Slowly Ah Pula, the batab, rose from his throne, and as he rose the tall lances, the great battle-swords, and the hul-ches clashed together in one mighty salutation like the sound of giant trees crashing to earth in a hurricane.
The gaze of the batab roved over the assembled multitude and with one hand upraised he commanded silence.
“O friends and councilors, sons and brothers! Those armed for war and ever ready to defend the province! Priests of the Sun, who bring to us the words of our gods and transmit to them our prayers! Listen to my words and listen closely, that your answering thoughts may be well chosen and weighty, light-bringing and life-giving. Thus and thus only may we survive the calamity that threatens.
“Five times have the seasons come and gone. Five times have we planted our fields of corn since the strange white men came to our land. We did not invite them nor seek them. They sought us, these strange white men coming in strange craft from a far land. They came and we did not welcome them as did the Cheles and the Peches, nor did we meet them as enemies when the Cupules, the Cochuahes, and the Cocomes fought against them. Three times while they were here we planted and gathered abundant harvests. Three times have we planted our fields since their departure. Twice we have failed to gather enough even for seed for the following season and the last planting, the third one, is now parched and dying.
“How, then, shall we feed our people? How shall we fill the breasts of the nursing mothers and warm the cooling blood of the aged and feeble? In this time of need even the wisest and strongest require the wisdom and counsel of their brothers.”
Ah Pula Xia the king sat once more upon his throne, that ancient seat of authority shaped in the form of a jaguar. Turning, he said to the ah-kin, the high priest, in measured words, “O Father of the Temple, Brother of the Sun, tell us from the store of thy sacred knowledge and from thy god-given wisdom, why have the gods been deaf to our prayers? What have we done that they have forsaken us and left us to be scourged so sorely?”
The pontiff, tall, spare, and lined of feature, with eyes burning bright in their deep sockets, rose from his seat and faced the king. His words came forth so clear and simply that even the youngest and the dullest of his hearers could not fail to hear and, hearing, understand:
“O Batab, ruler! O Halach Uinic, father of thy people, hear what the outraged gods say through my lips to thee and thy people:
“‘Unknown beings from a strange land and worshiping pagan gods have polluted this earth with their tread, have deafened our ears with their foreign tongue and defiled our temples with prayers to other gods. They have entered as guests into your towns and villages and you have received them. They have lived in your homes and you have suffered it. Your servants, at your command, have given them food and drink.
“‘The gods of our fathers are slow to wrath. They waited in patience your repentance, but you repented not. Then did the gods turn against you their wrath. With quarrels and dissensions they divided the evil white men. With pestilence and strange diseases they decimated them. Smitten by enemies, harassed by insects, and poisoned by reptiles, these white men faded in strength and numbers, until the few that still lived returned to the unknown land whence they came.