Ancient Mayan Texts

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 selfsatisfaction 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, coneshaped 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 meanspirited 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: <> 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 farreaching, 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 halfdug 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