Now Ahcuitok Chan leaves the palace surrounded by the higher priestly dignitaries. He is magnificently dressed, a cloak of rich featherwork hanging from his shoulders and falling over the jaguar skin draped around his body. His jade necklace is a work of art, beautifully carved human heads hanging in front and back, and over each shoulder. Delicate, tendril-like feathers of the quetzal, the royal emblem, hang from a brilliantly painted wooden helmet carved to represent a serpent head, the patronymic of his family, Chan. Indeed he wears all the insignia of the True Man save only the Double-headed Ceremonial Bar which ancient practice decrees may only be borne by the True Man himself. Follows last the simply clad boy of seventeen in whose honor all have assembled.
The procession moves slowly across the plaza and ascends the steep stairway to the sanctuary of Itzamna above. The musicians, sweepers, incensers and chanters take positions on either side of the temple doorway on the summit of the pyramid, now bathed in the first rays of the rising sun. The soldiers form a double cordon on each side of the stairway from bottom to top, between which the rest of the procession passes, dividing at the top and arranging itself on either side of the doorway. Even Ahcuitok waits at the entrance for his nephew, and when the boy has at last reached the summit, he takes his hand and leads him within, followed only by the highest officers and priests.
The crowd now dispersed since nothing visible to the eye of the common folk would be going forward until the close of the afternoon, although within the sanctuary itself the ceremony would be continued all day. When the higher officers of the state had all assembled in the outer corridor of the temple, Ahcuitok Chan, still leading his nephew by the hand, approached the curtain guarding the sanctuary, and drew it aside, at the same time motioning the boy to enter. After Holon Chan had passed within, Ahcuitok Chan let the curtain fall behind him and seated himself on his haunches outside the doorway, all the others arranging themselves about the chamber in the same position.
Now followed a long and wearisome vigil both for those without the curtain and for the hungry tired boy within. Etiquette proscribed conversation lest it should interrupt the devotions of the suppliant in the sanctuary, and time hung heavy, as the hours dragged by.
All day long Holon Chan prayed to his father Itzamna in the semi-obscurity of the holy place, leaving his orisons only long enough to replenish the brazier with little balls of incense or quench his thirst from a bowl of water by the door. He had now fasted so long that he was light-headed, and it seemed to him that at times the wooden image of the god smiled down upon him, even answered his prayers for guidance and gave him counsel; at least so he told his uncle when the latter came to fetch him for the investiture an hour before sunset. But this one was a wise old man, well acquainted with the frailty of the flesh and the hallucinations born of an empty stomach, and he only nodded wisely, and did not press for further particulars.
In the outer corridor all was astir for the final act of the great drama. As Holon Chan stepped out of the sanctuary all prostrated themselves in obeisance. A priest now stepped forward, and painted his legs, arms and torso with a bright red pigment, encircling his eyes with a heavy band of the same color, and adding a large red daub to each cheek. His plain breechclout was now removed, and a heavily embroidered one wound around his loins instead. Next anklets and wristlets of jade were fastened around his ankles and wrists, and a heavy collar of the same material hung about his neck. This was richly embellished with four large medallions of jade, one in front, one behind, and one over each shoulder, beautifully carved to represent the human face; a fringe of smaller jade heads hung from the collar. Square jade ear-plugs were fitted into the lobes of his ears, and a jade ring slipped on his finger. These were, in truth, the state jewels; precious material gathered by succeeding generations of True Men to adorn their own persons.
A magnificent jaguar skin, tawny orange-red dappled with rosettes of black, was hung from his shoulders, the long tail dragging on the ground. Finally the serpent crown was placed upon his head. This was an ornate affair of cedar carved to represent the head of a snake with widely distended mouth. It was painted a brilliant green, the mouth being red; the eyes were formed by two pieces of highly polished, jet-black obsidian, the teeth being inset pieces of white shell. From the head of the snake rose a shower of quetzal plumes, the tail feathers of an hundred of these rare tropical birds, obtained with infinite hardships from the cold mountain ranges far to the South. These delicate tendrils of plumage floated down behind the boy, and as the evening breeze caught them, swirled around him, enveloping his body in a mist of translucent green.
The hour of sunset was at last drawing near. The priest on the roof of the temple above shouted down a warning that the Lord of the Day was nearing the horizon. The Great Plaza and its surrounding terraces had, in the meantime, filled with people; every pyramid-stairway and summit thronged with spectators. A body of priests had taken positions by the thatched fence around the monument, ready to fell it at the instant of sunset. All the officers of state and the priests, including Ahcuitok Chan, indeed all save only Holon Chan himself passed out of the temple, and arranged themselves on either side of the doorway. Before Ahcuitok Chan, stood two priests supporting a brilliantly painted wooden staff; one end carved to represent the Sun God, the other end, the Rain God, the whole shaft being hung with green feathers. This was the Double-headed Ceremonial Bar, the emblem of supreme authority of the state, only to be carried by the True Man. Throughout his regency even Ahcuitok Chan had never used this insignia of the highest office.
The sun was now all but touching the horizon; the watcher above uttered a piercing cry, and the multitude below stiffened to attention. Sixty silent seconds passed and then the watching priest chanted: “Lo, the Lord of Day passeth.” Suddenly from the temple doorway into the full radiance of the setting sun, now gilding the brilliant company gathered on the pyramid’s summit, stepped the new ruler, resplendent in the flashing green of jade against his crimson body, his cloak of glossy jaguar skin gleaming in the sun, his form swathed in a shimmering mist of green, the swirling tendrils of quetzal hanging from his headdress.
A mighty roar of acclaim loosed itself from the spectators below. The drums on the summit pealed a roll of welcome. At the same instant the fence of thatch around the monument was beaten to the ground; the sun, striking at last fair upon its front, made glow every detail of carving. From the True Man above, to his exact counterpart sculptured on the front of the newly unveiled monument below, every eye turned and turned again. The mighty cheer continued. The chosen of Itzamna and Yum Kax, he who would bring back fertility to their sterile fields, was at last proclaimed ruler. Ahcuitok Chan took the Ceremonial Bar from the waiting priests and, advancing to his nephew, placed it horizontally in his outstretched arms: “Hail, Ah Holon Chan, son of Ahmeket Chan! I invest thee with the rank of True Man of Tikal, and may the Great Itzamna grant thee long life, and to thy people prosperity everlasting!”