THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

BOOK SIX: THE FIRST of the BOOKS of CHANGE

CHAPTER SIX

This Oficiale of the Cruzob who was known as Silvestro Kaak stepped inside, glancing behind him carefully, but with a practiced disconcern that evidenced years of the outlaw's life. "Bixcabaal!" he greeted the drinking men.

"Ma alo!" they replied in one murmur. Only the voice of Esteban Chan rose above those of the others.

"What brings you to Chancanal?" asked Felipe pleasantly.

"Only the dictate of the Cross," Silvestro answered. "It has called me to walk the length of Yucatan, to see with my eyes and hear with my ears these things which the people do and say."

Felipe was properly impressed. He had been only a boy when Silvestro escaped with the rifle and, for years after that event, unruly boys at Idznacab and at the estanciónes nearby were warned that, if they did not mend their ways, they would be snatched up by outlaws... that Silvestro Kaak would gather their heads like gourds in his sack and take them to the monte.

Because the mazehualob were of a mostly peaceful nature, the young men kept such envy of the Cruzob as they had to themselves. But now, suddenly, everything that was disorderly or dangerous seemed right and honorable. In other parts of Mexico, the bandit jefes, condemned and derided in the cities, were accorded the status of liberators by the ordinary farmers, tradespeople and miners... some of whom also put down their tools, picked up a rifle and became a part of the insurgence. Many, of course, did this only after losing all hope of ever earning enough by honest labor for the beans and the tortillas to keep them and their families alive, but there were also corridas of liberation, sung between the lines of henequen, or corn, or caña. No more waiting upon the whim of the mayordomos, hacendados and the rest!

As within a few years, one of the revolted men of the North would tell an American following the corps of Pancho Villa: "fighting is a better way of life; you do not have to work in the mines".

Those who were neither daring nor desperate still dreamed, and the stories of the sublevados that circulated through the villages... especially among boys approaching manhood... portrayed Silvestro Kaak as a giant of a man, perhaps five hundred years old, already on the path one takes towards legend. Now here he stood, an indian like themselves, ragged... although of an impressive demeanor, which is property only of those whose knees have not been overly soiled from excessive bowing, except to the rightful dictates of Juan de la Cruz. And when Luis' wife returned, passing the bottle of aguardiente to the guest, as was the hospitable thing to do, Silvestro sucked on it with such greedy delight that Felipe at once knew this was someone no more than himself, no better than he could also be. But, if the inflated reputation of the sublevados suffered some, it also meant that the hopeless ones, the people who... in other lands... were and still are called the shirtless ones (although even the poorest Yucatecan kept, not only one, but two shirts so, at all times, one would be clean and waiting) could begin to have hope of change in their situation. They had nothing to lose but their lives and, as the reckoning of Armando Feliz and the rest of the mayordomos of Yucatan deflated the value of their labor while continuing to raise prices, this value crept closer and closer to nil.

"Truly these are portentous times," Esteban said, as Silvestro passed the bottle to Luis and squatted on the floor without a word of recognition.

Francisco pointed upwards. "It is the finger of God that points our way," he said, referring to the comet... which the mazehualob were greatly afraid of but, also, excited by and resigned to... for its coming had been predicted by the Almanac, and by the curanderos of even the smallest villages.

"We were speaking of the battle of the dzulob uay," Esteban ventured, and the head of Silvestro Kaak jerked upwards like that of a hanged man.

"What is this, old friend?" he asked. "Is this your explanation for the shaking of all Mexico? Sorcery?"

"I remember it was only ten years ago," said Esteban, "when you were enraptured by a sorcerer. Chankik, that was his name."

Silvestro smiled. "Ah, don Miguel... he is a powerful man, still! Sometimes it is said that he is really Juan de la Cruz."

"What about the nahualli?" Nestor interrupted.

The Cruzob grunted and pointed towards the bottle. When he had wet his mouth with warm aguardiente, Silvestro spoke, sometimes halting to trace a little picture on the dirt floor.

"In the monte," he began, "where the Mexicans have named the land Quintana Roo and General Bravo has blasphemed the honor of Santa Cruz by attaching his own name to it, the nahualli who are identified by their aspect are called uay. Some of these are on the estanciónes as we know, the little, harmless ones... the dog sorcerers, uay-pek, uay-miz, the cats and the bull, uay-uacax."

"Yes, these are especially numerous in Dzitas and also, it is said, in Piste," volunteered Luis. "Such creatures are drawn to the old walls. But," he added, "those whom we were speaking of are more powerful. What virtue is it to be the nahual of a despised animal?"

"Despised?" Silvestro Kaak chewed on the word, as if it were a lump of chicle. "Perhaps this may be so. A dog or a cat is of no consequence, and men are of more danger to a bull than it is to a man. There are nahualli of the unimportant, even smaller things... flies, toads, rabbits. A powerful man may seek out his aspect and become a powerful nahual, but others are born so, and most of these are harmless... although any uay will enter the hammock of an unwed woman if she is careless."

"That is the Devil's work," Roberto said, crossing himself, for… as well as being the most pessimistic… he was the most Christian of the group.

"Any uay, even that of a useless creature, can enter... like smoke through the cracks between the wall... but if you have placed a cross of palm beside the door, the uay will not enter. It may well be a creature of the Devil to avoid the cross although..." he paused "... some of the uay do not seem at all affected. It is even said that one of the nahualli, or uay, at least of certain aspects, can look upon and even touch a cross without harm.

"These are the familiar uay," he added, "and there may be more powerful beings who keep their animal appearance all or nearly all the time. One of the mazehualob of Peto has a dog which is uay, for it can dance and walk on fire without injury. And is not the life of a dog better than that of a peon?"

Roberto did not reply but only nodded. At the embarrassment of the six men, Silvestro laughed and drank more of their aguardiente.

"But," he continued, "suppose that the uay was not one of the familiars, easily controlled by man. Suppose it was an eagle or flower... perhaps the most dangerous of all, for flowers cause people to forget what Juan de la Cruz has said and take each others' wives and children, even spoil their own children in lustful embraces. Or the uay kan, the rattlesnake which bites the foot that steps upon its tail, or uay of the stones, or sea – for the aspect some men take may not even be animal, although such instances are rare. Above all the uay cimil, whom we call don del Muerte, he who is not seen but detected only by smell, and whose appearance is a warning that has saved the lives of many of the Christians, who know that he is found at the shoulder of those who have killed, even the dzulob, but for the few who learn how to keep him away. "Finally," he said, "except for the kings of the nahualli... who are Juan de la Cruz, don del Muerte, President Diaz and also Queen Victoria and some others... the most powerful of the uay are the tigers, the uay balam. You have heard of how the Ytza fell under the domination of the tiger nahualli."

"Of course," Francisco said.

"It is the truth. Some of these are even with us today... as tigers and as men."

This caused the six tame indians to sit, for some moments, in awkward silence with Silvestro Kaak, neither speaking nor calling for aguardiente. Finally, Francisco found the courage to describe, more hastily, the meeting of the jefes in Valladolid. Silvestro Kaak chewed at his lip at the description of the Guggenheims, laughed at the exploits and escape of the cunning Madero and frowned at the mention of his great enemy, General Ignacio Bravo.

"If Madero is nahualli," he declared when the story had been retold, "he might be a dog, a small dog or a fox, or he is perhaps uay-maax. Yes, the man is very clever, just like the monkey! A monkey cannot kill a tiger or rattlesnake through strength, but tricks its enemy into destroying itself. Well, it may be for the good of all the mazehualob for, if this monkey is an enemy of Bravo, he has my gratitude and that of all who are the true Christians."

"If the dzulob also have nahualli," said Nestor, "it may be possible that those jefes Francisco saw were not what they appear to be. Even General Bravo..."

A silence fell upon the hut.

"The General is not of the uay, to my belief," declared Silvestro Kaak. "He is, instead, a man who has made his alliance with the many evil things of Yucatan... its owl-spirits, its headless ones, the ghosts of the old walls... as, previously, he conspired with evil things of other places of Mexico. He brings dissension to the mazehualob and sets the officers of the Cross against each other. He has killed few men with his bullets for many years, and this is what he shows to our respected officers as proof of friendship, but he looses evil winds and diseases. He brings our jefes to unholy places in the monte and he bribes them to attack those of his own kind who oppose his rule.

"His power does not come from the bacabs, nor from Metnal, nor even from those who dwell in the mountains south and west of Belize, the Lords of Xibalba, but from a realm that is uniquely and absolutely Spanish... existing at once over the sea and here but invisible to Christians. It is a Jewish magic he has used to spread the corners of the sky... the same which had Juan de la Cruz put to his death before the resurrection in Chan Santa Cruz. General Bravo's power comes from the heart of this dark place, from Jerusalem far over the sea... the place where none of the mazehualob may ever go." He reconsidered. "There is one with power of the uay and of Jerusalem, but he is allied with Bravo, for now." And he shook his head.

"Madero cannot harm this General?" said Esteban.

"Not Madero... not a monkey sorcerer." Silvestro laughed. "Bravo has gained the protection of Juan de la Cruz and the Cross for, while he does not possess its daughters, he is still the master of its hearth... which he uses as a prison to show us his contempt. If he were not, I could have killed him, many times... for he rides to and fro through the monte to Vigia Chico on his railroad, or on horseback alone, or with but a few officials, to the villages where he gives orders and collects his bribes."

"How can Juan de la Cruz protect this man?" asked Luis. "Such is madness."

"It is because Juan de la Cruz walks with Miguel Chankik, most powerful of the nahualli in all the lands of the mazehualob, even all of the world. And it is through the magic of Chankik that the thoughts of the General are read, and no Christian may come to harm from the Mexicans except those from whom Chankik has withdrawn his face. No man knows Chankik's auspice, although..."

"Although you have a suspicion?" Esteban prodded.

"It is only a premonition. And it is not good to speak what has not been proven when the subject has great power. Let me tell you, instead, that there was a story told in the old province of Ekab at the time of Bravo's march. Some of the elder chiefs; Braulio Evan, Fernando Keb, Alvino Colli, these and some others went to Chankik but were met, instead, by Juan de la Cruz.

"Juan de la Cruz told them that the mazehualob had sinned against the Cross by working for the dzulob, selling the body of the monte... its mahogany... and blood... its chicle... for the things the dzulob make, which are cursed with magic that is detestable to the Cross. He said, even, that they must buy their guns from la raya Victoria, not in Merida, nor take them from the dzulob corpses... for to even touch a weapon of the whites would cause the Cross to turn against its people. And the jefes were astonished, but they went away with intent remaining in their hearts to sin against the holy orders and, as you well know, they were all defeated, and those the soldiers did not kill shortly afterwards were taken with blood vomit hiding in the weapons that they had stolen from the Mexican dead.

"Now Juan de la Cruz has issued letters, and these letters say that the corrupted spirits of the living mazehualob must be purged and purified before the dzulob will ever be driven away. That until the Cross recognizes a new man who is no more than the old man, purged of the influence of Mexicans, there will be no victory. This is something I do not fully understand."

"So your rifle is still Mexican," Francisco taunted. "And your machete, too. Even the aguardiente we drink... all Mexican."

Silvestro frowned and then looked up and for a moment Francisco felt weakness in his stomach for the thought that he had given offense to a dangerous warrior. "A rifle... well... that may be purified by blood rituals, and mine is Belgian, also, not Mexican. And the aguardiente is distilled by one of the mazehualob, though degenerate. And the machete made by English people, the Americans of Massachusetts? Still, you have given me something to ponder."

He rose and stretched, kicking his feet out a few times before speaking again. "For now, I am only a Teniente of the Cross but my captain, Capitan Yum Kom, and those with him, are faithful to the Cross. It is perhaps the meaning of Juan de la Cruz to destroy all that is unholy, even that which he brings to the dzulob in the form of Chankik. Only from desolate and ruined places may a new empire be founded.

"Perhaps we will take these dzulob things to Belize," he said, "and sell them to the British, and buy guns which are not tainted by the evil force of Mexicans."

"But what if the British do not want to buy these guns?" Esteban asked.

Silvestro shrugged. "Then we will sell them to the boxuinicob, old friend, the dark, dark men who are revolted against England and sometimes come across the Rio Hondo. Let them have Mexican guns to turn upon their masters, perhaps the magic therein will be of no account. Either way, we will be rid of this influence and then, perhaps, the Cross will see this as a sign that we are ready to return to claim our lands. After all," he smiled, "we cannot merely wait and expect some Mexican monkey to redeem us."

"But what if Madero is not a monkey?" Nestor suggested.

Silvestro made a move of his hand as if pouring bad water from a cup. "If I knew his birthdate, I could find a xaman who could determine his aspect."

"I shall try to find that out," Esteban said. "Although I am needed by my family and cannot risk taking up arms, there may still be something I can do to help in the liberation of the mazehualob."

"Be careful," Silvestro warned. "When you ask into the history and affairs of the dzulob, you run the risk of education. That is the disease of men without stones, what Bravo uses to destroy the spirit of our young the way that the blood-vomit destroys bodies. The saints abhor educated men, except for their own priests."

"If I must run that risk, so let it be," Esteban decided. "One rarely fulfills his obligations to his family, his country and his faith at once. My aspect is as one of the timid, scuttling beasts... afraid for his children and the graves of the ancestors… but this is one service I shall willingly perform in the name of Juan de la Cruz."

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