5
Blood, Fire, Death
Covenants and Crises among the Classic Maya
ANDREW K. SCHERER AND STEPHEN HOUSTON
M astery of fire is essential to our
humanity and fundamental to the story of
our species. Paleoanthropologists scour Africa and
Asia for evidence of its control as early as one to two
million years ago (Alperson-Afil 2008; Clark and
Harris 1985; Dunbar and Gowlett 2014; Wrangham
2009; Wrangham et al. 1999). Fire warms our bod-
ies and cooks our foods, transforming the inedible
into the edible and making the edible much more
delectable. Fire brings people together around a
communal meal or campfire in the dark. It was the
bright node around which human society emerged.
In their origin myths, the ancient Greeks
linked fire to life in the story of Prometheus, the
titan who both created humanity and stole fire
from Mount Olympus so that they could survive.
Both of these acts greatly displeased the ever-fickle
Zeus. Thus, sacrifice was born as burnt offerings to
appease an angry god. The K’iche’ Maya of the six-
teenth century made a similar connection between
human origins and the gift of fire. In their great
text, the Popol Vuh, the progenitors of the K’iche’
cry out to their patron deity: “‘You Tohil, Truly
we are finished because of cold.’ They said there-
fore to Tohil. ‘Fine, do not mourn,’ said Tohil. Then
he brought forth fire, he twist drilled hither inside
his shoe” (Christenson 2004:171). Like the ancient
Greeks, the K’iche’ saw sacrifice as the necessary
price for the divine gift of fire: “Then were sacrificed
all nations before him, then were carved out hither
their hearts” (Christenson 2004:177).
Classic Maya understandings of fire—espe-
cially as it was employed in rites of sacrifice, death,
and renewal—deserve their own treatment. This
essay reviews how the Classic Maya of the South-
ern Lowlands referred to fire in their art and texts,
imbuing it with meaning and using such combus-
tion to undergird and facilitate relations between
humans and the supernatural.1 The essay con-
cludes with a case study in which archaeology, bio-
archaeology, and iconography help explain the role
of fire in one signal deposit from a time of crisis
and transition: a royal death and subsequent inter-
ment at El Zotz, Guatemala. These data highlight
1 09
 the complex and often contradictory valences of
fire, while also affirming that a deeper understand-
ing of Maya ritual, theology, and worldview only
emerges through a consideration of multiple lines
of evidence.
Bloody Covenants, Fiery Appetites
As Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss note, sacri-
fice is fundamentally “a means of communication
between the sacred and the profane worlds through
the mediation of a victim, that is, of a thing that in
the course of the ceremony is destroyed” (Hubert
and Mauss [1898] 1964:97). Greek and K’iche’
myths show that humans have long turned to fire
as a tool of destruction in their offertory rites.
There is something primal, captivating, and richly
complex in fire. It is an unstable marvel of power,
vitality, and destruction, seemingly conjured from
nothing by the spinning of a stick. Its origin is
often seen as divine, and its products (smoke and
flames) conjure near-mystical responses. For these
reasons, it logically serves as a means of thanking,
appeasing, or even feeding the supernatural forces
of creation.
Building on his earlier work on sacrifice,
Marcel Mauss observed that “one of the first groups
of beings with which men had to enter into con-
tract, and who by definition were there to make a
contract with them, were above all the spirits of
both the dead and of the gods . . . Purchases must
be made from the gods, who can set the price of
things” (Mauss [1925] 1990:16, emphasis added).
But this is no exchange between equals—how can
humans possibly offer up gifts of comparable value?
So great are the godly gifts that humans can never
hope to repay them. Rather, they become mired in
lopsided covenants and irredeemable debts. The
contemporary Maya are aware of these inequali-
ties of exchange as embodied in obligations to the
lords of the earth and mountains, entities often
conceptualized as fat, greedy, and insatiable ladi-
nos (Vogt and Stuart 2005:164). So temperamental
are these supernatural beings, and yet so valuable
are their gifts, that the contemporary Tzotzil Maya
110 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
make offerings to them in a “combination of hope-
ful enticement and sheer terror” (Vogt and Stuart
2005:165).
As John Monaghan (1990:567) observes, ex-
changes with the supernatural tend to the ali-
mentary. Supernaturals provide animals, seed,
rain, and land so that people may eat; in exchange,
humans offer materials that supernaturals can con-
sume. Today, ancestors, saints, lords of the earth,
and other supernatural beings generally feed on
burning candles and copal incense. These “foods”
are not consumed by humans, but they neverthe-
less offer parallels with earthly ones. For example,
fatty tallow candles, the product of animal bod-
ies, can be seen as meat-like. But godly appetites
also extend to human beings, hence the fear noted
by Vogt and Stuart. This is especially evident in
beliefs about illness and death. Afflictions of health
are widely interpreted as the result of soul loss, a
process in which aspects of the human spirit are
captured, enslaved, or consumed by voracious
supernaturals (Guiteras Holmes 1961:227; Pitarch
2010:35, this volume; Vogt and Stuart 2005:165;
Wisdom 1940:406–409).
For the Maya, the burning of offerings reflects a
certain logic. Supernaturals are, in some ways, like
humans. They hunger, and they have sensory desires
that must be sated; they enjoy the sights, smells,
and tastes of a good feast.2 Yet supernaturals differ
from humans in the manner by which they fulfill
those appetites and desires. In part, this is because
supernaturals are not made of the same matter as
humans. The foods they eat, then, must also differ
(Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006:122–127). In Pre-
Columbian times, these repasts included tree resins
and saps, especially copal (Protium copal and other
members of Burseraceae), and other sundry objects
consumed by flame. Wick candles were added to
the menu in colonial times. Burning produces a fra-
grant smoke, an ethereal and ephemeral substance
suitable for divine appetites. In many respects,
supernatural beings are also like the smoke they
consume—they are intangible yet pervasive, diffi-
cult to perceive directly yet manifest in solar move-
ments, tempestuous storms, diseases, and other
forces of nature.3
 a b

figure 5.1.
Incense in Classic period inscriptions: (a) pom (po-mo, highlighted in gray) from the Hieroglyphic Bench:H1,
Group 9N-8, Sepulturas Group, Copan; and (b) u-chok-ow ch’aaj (u-CHOK-ko-wa ch’a-ji), “he scatters drops
of incense [for smoke],” Ixtutz Stela 4:B2. Drawings by Andrew K. Scherer.

Evidence for the use of incense in the Classic
period comes from hieroglyphic inscriptions,
imagery, and braziers (incensarios) in archaeo-
logical contexts (Rice 1999; Taube 1998). Classic
period texts identify incense as both pom and
ch’aaj (Figure 5.1). Pom could be rendered by the
syllabograms po-mo, and pom for “incense” or
“copal” continues to be used in nearly all contem-
porary Maya languages (e.g., Bricker, Po’ot Ya,
and Dzul de Po’ot 1998:220; Christenson 2003a;
Laughlin 1975:282; Slocum, Gerdel, and Cruz
Aguilar 1999:95). Syllabic spellings of ch’aaj are
also well documented (Love 1987:11). Like pom,
ch’aaj has equivalencies in colonial and contem-
porary Mayan languages, although the meaning
is less straightforward. Yukateko ch’ah is trans-
lated in the colonial Vienna Dictionary (Barrera
Vásquez 1980:121) as “gota de . . . resina de árbol”
(drop of . . . resin of tree), and, in general, the con-
cepts of drops or dripping are closely tied to this
term in Yukateko (Bricker, Po’ot Ya, and Dzul de
Po’ot 1998:78). In his magisterial source on colonial
Tzotzil, Robert Laughlin (1975:128) translates the
Tzotzil ch’ail as “smoke” and ch’atay as “cense.” In
a comparable entry from his dictionary of proto-
Tzeltal-Tzotzil, Kaufman (1972:101) lists ch’ahil as
“humo” (smoke).
Scholars have long recognized the conceptual
continuity between grains of copal (and other tree
resins and saps) and drops of blood (Christenson
2003b:132). This observation stems, in part, from
a frequently cited passage in the Popol Vuh, where
copal is substituted for the heart of Lady Blood and
given to the lords of the underworld (Christenson
2004:84, emphasis added):
Its substitute her heart then squeezed out now
therefore,
Its secretions red tree.
Like the blood its secretions tree came out,
Its substitute her blood.
Similarly, copal shaped into balls takes the
place of human hearts. Landa’s Relación de las cosas
de Yucatan reports similar acts of substitution: ani-
mal hearts were given as burnt offerings, and when
such organs were unobtainable “they made their
hearts out of their incense” (Tozzer 1941:163).
Considering that human hearts were like
tamales for otherworldly beings, the blood-heart-
sap symbolism blurs with tropes of supernatural
feasting (Houston and Scherer 2010:173; Houston,
Stuart, and Taube 2006:fig. 1.37). In some contexts,
the tamale glyph, normally read as waaj, reads ohl,

Blood, Fire, Death 111

 a b

c d
figure 5.2.
Classic period incense burners: (a) unprovenanced censer from (or near) Flores Magón, Chiapas (photograph
by Charles Golden); (b) scattering before a censer on El Cayo Altar 4 containing a ball of copal or human heart
surrounded by faggots (drawing by Peter Mathews); (c) k’in-marked censer from an unprovenanced vase (drawing
by Andrew K. Scherer, after K1813); and (d) censer stand from Palenque (photograph by Andrew K. Scherer).

112 s c h e re r a n d hou ston

“heart” (Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006:185).
Some of the copal balls recovered from the cenote
at Chichen Itza display leaf impressions, and at
least one may have been wrapped in a maize husk
(Coggins and Ladd 1992:346), perhaps likening the
object to a tamale. Other, more nefarious creatures,
such as the underworld way, appear to have craved
less savory body parts and are often shown sup-
porting dishes with eyeballs and severed human
limbs (Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006:fig. 3.18).
Burnt offerings were made in a range of
ceramic vessels, including bowls, dishes, and bra-
ziers (Figure 5.2) (Rice 1999; Taube 1998). In Clas-
sic period imagery, such devices are occasionally
filled with bundled and tied sticks to fuel the burn-
ing (Figure 5.2b). Many have a spiky surface (Figure
5.2a and 5.2b); most scholars accept that these pro-
trusions allude to the ceiba or kapok, known in
Classic Mayan as yaxte’, the great world tree and
axis mundi (Kidder 1950:48–49; Taube 1998:446).
Each brazier, thus, embodied the center of exis-
tence. In recent decades, some Maya communities
in Chiapas have used spiked ceramic vessels not to
burn incense but to hold flowers, suggesting that
braziers also served notionally as containers for fra-
grant offerings (Deal 1982).
Some Classic period depictions show offering
vessels with the faces of skeletal serpents or birds;
others are marked by the k’in solar sign (Figure
5.2b and 5.2c). These devices overlap with a range
of anthropomorphic and zoomorphic objects that
have been recovered archaeologically, includ-
ing censer stands in the Western Lowlands (most
famously at Palenque) (Figure 5.2d), cache ves-
sels (especially numerous at Caracol), and high-
land funerary urns (best known from sites in the
Western Guatemalan Highlands) (Chase and
Chase 1998; Cuevas García 2004, 2007; Iglesias
Ponce de León 2005). Perhaps the beings depicted
on such devices were the recipients of the offerings
they contained—this brings to mind the feeding of
contemporary Lacandon god pots (see Palka, this
volume). Or, as Karl Taube suggests, “incense burn-
ers are the kitchen hearths of the gods and ances-
tors” (Taube 1998:446). This proposal accords with
a Late Classic vessel displaying what appears to
be the emergence of the first humans from a cave
(Coe 1978:pl. 16; Houston and Inomata 2009:257,
fig. 9.5). On it, a creator couple, the male Itzam and
his consort Ixchel, offer, respectively, the gifts of
writing, signaled by an inkpot, and of the hearth,
shown here as an incense burner. Ixchel wears the
incense burner as one might a baby, although, to
judge from her advanced age, she is long past child-
birth.4 The gendering is notable, as it situates bra-
ziers within female practices. The glyph for such
burners served as a probable sign for “burning,” el,
a reading by Houston from syllabic complemen-
tation at Palenque. Stone versions at Copan went
by the name of saklaktuun, “white/pure/artificial
ceramic-stone” (Stuart 1996:152), lak being a term
for ritual objects made of fired clay and sak perhaps
indicating that such incensers were “artificial,”
recalling ceramic originals. Some incense burn-
ers, modeled or carved into the head of Chahk, the
rain god, may have been used to petition the deity
for rain. The billowing smoke formed his stormy
brow and the thick clouds needed for precipitation
(Schaafsma and Taube 2006:263; Wisdom 1940). In
similar fashion, the smoke wafting from elaborate
Teotihuacan-style composite censers was likely
meant to suggest the ascendancy of souls, perhaps
in echo of the actual burning of mortuary bun-
dles in Central Mexico (Berlo 1982:99; Nielsen and
Helmke, this volume; Taube 2000:309).
Evidence from the Classic period underscores
the complexity of Maya thought on matters of
smoke and flame (Figure 5.3). Depictions of fire are
among the most ubiquitous yet ambiguous images
in Classic Maya art. The most common hieroglyph
for fire is read K’AHK’, a sign capped by two asym-
metrical curls, one short and looping in on itself,
the other long and extending laterally (Figure 5.3a)
(Kelley 1968; Stone and Zender 2011:64). The curls
function as the basic icon for fire in Maya art. In
some contexts, the identity of this sign is clear,
as when it swells from the end of a burning torch
(Figure 5.3b). The curls could be mere tongues of
flame and wisps of smoke, but Maya iconography
is rarely so straightforward. Indeed, the sign could
illustrate a wide range of emanations. It corre-
sponds to the noxious vapors of putrefaction that
Blood, Fire, Death 1 13
 a

d
d

c e
figure 5.3.
Fire and parallel imagery in Classic Maya art: (a) K’AHK’ logogram from Yaxchilan Lintel 24:D1; (b) fire on the
end of a burning torch (K4336); (c) putrefying stink of a death god (K2802); (d) sweet scent of a flower (K6943);
and (e) pungent musk of a peccary (K1001). Drawings by Andrew K. Scherer; photographs © Justin Kerr.

spew from the abdomens of death gods, the fra-
grances that waft from the ends of open flowers,
and the musky stink of peccaries (Figure 5.3c–e)
(Houston and Newman 2015).
In a kind of family resemblance, the double
curl may have operated in different contexts to
highlight the intense smell of pungent smoke,
the fragrant aroma of flowers, or the awful stink
of rot (Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006:141–152).
Smoke and scents rise through the air. Both have a
fleeting pervasiveness. As odors, they are volatile.
Impossible to grasp or contain, they prove difficult
to remove once they have settled on skin, hair, and
fabric. In some depictions, flames have a curious

11 4 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
 figure 5.4.
K’awiil with vegetal smoke-flames. Photograph © Justin Kerr (K2970).

A B

a b

figure 5.5.
The different types of Classic period fire: (a) pulyi, “gets burned,” fire used to torture on an unprovenanced vessel
(photograph © Justin Kerr [K1299]); and (b) til (ti-li-IL?), benign fire, often belonging to gods and perhaps tended at
temples (B6–B7, Itzan Stela 17) (unpublished photograph by Ian Graham, Gift of Ian Graham, Corpus of Maya Hiero-
glyphic Inscriptions, Peabody ID #2004.15.1.617.4, Digital file #99310198, © President and Fellows of Harvard College).

polysemy, as in the forehead torch elements of
K’awiil, an animate and supernatural form of
lightning. In many of the depictions of K’awiil,
especially from Yucatan, the flaming forehead
element combines with signs for vegetal growth
(Figure 5.4). The graphic blurring and fusion
may imply an underlying cause and effect. An
emblem of kings, K’awiil was also the axe weapon
of Chahk, the rain god, striking fields while also
depositing water, which ultimately lead to a rich
harvest of consumable plants (Taube 1992:19, 22,
fig. 6; see also K1285 [Chrysler Museum, #86.427]).
An agent of change, thus, merged with the conse-
quence of its divine actions, a force blended with
its results.
But there is an alternative interpretation, one
that complicates the claim for blurring and fusion.
It may be that the Maya conceived of different kinds
of fire (Figure 5.5). In Classic texts, for example, the
mediopassive verb pulyi, “get burned,” involves
hostile, transformational actions against people
and places (Figure 5.5a).5 The sign itself, a human
head issuing fire and smoke, was marked by k’in,
“sun” (or even “hot,” perhaps k’ihn). Graphically,

Blood, Fire, Death 1 15

 it appears to derive from a homophone for “burn,”
pul, “forehead,” a word attested in Chontal Maya,
one of several languages linked closely to that of
the inscriptions. This is the sort of fire that tortured
bodies (Grube 2000). Another verb, til, describes
a more benign act of burning, especially fires
belonging to particular gods (Figure 5.5b) (Grube
2000).6 The effects of that fire seem to have mat-
tered less than its very existence as a source of
heat, illumination, and mystical energy. These
sacred flames resemble the temple fires, tended
by youths, as described in colonial sources for the
Aztecs (Sahagún 1950–1982:bk. 2:59, bk. 6:214). The
sign could also be shown as a homophone, tihl,
for “tapir,” a substitution noted independently by
Nikolai Grube and Houston. When k’ahk is men-
tioned in glyphic texts, it is almost always referred
not to the destructive burning of enemies but to a
sacred, nourishing fire, one possessed by gods and
employed in the dedication of buildings. Today, the
Tzeltal still use k’ahk’ to refer to the hottest of fires,
including the feverish heat of the ill (see Pitarch, figure 5.6.
this volume). Aztec sacrificer from the Codex Tudela; compare
with Figure 13.2. Drawing by Andrew K. Scherer.

His account of the Maya ritualists mirrors de-

Rites of Smoke, Blood, and Fire
In his account of the Córdoba expedition along the
coast of Campeche, Bernal Díaz del Castillo offers a
vivid description of his first glimpse of Maya prac-
tices pertaining to blood, smoke, and flame:
At that moment, there sallied from another
house, which was an oratory of their Idols, ten
Indians clad in long white cotton cloaks, reach-
ing to their feet, and with their long hair reek-
ing with blood, and so matted together that it
could never be parted or even combed out again,
unless it were cut. These were the priests of the
Idols, who in New Spain are commonly called
papas and such I shall call them hereafter. These
priests brought us incense of a sort of resin which
they call copal, and with pottery braziers full of
live coals, they began to fumigate us (Diaz del
Castillo [1632] 1908–1916:20).
pictions and descriptions of Aztec priests as wear-
ing cloaks and having long hair that was matted
with dried blood and soot (Aguilar-Moreno
2006:91). For example, Diego Durán’s Book of the
Gods and Rites describes the ritual specialists who
conducted human sacrifice as “smeared with black”
and with “hair crisply curled and encircled with
leather bands which went around the forehead”
(Durán [1574–1576] 1971:91). Accompanying images
show the sacrificers with knotted hair, bound
behind their backs in ponytails, which, as we shall
see, was a feature of relevance to the Classic Maya
(Figure 5.6). Later, the text goes into greater detail
regarding the distinctive fashion of Aztec priests:
From the day they entered this second school [of
the priesthood], the young men allowed their hair
to grow, like the long-haired Nazarenes. Second,
they smeared themselves from head to foot with

1 16 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
 a black soot, hair and all. With the large amount
of moist soot that covered them, presently vegeta-
ble growth appeared on their heads. Their braids
grew to such an extent that they looked like a
tightly curled horse’s mane, and after a long time
their hair reached their knee. The weight they
bore on their head was so great that it was a hard-
ship to carry it (Durán [1574–1576] 1971:114).
The text goes on to indicate that the soot was pri-
marily derived from pine and other resinous wood.
At other times, when conducting rites of offering
and sacrifice, the priests smeared themselves with
a burnt paste called teotlacualli, “food of the gods,”
made from tobacco mixed with various venomous
insects and reptiles (Durán [1574–1576] 1971:115–118;
see Dehouve, this volume, for the ritual consump-
tion of tobacco among the contemporary Tlapanec).
Perhaps these unguents were absorbed by the skin
in much the same way as a nicotine patch.
The meaning of such garb is complex. It pre-
sented a sharp contrast to the preferred indigenous
Mesoamerican aesthetic of clean, fresh, and orderly
bodies. To endure such a burdensome costume may
have expressed the piety of the ritual specialists
and highlighted their special relationship with the
supernatural: they were the men who ensured that
offerings were made and divine desires fulfilled. In
that sense, the ritualists became the embodiments
of sacrificial offerings, covering themselves with
burnt remains and a substance literally identified
as the food of supernaturals. Although made from
dangerous animals, this substance was a paradox
in that “this pitch also served medicinal purposes”
(Durán [1574–1576] 1971:117). Despite the grisly
deeds performed by these men, they apparently
sprouted (or perhaps adorned themselves with)
vegetal growth entwined with the matted mess
of dreadlocks. In this way, new life mingled with
tokens of sacrificial death.
Scholars have largely overlooked the paral-
lel imagery among Maya ritualists of the Classic
period. Monumental art suggests that, among their
most important duties, Maya kings, queens, and
fellow courtiers burned offerings of copal, blood,
and other materials (Joralemon 1974; Schele 1984;
Schele and Miller 1986; Stuart 1988; Taube 1988).
On many such monuments, the lords were identi-
fied as ch’ajoom, a relatively common title in Maya
inscriptions yet one that receives slight attention
in studies of Classic period ritual (Figure 5.7).7 The
ch’ajoom title often pairs or alternates with the title
of ajaw, “lord.” Yaxchilan Lintel 3 depicts the king
Bird Jaguar IV dancing with one of his sajal, a sub-
ordinate but still-elite rank in the Classic period
(Graham 1977:17). The king is named in a glyphic
couplet as a “3 winik?-ha’b ajaw, 3 winik?-ha’b
ch’ajoom” (Figure 5.7a; in scholarship, the glyph
for winik-ha’b, or possibly winal-ha’ab, is often
transcribed incorrectly as k’atun [Stuart 2011:176]).
His father, Shield Jaguar III, is also named on
Hieroglyphic Stairway 3, Step 1, as a “5 winik?-ha’b
ajaw, 5 winik?-ha’b ch’ajoom” (Graham 1982:glyphs
F1-G2). Such pairings, which bracket a lord’s life
within units of twenty years, led David Stuart
(2007c) to suggest that ch’ajoom was “a common
ruler’s title almost as generic in meaning as ajaw,
‘lord.’” Careful contextual analysis of the term indi-
cates that this insight might be extended and that
ch’ajoom relates more specifically to rites and imag-
ery of burning and sacrifice.
Ch’ajoom was not just the title of sovereigns,
however, for it also occurs with queens and sub-
ordinates (Figure 5.8) (Houston and Scherer
2010:170). The title derives from ch’aaj, the word
for “incense” noted earlier, coupled with a particle
–oom, and yielding “person of incense.” The par-
ticle indicates a person who is creating or control-
ling something: k’ayoom corresponds to a “person
who makes song” and kayoom, to a “person who
takes fish” (i.e., a “fisherman,” a title first detected
by David Stuart). The ch’ajoom title dates primar-
ily to the Late Classic period and is found through-
out the Southern Lowlands. In the Yaxchilan texts
cited above, the reading of the title is quite secure,
as the scribes employed three syllabic signs, ch’a-jo-
ma, to write the word (Figure 5.7a). In other exam-
ples, ch’ajoom was rendered with a full-bodied
glyph that identifies elements of the costume
worn by lords and ladies engaged in such rituals.8
Blood, Fire, Death 117
 17

a b

c d

figure 5.7.
Ch’ajoom in Classic period inscriptions: (a) full-figure sign from Yaxchilan Throne 1 (compare with Figure 5.1a;
preliminary sketch by Ian Graham, courtesy of the Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic Inscription Program); (b) full-
figure sign, Quirigua Zoomorph B:17 (drawing by Matthew Looper); (c) syllabogram from Yaxchilan Lintel 3:J2
(drawing by Ian Graham, detail, Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions, Peabody ID #2004.15.6.5.3, Digital
file #99310199, © President and Fellows of Harvard College); and (d) head variant sign from Quirigua Stela F:D12
(drawing by Matthew Looper).

A spelling on Yaxchilan Throne 1 names an older
Bird Jaguar IV as a “4 winik?-ha’b ajaw, 4 winik?-
ha’b ch’ajoom” (Figure 5.7a). The individual in the
full-figure glyph holds the syllable ch’a in one hand
and the K’IN (sun) sign in the other. The full-figure
sign appears at other sites as on the bench from the
Sepulturas Group at Copan (Figure 5.1a), where, as
noted long ago by William Fash (personal commu-
nication 1981), the figure holds the syllabic expres-
sion po-mo (pom, incense) above a spiked brazier,
underscoring the connection between ch’ajoom
and the offering of incense (Riese 1989:88). The full-
figure sign also appears on Quirigua Zoomorph B,
where it identifies the king K’ahk’ Tiliw Chan
Yopaat as a “ch’ajoom west-Copan ajaw” (Figure
5.7b). The ch’ajoom figure clutches a bowl or basket
filled with what may be stylized representations of
obsidian blades, a key implement for blood-letting.
In other texts from Quirigua, both the syllabic form
and the head variant of the ch’ajoom sign substitute
for royal names, sometimes with and other times
without, the winik?-ha’b designation.
A number of elements appear consistently in
figural versions of the ch’ajoom sign. The being
has long hair that is bound and pulled above and
behind his back, a coiffure reminiscent of Aztec

118 s c h e re r a n d hou ston

priests. The figure displays a pair of tendrils or curls
below a headband, which, at times, covers his eyes.
It is unclear what these curls represent. They may be
wisps of smoke or other vaporous substance, allud-
ing to the ambiguity and interplay of such imagery
as noted earlier. But they also offer a striking paral-
lel to the Aztec priests: recall that such specialists
were smeared with “moist soot” and that “vegetable
growth appeared on their heads” (Durán [1574–
1576] 1971:114). The covering of the ch’ajoom’s eyes
seems to be an important feature of the full-figured
glyph, suggesting a loss or abridgement of vision.
Although some aspects of the figure are carried
over in depictions of Maya lords and ladies in their
ritual garb, the covering of the eyes is not a feature
of actual lords and ladies dressed as ch’ajoom, a
point made clear in the discussion that follows.
The ch’ajoom figure is frequently depicted with
a cloak of leaves. Among the Maya, there is a long
and complex history of such use in offertory rites.
Leaves mark the sacrificers and offerings on the
west wall of the Preclassic murals at San Bartolo
(Taube et al. 2010:fig. 7). During the Classic period,
decapitated heads are shown framed by or rest-
ing on leaves, as on the Tonina stucco frieze or the
Bonampak murals (Houston, Stuart, and Taube
2006:fig. 2.13a; Miller and Brittenham 2013:fig. 194).
In the K’iche’ Popol Vuh, the heart of Hunahpu is
extracted by his brother Xbalanque, who places it
on a leaf (Christenson 2004:145). Today, copal is
widely sold in Maya markets wrapped in maize
husks. The Yukateko Maya cover their ritual
tables and decorate their offering devices in green-
ery, apparently preferring the long and tapered
leaves of the xi’imche’ tree (Casearia sp.) (Love
2012:40). In their k’eex (payment, exchange) rites,
the Yukatekos make offerings of maize breads and
other leaf-wrapped foodstuffs and even shape them
into animal effigies, including the armadillo, a cus-
tomary courier of offerings to the spirit world (Love
2012:71). Among other functions, the leaves draw
attention to the alimentary nature of the offer-
ing, establishing a conceptual link to tamales and
other leaf-wrapped breads. The leaf cloaks of the
ch’ajoom are plausibly from any number of trees or
plants with long, tapered leaves—including tobacco
(Nicotiana sp.; note Aztec usage [above]), allspice
(Pimenta dioica), or copal (Protium copal and
other members of Burseraceae)—and were perhaps
burned as offerings. When used in clothing, the leaf
cloaks along with their unruly hair may also have
identified ch’ajoom as wild denizens of the forest, in
contrast to the otherwise clean and ordered appear-
ance of Maya lords and ladies.
At Palenque, a sculpted panel from Temple XXI
shows Pakal holding a bloodletter, flanked by two
grandsons in a scene with sacrificial overtones
(Figure 5.9). Both grandsons wear leaf cloaks, and
each of the grandsons has bound, if wayward, hair.
That of the grandson to viewer’s right is tied in a
ponytail much like the full-bodied ch’ajoom (Figure
5.7a). All three figures wear headbands that sprout
vegetation, perhaps an allusion to the ch’ajoom ten-
drils or water lilies, or both. Moreover, scholars have
long recognized that knotted cloth or paper is a motif
associated with sacrifice (Joralemon 1974:66; Schele
and Miller 1986:176). Although the forehead curl may
be a feature of lords garbed as censers and sacrificers,
the only other depiction of this element at Palenque
is of Kan Bahlam as he dances on the Temple XIV
panel (Robertson 1991:fig. 176). Similarly, the motif is
exceedingly rare in the sculptural art of Yaxchilan,
appearing on only two monuments, Lintels 6 and 43
(Graham 1977:23, 1979:95). Here, the tendrils ema-
nate not only from foreheads but also from bodies.
The content of both monuments is similar, as each
depicts Bird Jaguar IV in a staff dance, partnered
with either a sajal (Lintel 6) or a consort (Lintel 43).
The imagery of the ch’ajoom blurs with the cos-
tuming of Maya lords and ladies in rituals of fire
and sacrifice. Naranjo Stelae 11, 30, and 33 depict
kings holding long staves, devices suggested by
David Stuart to have been used in fire-making rit-
uals (Figure 5.10) (Houston and Stuart 1996:299;
Kubler 1977:15–16; Stuart 1998:404). The kings on
Naranjo Stelae 11 and 33 have forehead tendrils. The
costume of the king on Stela 30 lacks the tendril,
and instead features three hearthstones and a flam-
ing torch at the top of his headdress. These lords
are not making ordinary fire but maintaining the
sacred hearth that symbolized origin accounts and
the centrality of their kingdom.
Blood, Fire, Death 1 19
 figure 5.8.
Lady K’abal “Xook” named as a ch’ajoom on Yaxchilan Lintel 25:H1–I1. Drawing by Ian
Graham, Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions, Peabody ID #2004.15.6.5.22, Digital
file #99200003, © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

12 0 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
 figure 5.9.
Temple XXI
monument
showing Pakal and
grandsons dressed
in part as ch’ajoom.
Photograph by
Andrew K. Scherer.

a b c

figure 5.10.
Fire-making at Naranjo, Guatemala: (a) Stela 11 (Peabody ID #2004.15.6.2.19, Digital file #99310200); (b) Stela 30
(Peabody ID #2004.15.6.3.10, Digital file #99200011); and (c) Stela 33 (Peabody ID #2004.15.6.3.15, Digital file #993100201).
Drawings by Ian Graham, Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions, © President and Fellows of Harvard College.

Blood, Fire, Death 121

 a b

figure 5.11.
Ch’ajoom imagery at Tikal: (a) Lintel 2, Temple 3; and (b) Altar 5. Drawings by William R. Coe, courtesy of the
University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology.

Jaguar imagery appears prominently in these
costumes. The lord on Naranjo Stela 30 is named
as a representation of the Jaguar God of the Under-
world, a being who, in all likelihood, operated as
the nighttime manifestation of the sun (Houston
and Stuart 1996:299). The Jaguar God of the Under-
world is easily identified by a combination of ele-
ments, including curlicue pupils, a twisted chord
(dubbed the “cruller” by scholars) that runs be-
tween and underneath his eyes, and a projecting
front tooth that marks him as a supernatural being
(see images and discussion in Coe 1975:97; Miller
and Taube 1993:104; Schele and Miller 1986:50–51;
Taube 1992:54). His body is humanoid, but his limbs
end in spotted paws in place of his hands and feet.
In almost all instances, he has long hair pulled up
into a top knot, a style common to both the sun god
and his various manifestations, some depictions of
Chahk, the underworld God L, and humans garbed
as ch’ajoom. The significance of this hair style is
ambiguous, but there is a sense of primal wildness
that contrasts with the carefully coifed and con-
cealed hair of most humans.
Imagery similar to that of the Naranjo stelae
appears on Lintel 2 from Tikal Temple 3 (Figure
5.11a). The ruler wears an elaborate jaguar costume,
while his companions are dressed as ch’ajoom. All
three men carry staves and wield eccentrics that,
according to a suggestion made in the 1980s by
David Stuart, may be a rendering of a feline paw,
similar to the one shown on Naranjo Stela 30.
Although the significance of this scene is less than
transparent, the general impression is that the Tikal
lintel pertains to a nighttime ritual of fire-making
and sacrifice. The depiction of these three men is
quite similar to those on Tikal Altar 5, down to the
forehead tendrils, knotted cloth, knotted bundles,
staves, and jaguar-paw flints (Figure 5.11b). The text
of Altar 5 suggests that the lords are exhuming the
bones of a queen, although the details of the scene
remain murky.
Ch’ajoom also participated in acts of human
sacrifice, particularly the sacrifice of infants and
children (Figure 5.12 and 5.13), a theme that abounds
on Classic period vases (see Figure 5.17). An unprov-
enanced pot, possibly with over-restoration, shows

12 2 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
fig. 5.12
figure 5.12.
Ch’ajoom as sacrificers of children, from an
unprovenanced vase. Photograph © Justin Kerr (K928).

figure 5.13.
Ch’ajoom as sacrificers of children, from an
unprovenanced monument at the Museo del Hotel
Santo Domingo in Antigua, Guatemala. Photograph
by Susana Campins, Museo VICAL, Casa Santo
Domingo, La Antigua Guatemala.

fig. 5.13

Blood, Fire, Death 1 23

 human sacrifice involving a king, two ritual atten-
dants, and a crone (Figure 5.12). The victim is a
child, at least to judge by its diminutive size. One of
the attendants has hair bound into a ponytail, while
the other clutches a decapitated head and is garbed
as a ritual clown. Both the king and his attendants
have tendrils sprouting from their foreheads. A
scene of child sacrifice is depicted with equal clar-
ity on an unusual unprovenanced monument at
the Museo del Hotel Santo Domingo in Antigua,
Guatemala, a small stela drawn to our attention
by David Stuart (Figure 5.13). Although its style is
highly unorthodox, the monument contains ele-
ments that resonate with the themes discussed here.
The three ritualists lack the forehead tendril, but all
have distinctive curled topknots bound by knot-
ted cloth. At least one figure (the topmost) wears a
leafy cloak, and the being at lower left clutches an
eccentric similar to the feline flints shown on the
Tikal and Naranjo monuments. The stela, admit-
tedly aberrant, may present a subdivision of priestly
roles in such sacrifice, with even finer, more subtle
categorization of their tasks and accoutrements. Its
atextual nature bears comment, as does its size—
was it placed at one time in an unusual setting, in
allusion to mythic personages? Another atextual
stela, Tamarindito Stela 3, may depict a local lord
as a primordial ancestor (Robinson, Rands, and
Graham 1972:pl. 95; see also Houston 1993:fig. 4–5c).
Fire, Death, Exchange
From this brief overview of the ch’ajoom sign and
related imagery, it is evident that the Late Classic
Maya envisioned a common thread between cen-
sing, blood-letting, fire-making, human (especially
child) sacrifice, and solar deities such as the Jaguar
God of the Underworld.9 These rites—and other
sacrificial acts yet to be described—are connected
to Maya understandings of the movement of the
sun, space and time, and the negotiation of epi-
sodes of crisis and change. The themes are evident
in many of the other chapters of this volume. For
example, in discussing Tzeltal cosmology, Pedro
Pitarch (this volume) highlights what he calls the
12 4 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
“ordinary world,” all of that under the domain of
the sun, where time and space operate as we know
it. In contrast, the Tzeltal “other side” is the realm
of the supernatural where the conventional laws of
time and space do not exist. For the Classic period
Maya, this “other side” was a primordial place of
darkness and the “ordinary world” was made possi-
ble by the birth of the gods, the sacrifices they made,
and the celestial processes they set in motion. As
David Stuart has proposed, such matters are espe-
cially prominent on the eighth-century monuments
of Palenque (Stuart 2005:158–185, 2007a; Stuart and
Stuart 2008:211–215). The birth, death, and rebirth
of the sun are perceivable in the transition from day
to night and back again, serving as the fundamen-
tal model for reckoning the passage of time and the
course of human events, including cycles of dynas-
tic succession. These themes echo Alfredo López
Austin’s observations regarding Central Mexican
conceptions of time and space, which he suggests
were divided into “ecumene time” (that of this
world) and “anecumene time” (not of this world)
(López Austin 2015:30). These concepts recall
Mircea Eliade’s (1959, 1963) proposition that phi-
losophies of the sacred, including origin myths and
conceptions of primordial time, serve as a models
for ordering and understanding experienced real-
ity. According to López Austin, the ecumene is time
as the “transpiring present” and is “strictly deter-
mined by the laws of the Sun and lasts only for the
interval established for its passage. Neither the past
nor the future exists here” (López Austin 2015:47).
The ecumene is the space-time of humans, animals,
plants, minerals, and so forth. In contrast, the ane-
cumene is the space-time of supernatural beings, a
framework from which ecumene was created, yet it
has no beginning or end (López Austin 2015:30).
“Time bending” is common in Classic period
texts where contemporary events are likened to
historic ones or to mythic episodes at the dawn of
creation (Houston 2011). The Maya did not merely
perceive such compared events as paralleling
one another, but rather understood them as co-
occurring. Victoria Bricker (1981:181) suggests this
belief in temporal concurrence is basic to “the Maya
theory of knowledge, their metahistorical model
 figure 5.14.
Early Classic period Maya stela, AD 300–500. Photograph courtesy of the Princeton University Art Museum/
Art Resource, New York; drawing by Franco Rossi, courtesy of the Princeton University Art Museum.

for interpreting current events,” whereby myth
provides a framework for understanding the pres-
ent and guiding future action. The Hauberg stela
offers an excellent example of time bending. The
monument depicts an aquatic manifestation of the
sun, generally referred to as “G1 of the Palenque
Triad” in the literature (Figure 5.14) (Houston
2011). He holds the body of a celestial serpent, and
his mouth or upper body emits a stream of blood,
identifiable by its crenulated edges (for discussion
of this motif, see Taube and Houston 2015:215). The
blood is filled with sacrificial victims, fire—perhaps
fused symbolically with entrails—erupting from
their opened abdomens. The monument itself is

Blood, Fire, Death 1 25

 figure 5.15.
Baby Jaguar, from an unprovenanced vase in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Photograph © Justin Kerr (K2208).
carved in an early, almost Preclassic style, yet it
seems, on paleographical evidence, to date to some
centuries later. As Stuart (2008) notes, the associ-
ated text references a yax ch’ahb, “first penance,”
almost certainly a first blood-letting, as men-
tioned on monuments from sites throughout the
Southern Lowlands; a similar rite is likely depicted
on the Late Classic period Panel 19 from Dos Pilas,
Guatemala (Houston 1993:fig. 4–19). Monuments
like the Hauberg stela draw a connection between
acts of royal blood-letting and those of a distant,
mythic past.
Late Classic period texts and images emphasize
a diversity of fire rituals that link burning, scatter-
ing incense, blood-letting, and human sacrificing
to the cycles of the sun. The association with time
is explicit: the majority of hieroglyphically identi-
fiable fire rites are connected to period endings in
a text that Nikolai Grube (2000) identifies as the
fire sequence, a passage of glyphs that were carved
as part of the Initial Series (the calendrical infor-
mation that begins most sculptural texts) on some
Late Classic period monuments. The expression,
mentioned above in relation to til, “burn,” follows
a basic formula: “it burns, the fire of [supernatural
being].” The supernatural referenced in this glyphic
passage is best understood as the owner or overseer
of these fire events. The owners of this sacred fire
1 26 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
may include a shiny manifestation of the maize god,
the Jaguar God of the Underworld, the Old Man
(God N), Chahk, and the sun god. Occasionally,
the actual fire rites are depicted, as on an unprov-
enanced monument from the Yaxchilan kingdoms
that shows the king and one of his sajal drill-
ing fire (Stuart and Houston 1994:fig. 89; see also
Grube 2000:fig. 5). Monument 149 at Tonina also
refers to a nobleman, from a site near the city, as the
“driller of fire,” joch’oom k’ahk’, possibly reflecting
his ritual role at court (Graham et al. 2006:82). The
text describes the event as taking place at Matawil,
a location that appears frequently in the texts of
Palenque as the abode of ancestors and gods (Stuart
and Houston 1994:77).
Although the shiny manifestation of the maize
god is the most frequent overseer of fire rites, it
is the Jaguar God of the Underworld that is espe-
cially linked to rituals of fire in Maya imagery
(Coe 1975:97; Schele and Miller 1986:50). Stuart
(1998:408) suggests that the Jaguar God of the
Underworld may have been the patron of Maya
fire-making. The Jaguar God of the Underworld is
a multifarious being with many guises that remain
ill-defined. An important, complex, and, for the
most part, not understood manifestation of the
Jaguar God of the Underworld is his infant avatar,
the Baby Jaguar (Unen Bahlam, Figure 5.15) (Doyle
 a b
c
figure 5.16.
Unprovenanced vases depicting the presentation of
child sacrifices: (a) K1200; (b) K4384; (c) K5855; and
(d) K8655. Photographs © Justin Kerr.
2016; Martin 2002). This supernatural appears on a
relatively large corpus of codex-style vessels from
the Calakmul area that overlap themes of birth
and sacrifice. He is usually depicted as a flailing
infant on his back, a position generally understood
to signify birth. Pakal of Palenque is in this posi-
tion on the sarcophagus lid, rising from the under-
world (Robertson 1983:fig. 99). Yet the Baby Jaguar
seems, if anything, to be falling, not rising, per-
haps as a metaphor for sunset. Inscriptions from
the Late Classic period suggest that stories of the
Baby Jaguar may have served as a mythic charter
d
for their own sacrificial rites. For example, the text
on Naranjo Stela 35 likens the execution of a pris-
oner from Yaxha to the sacrifice of the Baby Jaguar
by four youths (Martin and Grube 2008:82; Schele
and Mathews 1998:148).
Jaguar god imagery is also evident on a num-
ber of Late Classic period vessels that seem to depict
infant sacrifice (Figure 5.16). Many of these vases
originate from the same region (and perhaps even
the same workshops) as the Baby Jaguar vases—
several are heavily repainted, but the consistent
repetition of the imagery affirms that the basic
Blood, Fire, Death 1 27

figure 5.17.
Unprovenanced vases showing child sacrifice witnessed or conducted by ch’ajoom: (a) K1645; and (b) K3395.
Photographs © Justin Kerr.
elements are original and valid. Here, the empha-
sis is less on a mythic episode enacted by super-
natural beings than on more human figures. In
at least three of these depictions, the infant is lik-
ened to the Baby Jaguar, rendered with either a tail
(Figure 5.16a and 5.16d) or a cord around its eyes
(Figure 5.16c). The infant on one vase lies on a sac-
rificial bed of leaves (Figure 5.16a). The majority of
these vases do not show the act of child sacrifice.
Instead, the emphasis lies on the presentation of a
child to be sacrificed and on the act of exchange or
gifting—there is a hint of tribute or the fulfillment
of an obligation. On all of these vases, the infant is
presented by someone garbed in a costume with the
attributes of the death god, similar to the raiment of
12 8 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
a
the knife-wielding lord on Tikal Altar 5 (cf. Figure
5.11b and Figure 5.12b). On the vases, this costume
includes a long cloak or skirt. The cloak and the
blackened substance on the faces of the ritualists on
the Classic period vases resonate with descriptions
of Aztec sacrificial priests. The identity of the recip-
ient of these child offerings is ambiguous. He is a
lord seated on a jaguar-skinned throne and, on one
pot, if the painting can be trusted, a smoking torch
appears in front of the seat (Figure 5.16a). It may be
that these are renderings of dead, entombed lords,
but this is by no means certain (Scherer 2015a:145).
Although child sacrifice is only implied on
this series of vessels, it is made explicit in other
images. In one scene, a human infant is presented
to two gods bundled in jaguar skins, cloth, and
matting (Figure 5.17a). The infant lies on a tri-
pod, a fire burning beneath. Not only is one of the
figures seated to the left of the child dressed as a
ch’ajoom but this figure and his companion, who
stares morosely at the viewer, are named as such
in the text above: ch’ajoom taak, “the incensers,”
a plural form. The glyph above the child’s head
reads yo-OOK-ki?, y-ook, “its/his/their foot/feet,”
likely referring to something on “its feet” (i.e., to
the support itself). If the deities are infants—the
main text does refer to birth—such sacrifice may
have been part of their swaddling or other rites of
infancy. Or, perhaps, they were god effigies of the
sort probably kept in Maya temples. A drum and
turtle shell hint that music is about to be performed
or that it was just played in the immediate past. The
striking contortions, frontal display of one face,
and the suggestion of lamentation have yet to be
explained. Similar imagery appears on an unprov-
enanced bowl on display at the Museo Popol Vuh
in Guatemala. It shows a human-animal hybrid in
the guise of a ch’ajoom holding a vase containing an
infant with a cut abdomen (Figure 5.17b). A comple-
mentary ch’ajoom clutches a small jaguar spirit on a
stick (labte’) on the opposite side of the vessel.
Yaxha Stela 13 shows a similar scene of sacrifice
(Figure 5.18a and 5.18b). An infant lies atop a small
wooden tripod, similar to that used in the super-
natural tableau on the unprovenanced vase (Figure
5.17a). Three stones, an allusion to the hearth, are
piled on the child’s abdomen and surrounded by
smoke and flame. The child on the Yaxha stela has
an unusual object, marked by three dots, wrapped
around its lower face. The child’s head is remarkably
similar to an undeciphered glyph noted by David
Stuart (2002) in texts at Tonina (Figure 5.18c–e). The
glyph pertains to an unknown rite that was per-
formed by the Tonina king in nine-year solar cycles.
The glyph is invariably affixed with the TE’, “tree,”
sign. Of the three uses of the glyph noted by Stuart,
the first describes the “second raising of the ?-tree
of [Tonina king’s name].” In the other two expres-
sions, the glyph simply refers to an unknown object
as “the new or first ?-tree of [Tonina king’s name]”
or “the second ?-tree of [Tonina king’s name].” On
the Yaxha carving, the bowl upon which the child
is burned is clearly identified by a TE’ sign. This not
only indicates that the receptacle was wooden but,
when combined with the child’s head, may signal,
as one possibility, the same undeciphered glyphic
expression as on the Tonina monuments. Perhaps
the event at Tonina specifies a comparable event:
the sacrifice and burning of a child—a male one,
to judge from the xib head marking masculinity—
that took place at the end of a calendric cycle. The
scene resonates with events reported in sixteenth-
century Spanish accounts from the Yucatan. These
describe the capture of Spaniards as part of the
Maya resistance to the conquest: “Some were cruci-
fied under the burning rays of the sun and set up as
the targets for arrows. Others were roasted to death
or killed by slow torture. Two Spanish children were
roasted over copal, the Maya incense, under the
direction of the native priests. Still others, sacrificed
by the priests before their idols, had their chests cut
open and their hearts torn out in the ceremonial
Mexican fashion” (Chamberlain 1948:241; emphasis
added here). As Karl Taube and colleagues (2010:16)
note, the tripod sacrifice on the Yaxha stela is simi-
lar to the scene of sacrifice and scaffold accession
painted on the west wall of the Late Preclassic
period Las Pinturas structure at San Bartolo. The
first half of the mural shows spotted lords letting
blood before a series of trees, the first three of which
also include a tripod, each with a different burning
sacrificial offering: a fish, deer, and bird (for water,
earth, and sky). Both the San Bartolo murals and
the rites described in the Tonina texts include ref-
erence to trees, but it is unclear if the connection
runs any deeper. The sacrificers on the San Bartolo
murals have many parallels to Classic period illus-
trations of ch’ajoom, including long, bound, and
unruly hair.
Sacrificed children lying within burners are
also depicted on the niche stelae of Piedras Negras
(Figure 5.19). These sculptures were erected follow-
ing the first period ending after the king’s accession
and, as David Stuart (2005:89) points out, it is not
entirely clear which event is shown. The ambigu-
ity is perhaps intentional: rituals of accession and
period ending were likened to one another. As
Blood, Fire, Death 1 29
 b

a e
figure 5.18.
Child sacrifice and bound-face imagery: (a) Yaxha Stela 13 (drawing by Ian Graham, Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic
Inscriptions, Peabody ID #2004.15.16.64, © President and Fellows of Harvard College); (b) close-up of child’s face
from Yaxha Stela 13 (photograph by Stephen D. Houston); (c) Tonina Monument 141:B5 (drawing by Ian Graham,
detail, Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions, Peabody ID #2004.15.6.16.31.1, Digital file #99310202, © President
and Fellows of Harvard College); (d) Tonina Monument 165:Q2 (drawing by Lucia R. Henderson, detail, Corpus of
Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions, Peabody ID #2004.15.6.20.25, Digital file #99310203, © President and Fellows of
Harvard College); and (e) Tonina Monument 164:P1 (drawing by Ian Graham, detail, Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic
Inscriptions, Peabody ID #2004.15.15.2.117, Digital file #99310204, © President and Fellows of Harvard College).

130 s c h e re r a n d hou ston

 a b
figure 5.19.
Child sacrifice at Piedras Negras: (a) Stela 11 (drawing by David Stuart, Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic Inscriptions,
Peabody ID #2004.15.6.19.35, Digital file #99310205, © President and Fellows of Harvard College); and (b) Stela 14
(drawing © 2000 John Montgomery, courtesy of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art).

Blood, Fire, Death 13 1

 figure 5.20.
A shiny manifestation of the maize god enthroned on a scaffold, from an unprovenanced carved bone. Photograph
courtesy of the Dallas Museum of Art, The Otis and Velma Davis Dozier Fund, 1988.129; drawing by Linda Schele
© David Schele, courtesy of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.

others have observed, the allusions to creation and
cosmology are explicit on these monuments (Stuart
2005:73; Taube 1988). The Piedras Negras king sits
atop a scaffold surrounded by a stylized represen-
tation of the sky. He is placed above the body of a
bound mythic being that has attributes of a croco-
dile and a deer, with star signs in his eyes. This crea-
ture seems to be a representation of the underworld
sky and also a being that was sacrificed to enact a
great promordial dawning, as both David Stuart
(2005:73) and Simon Martin suggest (2016). Thus,
the king is shown at the boundary of the celestial
heavens above and the underworld sky below, or at
the juncture of ordered and otherworldly places. The
Principal Bird Deity, an avian associated with mes-
sages and the high deity (God D), alights at the top
of the scene. A similar scene is carved onto a bone
that is now in the Dallas Museum of Art (Figure
5.20). It displays a shiny manifestation of the maize
god seated atop the bound deer-crocodile; the fig-
ure receives his headdress on the date 5 K’an, at the
end of Yaxk’in. This manifestation of the maize god

132 s c h e re r a n d hou ston

 figure 5.21.
Piedras Negras Stela 5. Drawing by David
Stuart, Corpus of Maya Hieroglyphic
Inscriptions, Peabody ID #2004.15.6.19.14,
Digital file # 99310206, © President and
Fellows of Harvard College; photograph
(detail of the ch’ajoom) by Andrew K. Scherer.

Blood, Fire, Death 13 3

 is the same one as that indicated as overseeing fire
rituals in the Initial Series texts, as noted earlier. On
Piedras Negras Stelae 11 and 14, the sacrifice of the
great mythic deer-crocodile is juxtaposed against
human sacrifice, as both depict children lying in
bowls, with their abdomens jabbed with either a
bloodletter or a sacrificial knife (cf. Figure 5.2b). The
rite may have culminated with the burning of the
scaffold itself, perhaps at night. Sacrifice ensured
the onset of a new period in a ritual that combined
elements of creation, dawn, and accession.10
In a relevant find, Pierre Colas (1999) excavated
an assemblage of child’s remains (Burial 56) from a
rock shelter north of the Northwest Group plaza at
Piedras Negras. The deposit included the remains
of a more-or-less complete nine-year-old, a fetus,
and another subadult individual. The nine-year-
old child was placed face down in the deposit. The
age structure of this deposit strongly suggests that
these are the remains of sacrificed children, our
best archaeological corollary at Piedras Negras to
the child sacrifice shown on the stelae.
A possible scene of sacrifice at a cave or under-
world location also occurs on Piedras Negras Stela 5,
a remarkable parallel to—yet, in some respects,
inversion of—the other niche stelae. Rather than
being positioned within a sky band frame, the king
sits inside the mouth of a reptilian witz monster,
presumably a representation of a cave (Figure 5.21).
In place of the solar-celestial Principal Bird Deity
sits a raptor (perhaps a vulture or an owl) with the
swirling pupils of an underworld being and a neck-
lace of eyeballs. The Jaguar God of the Underworld
emerges from the eye of the witz, his hand reach-
ing toward the sajal.11 Tendrils issue from the fore-
head of the Jaguar God of the Underworld (most
easily seen in the photograph) as well as from the
forehead and collar of the sajal and from the cave
itself. The sajal is dressed much like the ch’ajoom
shown on Tikal Altar 5. Other visual clues point
to the theme of sacrifice, including the leafy band
with crossbones and the large knotted bundle that
is identical to those worn by the officiates on the
Tikal lintel and altar (see Figure 5.11). The scrolls
at the base of the monument indicate that this is
a watery place. Here again, we are likely seeing
13 4 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
the performance of myth, perhaps at a cave near
Piedras Negras. There are also parallels between
this monument and the vases that show child sac-
rifice, as at least one of these vases portrays a lord
seated on a throne framed by a reptilian monster
(see Figure 5.16d). Another vase shows the lord
with a breath ornament of long paper strands (see
Figure 5.16b), emanations that are otherwise char-
acteristic of death gods and kindred, sinister deities
(Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006:142). In sum, the
Piedras Negras niche stelae blur themes of creation,
accession, the passage of time, sacrifice and death,
and supernatural appeasement. The evidence from
San Bartolo demonstrates that some of these motifs
date back into the Preclassic period.
Death and the Jaguar Sun at El Zotz
The accession of a new Classic period king was, in
nearly all known cases, precipitated by the death
of an earlier king. Such events were undoubtedly
fraught with uncertainty, instability, and concern.
The new lord prepared for accession as the old
king’s tomb was presumably built and his lords and
ladies were summoned to witness his interment.
Archaeological investigations at the El Diablo
complex of El Zotz reveal the elaborate rites of fire
and sacrifice that surrounded the death and acces-
sion of Maya kings in the fourth century AD. (For
a complete summary and synthesis of the El Diablo
tomb and its setting, see Houston et al. 2015.) At El
Diablo, the Maya likened the passage of kingship to
the great cycles of the sun.
El Diablo is a hilltop ceremonial precinct
dominated by a large pyramid on its eastern edge
and probably surrounded by massive, defensive
terraces (see Houston et al. 2015:figs. 1.5 and 1.6).
The pyramid covers earlier constructions, which
include at least one royal tomb (Burial 9) and its
associated temple (Structure F8-1) as well as a later
pyramid whose construction eventually enveloped
both (see Houston et al. 2015:fig. 2.3). This impor-
tant grave was located in front of the temple and
marked by a shrine above. Both the temple and the
shrine faced west toward the setting sun. The entire
 a b

figure 5.22.
El Zotz Burial 9: (a) location of the primary occupant’s remains; and (b) location of children’s remains in association
with lidded cache vessels. Drawings by Stephen D. Houston.

architectural complex is located to the west of the
center of El Zotz.
The primary occupant of the tomb (Skeleton A)
was a probable male, perhaps the founder of the El
Zotz dynasty (Figure 5.22). The remains are frag-
mentary and incomplete. There is no evidence that
the burial chamber was reopened, and the presence
of vertebrae and small bones of the hand and feet
argue against a secondary interment of a partially
complete body. The body originally lay on a wooden
bier decorated with painted stucco that had disin-
tegrated and collapsed, scattering the remains atop
the objects covering the floor of the tomb. Textile
remnants indicate that the body was wrapped in

Blood, Fire, Death 135

 cloth that was impregnated with some sort of resin.
The wrapping of bodies was common practice in
the Central Peten during the Classic period and,
aside from any symbolic significances, would have
facilitated the containment and even transport of
a putrefying corpse during the preparation of the
tomb and the mortuary rites that followed (Scherer
2015a:165–169; Schneider 2008).
Many of the primary occupant’s bones had red
cinnabar and specular hematite on their surfaces,
indicating that the body was painted prior to burial.
Fifteen cakes of specular hematite were also found
within the tomb. The use of two different red pig-
ments—cinnabar overlaying the hematite—sug-
gests either a functional or symbolic distinction
between the two. Scholars have generally assumed
that both of these pigments carried connotations
of blood, flesh, and life, and that both were used
in mortuary settings to counter the early effects of
decomposition (Fitzsimmons 2009:82). This may,
indeed, be the case for hematite, which has a deep
ruddy color not unlike blood. However, the use of
bright and vibrant cinnabar does not lend itself so
easily to this interpretation. Consider, for exam-
ple, its application at Palenque, where it coated
not only royal bodies but also the inside of the Red
Queen’s sarcophagus and the inside of cache vessels
(González Cruz 2011; Ruz Lhuillier 1973). Linking
cinnabar to significances of flesh and blood does
not make sense in such contexts. Rather, it is more
likely that red cinnabar had solar connotations,
especially with the east and the rising sun. The
painting of royal bodies with red cinnabar may
have been intended to liken the mortuary journey
to the mythological transformations embodied by
the movement of the sun; the solar body descended
into the underworld as the Jaguar God of the
Underworld, and it returned to the celestial world
as the K’inich Ajaw.
The El Zotz tomb also contained the remains
of six children (Skeletons B through F), each placed
within lip-to-lip cache vessels that were origi-
nally located underneath or next to the bier. The
two youngest children, Skeleton E and Skeleton G,
were represented by nearly complete skeletons and
were 1 to 2 years old and 9 months to 15 months old,
136 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
respectively, at their time of death. Skeleton E lay
supine within a vessel, while Skeleton G’s arrange-
ment is unknown due to disturbance by ceiling fall.
Skeleton B was 18 months to 30 months old (1.5 to
2.5 years) at the time of death, and Skeleton D was 2
to 5 years old; both skeletons are only partially com-
plete. Each child seems to have lay supine across
their respective cache vessels, although the precise
position of their bodies is unknown, and partial
dismemberment cannot be ruled out. Skeleton C
and F were both 4 to 5 years old at the time of death
and were represented only by articulated rows of
teeth. Since their dentitions preserved correct ana-
tomical arrangement, we can assume that they were
placed either as complete skulls or as decapitated
heads. The latter is more likely.
Given their age and the completeness of their
bodies, the children may have been conceived as
pairs, although they were not arranged as such
within the tomb. Alternatively, due to the impreci-
sion of osteological aging, it may be that the chil-
dren represent a sequence of ages between birth and
the fifth year of life. The diminishing completeness
of the older children may suggest dismemberment
in order to accommodate parts of the children’s
bodies within the limited space of the cache ves-
sels, such that in the case of the oldest pair, the head
served as a proxy for the body whole. In fact, the lid
of the vessel that held Skeleton E was not placed over
the offering but was tucked underneath the other
vessel, perhaps a functional decision to accommo-
date the body that lay within the vessel assemblage.
Excavations outside of the tomb recovered two
additional lip-to-lip vessel assemblages associated
with an altar and an adosado structure that later
covered the tomb. Each of these assemblages con-
tained the remains of young children (Figure 5.23).
It is likely that additional sacrificial deposits are
located in unexcavated portions of the complex. A
child (2 to 4 years old) was placed in a supine posi-
tion within the assemblage designated Cache 3/
Burial 6. Burial 15 held the remains of an infant (4 to
8 months old) that was placed prone, its legs flexed,
with its feet at its buttocks and its arms located to
either side. In both offerings, the cranial elements
were found in the center of their respective vessels,
 figure 5.23.
Cache vessel
assemblages from
outside of Burial 9:
(a) Cache 3/Burial 6;
and (b) Burial 15.
Photographs of the
El Zotz Archaeological
Project, courtesy of
Stephen D. Houston.

atop the post-cranial remains. In the case of Cache
3/Burial 6, the bones of the cranium were disarticu-
lated, and it is possible that the head detached and
slumped into this position during natural decom-
position. In the case of Burial 15, however, the cra-
nium was still well articulated, and it is likely that
the head was separated from its body and inten-
tionally positioned over the lower back prior to
the final placement of the offering. The location of
the mandible relative to the other cranial elements
indicates that the head rested on its basilar surface,
and it is unlikely that the head of a prone-placed
child could roll into this position. Imagery of child
sacrifices show infants in both prone and supine
position; it is unclear what, if anything, is signified
by these varying body positions (compare Figures
5.12, 5.18, and 8.24).
All eight of the children sacrificed at El Zotz
were exposed to flame (Figure 5.24; see also Scherer
2015b:figs. 4.6–4.37). In contrast, none of the remains
of the primary occupant show thermal alteration.
Of the children’s remains, heavy blackening is

Blood, Fire, Death 13 7

 figure 5.24.
Skeleton from Cache 3/Burial 6 showing thermal alteration. Photograph by Andrew K. Scherer.
relatively minimal, and none of the bones are cal-
cined (whitish-blue with a glassy texture), which
would indicate exposure to flame for a long dura-
tion and at high temperatures (Syms et al. 2008).
Generally, the children’s remains show brown to
grayish-black discoloration with some superficial
cracking. Although much of each child’s skeleton
is affected, the degree of thermal exposure is quite
variable on any particular skeletal element, thus
indicating that some bones received greater expo-
sure to heat and flame than others. Such irregular-
ity is typical of cadaverous bodies that have only
briefly been exposed to flame; areas with less flesh
coverage (for example, the scalp) are more likely to
suffer damage than areas deeply embedded in flesh
(e.g., the thigh) (Syms et al. 2008). This pattern
of thermal alteration is most evident in the well-
preserved skeletons, especially the two children
from outside of the tomb. For example, Cache 3/
Burial 6 shows significant burning of the ecotocra-
nial surface of the cranium, whereas the endocra-
nial surface was largely unaffected (Figure 5.24).
This indicates that this child’s skull was articulated
and likely fleshed at the time of burning. (Skulls of
two- to four-year-old children easily disarticulate
after soft tissue decomposition.)
Some parts of the children’s skeletons, such as
the ilia, lower vertebral bodies, and the facial skel-
eton, were especially affected by heat or flame. This
pattern was observed among multiple individuals.
Since the ilia and vertebral bodies—particularly
13 8 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
their anterior aspects—are covered by not only
skin but also the organs of the gut, these skeletal
elements should be among the last to become ther-
mally altered if the body was complete and intact
at the start of the burning process. We suspect that
the pattern observed here indicates that at least
some of the children’s abdomens were cut open and
their organs (including their hearts) removed prior
to burning. Such an act of violence is certainly con-
sistent with Classic period imagery pertaining to
sacrifice, including the unprovenanced bowl from
the Museo Popol Vuh and Stelae 11 and 14 from
Piedras Negras (see Figures 5.17b and 5.19).
In the case of Burial 15, the greatest area of
burning includes the dorsal ilia, proximal femora,
neural arches of the vertebra, and, to a lesser extent,
the lower legs and feet. It may be that the child orig-
inally lay on its back and the burning was due to
exposure to embers within the vessel. Alternatively,
smoldering materials may have been placed directly
over the lower back (recall that the child was prone),
as illustrated in the scene of child sacrifice from
Tohcok, Campeche (see Figure 8.24). In the case of
Cache 3/Burial 6, the child’s dorsal skeleton gener-
ally demonstrated greater thermal alteration than
its anterior skeleton; this was likely due to contact
with burning embers on the floor of the vessel. The
vessel itself demonstrated significant blackening
on its interior surface, as was true of most of the
other cache vessels, indicating that the children’s
bodies (or body parts) were placed directly atop

smoldering materials, consistent with the kindling
shown below the supine body on Piedras Negras
Stela 11 (see Figure 5.19a).
The excessive burning of the facial bones evi-
dent in the better-preserved offerings, including
Cache 3/Burial 6 and Skeleton E, is more difficult
to explain. Although the cranium of the other
offering from outside the tomb (Burial 15) does not
exhibit the same extent of damage, an unknown
black material adheres to much of the skull, espe-
cially the frontal squama. The facial burning and
residue may simply have been caused by proximity
to smoldering materials that were placed on (or in)
the abdomen (or lower back, in the case of the prone
and decapitated Burial 15). Alternatively, a mask or
some other combustible material may have been
placed over the children’s faces. Taube (1994:672)
calls attention to the fact that the infant on Piedras
Negras Stela 11 lays on what may be a jaguar pelt
and that the child from Piedras Negras Stela 14
may be garbed in one. The masking or costum-
ing of child sacrifices may have linked these acts to
mythic tales that served as models for rites of fire,
sacrifice, and death in the real world (Houston and
Scherer 2010:170). Alternatively, the faces may have
been intentionally burned for unknown reasons;
curiously, a skull mask from the Aztec Templo
figure 5.25.
Mandibular incisor
and manual phalanges
recovered from Cache 5
associated with El Zotz
Burial 9. Photograph by
Andrew K. Scherer.
Mayor exhibits the same focal burning of the fron-
tal region (Figure 13.3).
Children were not the only corporal offerings
associated with the tomb at El Diablo. Nine lip-to-
lip caches have been found that contain a combi-
nation of extracted teeth, severed fingers, and a
single toe (Figure 5.25). Similar deposits have been
reported from throughout the eastern Peten and
Belize (Chase and Chase 1998; Cheetham 2004).
The phalanges from El Diablo are predominantly
distal elements, and cut marks on the bones indi-
cate that these were cut from fleshed bodies (Scherer
2015b:figs. 4.12 and 4.16). The teeth are all mandibu-
lar incisors, teeth easily dislodged from the alveo-
lar canal of the living. The specificity of both the
phalanges and the teeth indicates that these were
not random bones plucked from decomposed skel-
etons lying in graves. Rather, these elements are
likely the remains of living people, corporal body
parts that were dismembered and avulsed, selected
because they are among the most straightforward
body parts to remove (though nonetheless difficult)
and would not lead to death or even serious impair-
ment. Arguably, these body parts were extracted
from willing ritual participants, not captives des-
tined for sacrifice who were generally subject to a
greater degree of torture and mutilation (Houston
Blood, Fire, Death 139
 and Scherer 2010:170). Rather, these fingers, toe,
and teeth may be the corporal remains of men
and women engaged in an extreme form of auto-
sacrifice, either as mourners at the interment or in
the venerative acts that followed.
Such extreme forms of self-sacrifice are known
elsewhere in the Americas. Blood-letting, flesh-
cutting, and even finger sacrifice were witnessed by
European and Euro-American explorers among the
tribes of the North American Great Plains. James
Beckwourth, a nineteenth-century mountaineer,
observed of the Crow: “Their mourning consists in
cutting and hacking themselves on every part of the
body, and keeping up a dismal moaning or howl-
ing for hours together. Many cut off their fingers
in order to mourn through life, or, at least to wear
the semblance of mourning; hence the reason of so
many Western Indians having lost one or more of
their fingers, and of the scars which disfigure their
bodies” (Beckwourth and Bonner 1856:264–267).
William MacLeod (1938) notes that finger sac-
rifices and other flesh offerings were sometimes
made as a ritual obligation in mortuary settings,
while in other cases they were a form of reciprocity
between the living and the dead. He further notes
that fingers and other flesh offerings were often
made directly to the sun, which was perceived as a
receiver and eater of human flesh. Throughout Pre-
Columbian Mesoamerica, there was a general
understanding that the sun and other supernatu-
ral beings sustained themselves on human flesh,
particularly the offerings of infants and children
(Houston and Scherer 2010:123; Houston, Stuart,
and Taube 2006:122–127).
The east-west orientation of the mortuary
complex and the associated child sacrifices at El
Zotz parallels a series of similar constructions
and associated deposits throughout Mesoamerica
during the Early Classic period. At Teotihuacan,
Leopoldo Batres (1906:22) reported that the skele-
tons of seated children were found in each corner of
the base of all four levels of the Pyramid of the Sun.
More recent excavations in the interior of the struc-
ture have uncovered a series of skeletons, including
a perinatal infant (Burial 2), a child of 1 to 2 years
(Burial 3), a child of 4 to 6 years (Burial 4), and a
1 40 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
secondary deposition of an adult male commin-
gled with a second individual (Burial 5) (Sugiyama,
Sugiyama, and Sarabia 2013). The preponderance of
child burials (if not child sacrifice) at the Pyramid
of the Sun is in stark contrast to the 131 individu-
als documented at the Pyramid of the Moon and
the Temple of the Feathered Serpent (Serrano
Sánchez, Pimienta Merlin, and Gallardo Velazquez
1991; Spence and Pereira 2007). In that combined
sample of apparent sacrificial victims, the young-
est was fourteen years old and the majority were
killed sometime after they entered their third
decade of life. The Pyramid of the Sun, like the El
Diablo pyramid, faces west and is arguably a solar
temple, a place associated with rituals of fire (Fash,
Tokovinine, and Fash 2009; Nielsen and Helmke,
this volume).
A similar pattern occurs at Kaminaljuyu dur-
ing the Early Classic period, as evident in excava-
tions conducted by the Carnegie Institution. The
eastward-facing Mound A and the westward-
facing Mound B were both fronted by shrines that
had been placed over tombs, similar to the struc-
tural arrangement found at El Zotz (Houston et al.
2015:14). The Kaminaljuyu tombs contained the
bodies of not only a primary occupant but also sac-
rificial victims—mostly adolescents, although at
least two sacrificed children were also entombed
(Kidder, Jennings, and Shook 1946).
At Tikal, child and especially adolescent sac-
rifice characterizes the tombs of the Early Classic
period (Coe 1990). By the Late Classic period, the
practice was abruptly ended, or at least no victims
were placed in the royal interments. In at least one
Early Classic tomb, Burial 160 from Group 7F-1, a
pair of children appears to have been burned as
part of the mortuary rite (Wright 1996:figs. 2–3).
The El Zotz, Tikal, Kaminaljuyu, and Teotihuacan
deposits all date to within one hundred years of
one another, offering good evidence for shared rit-
ual practice among distant Mesoamerican com-
munities at this time.
The stucco facade of the El Diablo substructure
underscores the relationship between death, sacri-
fice, and solar transition (Figure 5.26) (see Taube
and Houston 2015:figs. 5.1–5.21). Along with the
 figure 5.26.
Masks 6, 7, and 8 from the El Diablo Temple’s western facade. Note the Jaguar God of the Underworld with the
crenulated motif encircling his mouth above the door, the suspended sacrificial victim to the left of the door, and
the scaffold visible between the victim and the smoking/burning Jaguar God of the Underworld. Illustration by
Mary Clarke, El Zotz Archaeological Project.

storm god Chahk, the upper register of the building
is adorned with images of the sun god in his various
guises, particularly his nighttime manifestation as
the Jaguar God of the Underworld. The sequential
arrangement of the supernatural masks highlights
an evolving manifestation and suggests his move-
ment across his celestial and underworld domains.
The crenulated blood motif noted earlier surrounds
the mouth of a number of the supernaturals on the
El Diablo facade, including that of the Jaguar God
of the Underworld. The lower register of the build-
ing appears to be wrapped in a representation of
a scaffold (Figure 5.26) (Taube and Houston 2015).
The scaffold is, in many ways, like the ones depicted
on the Piedras Negras niche stelae, in that it served
as the foundation for a celestial scene above.
Dead human figures are shown suspended
on the lower register of the temple. These might
be trophy heads suspended from the scaffolding,
like those shown on the stucco frieze at Tonina
(Houston, Stuart, and Taube 2006:fig. 2.13). Alter-
natively, we may be seeing the face of a supine body,
perhaps draped over an altar or wooden tripod
similar to the ones shown on Yaxha Stela 13 (see
Figure 5.18a) and the San Bartolo murals (Taube
et al. 2010:fig. 7), in a position not unlike that of the
sacrificial victim that lays before the scaffold on
Piedras Negras Stela 14. Note also that the tripod
binding on the San Bartolo murals is similar to that
shown below the inverted head on the El Diablo
facade. Both the scaffolding depicted on the El Zotz
facade and the Piedras Negras stelae are rendered

Blood, Fire, Death 141

 with small curls that may identify these elements as
vegetal, or more specifically as bamboo (Taube and
Houston 2015:219). The scaffolds may also be lik-
ened to censers in that they are devices for offerings
and sacrifice (Taube 1988). Presumably, such scaf-
folds were burned along with a range of offerings
at the culmination of the pertinent rites of death,
accession, or period ending.
As a whole, the stucco facade of the El Diablo
temple explicitly connects offerings of blood and
fire to the cycles of the sun and the passage of time.
The facade operates in dialogue with the tomb; the
death and interment of the El Zotz lord is likened
to the passage of the sun. It is suspected (but not
proven) that the king inside the tomb may have
been the founder of the El Zotz dynasty (Houston
et al. 2015). If that is the case, then the facade may
have been crafted to link the birth of the dynasty
to the emergence of the sun. However, it is unlikely
that this temple served for a single event; instead, it
was probably utilized as the site for subsequent rites
of accession and period endings at El Zotz. All of
these events were critical periods in the great flow
of time, liminal episodes of crisis that were medi-
ated through offerings of blood, fire, and death.
Conclusions
The evidence for the ritual use of fire by the Classic
Maya is both ubiquitous and highly ambiguous. As
this and other essays in this volume attest, fire was
a tool of destruction and renewal, a mechanism of
transition and transformation. It was a means by
which humans and supernaturals communicated
and maintained their bonds of obligation. As a
phenomenon linked to the sun, fire was a source
of both power and vitality. Concepts of light and
dark, day and night, overworld and underworld,
creation and destruction are all fundamental dual-
isms in Maya worldview, and fire is the device that
bridged these divides. In part, fiery offerings were
made to honor covenants with supernaturals, to
appeal to their senses, and to satiate their appe-
tites. These rites were also enacted during crises,
particularly the dangerous liminal periods that
142 s c h e re r a n d hou ston
accompanied period endings and dynastic tran-
sitions. Appropriately, such rites are linked to the
sun god and his nighttime variant, the Jaguar God
of the Underworld, entities that embodied the for-
ward movement of time.
Hieroglyphic texts identify personages engaged
in such acts as ch’ajoom. The title is closely tied to
Classic period kings, underscoring their duty not
only to govern but also to oversee rites of smoke,
flame, blood-letting, and human sacrifice. These
offertory rites were not strictly the prerogative of
the king, however. Both the symbolism related to
the ch’ajoom and the title itself was attributed to
other members of the royal court. Nevertheless, the
king was the paramount figure and the moral cen-
ter of Classic Maya society. His death and the acces-
sion rites of his successor were grafted to the great
mythic cycles of creation, godly death, and rebirth,
transitions that were facilitated by sacrifice. In simi-
lar respects, some royal deaths, as at El Zotz in the
Early Classic period, could not be observed through
burnt offerings alone. Instead, human life paid a
necessary price for the glorious renewal of kings.
Acknowledgments
Andrew Scherer, in particular, would like to thank
our fellow participants in this volume for fruitful con-
versation before, during, and after the symposium at
Dumbarton Oaks. David Stuart and Karl Taube pro-
vided some helpful tips on fire and the Maya. Charles
Golden, Vera Tiesler, and an anonymous reviewer
offered much helpful commentary on an earlier draft
of this essay. The work at El Zotz rests on the shoul-
ders of many, who are fully acknowledged in the
recently published Temple of the Night Sun (Houston
et al. 2015). Here, we call attention to the project’s
codirectors, Thomas Garrison and Edwin Román,
as well as to Sarah Newman, all of whom assisted
with the excavation and documentation of the royal
tomb. That work was supported by a diverse range
of funds, including those from Brown University,
the National Endowment for the Humanities (Grant
RZ-50680-07), the National Science Foundation
(BCS 0840930), the Waitt Foundation (awarded to
Thomas Garrison), Kenneth Woolley, Spencer Kirk,
and Howard Barnet, Esq. Houston’s contribution
to this essay was partially written during an Ailsa
NOTES
1 We use the term “supernatural” to refer to the
beings and places not immediately visible to the
human observer, but whose existence and actions
have direct impact on the world of the living. The
supernatural encompasses entities often labeled as
“gods,” “spirits,” “souls,” “ancestors,” “co-essences,”
“animate beings,” etc. Supernatural, however, is a
misnomer, as these entities are very much a part of
the natural world. Beings of the “otherworld”—or
perhaps more accurately, the “other side”—might
be a better way to describe these entities. For ease
of readability, however, we use the term “super-
natural,” despite its shortcomings.
2 Although hunger is the principal desire that must
be satisfied, other sensory concerns must be consi-
dered when managing Mesoamerican supernatural
beings. For example, during the feast of Santiago
in the K’iche’ community of Momostenango, live
music is blasted through massive amplifiers at hea-
dache-inducing volumes across the main plaza
and into the open doors of the church—this is said
to please the image of Santiago (Cook and Offit
2013:20). For further discussion on noise and the
supernatural, see Pitarch, this volume.
3 Apparently, subsistence on incense can have other
implications. As Gary Gossen (1993) notes: “I then
asked what gods and saints ate, and my friend ans-
wered confidently, ‘Incense.’ If they eat odors and
essences, not substances, it followed, he said, that
they have no need for organs for elimination of waste
and other fluids.” The result is that many Chamulan
gods and saints are gendered but effectively sexless
and not sexually reproductive, having no need for
the corresponding anatomical apparatuses.
4 On Itzam, see Martin 2016:204–210 and Stuart
2007b.
5 The sign was deciphered in the late 1980s by
David Stuart. Most likely, it involves homophonic
play, pul, “burn,” linked to a term for “forehead,”
Mellon Bruce Senior Fellowship at the Center for
Advanced Study in the Visual Arts, National Gallery
of Art, Washington, D.C.
from which smoke issues (see Chontal Maya pul,
“forehead”; Knowles 1984:451). Specialists in Maya
writing tend also to overlook the final –i in the
spelling. John Robertson (personal communica-
tion 1998) has convinced Houston that the suffix
marks single-argument predicates and must have
been overtly recorded in intransitive verbs like tali
and huli, and with mediopassives too, as in pulyi.
6 For sources on til, see Kaufman and Justeson
2003:524.
7 It is unclear who first deciphered this title, although
it appears to have become current among epigra-
phers in the early 1990s.
8 David Stuart (personal communication 2015) first
noted the full-figured ch’ajoom while working with
the monuments of Copan in the 1980s.
9 A relevant set of monuments displays lords in
similar garb. Nim Li Punit Stela 2 and Machaquila
Stela 6 both show rulers with jaguar headdresses
and what may be ch’ajoom curls. The image from
Nim Li Punit is especially revealing, for it displays
a feather or leaf cloak on the main figure, who
happens to be sprinkling incense into a burner.
A woman seated in front of him also participates
in the act of tossing incense onto open flames and
sacrificial paper. A similar scene is shown on Nim
Li Punit Stela 15, where the king’s son is called, if
field photos can be trusted, the K’inich Ch’ajoom
Xib Ch’ok, the “sun-like incenser, the male youth.”
10 The San Bartolo sacrifices appear to the side of two
lords seated on their own scaffolds, one covered
by a jaguar hide, the other with a lashed object of
horizontal elements (Taube et al. 2010). The left
scaffold features a hanging cloth with a descend-
ing footprint and tied knotted leaves. It resembles
depictions of sacrificial scaffolds, such as the one
shown in the Tonina frieze. The right scaffold fea-
tures k’an crosses. The specific meaning of the San
Bartolo scaffold scenes is unclear, but they seem to
Blood, Fire, Death 143
 relate to enthronements of the maize god. The two
scaffolds flank and face a depiction of the maize
god’s emergence from a turtle-earth. A figure
stands to the left, clutching an infant form of the
maize god in a watery place. Whatever the details,
many of which continue to baffle, the entire mural
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