Unsung Lord of Siyah Chan

A Novel of the Ancient Maya

by Joan C Wrenn

 

Book Details


Ten Years of Silence
Yoaat Balam’s time has come. It’s his turn to step into the role of Ahaw, Lord of his city-state of Siyah Chan, a role he has been training for all his life. He must now put aside his work on star charts and inscriptions to lead his city and provide for its welfare. Yet his name was never recorded for posterity in the inscriptions of any ancient Maya city.
Mayan scholars call it the “Inter-regnum” - a ten-year period with very few inscriptions of dated events after the death of the aged Lord Itzamna Balam in 742 AD, and there is no mention of a new Lord. What happened during Yoaat’s reign?
Assisted by his mother, the great and holy Na K’abal Xook, his three older sisters, and his two half-brothers, Yoaat struggles to organize his people to face a series of elemental challenges: flood and drought, hunger and sickness. Then news from the north brings new threats as their allied city Waka’ is overtaken, and Yoaat sends his half-brother Yaxuun with warriors to the aid of endangered northern towns under Siyah Chan’s protection. At home Yoaat institutes new rituals to appease the gods and comfort the people. Through it all an insidious treachery looms, bringing a horrific event that can never be told, lest Siyah Chan go down in infamy.

 

Book Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Na K’abal Xook
9.15.10.17.14 6 Ix 12 Yaxk’in
19 June 742

“Na! Na!” the soft but insistent summons finally penetrated into the depths of her sleep, and Na K’abal Xook slowly relinquished her nightdream of mythical birds with long brilliant blue-green tail feathers and grating raucous voices and surfaced to the immediacy of the early morning.
The voice was that of her servant woman, Ukum, the gentle, quiet granddaughter of Saay and Cheche who had served them for so long. It was still too dark here inside her house to see the details of Ukum’s face, but K’abal sensed the glitter of tears.
“Itz?” she thought, taking a quick breath, not quite a gasp, as a sliver of apprehension shivered through her. Had he finally left this world, was he flying even now toward the vast skies, to walk the Great White Road of the Ancestors?
K’abal thrust the blanket aside, as Ukum’s strong arms helped her rise to sit on the side of her sleep bench, then gently wrapped K’abal’s shawl across her shoulders. Her old bones always ached in the early morning while there was still a chill on the stone building, her home and work place, built for her by her husband the Ahaw all those tun’ob ago.

* * *

She looked at Itzamna’s face, touched his cooling cheek, then backed away. This was not the man she had known. This was a cast-off husk. The man was with the Ancestors, an Ancestor now himself. She would not grieve.
Soft footfalls sounded on the steps, and her son Yoaat entered the room, coming quickly to embrace her.
“Mother,” he whispered, and she sensed that his emotions were not in check, but that he was feeling strongly, too strongly, the impact of the moment. They parted, and he turned to kneel before his dead father, his head hanging beside the sleep bench, his cheek brushing against his father’s blanket. She felt his sobs beginning. This would not do. He was now the Ahaw, he must be in command of himself. No one must see him giving in to his sorrow.
“Yoaat, rise,” she commanded, tugging on his elbow. “This is hardly unexpected. Ah Poxtah has told us for uinal’ob now that the end was near.” “I know, Mother, but it’s a shock to me just the same.”
“You must be strong, Yoaat. You must appear in control at all times. You can grieve in your own privacy, if you ever get any.”
“Men grieve, Mother, it’s natural.”
“Of course they do. But your position is unstable, and you must do nothing to give the Kimi’ob any excuse to . . . to do anything. Especially after what happened last Turning.”
“I know that, you’ve been drumming it into me for, for, for-ever! I am the Ahaw now, Mother, and I am capable of making my own decisions.” Her son turned to leave his father’s house, then stopped.
“This is now my house,” he said firmly.

* * *

But there was much to be done. They would all grieve later.
“Yoaat, find the regalia for your father’s ceremonies,” she said, trying to find the right balance between suggestion and command, to honor his changed role. “Something not too new, you will need those yourself in the times ahead, but nothing tattered or worn. Pieces that will remind people of his strength, not these years of decline.” Yoaat nodded, seemingly relieved after all to be given something to do.

* * *

Just then Yoaat returned with Xate, their arms full of feathers and jade-and-gold necklaces, a huge colorful backrack, more regalia than Itzamna could possibly wear at one time. They placed the things at the side of the patio, and Yoaat greeted his brother Kuy.
“Oh! Yoaat!” K’abal called out, “you need to send a message to Yaxuun! We have to get him back here from Yokib right away.”
“It’s taken care of, Mother,” Yoaat responded, moving over to the table where the fruit and sac ha were. “That’s partly what took me so long,” he said over his shoulder, taking a bite of juicy patah. She hadn’t actually realized that he had been gone long, but she had been noticing that her sense of time wasn’t what it used to be.
“I think the blue-green toh-feather rack and headdress, with the matching loincloth, dyed green armbands and calf-bands,” Yoaat informed her, walking over to where she was sitting, carrying his cup of sac ha. “Xate will paint Father’s skin with tzohal and warrior markings, and the toh feathers will set off the tzohal, just as if he was going to battle.”
“How can you attach the back rack when he’s lying down?” K’abal asked.
“Don’t worry, Mother, Xate and I will take care of it. You will be proud of how he looks.”
Already Yoaat seemed more self-confident, more in control. Perhaps it will all work out, she thought.

 

About the Author

Joan C Wrenn

Joan C Wrenn holds BA and MA degrees in Cultural Anthropology from the California State University, Hayward, with an emphasis on the Anthropology of Religion. She has done extensive research on the ancient Maya, including voluminous reading and seven trips to Chiapas and Yucatan Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Belize, and El Salvador to tour ancient ruins, including two visits to the site of the novel. She adds real-life content to her stories from glimpses into the lives of contemporary Maya and their handcrafts and religious practices. She also has participated in numerous glyph-reading workshops.
Joan lives in northern California with her husband and seven cats, and is now working on the third novel in the Siyah Chan series. Her previously published books are Call of the Panther and Young Lords of Siyah Chan.

Also by Joan C Wrenn

Call of the Panther
Samuel, Servant of Yahweh
Young Lords of Siyah Chan