flood our world has ever seen.
The Tragedy of Their Fathers
During the long night before the dawn of the fourth sun, two brothers were born, minor gods of the milpas, those tangled fields of corn and bean and squash. They were named One Hunahpu and Seven Hunahpu, for the day signs of their respective births. They lived with their mother, Ixmukane, a maize goddess.
In time One Hunahpu married Lady Egret, and she bore him two sons: One Monkey and One Artisan. The small family continued to live with One Hunahpu’s mother and brother in the gloom of a world with no sun.
Other gods hailed One and Seven Hunahpu as knowledgeable and wise, the foremost seers on the earth. They taught young One Monkey and One Artisan many skills, and in time the boys became like their father and uncle: singers, musicians, poets, sculptors, and workers of jade and metal.
Though the brothers possessed a singular, innate goodness, they tended to shirk their responsibilities in order to roll dice and play ball. Every day the boys played with their father and uncle, two against two in the ball court. As each game began, a falcon would descend to watch them, sent by Hurricane and his sons. The falcon could fly in an instant from the sea-ringed world to Hurricane’s abode in the sixth heaven, or just as well descend to the Land of the Dead to do his master’s bidding there.
Lady Egret left the earth, returning to the Divine Mother, but the four ballplayers remained behind. Their ball court was located at Great Hollow, on the road to the Underworld, the dark land that men would one day call Xibalba, Realm of Fright. The King and Queen of Death could not help but hear them.
Disturbed by the riotous sounds, the god and goddess called together their council, all the dark lords in that place of fear, tasked with bringing death to humans in a variety of savage ways.
“Who are these middling fools that shake the earth with their running and that disturb the stillness of the grave with their shouts?” demanded the King of Death. “They show no proper fear and run roughshod over the natural order. We should bring them here to play ball. Since they have no respect for us, we shall beat them at their favorite game and then destroy them.”
The dark lords all agreed with their sovereign, adding that upon winning they could seize the brothers’ gear, the pads, yokes and plumed helmets that made up their kits.
The task of summoning One and Seven Hunahpu was given to the Royal Guard, four fearsome owls from the very throne room of the Land of the Dead. They flew from the Underworld in an instant, alighting in the stands above the ball court. The four players halted their game and approached the messengers.
“We have been sent by the Lords of the Underworld,” announced Strafer, chief among them. “Harken unto the words of the King and Queen of Death: ‘You must come. Do us the pleasure of playing ball in our dark courts. Your skill amazes us. Bring your gear, your yokes and pads and rubber ball.’”
“Is that what the gods of that fearful place truly said?” asked One Hunahpu.
“Yes. Now, come along. We shall accompany you.”
“Fine, but wait while we let our mother know. She’ll have to watch over my sons while we’re gone.”
One and Seven Hunahpu took the boys back home and explained the situation to Ixmukane, their mother.
“We’ve no choice but to go. These are messengers of the King of Death himself. But we’ll be back, we promise. Here, we’ll leave our ball behind as a token.” They hung the rubber sphere in the rafters. “Don’t worry, we’ll be kicking it around again very soon.”
One Hunahpu turned to his sons. “You two keep practicing your music, your art, your skill at games. Keep this house—and your grandmother’s heart—warm in our absence.”
Their mother began to weep at their words.
“We’re off on a journey,” they told her, “not to our deaths. Don’t be sad.”
Then the brothers left. Guided by the Royal Guard, they headed north toward the entrance to the Underworld. They descended through strange canyons, past streams of scorpions, over rivers of blood and pus. None of these obstacles slowed them down.
But then they came to a vast crossroads that offered four paths to the Land of the Dead: the Red, the Black, the White, and the Green. The messenger owls indicated the Black Road. “That is the one you should take. It is the King’s Road.”
And here was the beginning of their defeat, for the brothers heeded the Royal Guard, not suspecting that this was the path of the dead. They were led along its gruesome length to the council chambers of the dark lords, where their doom was further sealed. The horrid aristocrats of that fell place were seated in a row, but the first two—the king and queen themselves—were clever statues carved and arrayed by the artisans of the netherworld.
“Greetings, Your Majesty,” they said to the first statue.
“The dawn shine upon you, Your Majesty,” they said to the second.
The chambers erupted with laughter, for the brothers had failed again. Chortling, the dark lords mocked them.
“Foremost seers, indeed! Those are mere manikins, fools!” In their hearts the nobility of the Realm of Fright felt certain they had already won.
The real king and queen entered, smiles on their skeletal faces.
“Perfect. You have arrived. Tomorrow you will show your skill with yokes and guards. For the present, however, take a seat upon the bench we have prepared.”
When the brothers sat down, they realized the bench was a burning hot slab. They squirmed around for a time, trying to save face, but finally they had to leap to their feet or risk real damage. The dark lords once more burst out in howls of laughter. They laughed so hard their innards ached. Even writhing in pain, they could not stop their chuckles and hoots.
Now the Underworld is full of torments of every kind, among them five terrible houses of torture. But as fate would have it, the brothers would only experience one. They were escorted to their supposed sleeping quarters by the rulers of that fearful place, who smiled and said:
“Enter, friends. Get some rest. In a moment you will be brought a torch and two cigars.”
One and Seven Hunahpu went inside, greeted by inky blackness. Unbeknownst to them, the brothers were lodged in Dark House, a place devoid of light.
Meanwhile, the dark lords conferred. “They are certain to lose. Let us sacrifice them tomorrow. It will be quick. We shall use our bone-white blade to kill them both, and then we shall keep their gear.”
The king and queen sent a messenger with a torch of ocote wood and two lit cigars. “Here you go. You are expected to return these in the morning—whole, just as they are now.”
The brothers took the torch and the cigars, and once again they were defeated. They let the torch burn down to ashes. They smoked the cigars down to stubs. In the morning they were led back to the council chambers, fear mounting in their hearts.
“Where are my cigars?
