Aj B’olon Haab’tal

Stela 10 is on the north side of Structure A-3 ov this archaeological site. Seibal is located in El Ceibal, Peten, Guatemala. It was inhabited in the Middle Preclassic Period around 800 B.C. It was apparently abandoned between roughly 500-690 A.D. After it was reoccupied in 735, Ruler 3 from the Maya city known today as Dos Pilas, captured the, Yich’ak Balam, ruler ov Seibal and his city, leading to about 60 years of foreign rule.

Stela 10 depicts Wat’ul Chatel, traditional Maya dressed in the Terminal Classic period. The text on this stela displays the emblem glyphs ov Tikal, Calakmul and Motul de San José, describing how he received visitors from those cities. Among the visitors are named Kan-Pet ov Calakmul and Kan-Ek’ ov Motul. Wat’ul Chatel wears a headdress associated with the patron dieties ov Seibal, the heron and K’awiil, deities that were also the patrons of Palenque. This appears to be an attempt by this foreign king to identify himself more closely with the city he came to rule.

Around 830, a non-Classic Maya group settled in Seibal, which witnessed its greatest florescence over the next century, its population reaching about 10,000. The city was permanently abandoned in 930 and not rediscovered until about 1890.

Wat’ul Chatel was also known as Aj B’olon Haab’tal’s.

Aj B’olon Haab’tal NARRATIVE:

He lets the water from the Pasion drown into his field of vision as he glances down at the river that reflects his omniscient gaze. The elite stare intently at his every move, pondering what might be streaming through their leader’s mind. Unknown to their curious looks is the ambition which steams out of their overlord’s heart and perspires out onto his glowing skin. Aj B’olon Haab’tal masks his overflowing aspirations behind a calm and composed face, one that beckons the thought of:

“I want my rule to mimic and surpass the glory that other once dominant cities enjoyed. What Dos Pilas has stolen from us in our cities’ unfortunate span of oppression, we shall restore into future generations of prosperity.”

In the midst of heavy thought, the ruler is interrupted by one of the elite who states bluntly, out of his discomfort at the almost dreary silence that wafts through the humid air:

“K’uhul Ajaw! Are you ready to commence planning out your temple?”

Not one wisp of breath pours out of Aj B’olon Haab’tal’s meditative lips

“Did he hear what I had said?” doubts the puzzled member of the elite.

The other elite share the same question in their own minds. Another individual, who secretly teems with embarrassment as the sun’s spotlight stubbornly hangs above him while it creeps downward into its resting place which stelae shall mark someday, gathers the courage to iterate his companion’s seemingly innocuous act of asking:

“K’uhul ajaw? We have gathered today…”

“I know, I can see that” is his concise, yet ambiguous return of words.

“What would you have us do today, k’uhul ajaw?”

“Do not simply refer to me as k’uhul ajaw. I go by many names, for I am your friend, your mentor, and your leader who shall bring to you an era that sings of happiness and renewed hope in our strength as a city, a city that shall rise in glory above the trees that entrap it. This city shall not lay in the foul muck that has smeared Seibal’s ancestry for all too long! We shall break with this pitiful past and install a future that our descendants will rave about and build upon until the end of time. I am Aj B’olon Haab’tal, invest in me your faith as your friend, your mentor, and your leader who shall help Seibal forge its own history amongst the greatest of all time!”

At this most powerful and endearing moment, the lips of all burst forth into a continuous rampage of uplifting cheers and chants that bear their ruler’s name.

That is all but two. Out of the aura of widespread jubilation emerge two rulers whose own cities, Tikal and Calakmul, tinker on increasingly unstable foundations.

Jewel K’awiil and Chan Pet of Tikal and Calakmul respectively, two cities ancient in embroiled rivalry, now mutual in decline, hover their voices above the crowd in an attempt to bolster their, at best, marginal presence.

As the symphony of vocal support dies down in intensity, K’awiil and Pet’s voices coincidentally echo

“Aj B’olon Haab’tal, we have…”

The two look at each other in spite. The declaration restarts

“Aj B’olon Haab’tal, we have come…”

The two bridge their eyebrows eyes closer while the river’s mirror and the ruler, his turned back still ignoring their every word, share smirks at just how much authority that he retains in comparison to the two once preeminent cities who saw Seibal as a mere pawn of influence.

“Aj B’olon Haab’tal, we have come…” K’awiil’s voice regretfully yields to Pet who, with more pomp in his speech, continues

“We have come before you in celebration on this great day. Oh, what a glorious day it is to be in your presence for the end of the first k’atun of the tenth bak’tun.”

Aj B’olon Haab’tal ambiguously scrolls his eyes toward the two “rulers” behind him before returning to his former relaxed poise and perspective like that of a cat lazily peeking out in response to a sudden sound whereupon sleep then fills its focus.

“I have….” K’awiil starts

“We have…” Pen interjects “…wanted to bear witness to your decision concerning your magnificent future temple.”

The other elites’ expressions flip from uniform smiles to uniformly crossed arms and rolling eyes at Pen’s empty remark.

K’awiil attempts to break open his lips from the embarrassment that seals them shut. He engages the ruler on a lighter subject.

“How do you today, k’uhu.. Aj B’olon Haab’tal?”

Aj B’olon Haab’tal slyly rolls his head to the side, his neck as straight as a jaguar peeking up at its unknowing prey while hiding in the shadow of its own silent gratification.

He was feeling especially delighted today. The whites of his eyes wrap around darkened cores of energy and innovation that his constituents have not fully seen. His hands clasp together into tightened grips around his bright destiny.

The eyes now depart from their pair of twins in the water. As they stubbornly voyage to meet those Chan Pen and Jewel K’awiil’s, the body now makes a slow effort to turn in the same direction. The mouth bursts open into bemusing satire.

“I am feeling especially horrible today. What’s more? Your question only serves as fodder for my unfortunate ears which have to carry your screech of a sound to my most clouding headache.”

Chan Pet now smiles happily in his imagination. Nevertheless, neither Chan nor the now humiliated K’awiil make one more sound and step back to stand among the ranks of other elite.

All eyes now meet the ruler’s headdress, so rich in splendor, so intimidating in appearance that even the lowly dirt beneath his feet frantically follows the wind to avoid being covered by his headdress’ shadow.
His field of view extends over the crowd onto the vacant plot of land that will be holy in his name.

He envisions a structure with four sets of stairs climbing to one origin. Each entry door shall bear his image in all of his splendor to his people and his future generations of subjects….