HomePage RecentChanges

The Liquid Burn

The road was dust, and over the valley hung the haze, that haze that one finds over almost every agricultural valley on [[Isthar?]], of solid sulfur particles settling back down to the ground. Alon this ancient dusty road their came a procession, of two dozen gyrating dancing young men, bedecked only in loin clothes and ornate feathered head dresses, plumage from the many birds that flew among the trees of the jungle not far away, and girded with serpent skin belts, with bells tied to their ankles. The largest and oldest wore ghastly masks with huge eyes and faces. The whole procession reached to long tall pillars of stone, carved with totemic faces, both man and animal. The drums beat, and then stopped. Suddenly the procession scattered – back to the arms of their mothers in long dresses. For all of the marchers were still youths, one peeled off his mask – the first time he had worn it and said “Can I get out of these now?”

His mother smiled and nodded, dress up in the old costumes had, apperantly, worn out its welcome. No, she thought, he will not be like his father, a priest and scholar. He loves neither ceremony or old things, but instead spends all of his time playing ball at the court with his friends, or out on the fishing boat of his older cousin. She returned home, the sun was rapidly descending in the sky, and her husband, the hourous of the commune, had been worried. The hourous was the priest responsible for examining the entrails of the sacrificed animals, and determining which of the rituals of planting would have to be done that year, it was important work, the lives of all depended on it.

- - -

Her husband came home, and sat down with a heavy thud, it was the last fading rays of light from the sun, and there was no more than an hour of useful light. She busied herself with the chores, and then the two of them huddled in the deep dark together. Finally, she broke the silence.

“What are you so worried about my dear?”

She could feel him turn away from her, when she was newly married she had been angered by this, but now she knew that he felt more comfortable that way, and it was a preparation for him to speak.

“It seems the portents for this valley this time have been very bad.”

“How so?”

According to the third codex, we must have human sacrifice.”

“A sacrifice? That has not happened in lifetimes, the people here would not stand it, we seldom even execute criminals here in Comal.”

He shifted again to face her. “I know. I am going to meet with the high priest tomorrow to see what we can do.

- - -

The next day, in one of the deep recesses of the great pyramid, some two hours walk from the entrance of the 6th agricultural valley of Comal, lit by glowing orbs bought from far away, in the lands of the Hellenes, two men, neither of them young or old, discussed the portents. The chief priest checked the records carefully, and confirmed that the Third Codex did, indeed, say that sacrifice was required. The chief’s name was 17 Monkey, whose line stretched back a very long time, while he spoke to 2 Grey Shark, the Hourous, whose family was not long from laborer status, his father having won a place by reciting for all of the hours of one night an epic poem. The city elders gave him a name, and a job as the chief rhapsode of the town.

2 Grey Shark spole: “But how are we to do this? There has not been a sacrifice in 450 annae, fathers of fathers of fathers would not have remembered it. And the public will not accept it.”

“Some years ago in Uxchilan they executed all the criminals as a sacrifice, and the portents went away. “ 17 Monkey’s suggestion was trailed off at the end, clearly he did not like it.

“But we have, as you know, no one sentenced for death.” An excuse that gave them a practical way out.

“Perhaps we could buy convicted criminals and execute them?” It wasn’t even really a question, but a reach in the dark.

The checked the old records, according to the 19th Chronicle of the city, once the portents had been ignored, and they worsened, along with the harvests. That valley had been abandoned, and was now the dangerous “jungle valley”, where young men hunted Jaguar in its depths, while the youths proved their fledgling bravery by stealing up on the colourfully plumed birds that lived there – some of these were as tall as a man, and not entirely easy to kill with only a bow and a short knife, the ritual weapons.

The 18th Chronical noted that a nearby city had ignored the portents, and after three more agricultural cycles, the valley falled, and with it enough of the grain supply of the city. The weakened inhabitants were conquered soon afterwards, and the execution of the warriors was done in the valley, as required, and the valley had flooded to life again.

“It occurs to me,” commented 2 Grey Shark, “that we ought to think about this in a new way. We have for some time doubted the rituals, but what if they are right, but wrong about why?”

17 Monkey looked up at him. “But what new way, don’t tell me you have been studying those translations of foreign lands again.”

2 Grey Shark replied, “I have, and in one of them there is a section on growing crops. Just as we do, the spread fish and manure over the fields, but every so often these fail.”

“Which is why we clear out each valley in turn, shut down the waters from the damn, and burn them.”

2 Grey Shark replied “Yes, but notice that, in the days before,” he ran his finger down a column which had the dates of each valleys burning, “that they had to have sacrifices every 5 burnings or so. We have many more valleys, and the methods of burning and fertilizing delay the problem. But what if we are robbing something from the soil that is not easily replaced.”

“But what would it be?”

“Well let me ask two things. First, note that the sacrifice of a single person was never enough.”

17 Monkey grimly nodded, “Which is why the original ways stay in force in some cities, they don’t traffic in one or two executions.”

“So clearly it is something that is in people, but it is not in fish, at least enough, or in manure.”

“And you think it is?”

“Blood, I think it is blood. Or something in blood. Remember the fish are drained of it to mix in with the tortillas, for health, according to the old wise ladies.”

“But getting that much blood will be as hard as anuthing else.”

“The old ritual provides for 40 victims. What if we drain just some blood from everyone in the village, and mix this in with the manure and the fish. I think it will work. That gives us time to find some other place where the portents were ignored, and yet a solution was found.”

17 Monkey nodded, “We can make a ritual of it, tell the people that they have to sacrifice their blood in imitation of Kuklacan. They will do it, if we can sell it to them.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“At least it buys us a anna, and that will give us time to find something else out.”

And so that year the whole city sacrificed a little of their blood each, with the two priests training dozens of volunteers how to draw just enough, and how to clean with alcohol the drawing instruments. The blood was mixed with the fertilizer. On the day of releasing the waters, the two priests looked over the valley – which had been burned to the ground as the rituals demanded, and on that night the sparks had shot up from the valley, as flares of sulfer caught fire, but none went higher than half way up the hills, and while it seemed dangerous, it was truly one of the safer times.

17 Monkey, without ceremony rolled the lever which shifted the vast stone weights that opened up the waters to the lands below. They watched. That year the harvest from the valley was good, and the portents did not return. But 2 Grey Shark would pour over the records, wondering if there was a better solution. He did not find it, nor did his son.

From Cobal, the ritual spread, for the portents had been occurring in many places, though the priests had hidden this information. Eventually, it became a custom for a city to send its people to Cobal to be trained, and there was a festival on this day. The Festival of Blood drew in more and more people, and it became fashionable for people to cut themselves a little, and by the time of 4 Grey Shark, it was a rather well attended riot, and a time of great drinking. It became part of the festival for men to have sex with menstruating women at great parties, and it was considered by other cities to be a great scandal.

But it worked, and there was not, after 942.0 was there the use of executed blood in the Mayan lands. Even the Aztec’s took notice, though they, of course, were willing to believe that if seldom was good, often was better.

But that, as they say, is another story.