Creation of the Sun and the Moon Read online

  And the eagles said: “We will wait here until you kindle a new Sun. For in the new Sun, new wings will grow for us, and then we will fly to you, and greet you, Chicovaneg, for you are a friend of all that is good and noble on earth.”

  Chicovaneg said good-bye to the eagles and went to prepare himself for the final ascent from earth. When at last he was ready, he wore the powerful living eagle as a helmet. In his left hand he carried the marvelous shield made of the hides of great tigers and the skin of the mighty coatl tapir; in his right hand he carried a heavy spear with a long sparkling tip of gilded flint. He wore the mighty wings of the two eagles on his arms and legs. His body was clothed in hides of mountain lions, and over all he wore a cloak of feathers from the most brilliant and beautiful birds in the land of Chiilum. The soles of his feet were shod with leather sandals made from the skin of a young antelope. And thus, following the advice of the old sage in all its details, was he fitted with the strongest and swiftest things in this world.

  Now he stood at the end of the world ready to begin his journey into the heavens. To the Feathered Serpent Chicovaneg said: “Let us start on our quest.” And he looked up above him where rose the lowest star.

  The Feathered Serpent answered: “Leap, Chicovaneg. I will guard you while you rise. Do not turn around, do not look back, but leap forward.”

  Chicovaneg crouched to spring into space. Then he saw that the lowest star was higher than he had judged it to be, and he was afraid, saying: “Feathered Serpent, what will happen if I jump too short and fall into the cold and endless void?”

  Replied the Feathered Serpent: “Do not think of the cold and endless abyss. Leap for that little star you see there, right before your eyes.”

  Again Chicovaneg made ready to jump, and again he was afraid, saying: “The lowest star is much too high for me to reach. O Feathered Serpent, if only I stood upon a high rock. If it could not be a high rock, then a mountain would do, or if it could not be a mountain, then I would be satisfied with a hill, and if it could not be a hill, I would be content with a palm tree. Yes, if I found a high palm tree, I would dare to leap to that little star yonder.”

  Again the Feathered Serpent advised: “Jump, Chicovaneg! Do not look down or back. Leap!”

  Chicovaneg, still hesitating, now said: “My shield has loosened on my arm, so I must bind it more tightly; and, see there, the thongs of my sandals are now slipping. These things must be fastened before I can leap, or I shall fail and fall into the bottomless abyss.”

  Patiently the Feathered Serpent watched him undo the straps and retie the thongs. And this took Chicovaneg many months. At last he was ready. Once more he crouched to spring, and once more he trembled as he looked at the lowest star.

  “Jump, Chicovaneg. Do not look backward, or down into the void.” And when the Feathered Serpent saw that Chicovaneg still hesitated, it sprang and struck him in the back with such force that Chicovaneg flew forward like an arrow and fell headlong upon the lowest star, the Serpent behind him.

  Now Chicovaneg rose proudly, looked for his great spear, cleaned the star dust from his garb of feathers and furs, and went to pay his respects to the Manes, the spirits of the deceased who guarded the star. They had black faces, for they were not of Indian blood.

  When Chicovaneg told them how he had left his wife and son and all that he held dear on earth that he might create a new Sun for mankind, they made him welcome and freely gave him a piece of their star. Chicovaneg placed the star-fragment on his shield, where immediately it began to glow with great brilliance.

  By the star glow on his shield, Chicovaneg could now see better in the dark void. From this moment on, he felt as sure and courageous as a young god. No longer did he hesitate in his course, but vaulted from star to star, the Serpent always with him. Though he appeared on each star uninvited and unexpected, the spirits made him welcome. And though from star to star their faces were black or yellow or white, and though the spirits were strange to him in their appearance and their speech, all of them gladly gave him bits of their star.

  When Chicovaneg came at last to the spirits of his own tribe, he was welcomed with great festivities. The spirits of his own people were proud that one of their blood was to create the new Sun. They healed Chicovaneg’s wounds and bade him rest while they repaired his weapons and his garb. His own forefathers recognized him and came forth to speak with him, to give him good counsel and wish him well.

  Strengthened, and with new courage, Chicovaneg continued his difficult quest. And as he leaped from one star onward to another, his great shield glowed ever more brightly.

  At last his shield became so brilliant that it was brighter than the biggest star. Then the evil gods saw with rage that Chicovaneg was well on his way to creating a new Sun, and they sought with great fury to destroy him. They caused the earth to shudder, and whenever Chicovaneg was about to leap to a star, they made the stars tremble. They knew that if he missed but once he would tumble into the cold dark void of the cosmos and fall forever, through all eternity. Not even the fabled magic of the sacred Feathered Serpent could save him then.

  But Chicovaneg had become wise and patient in his wanderings. Obeying the suggestions given him by the spirits of his forefathers, he now did nothing with haste. He waited quietly until the great tremors of the earth and the stars subsided, and then—before they could begin again—he sprang across the perilous void. Sometimes when a star was beyond Chicovaneg’s mightiest leap, the Feathered Serpent flew ahead; his fangs seized hold of the star’s rim, and his tail swung down into space. Then Chicovaneg leaped to catch the brilliant tail and climbed up onto still another star.

  Chicovaneg climbed higher and higher, and his shield became brighter and brighter with every year, glowing so brilliantly that now men on earth could see that a new Sun was being kindled. How they rejoiced! In all their festivities they praised the coming of the new Sun in music and songs and dances.

  The people on earth were able to see that Chicovaneg’s journey had still to take him among dangerous comets. Each time he triumphed they were filled with joy. When it seemed that the distance from one star to another might be too great, they were filled with terror. And they went up to the highest mountains to build fires to signal to Chicovaneg their faith in him, their hope, and their desire to help light his way so he would not fail.

  These distant earth fires gave Chicovaneg new strength and courage. For the forces of the evil gods battled him ceaselessly, hurling their spears and arrows and battle-axes and ever seeking to destroy him. But from star to star his shield glowed more brilliantly. And now when his enemies came too close, Chicovaneg held the shield before their faces and blinded them with its starry luster.

  Protected by his bright shield, Chicovaneg loosed arrows and his spear with a sure hand. His spear he had fastened to a glistening lasso and the arrows to strong light tendons, so that he could always pull them back to him to use them again and again. And thus he was never without weapons, no matter on which star he stood.

  Enraged by the courage and cleverness of Chicovaneg, the evil gods took revenge on the people of the earth. They sent over the lands sudden hurricanes which swept away huts and destroyed towns and ruined fields. They sent swarms of locusts, also hordes of rats over the earth and unloosed heavy floods. Out of mountains, fiery streams of molten rocks poured forth, and poisonous smoke filled the air. And so in this way did the powers of evil hope to destroy all life on earth before a new Sun would arise in the sky.

  Then they hurled flaming rockets at Chicovaneg, so many indeed that to this very day, thousands of these fiery spears are still hurtling through the skies, now and then visible at night.

  But in spite of all that and never seriously afraid of being hit by those fiery missiles, Chicovaneg climbed higher and higher, and his shield became brighter and brighter.

  The earth responded to the new light.

  Flowers began to grow and blossom anew.

  Birds returned, with plumage more beaut
iful than before, and filled the air with song.

  Trees shot up from the soil. Mangos and papayas and bananas began to ripen. Pears and tomatoes, mameys and zapotes and apples, cantaloupes and guayabas and anonas, coconuts and anacardos, watermelons, breadfruit, guanábanas, and chirimoyas began to appear on the earth.

  Maize grew again, adorned with such long elotes and silken tresses and milky kernels that few people could recall its equal. Forests again were alive with all kinds of animals. Rivers and lakes swarmed with all kinds of fish.

  One day the people looked up and became fully aware that high above them in the apex of the sky there was now truly a new Sun, perfect in its radiant glory. Then all people celebrated the great feast of the Sun in honor of Chicovaneg; and thousands came from far away to the places of the feasts. With great clamor and music, the festivities were opened in the city of Chamo. People came from Tila and from Shitalja and from Huistan. They came from Jovelto, from Oschuc, and from Bachajon, from Shcucchuits, Yajaton, and from Yalenchen. They came from Acayen and Nihich and from Natjolom and Huniquibal, from Sjoyyalo and Japalenque, Bilja, Jacotepec, Yealnabil, Sotsum, Tonaljá, Ishtacolcot, Chalchihuistan, Sibacja, and Chiilum—and from many other cities and villages and hamlets of the tribes and clans of all their nations.

  And when the festival was at an end, the people went back to their homes to work with new strength and happiness. They built new cities, beautiful temples, and high pyramids in honor of the Sun. They also built the holy city of Toniná, several leagues toward the sunrise of Hucutsin.

  Even now the gods of darkness did not give up hope that they could blot out the light of the new Sun and rule mankind through terror and fear. They enveloped the earth with dark clouds so that men would forget Chicovaneg and worship the gods of evil. And under these heavy dark clouds, people began to fear and to despair and to suspect one another, for they now believed that the Sun would again be extinguished.

  But Chicovaneg was on guard. He raised his great burning shield to protect the people on earth. And he cast burning spears from behind his flaming shield, striking at the evil ones who hid in the dark clouds. He pounded his shield so that the air under the sky trembled in dull thunder. And when again he had triumphed over the forces of evil, he was filled with joy, and he painted a great arc of beautiful colors in the sky, which was like an arching bridge from earth to sky on which the people’s spirits might promenade if they wished to do so.

  Chicovaneg’s arc of colored air was his sign to all people on earth that they could work now in peace and happiness—he, the kindler of the new Sun, would stand guard. Never again would the Sun be extinguished.

  Thus, says the old Mexican legend, did a brave young Indian man create a new Sun for mankind.

  In the years that passed men realized that they enjoyed a beautiful Sun during the day, but they feared the darkness of the night. And so, according to the legend, the son of Chicovaneg set out on another journey to create for mankind a lesser Sun, one exclusively for the night.

  And here is what the legend tells of that feature.

  When the son of Chicovaneg grew up, the men of his tribe called him Huachinog-vaneg because he dreamed so much, and because his thoughts were more often in the sky with his father than on earth with his people. Often for long hours he sat in the shade of a tree, sad-faced and lost in meditation.

  One day his mother Lequilants found him thus. “My son,” she said, “why is it you are so sad? Everywhere people are happily rejoicing in the Sun your father gave them.”

  Huachinog-vaneg arose, bowed before his mother, put his face over her hand in greeting, and said, “Oh, my beloved and honored mother, and why should I not be sad? My father did great deeds on earth and in the skies. I feel unworthy of my father and of you.”

  “My son,” she told him, “you, too, are a creator. Do you not create beautiful houses out of stone, with sand and lime, so that people may live secure from storms and wild beasts?”

  “It is true,” the son replied, “but I have taught many to build as perfectly as I do. And time will decay these houses and also the temples and high pyramids I have built. After several summers no person will remember the one who built them— or even his name.”

  Whereupon the mother said, “My son, not all men can create a new Sun, but there is ever a need for houses to be built, for fields to be tilled, mats to be woven, pots and plates to be made and fired, and trees to be planted. For if all this were not done, of what use would be the perfect Sun in the sky?”

  “Honored mother, you speak wisely. But you are a woman, while I as a man, with different ways and other thoughts, am driven on by ambition. Many times when I have sat alone, under a tree, I have spoken to my father. Know that it is my ardent wish to go to him.”

  To this Lequilants said: “No mother, no wife or lover has the strength to prevent a man of strong mind from doing what he earnestly desires to do. Take me to the house, my son. Let me lean upon your arm, for now I feel my years.”

  The son saw his mother to the house. She put out the light of the pine-wood torch and covered the embers on the hearth with ashes. But Huachinog-vaneg left the door open so that he might see the stars.

  “Come here, my son,” said his mother, “and sit beside me. I am afraid of the dark tonight as every night.”

  “Do not be afraid, mother. I am with you.”

  “Yes, my son, and I am glad. But there are mothers who have lost their sons, and mothers who are alone because their sons are far away, and there are those who never had a son. All are afraid of the dark night—as I am afraid when you are not here.

  “I have thought at times that the people of earth also need a Sun at night. But who could create a Sun for the night only? It would be more difficult I think than it was to create the Sun for the day. The kindling of the Day Sun needed great courage, but only a man who is truly clever could create a Sun of the Night. For think! Such a Night Sun must give light but not heat; otherwise no living thing could recover from the day’s heat, and all life on earth must sleep and rest and gain strength for the coming day.”

  Huachinog-vaneg pondered his mother’s words. “You are wise, my mother,” he said. “It would indeed be difficult to create such a Sun for the night.”

  “Imagine how difficult, my son!” said Lequilants. “For the Night Sun must not disturb mankind, neither the animals and plants of the earth in their rest. Nor should it shine always with a full light. Rather, its light should increase and decrease gradually so that earth’s living things could grow accustomed to both light and darkness. And there should be nights on earth when the Night Sun disappears completely, so that people may know what true darkness means, and the usefulness of the stars and how satisfying complete stillness can be. How can any man on earth be clever enough to create such a Sun? Yet one dreams of such things as I often do.”

  Said Huachinog-vaneg, “It is a beautiful dream, my mother, and I am happy you shared it with me.”

  Time passed. One day Lequilants found her son sitting on the ground, sketching many rings in the soil.

  She came to him and said, “What thoughts are you lost in my son? A new building, or what?”

  “I have thought much about your dream of a Sun for the night,” he told her, “and now I believe I have discovered the way to create it. There is a very wise and learned man who all his life has studied the paths of celestial bodies. I am sure that with his guidance I can create the Night Sun which the world needs—one that you and all people on earth would like to enjoy, one that will give light but not heat, one that will slowly grow and then become small again, one that will even disappear at times so that its existence will be more appreciated by men.”

  Said Lequilants: “Go, my beloved son. My blessings are with you in all your wanderings and doings. Go and create a Sun of the Night so that mothers need not fear the darkness any longer. Should you meet your father, greet him for me and tell him that I think of him always in true love and admiration. When I look up in the dar
k sky and see that you have kindled the Sun of the Night, I shall know that my days are fulfilled, and that I can leave this earth as wife of the bravest man and mother of one of the cleverest men who ever lived.”

  Huachinog-vaneg went first to the sage Nahevaneg, and asked him, “O Wise Man, where can I find the Serpent with feathers? I need his help for I seek to create a Sun for the night.”

  Nahevaneg replied: “The Feathered Serpent is the symbol of our world, and as there can be only one such symbol, there is only one Feathered Serpent. Your father freed the Feathered Serpent to help him create the Sun. And after the Sun was kindled, he ordered the Feathered Serpent to stretch itself around the world where the arc of the sky rests on the earth or the great ocean. And there the Feathered Serpent lies to this day guarding the world against the evil forces that live beyond, always and forever ready to destroy the world.

  “Your father is not only brave but also cunning. He knows that the Serpent likes to drink deeply of the sweet streams that flow along the horizon’s edge, streams of morning dew from flowers that grow, some at sunrise, some at sunset, streams that mix with star dust to make a sweet and heavy wine of strange power. How the star dust sparkles in this rare wine! And how the Serpent loves it! This wine at the world’s edge is the drink that alone can quench the Serpent’s thirst. So Chicovaneg descends at the end of each day to see that the Feathered Serpent has not taken too much of this ethereal wine.

  “When Chicovaneg finds the Serpent awake and on guard, his radiant face paints the evening sky a golden red. But when he finds the Serpent asleep or drowsy with wine, he is angry, and his eyes flash like fiery wings dipping in and out of the dark evening sky. So you see, Huachinog-vaneg, the Serpent, busy as it is, cannot help you.”