detained at times at the beams of the house
and at the hammocks. The twins remained asleep with their heads
leaning on their hands. The grandmother and the mother were sleeping
near them on cotton mats. The wind was blowing among the cracks of
the reeds of the house. The darkness was complete. Everything was
motionless. The wind and the shadows and the murmur of the trees and
the echoes seemed to have been silenced. The next day, before sunrise,
the twins got up and headed again for the cornfield. On their shoulders
they carried their work tools.

On arriving at the cornfield they saw that the work they had done the
day before had been destroyed and trampled upon. They found the
trunks, the reeds and the tree branches scattered about; the rows were
flattened and detoured and the irrigation ditches disturbed. The leaves
that had been gathered and stored in small hampers were found spread
on the ground. Perplexed, they remained looking at the damage.

"Who could have come to our cornfield?" asked one of them.

"Who would have done this damage?" asked the other.

The first added:

"Those who caused this destruction were without a doubt the mountain
animals that run around untamed and wild, as if they were in the mating
season. Their foot prints are deep."

"There are the tiger prints, jaguar prints even closer, and here are some
large ones. These animals have bad intestines intestines and very poor
instinct."

"It's possible that this is so," replied the second one, "but it's strange
that they don't know that this land is ours and therefore nobody can step
on it without our permission."

They spoke no more, and reluctantly they began to remedy the evil they
had encountered. They set to work to again open the furrows and
ditches, and to tamp down the paths. They gathered the pieces of wood
and cleared the ground of excessive foliage and thorns. When they saw
that everything was smooth and in order, they said:

"Now we will go to rest, but we will return later and watch over our
cornfield. We need to know who have come down to destroy it. Our
enemies will see what we'll do with those who dare to harm and annoy
us for no good reason. Our punishment will fall on their backs."

And with this agreement, on returning home, they said to the

grandmother and the mother:

"You can't imagine the destruction we have found in the cornfield. A

runaway string of pack animals passed through it. We found everything
destroyed, trampled by the hoofs of strong, voracious and furious
animals. Without a doubt some beasts tore down the mud walls and
entered out plots. On the ground were the recently whitewashed stones
of the barricades. We even found the edge of the well destroyed. In the
depth of the water there was trash and stench. After eating, we'll go to
take care of our plot because it is not good what has been done to us."

In this spirit, with nightfall arriving, they returned to the cornfield,

bundled up in the fog coming in from the sea. Behind the pile of cut logs
and in the darkest part of the field, they crouched in their vigil. In this
way they listened and watched for a long time. Above Hunahpú and
Ixbalanqué flew owls, bats and vampires. At midnight, large and small
four-footed animals began to gather in the center of the cornfield.
Among themselves they said, in various tones: Rise up, trees! Rise up,
trees!

Thus shouted the newly arrived animals while they ran and jumped
under the trees, among the clusters of herbs. They were entertained with
this hubbub, when the twins surprised them. The latter intended to trap
the jaguar and tiger because they were the ones who were the most
destructive with their claws and the blows of their hairy tails. But the
jaguar and the tiger soon escaped and were lost in the darkness of the
thicket. They left no trail. Their tracks were erased in the marshy land.
The twins pretended then to catch some deer that were jumping
impulsively, but these also were able to escape without leaving behind
any hoof prints. Before their eyes the rabbits ran breaking the ears of the
grain and the stems that came forth, and these slipped by easily. Neither
could they trap the mountain cat nor the coyote nor the javalina nor the
badger because all of them were clever and agile, and slipped away like
shadows among the fallen herbs and crouched among the thick ground
foliage. In the distance one heard them shriek in a mocking tone. With
effort, the twins succeeded in catching up with the rabbit. They seized it
by the tail, but it disintegrated between their fingers as if it were a vapor.
(Since that time, rabbits all have short tails.)

Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué were furious at this failure. They were

especially exasperated when they discovered a mouse among the
stubble nuzzling and digging in the earth. Hurriedly, they trapped it
without paying attention to its shrieks or its teeth or the contortions it
was making, struggling to escape. To torment it, they scorched its tail
and squeezed its neck. (Since then, mice squeak like they were being
suffocated, carry a hairless tail and have reddened little eyes.) Next they
placed the mouse on a flagstone. On seeing himself free, he raised his
snout, put up his ears and said:

"Now you have punished me enough, don't kill me; I want to keep on
living among the seeds. On the other hand, I know your job is not to kill
but to give life."

"We see you know us; keep on talking and tell us what you know about
us."

"If you give me something to eat and drink, I'll tell you what I know; if
not, I'll be quiet. The truth I carry in my belly. From here nothing will
leave without your promise."

"Speak then. When we arrive home we'll give you what you want to eat
and all that fits in your stomach."

"I'll speak if you like."

"We wish it, speak now."

"Hear me then. What you see here pertains to your ancestors.
Everything was of the Ahpú, who were killed for no rhyme or reason by
the men of Xibalbá. The Ahpú, before dying, left in secret their lances,
gloves and balls one uses in games on the loft of the house. Your
grandmother knows this fact and hides it from you because she has a
premonition of what you could be capable of doing with such tools."

"Is it really true what you say?" the twins both inquired at the same time.

"We mice don't know how to tell a lie. For each lie we tell, we lose a
tooth; and teeth for us are our life. Without them we would die of hunger.
And I still, as you see, have lost none. They are strong, complete, sharp
and white."

"Then come with us."

They walked on the road that went from the cornfield to the house.

The mouse followed their steps as if it was a docile, trained coyote. It

was walking playfully and mischievously, crisscrossing between the
twins' feet. On reaching the house, according to what was agreed upon,
they gave it food. On a piece of lettuce they put beans, carrots and
cocoa. When they saw it was full and happy they said to it:

"Today this was your food. You have profited well; but you should know
that from today on you will gnaw on garbage; you will eat what you find
in the hiding places and the corners of the pantries of what people and
animals leave by neglect; we won't throw anything out; while you want
to live with us you will be able to do it. This will be your house. Live here
and run around during the time you wish. Nobody will say anything."

"I like to live under a roof; I am old and ailing and work in the exposure in
those plots of land makes me tired and bent. Now my good mood and
youthful spirit have gone limp. One moment of mischief brings tears to
my eyes. The jumps that I did on the road and the food I have now have
enervated me. My eyes are about to close. So then, what should I do so
that the women of this house, when they see me, will not throw me out
on the road, hitting me with the broom, or kicking me in the behind with
the tip of their foot or frightening me with jugs of water?"

"Don't worry, because nothing like this will happen. We will take care of
you. Now you will know what you have to do. Pat attention well. You will
climb up to the loft of the house and you will go to where the objects that
you say are kept there. What you have to do next we will tell you in good
time."
The little mouse gave signs of assent, he hid himself, and the brothers
stretched out on their reed mats. They pretended to sleep. After a night
of rumination, Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué went out to the fields. The sun
was rising. The turtledoves had barely begun to complain in the
distance; some lizards had hardly shown their heads in the cracks of the
mud walls; the gray dart of a deer was scarcely seen in the thicket. The
two brothers, clearing in a path with their hoes, walked through the
jungle, penetrating its darkest parts. When they found a thick-topped
tree they got close to its trunk to rest. There, worried and sad, they
began to reflect on the bitter premonitions that they were having. They
then remained silent. They were beginning to awaken to the reality of
their destiny. Around noon, even more preoccupied, they returned home.
Nobody saw them enter. Only the dogs barked in their presence. They
sat in their armchairs near the hearth. They poked at the hot coals,
warming their hands and legs. They called the mouse. The latter came,
hurriedly, and they told him what he had to do. Next they approached
the table where they always ate. The grandmother said to them:

"The meal is served."

"Put hot chile on our meat,' replied Hunahpú.

The grandmother obeyed. She brought them a soup bowl of broth and
seasoned meat with oregano, parsley and hot chile. While they were
eating, they intentionally spilled the water in the jug. Then, in a fuss,
they said to the grandmother:

"Grandmother, grandmother, look, we have spilled the water and we are

thirsty because our mouths burn with the hot chile. Bring us more water,
but come quickly. Get up, go immediately. Don't stop anywhere."

The grandmother took the empty pitcher and went to the well to get
water. As soon as the grandmother left the house, the mouse climbed
the loft where the game objects were stored. During that time they
noticed that many dragonflies, which they called Xan, had fallen in the
soup bowls. They took one by its wings and said to it:

"Fly and follow our grandmother. Look for at the edge of the well and,
carefully and secretly, perforate the pitcher she carries. Do it now and do
it well. You know why you should do this."

The dragonfly left and di what they had told him to do. He perfotrated
the pitcher the grandmother carried and the water within it spilled out.
Meanwhile, the brothers, pretending to be impatient, began to cry out:
"What are you doing, grandmother? Why are you taking so long? How far
have you gone to get the water we asked you for?"

Then, turning to Ixquic, they added:

"Mother, leave too and see what our grandmother is doing, for we can't
stand it any longer with this hot pepper that burns our mouths. Tell her
that if she doesn't return with the water we will turn to stone."

The mother left also. Then the mouse came down from the loft with the
balls, lances, gloves, skins and shields that had been stored in that
place. Without wasting time, the boys took those objects and hid them
outside the house, in a bend in the road that led to the Game Square.
Afterwards, as if they hadn't done anything, they went to the plot to see
the grandmother and the mother. They found the two women crying next
to the edge of the well; they were staring at the pitcher and the hole
through which the water was spilling.

"What is happening? We can wait no longer; our mouths are burning up,"
said the boys.

The grandmother said to them:

"Your mother is a witness. Look at this pitcher; it has a hole in it, and
without any warning, the water spilled out. Don't scold us for this
disgrace."

The mother said:

"It's true what your grandmother says."

The boys took the pitcher and with resin from the Zapote tree they
plugged up the hole. The grandmother filled it again, but as it was very
heavy, Ixquic helped her carry it. Then the brothers, after taking some
gulps, and under the pretext that it was too hot near the kitchen, they
remained at the edge of the road to drink the water. They sat under a
tree. After a few minutes of solitude they quickly gathered the tools they
had hidden. With these they took the path that went to the Game
Square. The Square was about a two-days journey. They arrive there and
as it was abandoned and covered with weeds and garbage that the wind
had agitated and strewn about, they started to clean it up and leave it
cleared of debris. Then they dampened the ground so that dust would
not churn up. In this manner they left the place cleaned up and repaired.
Seeing that the Square was all tidied up, they began to play in it. They
played with great happiness, encouraging one another with words and
shouts and songs. They did not know how long they were playing; they
were so eager and drunk with joy. The uproar they were making did not
allow them to hear the menacing cries that were raised in the land of
Xibalbá. In fact, the people of Xibalbá were cowering due to the unusual
noise that came from the Square. Uncomfortable, they argued among
themselves. Some, the more violent ones, were saying:

"Who are those who play in the Square against our orders? Who dares to
disturb our tranquility and our rest? Who shakes the air with so many
blows? From where have they come, those who play as if it were their
own Square? Don't these so-and-so's know the game is sacred to us, and
that nobody can execute any game without permission? Don't they
understand that the game is a sign of either liberty or death, and this is
left to the chance ruling of the judge? The only ones who could be so
bold as to dare to play are dead. Only they could make such a scandal.
We really don't understand whom these are who now are playing.
Without delay, let us make them come here and answer for their
boldness."

Those who were talking thus were Hun Camé and Vucub Camé, men of
Xibalbá. Such as was discussed was done. Messengers went out to
ascertain who were playing. The messengers, without being seen,
passed through the Game Square. They met the twins but said nothing
to them; they preferred to go to the house of Ixmucané, the
grandmother of the twins. They arrived there and entered the kitchen
where the food was cooking and said to her:

"Hear us, Ixmucané; the men of Xibalbá order your grandsons Hunahpú
and Ixbalanqué to go play with them. They are to do this within seven
days, and no more. They will play with the men according to the rules
they know."

The grandmother answered them:

"If you order it, my grandsons will do it, because they have always been
people of obedience and rectitude."

"We will give your reply to the men," answered the messengers.

And immediately, they returned to the land of Xibalbá from where they
came. When they disappeared on the road, the old lady sat down on the
railing of her house and began to cry in spasms. The sighs she gave out
shook her chest. Her tears fell in abundance over her hands. Ixquic
approached her and cried also because she had guessed what the
anguish was all about.

The old lady said:

"What could my grandsons have done to deserve this punishment? Why
do the men of Xibalbá persecute them in this way? Who will give them
this news now? Without a doubt this announcement is one of death. I
have a premonition in my heart that has never deceived me; that did not
deceive me when my sons, the Ahpú, died in another time in that same
land of Xibalbá and under the fury of the same men. In the same way,
these sent messengers in search of them. I never knew about my sons
nor did I see them again. I did not even hear an echo from their voices."

While she said this she cried, bowing her head. Ixquic wept at her side
without knowing what to say. A louse suddenly fell from the
grandmother's hair. Ixmucané let it walk on her shirt; then took it
between her fingers and said to it:

"You have now heard what these beings want with my grandsons. Have
pity on me, help me; you know the misery and the rancor of their
enemies. Tell me if you want to go to the Game Square, because, without
a doubt, my grandsons have been there for hours. Go to them and tell
them in my name who have come to see me and what things they have
said for them. Give them the message they brought, but let there be no
confusion or deceit. If you did not hear it, learn it now: tell them that
within seven days they should go to play with the men of Xibalbá. Have
you understood? Should I repeat it to you? Will you know how to keep it
in your memory and say it later?"

"I have heard it fine, grandmother. I won't forget it; I will do what you
wish," answered the louse.

"Go, and fulfill my command."

The louse jumped off and departed to fulfill the mission. He walked
slowly on the ground and among the herbs and the stones he slipped
away. Near the doorsill of the house, at the beginning of the road, he ran
into the frog, the largest to be found in those parts. The frog saw the
louse, stopped, and said to him:

"Where are you going, if I may ask?"

"I carry a mandate in my belly. I'm going in search of the grandsons of

Ixmucané, whom you already know, to give them a message from the
men of Xibalbá.

"That's good; but I must say that you are going much too slowly. Don't
you want me to help you? I will do it willingly."
"How could you help me in this?"

"Look, I will swallow you and them we two can arrive sooner. I will jump
farther than ever before."

"What you say is good; swallow me, then."

And the frog swallowed the louse without further ado. Then he walked
and jumped through the trails and muddy places of the area, but he
wasn't going as fast as he wished, or as fast as was necessary for the
mission. He was going this way, fatigued and sweaty, when next to a
stone he encountered a coiled snake. The snake loosened his body,
straightened out and, opening his mouth, said:

"Don't jump any more and tell me where you are going. I've never seen
you jump so far so quickly."

"In my belly I carry a mandate, and you have to know that it is urgent,
because the men of Xibalbá sent it for Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué."

"But at the rate you are going, you won't arrive in less than eight days.
You are moving too slowly. Your destination is still far away. You will delay
so much that you'll forget the message that you were given and you will
have to return to look for it. If you wish I'll swallow you and in this way
we'll arrive sooner, you and I."

"That's good, swallow me, if this is your intention."

Then the snake swallowed the frog. The snake crawled on the rocks and
slid among the thistles, but all in all, he did not advance much. Thus he
was turning and climbing up and down, when from the clouds the
sparrow hawk glimpsed the snake. The sparrow hawk then began to fly in
circles, each turn of which was smaller and lower. He was descending,
even scraping the treetops. At the moment he saw the snake, in a
stretch of the wasteland, the latter was vulnerable and defenseless, and
the sparrow hawk fell on the snake and devoured it. In this way, the
sparrow hawk arrived before nightfall at the Game Square, where the
grandsons of Ixmucané were entertaining themselves. Upon arriving
near the place, he stopped on a mud wall and cawed noisily.

On hearing the cries of the sparrow hawk the boys, fearful and surprised,
stopped playing and said:

"Who can be crying out in such a way? What will he attempt to say with
such a strange voice?"
And without waiting any longer they took their blowguns; they looked
among the fallen branches and next to the rocks, until, on a mud wall,
they discovered the sparrow hawk that with open wings continued
cawing madly. Immediately, they aimed at the eyes and shot. The
sparrow hawk fell wounded to the ground with his wings collapsed. The
boys approached him and raised him, saying:

"What is the meaning of the shouts you were giving out?"

"Let me speak," answered the sparrow hawk."

"This is not your place, as you well know. Something strange must be
happening for you to have dared to come to this square, that is a
deserted place with nothing to eat."

"I have a mandate in my belly. Cure my eyes if you wish and I will tell
you the truth I know that concerns you."

"Close your beak," they said to him, as they began to raise his wings.

They placed him lying down flat on a railing and cured his eyes with a
salve made from the resin of a fruit tree and plantain juice, and they
spoke to him again:

"Now you are cured; now you can tell us what you know."

Then the sparrow hawk cast out from his beak the body of the snake.
The latter sat up and opened his mouth. Upon seeing this the brothers
ordered the beast:

"Speak, and tell what you know."

The reptile than threw out the frog. This one fell on the ground and gave
two or three leaps. The boys asked him:

"What mandate do you bring us?"

"I bring it in my belly."

But it must be known that the louse was not in the belly, but in the
mouth of the frog. The boys, impatient and exasperated, seeing that the
frog was not doing anything to tell them the message for which they
waited, started to mistreat it. They hit his head and rear end, and twisted
his legs. Among shouts, they said to him:
"You are a liar and you annoy us. You have been nothing but a cheat. You
have a bad reputation among the animals. For some reason they
repudiate you and make you out to be repugnant. We know that nobody
should trust you. You carry treason and deceit with you. In your mouth is
falsehood."

Then from the mouth of the frog came out saliva in abundance, and the
louse slipped out from it. The boys told the insect, which was sliding on a
flagstone:

"Explain if you can what are the facts."

The louse, stopping, babbled:

"Your grandmother said to me: 'Go and tell the boys who are now having
fun in the Game Square, that some messengers have come from Xibalbá,
who said that within seven days they should go to play with Hun Camé
and Vucub Camé'."

"Is it true what you say?"

"Yes, what I say is true and I say no more because that is all. Your
grandmother will confirm this for you."

Then Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué abandoned the place and departed in a

hurry. Forlorn, they crossed the mountain to gain some time. When they
arrived at the house they said to the grandmother, who was impatiently
waiting for them next to the hearth of the kitchen:

"A louse told us your mandate; that's why we have come. We will go
where the men of Xibalbá are. But before leaving we will plant a reed in
the center of our house. If, after a time, you see its shoots wither, it will
be a sign that we have died; but if it becomes green and sprouts, you will
know that we live. This is the sign of our word; don't forget it and see to
it that our mother bears it in mind also. It is meant to be so."

Without delay they made a hole in the middle of the house and in it
planted a strong reed that had several yellow and maroon leaves.

After doing this - without saying goodbye to either the grandmother or

the mother, so as not to cause them any pin - they departed toward
Xibalbá. They took the great road. Flocks of birds flew in circles above
their heads. Further ahead they crossed a river and immediately another.
After several days and nights they arrived at a place where the path,
descending, entered by the fissures of an enormous rough whitish rock.
The path continued under the ground. Walking in this way, among the
humid shadows of a tunnel, they arrived at a ravine. They crossed it by
stepping on a bridge of banana stalks and they continued through a flat
place, illumined thanks to the light of some fireflies. Thus they arrived at
a lake whose waters were as quiet and dark as a writing slate. The
brothers navigated through the tangled reeds in the shallow lake, kicking
up the water with their feet, without suffering any injury or mishap.
Arriving at the opposite side. They kept on walking until they came to a
jungle. They continued walking next to it without crossing it until they
arrived at a place where four paths, intersecting in a wide, gloomy plaza,
radiated out again in opposite directions. There the twins stopped. Music
of unknown origin filled the space. The brothers, flustered, but at the
same time brave, remained quiet in that place. They thought that they
were lost. They did not know what to do; little by little they were
recovering control of their senses; they were able to see better with their
eyes in the middle of that darkness, and they discovered that one path
was red, another black, another white, and another yellow. They were
indecisive in the midst of this diversity of colors, without understanding
its significance. They were contemplating the colors and discussing their
mystery, when they heard a voice that said:

"I am the road of the men."

The voice had moved away from the road they knew. Then, waiting no
longer, they followed the route that opened in front of them. They
walked through it, bewildered by the voices they heard in the wind. They
were so absorbed that they did not even realize that they were traveling
rapidly toward the place of their destination. Thus they arrived at the
doors of Xibalbá. Then they caught a wasp and sent it to observe what
was happening there - as much in the land as among the people. Before
letting it loose they said to it:

"Go, enter and look at what exists there and sting the men you find,
because from now on, the blood of the men will be for you. Sting them
because their blood will be your only food."

The wasp moved his wings and went flying away. He followed the path
and distanced himself until he was lost in the darkness and silence of the
surroundings. Thus he arrived at the center of the town of Xibalbá. Its
people were gathered in council. Everyone seemed preoccupied with a
serious matter. Some were speaking and others wrung their hands. The
wasp went on toward them; without being seen nor felt by anyone, he
searched for the principal men, whom he recognized by the crest ot the
feathers they wore on their heads, and he slipped away behind them.
When he saw that they were at the height of involvement in the
discussion they were having, he began to sting them with a hair from
Hunahpú's leg. First he stung Hun Camé. The latter cried out.
"What is happening to you, Hun Camé, who stung you?" asked Vucub
Camé.

"I don't know; I only heard a noise of wings behind me," answered Hun
Camé.

Immediately, Vucub Camé cried out ion his turn.

"What's the matter Vucub Camé, who stung you?" the men near him
asked.

Soon afterwards, Xiquiripa shouted. Vucub Camé asked her:

"Did they also sting you, Xiquiripa?"

Then, one after the other, the rest of the men who were there shouted.
The shouts were so loud and sharp that they were heard everywhere in
the vicinity of the plaza. The wasp stung them so that each one of the
said men, on being asked, was saying his own name. When the wasp had
heard such names, he returned quickly to the side of Hunahpú and
Ixbalanqué, who were waiting for him. The wasp informed them of what
he had done, heard and seen. Next, the brothers were approaching the
town of Xibalbá. Knowing now the names of the people, they felt more
secure and certain. Thus they penetrated their first alleys and paths.
They crossed the threshold of the center and advanced. On passing
through the orchards that bordered the main houses, some wooden dolls
entered that were adorned as if they were people of flesh and bones. It
seemed that they were mocking by letting their teeth, made of grains of
yellow corn, be seen. The brothers did not greet them nor did they pay
any respect at all because they knew that these were only figures of
deceit to provoke the curiosity of those who were passing. They
advanced further and in front of the new people they encountered they
said:

"Greetings Hun Camé, greetings Vucub Camé, greetings Xiquiripa."

And so, without interruption, they said the names of those who were
seated there. The men of Xibalbá did not like the fact that the newly
arrived ones knew their names beforehand - that they thought was a
secret. They took this as a bad omen. For this reason, they asked, rudely:

"Who are you?"

The brothers said:

"We don't know."

"Who were your parents?"

"We don't know that either."

"Then could you possibly be the beings whom we ordered to be called?"

"You should guess it."

"If you are who we believe you are, decide if you want to play with us."

"Yes, we want to, that is why we have come."

"Let's play then." They went ahead together, and when they reached the
Game Square, those from Xibalbá, as a betrayal, wanted to wound the
brothers. Hunahpú was wounded in the shoulder and a thread of blood
was running down his leg. The brothers, being cautious, then said to the
men who were following them:

"Really, then, do you want to kill us? Do you hate us that much? Have
you called us in order to treat us so badly? In truth, we would not have
believed this. Is this game going to be one of deceit or of friendship? If
it's the first, we say to you that it is better that we should not have
come; we were imprudent in obeying without more assurance on your
part. But now that we find ourselves in a bad situation, we believe we
had better go."

"Don't go, boys. Then we'll play in peace."

"In that case we'll do it, if this is your wish," answered the twins.

They said this without looking down or altering their voices. At dawn of
the next day, the twins presented themselves according to what had
been ordered. Beneath the shade of the walls of the Game Square they
encountered their adversaries. Then they played as they knew how to;
sometimes hitting the ball with their feet, other times with their hips, but
never with their hands. They kept their hands inert and up high, lazily.
Only in certain plays did they use them as racquets, and they won.
Those of Xibalbá, filled with anger, heard the verdict of the judges who,
according to the rules of the game, was unappealable. Then they said to
the twins:

"So be it: you have defeated us, but not for this reason shall we give you
liberty; before, we warned you that we will take the spirit of your life by
force. We will submit you to the trials that tradition dictates in our land.
You have won what depends on chance, but you have not won what
depends on our will."

The twins remained silent. Then the men said:

"What shall we do to defeat you and to have justice over your lives?"

One said:

"Let us subject you to the trials of olden times."

Another added:

"It is our duty. They will not be able to leave with their own lives, as
terrible as they are. Thus will perish those who are cunning and strong-
willed."

All concluded:

"Let us do it so"

They called the brothers and said:

"Come and sit down on these benches."

But the brothers did not obey, because they knew that those benches
were hot. On seeing that the twins resisted, the men said:

"It's all right; don't sit down; but, without any excuses, enter the Cave of
Smoke or Dark house."

The boys did not answer and let themselves be taken as if they were
prisoners. They were taken to the entrance of the mentioned cave and
before being abandoned inside, they were told:

"Here are the splinters and tobacco you will need to spend the night.
Tomorrow we will come to see what you have done."

The two brothers said nothing and entered the cave. Now inside it, they
reflected on the situation and did the following: they wet the splinters in
red water so they would seem burned, and they rolled the tobacco and
placed a firefly on the tip of each roll. In this way they spent the night
without sleeping and making as if they were smoking. At dawn they said
to the men of Xibalbá who went to visit them:
"Now you see, we have smoked what you gave us, but we have not used
up the hot splinters or the tobacco. Over there is what is left over."

Those of Xibalbá saw, with amazement that everything was left over.
Then they again took the brothers, with their hands tied, before those
who had sent them. These latter, irritated, put the boys in the Cave of
Cold. Inside it Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué defended themselves from the
cold gust of wind that beat against their flesh, lighting dry wood. Near
the soft heat of a bonfire, they spent the night. The next day those of
Xibalbá, on seeing that the prisoners lived, hid their anger in their
hearts. Again they took the twins and escorted them to the Cave of the
Tigers. Inside the brothers said to the hungry beasts that pursued them:

"Eat of this meat, enjoy it, it's good."

Meanwhile, the men of Xibalbá said:

"Now they will be conquered. Nobody will help them. Nothing will remain
of them, not even bones."

But at dawn, they found them safe and sound.

Then they decided to put them in the Cave of Fire. Without anyone
knowing how, the brothers freed themselves also of the flames and
sparks that were everywhere in that place. Seeing this, those of Xibalbá
despaired. They then led the brothers to the Cave of the Flints and
Spears.

"From this enclosure, you will have to complete another trial. Now we
want four bunches of flowers."

"What kind of flowers do you want?" asked the twins.

"We want red, yellow and white, and no others."

"You shall have them. Give us the necessary time you consider fair for us
to look for them and to put them together."

"You will have the necessary time. Now, for our safety, don't move from
the back of the cave."

The boys gathered in silence in the back of the cave.

Meanwhile, the men of Xibalbá were spying on the twins from their
houses, and said of them:
"Now they will be defeated, because, where, in these times, could they
find the flowers we demand? The countryside is dry and not even a
fragment of an herb grows. The flowers we ask for exist only in our
gardens, which are closed and watched. If they don't bring the flowers,
we will declare them defeated and then we will sacrifice them according
to our right."

Toward midnight, the brothers called the ants. These came in a pack,
their feet agile, antennae erect and their little eyes sharp. They stopped
at the entrance of the cave. The twins said to them:

Hear our words well. You well know what is happening to us and what we
want. You know the path to the closed gardens through the adobe walls
and mud barricades; climb up them and without being detected, gather
the flowers they have asked us for."

The ants obeyed without delay. They slipped away under the thistles
until they arrived at the mentioned gardens. The guardians of the
flowerbeds, which were up in the trees, shouted incessantly.

Their cries, however, were useless. While they shouted and shouted,
below, among the herbs and the cracks of the ground, the ants
approached the gardens. They opened a path with their pincers, climbing
up through the adobe walls and barricades; they arrived at the flower
beds; they reached the segments of the rosebushes, they pulled up the
flowers, and with their cargo, for which they had come, they returned
without being seen or heard to the Cave of the Flints and Spears. There,
at the entrance, they deposited the flowers and hid in their dens. The
twins bound the flowers into bunches. At dawn, the men of Xibalbá were
ordered to look for the prisoners. They were already rejoicing,
anticipating the defeat and death of Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué. But great
was their amazement and distress when they saw that each brother was
holding in his arms immense bunches of flowers. The men of Xibalbá
admitted defeat. They called the guardians of the gardens and asked
them:

"Why did you let those men steal our flowers?"

"We saw nobody nor did we hear anyone during the night," responded
the guardians.

But as is natural, they were not believed and in punishment for their
carelessness, their mouths were split. Then the hatred of those of
Xibalbá was increased and, wrathfully, they decided, as a last resort, to
take the brothers to the Cave of the Bats. In it there lived the terrible and
insatiable Camazotz, who kills with only his presence. In the gloomy
solitude of that cave they abandoned the twins. To defend themselves
from the innumerable bats that were flying about hungrily, beating their
wings furiously, the brothers put themselves into their blowguns.
Meanwhile the bats were saying:

"Quilitz, quilitz."

They were avidly flying from one place to another and they rested
menacingly on the hideout of the brothers. These slept until the gurgle of
dawn was beginning to be heard. Suddenly, Ixbalanqué said to Hunahpú:

"Look out and see if it's sun-up yet. Our enemies have become quiet."

Hunahpú said:

"I will go out and see."

And so he did; but at the moment he stuck out his head, the monstrous
Lord of the Bats, Camazotz, that had been spying, lopped it off.
Ixbalanqué began to shout:

"Where are you, Hunahpú? What have you done, Hunahpú? Why do you
hide so that I can't see nor hear you?"

And as no one answered his questions, he said, with sadness:

"At last the men of Xibalbá have defeated us."

And in fact, at dawn, the men of Xibalbá approached the entrance of the
cave. There was a bad stench there, and with joy, they took the fallen
head of Hunahpú from the ground. It was empty of blood, pallid and
disjointed. They raised it and, as a trophy, put it on the highest wall of
the Game Square. To see it and make a mockery of it, older people of
Xibalbá came to help. One could hear at a distance the chuckles, loud
laughter and vulgar shouts that came out of their mouths. Then
Ixbalanqué, saddened, secluded himself in the corner of a nearby plot.
There he mourned in silence without being seen by anyone.

After awhile he called the gentle animals that were foraging in that
locality. When night fell, they approached him, waiting for his mandate.
Ixbalanqué said:

Have no fear, because my enemies are far away. Tell me honestly, what
do you eat in the mountain?"
Stumbling over each other, stepping on their rough animal feet, rubbing
their rough hairy coats, falling on their faces, attacking with their
foreheads, those animals, among grunts, moans, babblings and such
answered Ixbalanqué as truthfully as they could. Ixbalanqué heard each
one as best as he could among that untamed uproar. Then he said:

"That is good. Now bring me, without delay and without haggling,
something of what each of you eat."

Speaking for the other animals, the parrot said:

"If it is necessary, we will do it."

Then the animals hurriedly went away as they had come. Behind them a
cloud of dust was raised that muddled up the air and whirled the fallen
leaves. A foul odor spread through that vicinity. They left though different
paths in search of what they ate. Ixbalanqué waited impatiently for them
next to a mud wall. From there he could look at the head of his brother
Hunahpú. Their enemies had left it there, forgotten. Much time passed.
Now, at dusk, little by little, the animals began to return. They came one
by one by different rough paths. Some brought dried leaves, others bare
bones, others roots, others plant shoots, and still others chilacayotes; the
food they ate was quite diverse. Ixbalanqué, in silence, contemplated the
food the animals had brought. He something that nobody understood
and then, followed by everyone, went to the place where the body of
Hunahpú had been thrown. He then checked to see if anyone had seen
them. When he was sure they were not being watched, he sat down in
front of Hunahpú's body; he took a pumpkin and placed it near the
shoulders of Hunahpú. The animals sat transfixed in a circle, their eyes
confounded, their fur raised and their voices silent. They did not dare
move from their places. They seemed like stone statues. Ixbalanqué,
with a flint, made some holes in the shell of the pumpkin; some were
round ones to simulate the eyes, others were wide to copy the mouth,
others long to imitate the nose. Then he infused life by blowing his
breath into it. Through the cracks came out a tenuous green light,
lukewarm and subtle. When he saw that the head palpitated, he seated
the body on the ground, connected the arms and crossed the legs. The
dead man remained so straight that it seemed as if he was going to
wake up. All this took place under the shade of the wings of a buzzard,
which stopped the dawn.

As soon as the animals saw what Ixbalanqué had done, they became so
terrified that they lost themselves in the mountain. The only animal that
remained in that place was the rabbit, because he was the most
innocent. In his innocence he moved his ears as if he were listening to
music that only he heard. Ixbalanqué said to him:
"You have done well to stay. I was expecting it. Go and place yourself on
the wall of the Game Square. When you see that we are playing, pay
attention. If the ball is thrown on the adobe wall, take it and jump and go
running with it; don't let yourself be caught; stay in the jungle and hide it
in a place you know. Go, and don't forget what I have told you."

The rabbit lowered his ears as a sign of consent; he kicked on the ground
with his hind feet, turned tail and without being seen, climbed onto the
walls of the Game Square.

At that moment the men of Xibalbá approached the place where

Ixbalanqué was, and they said to him:

"Come, approach and play with us for the last time."

Ixbalanqué replied:

"If this is your wish, I'll do it."

Those of Xibalbá, forlorn, took the ball and threw it in the air a few times.
On one of these times Ixbalanqué received it and according to the rules
of the game, threw it again in the air; but he did this with so much
strength that it went up high, passed over the shoulders of the other
players and fell on top of the adobe walls of the Square. There the rabbit
received it and he jumped toward the countryside where he was lost
among the thicket. Those of Xibalbá, furious, tried to trap him to get the
ball away from him, but their efforts were useless because the rabbit ran
into the thicket, where he disappeared. With his hind feet, he erased his
tracks; then he made a hole in the earth and buried himself in it. At the
exact instant that the ball disappeared, Ixbalanqué took the head of
Hunahpú, deposited it on the defunct body, and put the pumpkin on the
wall.

Hunahpú revived and Ixbalanqué smiled proudly in front of those of

Xibalbá and then without being seen, they departed far from the town.

Later they received a visit from some Soothsayers who, in secret, came
from the distant lands destined for Xibalbá.

Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué, after giving gifts to the soothsayers, said to

them thus:

"You arrive at a propitious time. We know the hour of your passing

through this land. Do not interrupt nor delay your trip. When you enter
the town of Xibalbá, the men from there will ask you about us. They do
not know that we are here. Tell them that you have not seen us, and
nothing more. It is not good for them to know another thing, because
they are ignorant of the reason for our life. Hate and impotence torment
them. They have no eyes to see what is clean. They can't understand the
hidden causes in nature. They also wish to know why we have not
perished up to now, not withstanding the dangers that they put us
through."

The Soothsayers replied:

"Good, we understand."

The brothers continued:

"You must know that the men of Xibalbá intended to kill us. When they
see you they'll ask you: "Will it be good for us to throw them at the
barricades?' You will answer: "Don't do it, because in this way they will
return to life." Hearing this they will say to you: "shall we hang them
from a tree?" You will respond: "No, because they will also recover their
life." They again will ask: "Shall we burn them?" To this you will say: "Yes,
you should burn them, but in order that they disappear forever, you will
throw their bones in the river. Only then will they disappear without
leaving a trace and never again will you know about them."

To all this the Soothsayers answered:

"We well understand the truth that is hidden behind your words. Thus we
shall do it, because so we should."

Having said this they took the road from the center of the town.
Meanwhile the men from Xibalbá had been seated in a circle; they
appeared to have a grave countenance, a cruel face, a wrinkled brow,
tight lips and hands resting on rigid knees. They had already ordered a
search for the brothers. The guards went to the aforementioned place,
found them and said to them:

"Come with us; don't try to resist us. The men of Xibalbá are waiting for
you. You must hear the sentence they have pronounced against you."

The brothers, without changing their countenance, said:

"Let's go."

They walked behind the messengers toward the center of the town. Upon
arriving there, they could see that the Soothsayers had already
manifested their order. A pyre was burning in the middle of the square.
The flames rose and crackled and the smoke blackened the air. Next,
Hun Camé, getting up, came near the brothers and said to them:

"The sentence has been given. Drink our drink. This is the custom.
Afterwards, each one, according to his opinion, must pass through the
fire four times."

With serenity, the boys answered:

"Very well, we agree. We will do what you order. We will drink your drink,
but don't think we don't know that we're going to die here. We
understand our destiny better than you do, because the hour of our
death has arrived. It has come with us; you have not brought it. Death
crossed our shadows. Only we saw it. We heard and understood its
voice."

The brothers said no more or expected more. They drank the drink that
they were offered; they held hands and advanced in silence toward the
bonfire. The flames and smoke and ash agitated by the air enveloped
them. No cries or laments or moans or sighs were heard. Submissively,
the fire consumed them.

Seeing that the brothers had truly died and had disappeared, those of
Xibalbá burst into vulgar and cacophonous shouts. They appeared like
wolves loose on an empty plain. With their hands high they became
scattered through the paths of the town and crossed the mountains and
traversed the hills singing songs. They said and repeated incessantly:
"We have conquered them! At last we have conquered them! We are
freed forever from them and their caste! Not one of them remains on the
earth! They won't bother us again! Now we are free of them! Not even
after death will we see them again!"

When their shouts were abating from sheer exhaustion, the men who still
could speak invoked the Soothsayers. These appeared and approached.
Then the men asked them for advice on what they should do with the
brothers' bones. And so those in charge of this necessary task did it.
They took the bones that remained from among the ashes, tied them
with a string cord, and threw them in the river. At the instant they
disappeared, a foam whirled about, raised up around them and engulfed
them. The waters of the river swayed from shore to shore, increased its
volume and precipitated more furiously. The people remained terrified in
the face of those events.

Soon, behind the transparency of the waters, two boys, the same as
those recently dead, appeared. They were not noticed by anyone. They
vanished among the waves leaving behind them a thin trace of fog. On
the surface of the river was seen a blue wake that shone for a few
seconds. The people of that place who were close looked at that wake
with attentive eyes. They did not comprehend the meaning of what they
were seeing. This apparition was repeated fifteen days later, at the same
time of day, but this time it lasted longer. In this appearance, the
brothers seemed covered with scales, like fish men. They had fins, gills
and a tail. And they were moving incessantly. The sun's rays were
reflected in their eyes. Then, in another apparition, they jumped from the
water as if impelled by a live and irresistible force. They crawled on the
sands of the riverbank; they climbed on the rocks, then returned to the
river and disappeared without a sound.

The people looked for them stirring the waters and the neighboring
bushes, but they found nothing. After these apparitions, the boys began
others of longer duration. They appeared nude, and stopped to rest on
the moist herbs. With their eyes closed, they allowed the sun to dry their
hair. If someone approached them, they would disappear.

Later they began to let themselves be seen on the riverbank. They

walked like two miserable men of frayed skin, dirty from dust, redried by
the wind and shiny by the water. They were poorly clothed in rags that
hung from their shoulders. They no longer fled from the people who
approached them; in front of these, they spoke and began to sing. They
seemed happy. They danced dances with which they imitated the step,
the jump, the hop and the coyness of different animals. After dancing
they made hand games, and burned reeds and dried branches. The
smoke from this twirled in the air in a thousand forms that were undone
by passing one's hand through them. They yelled out over the flames.
Immediately they pretended as if they themselves burned. With torches
they burned their flesh. A bitter smell extended everywhere. Their bodies
blazed as if they were made of resinous wood. When nobody expected,
they appeared again of healthy body, free from sores and with smiling
faces. A little later, in new exercises, with the fury of provoked enemies,
they tore themselves to pieces until death. The first of the two, who
again seemed as if he had never suffered the slightest affliction, invoked
the second who still stayed behind in the invisible world. Those of
Xibalbá, terrified, did not know or understand what they were witnessing.
They were lost in conjectures. Some communicated to others what they
saw. Not much time passed without these events being related to all the
men of that place. Hun Camé and Vucub Camé said:

"Who can these beggars be who do such wonders?"

Those who heard this answered:

"We have never seen people of this species. They appear like foreigners
who have come from distant lands. The things they do cause us to feel
both admiration and terror."

Hun Camé and Vucub Camé added:

"Tell them to come here. Tell them we want to see with our own eyes the
acts they bring and practice."

Those who had been so ordered went in search of the beggars. The latter
heard the message, but said that they would not go anywhere, that they
were fine where they were and that it was not to their liking to praise or
entertain anyone. Thus they spoke:

"Know that we do not want to go. Besides, we are ashamed of our misery
and our rags. We can't present ourselves before anyone who is
important. Our filth and our emaciated and bony bodies evoke pity in
others, which pains and mortifies us. That is why we say that we won't
appear before the men who call us. To do so would be too daring.
Besides, don't the men know that we are only dancers of the cult of
those who, in their travels, juggle in the presence of simple people? If we
appear before such important men, what will the poor ones say with
whom we have lived in these lands? They will imagine that we have
betrayed them, and that we cannot do or consent to in our hearts.
Definitely, we won't go there where they tell us. Our place is this and no
other. We are sure of it."

Those who had been ordered, however, paid no attention to them; they
mocked their fastidiousness and their scruples and their words. They
insisted on carrying out the order of the Camés. The boys resisted more;
but in the end they were won over. They had to go against their will.
They stumbled along as if they were drunk. At each step they stopped to
protest the violence that had been done to them. There was one moment
in which they intended to rebel and return to the river. The messengers
then forced the boys to walk faster so that they would not go back, and
hit them as if they were beasts. In this way, they arrived in pain before
the men of Xibalbá.

Before them, the boys were humiliated, whipped and pieces of their rags
torn. The words of the men of Xibalbá were filled with haughtiness and
wrath. The boys acted as though they did not know what to do. They hid
their faces in their hands and disguised, as well as they could, what in
essence they thought in their hearts of those cruel people. Thus, so that
nobody could know who they really were, or at least what they were
intending to accomplish, they acted as if they were ashamed of
themselves. The Camé said to them:
"You have told us that you are skilled in telling fortunes."

"So they say; but we don't want to do so because they scare the people,
and when they are not scared, they laugh at us and this offends us."

"We will pay you well if you tell our fortunes."

"Nobody will be scared or will laugh at what you do. Do what comes
natural to you; besides, we wish it; we desire it; we are anxious to look at
your divinations."

"Fine; we'll do what you ask of us," the boys answered with resignation.

"We will judge you from here," added the men.

Then the boys, disguised as beggars, began to tell fortunes. They began
dancing animal dances, while imitating the animal voices, grunts and
waggings. The men of Xibalbá had never seen such a thing. They were
normally not prone to expressing either pleasure or astonishment. The
people were entertained looking at such skill and charm. They did not
know what to make of it all. When the boys finished dancing, the men
said to them:

"Take apart an animal and resuscitate it afterwards."

"Bring us any one," the boys answered.

They brought a coyote; the boys took it, they took it immediately to a
post, pulling from its feet, its snout, its ears and its tail; they took it apart
and made it disappear. Not a trace was left of it. After a short time, they
made it appear again. The coyote revived, wagged its tail and raised its
nose as if nothing had happened to it. It then jumped and ran off until it
disappeared in the mountain. The people remained open-mouthed with
astonishment.

"Now burn a house without the people inside suffering at all," ordered
the men.

Thus it was done. They went to a hut of guano and reeds where an old
man an old woman lived. They closed the doors and shutters and lit a
fire. The flames grew quickly and rose to the height of the trees. After
every part of the house was consumed by the fire, the spectators could
see, among the smoke that was dissipating, the old people of the house,
quiet, tranquil, and conversing as if nothing had happening, as if they
hadn't seen or heard or felt anything. They did not seem to be charred or
harmed by the smoke.

The men said, again:

"Kill one of these people. Kill him without hurting him and without him
dying; make us see him resuscitated."

So they did. They took one of the people that were there, they put him
up on some rocks, and in one minute, while only passing their hands
above him, yanked off his arms and legs and head. They took his heart in
their hands and held it up high. Seeing this, the people let out a cry.
Soon the boys resuscitated the man. He came through the air as if
nothing had ever happened to him.

The men of Xibalbá dared to say:

"Make yourselves disappear and appear again before us."

The boys obeyed. In a minute they did what was asked of them.
Ixbalanqué took apart Hunahpú; he yanked, off one by one, the
members of his body. He threw his heart up in the air and it disappeared.
One burning ash fell to the ground. After this, in front of the shadow of
the disappeared boy, he shouted with all his strength. He shouted so
intensely that it seemed as if the veins in his neck were going to burst,
becoming swollen and darkened. In a thunderous voice he said:

"Now return and rise up!"

With this, Hunahpú came back in the appearance of life. Everyone

observed that and did not cease commenting upon the phenomenon.

Each time they believed less of what they were seeing. Then Hun Camé
and Vucub Camé felt desirous of enjoying more of that mysterious world
that was being offered to them, thanks to the art of those beggars. They
dared to say:

"Now if you can, make us disappear, but then, without delay, return us to
life."

"If you desire, so it will be done."

"That we wish."

"Come closer, then."

Hun Camé and Vucub Camé approached in the midst of the silent
expectation of the people who were congregated there; they climbed up
the platform and waited. There was a heavy silence. Immediately, the
beggars took off the heads of Hun Camé and Vucub Camé. Their bodies
oscillated, staggered and fell as if they had received a blow from a
mallet. From their necks gushed a stream of blood that splattered all
over the platform and spilled over, staining the ground and running
between the pebbles to the place where the other people of Xibalbá
were. Nobody spoke. Everyone eagerly expected the two men to be
resuscitated and returned to life; but the beggars, quiet, with an ecstatic
look, did nothing or gave signs of attempting anything. The blood from
the bodies of Hun Camé and Vucub Camé began to coagulate, turning
black. A deafening and anguished uproar ran through the atmosphere of
the place. This grew and a thousand voices exploded in a rough and
precipitated form. Then the people became agitated; they jostled each
other; they bumped; they twisted and wrung their hands. Disturbed, they
stumbled and went away from there. Immediately they fled and while
they were fleeing, some of them fell and others were tumbling while
others disappeared. Voices of pain and anger were mixed in one single
uproar. Then the beggars came down from the platform and threw
themselves upon that panic-stricken mob. Those who they reached were
raised up hanging in the air, thrown in the pits or dashed against the tree
trunks or the rocks. For a long time they did not cease this activity of
extermination. The arms of the people were exhaustively torn off and the
sweat and blood darkened their bodies. Suddenly in the air they heard
the names of Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué. At that same moment the town
shook from its foundations and the beings that remained in it were
changed into filth, garbage and stubble that the wind swept over the
land. Thus the ruin and perdition of the people of Xibalbá was completed.
They disappeared as human beings and were converted into perishable
and inert things. Nobody feared or worshipped them anymore. The evil
spell that lived in them during so long a time was broken and defeated
forever. No memory of it remained. One great wave of dust covered their
remains. Afterwards, Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué went to the land of Pucbal
Chah where the Ahpú were interred. There they received the likeness of
their faces, eyes and feelings. There they also knew the secret of their
hearts. Then Hunahpú and Ixbalanqué said before the wind that stopped
to hear them:

"We are the avengers of death. Our kind will not be extinguished while
there be light in the brightness of the morning."

END OF PART II
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