I am shown standing on the North Acropolis overlooking the Great Plaza and Temple I at Tikal National Park in Guatemala. The ruins were once a major Maya city.
I am shown standing on the North Acropolis overlooking the Great Plaza and Temple I at Tikal National Park in Guatemala. The ruins were once a major Maya city.

In 378 CE, a mysterious military force marched into the jungle city of Tikal. That same day, ruler Jaguar Paw died, and Maya civilization changed forever.

Standing atop the pyramid at Tikal’s Lost World, the thick canopy of the Guatemalan rainforest spread before me like an endless sea of green. I was facing north, and colorful toucans shot through the clearing of the ancient plaza. Not far in the distance, Temple IV, the tallest structure at the world-famous national park, loomed above the foliage.

Removing my hat and wiping away sweat from my forehead in the searing tropical heat, I slowly panned toward the east. The crests of the Gran Plaza’s Temple I and Temple II and nearby Temple III peeked above the jungle as if they were hiding. All around me were the remnants of a vast city made virtually invisible by forces of nature. 

Looking to the horizon, I wondered how many undiscovered ruins encircled Tikal. The answer is likely a multitude: The lush Maya Forest once harbored one of the world’s most advanced civilizations, but it now holds dearly to its millennia-old secrets.

I walked around the perimeter of the pyramid’s observation deck and stopped at the northwest corner of the railing. My gaze settled on an oddly-designed temple below me. The building, built in out-of-place talud-tablero architecture, is a valuable clue to perhaps the most pivotal yet mysterious era of the Maya.

We know a few crucial details about this seminal period, one being that its watershed moment occurred where I was in the Lost World. As hieroglyphs describe, an enigmatic foreign military force strode into Tikal from the west during January 378 CE. That same day, the king died, and Maya civilization changed forever.

Hallmark of a Superpower

A day earlier, I bargained for a cab ride to Tikal at the border city of Melchor de Mencos. I had just walked across from Belize, clearing customs after spending days in San Ignacio. My driver also happened to be a tour guide. Luis, as he introduced himself in heavily accented English, told me he had just completed his training and was eager to put it to good use.

“In the glovebox,” he said, pointing in front of me as he steered the car west, “you will find a map of all the ruins on the Guatemalan side of the border.”

Shown at the beginning of this panoramic video, the talud-tablero temple at Tikal’s Lost World is a significant sign of influence by a mysterious superpower. Click the icon in the lower righthand corner of the player to expand the video.

After I retrieved and unfolded it, he began rattling off specifics of several sites. One in particular caught my attention: El Mirador.

Located around 30 miles (48 kms) north of Tikal near the Mexican border, archaeologists have only begun excavating the former Maya urban center of El Mirador.* Environmental factors haven’t made it easy: The area engulfing the ruins is untamed jungle, and the site is only accessible via helicopter from nearby Flores or a guided week-long trek through the jaguar-inhabited wilderness. 

Despite being in the early stages of their work, scholars have already determined that El Mirador was the seat of power in the Maya Lowlands before Tikal’s rise. Drought and famine caused by deforestation likely led to its downfall. However, its demise may have been expedited by military invasion, one that could have served as a harrowing prequel to the red-letter day in the fourth century at Tikal.

As Maya Exploration Center Director Dr. Edwin Barnhart explains in Maya to Aztec: Ancient Mesoamerica Revealed, residents of El Mirador began constructing fortifications sometime around 100 CE. Walls were erected that measured 8 feet tall (over 2 meters), and they were in a telltale position – along the western boundary of the city.

The defensive measures didn’t work; El Mirador was invaded soon afterward. Archaeologists have unearthed the remains of nobility who were slaughtered near the heart of the metropolis. In terms of the invasion’s later connection with Tikal, how these elites died is even more substantial than the location of the city’s barricades.

Spearpoints made of the volcanic rock green obsidian, a hallmark of Mesoamerica’s most influential civilization, were found lodged in their skeletons.

* At approximately 99 million cubic feet in volume, the central pyramid at El Mirador’s La Danta complex is even larger than the Great Pyramid of Giza. The massive structure underlines how important the city was to ancient Maya civilization.

More Clues at Caracol

“If you look how the slope of the stairway changes, you can see when they came.”

Rewinding again, this time to a few days before I crossed the border into Guatemala, I followed my tour guide Jason’s finger upward as he pointed from the bottom to the top of towering temple Caana (“sky place”) at the ruins of Caracol. The site is a roughly three-hour drive south from San Ignacio, Belize, and around 30 straight-line miles (48 kms) southeast of Tikal. It was one of the most important cities in the Maya Lowlands before the civilization’s inexplicable collapse around 900 CE.

Several centuries before its abandonment, archaeological evidence shows that Caracol was almost certainly in regular contact with whom Jason referred to as “they”: It was the same distant culture that may have routed El Mirador and assuredly marched into Tikal.

Looking at the ancient timeline, Caracol had interactions with the superpower in question after El Mirador’s invasion in 100 CE. I wasn’t able to confirm Jacob’s claim that the abrupt and significant variation in the Caana’s stairway was due to foreign influence. However, other academically validated clues at the Belizean ruins point to an apparent trade link that extended far to the west during the third and fourth centuries.

I am shown standing atop Caana at the Maya ruins of Caracol. Rising over 140 feet above the jungle floor, the temple is the tallest manmade structure in Belize.
I am shown standing atop Caana at the Maya ruins of Caracol. Rising over 140 feet above the jungle floor, the temple is the tallest manmade structure in Belize.

In 2010, archaeologists excavated a tomb at Caracol’s Northeast Acropolis, which is diagonally adjacent to Caana. The deposit was carbon dated to between 250 and 350 CE. It contained the remains of three presumably high-status individuals and was unlike any other ever discovered at the ruins.

The bodies were buried beneath a series of floors that descended meters below the Early Classic (the Maya period beginning in 250 CE) plaza level. The pit that contained the remains was scorched by an intense fire, leaving behind bone fragments, teeth, and a collection of artifacts.

Several of the objects were made of green obsidian, including spearpoints that resembled the ones found in the skeletons of the slain nobles at El Mirador.

As Jacob continued with his history of Caracol, my eyes wandered along Caana’s stairway. Although I couldn’t find evidence to support what he had said earlier, its suddenly steep incline looked very similar to one I had labored up only weeks prior.

That stairway was at another set of ancient ruins hundreds of miles to the west in the Valley of Mexico.

The Slow Drumbeat of Doom

Descending from my perch at the pyramid of Tikal’s Lost World, I walked across the plaza to the talud-tablero temple.* Much like my earlier ascent at Caracol’s Caana, the sharp climb to its top was arduous. Sweat drenched my shirt at the apex as a troop of endangered black howler monkeys shook the surrounding tree branches.

Scanning my new vista, the ever-present wildlife at the park – including monkeys, toucans, coati, and oscellated turkeys – made it easier for me to envision the time long ago when Tikal was built: The Maya carved their roads, causeways, public squares, and neighborhoods from the rainforest while living in close quarters with the same incredibly rich proliferation of tropical species. 

No doubt soaked in sweat like I was, construction crews spent an untold number of years completing the Lost World complex. From a historical perspective, none of the structures they raised was more monumental than the one on which I was standing.

El Mirador’s invasion near 100 CE and Caracol’s trade link to the west during the third century coincided with the stratospheric rise of Mesoamerica’s most mysterious metropolis – Teotihuacán. Located just outside Mexico City around 500 miles (800 kms) west of Tikal, the ruins of the ancient city are dominated by the Avenue of the Dead. Talud-tablero temples, designed in the same style as the one in the Lost World, line the massive avenida.

At its zenith from approximately 200-600 CE, Teotihuacán’s culture permeated every corner of Mesoamerica. Artifacts manufactured in the city, particularly those made of signature green obsidian, have been found east through the distant jungles of the Maya region in Guatemala and Belize to the Gulf of Mexico, south to Honduras, west to the Pacific coast, and several hundred miles north to the American Southwest.

The Pyramid of the Moon may be the smaller of the two pyramids at Teotihuacán, but its plaza at the end of the Avenue of the Dead makes it no less impressive.
The Pyramid of the Moon may be the smaller of the two pyramids at Teotihuacán, but its plaza at the end of the Avenue of the Dead makes it no less impressive.

The Teotihuacános didn’t just simply trade with surrounding native cultures; they also created sophisticated infrastructure to facilitate the transportation of resources to and from the Valley of Mexico. One example is their satellite city of Chulchihuitl, which was built around 500 CE for the express purpose of protecting the delivery route of turquoise from Chaco Canyon in present-day New Mexico.

Taking that into consideration, the talud-tablero temple at Tikal’s Lost World may have served as an embassy for Teotihuacán’s sprawling sphere of influence. Academics believe the two great cities interacted regularly during the early years of the Teotihuacáno golden age: According to the book Teotihuacan: The World Beyond the City, their communication likely became even more commonplace around 300-350 CE.**

During this period, a great feast was held at Plaza 50 in Teotihuacán. Nobility from the Maya region were invited, and among their number could have been elites from Tikal. Another potential sign of cultural interaction is Teotihuacán’s Structure 44, which was built around the time of the feast; it resembles palatial constructions found in the Maya Lowlands.

These early meetings appear diplomatic, if not suggesting the establishment of an alliance. The good relations, however, were short-lived.

Following 350 CE, Teotihuacán suddenly turned hostile toward the Maya. Cultural murals in the metropolis were destroyed, and a Maya nobleman was sacrificed in the Pyramid of the Moon. Special measures were taken to grind down mural fragments at Plaza 50, an apparent attempt to obliterate all memory of the Maya at Teotihuacán.

By middle to late 377 CE, Mesoamerica’s most powerful city was likely on war footing. Its army, wielding green obsidian-tipped spears, marched east from Mexico’s central valley. As word spread through the Maya Lowlands, a feeling of dread surely gripped Tikal.

The warriors of Teotihuacán were coming.

* Talud-tablero is a Mesoamerican architectural style consisting of a sloping wall (talud) that leads to a squared panel with an inset (tablero). It’s most closely associated with Teotihuacán.

** The book Teotihuacan: The World Beyond the City was written by Penn State Professor of Anthropology Kenneth G. Hirth, Boston University Associate Professor of Anthropology David M. Carballo, and Guatemala City-based Universidad Francisco Marroquín Museo Popol Vuh Research Associate Barbara Arroyo.

The Entrada

At the time of Teotihuacán’s mobilization, a ruler known as Jaguar Paw (Maya: Chak Tok Ichʼaak I) held the throne of Tikal. He is credited with establishing a trade partnership with the great metropolis to the west, but it’s unknown exactly what he did – or perhaps didn’t do – during his nearly two-decade reign to draw the ire of the Teotihuacános.

Stela 39 was translated as a commemoration to the king, and one element is unique: Jaguar Paw is depicted with a bound male, perhaps a prisoner of war.* As Barnhart points out, it’s the first discovered representation of captivity in the Maya Lowlands. The inscription was made in 376 CE, only two years before his sudden death. While there’s no evidence to support that warmongering by Tikal catalyzed an interventionist response by Teotihuacán, the timing is peculiar.

As the Gregorian calendar turned over in 378 CE, the number of sentries on the western boundary of Tikal was assuredly bolstered. Lookouts would have surveyed the rainforest from atop the pyramid of the Lost World, anxiously trying to catch the first glimpse of what historians now refer to as the Teotihuacán Entrada. The plazas of Tikal were likely in a state of whispered alarm or maybe outright panic.

This feature article is the second half of a two-part series on Teotihuacán’s indelible influence on Mesoamerica. Click to read the opening part “Teotihuacán: Down the Avenue of the Dead.”

Sometime in the middle of January, Teotihuacáno forces made it to the city. The account of the landmark day is recorded on Stela 31: The military force was led by Fire is Born (Maya: Siyaj Kʼakʼ), one of antiquity’s most formidable warlords. Within his ranks was a young prince named First Crocodile (Maya: Yax Nuun Ahiin I). He was the son of Spearthrower Owl, a prominent royal that may have been king of Teotihuacán.

While it doesn’t provide many details, Stela 31 leaves no doubt regarding the fate of Jaguar Paw – the day that warriors entered Tikal was the same day he “entered the water,” referring to the aqueous Maya underworld. First Crocodile was installed as the new ruler, but the real power rested with Fire is Born.

The fearsome general turned north from Tikal, venturing 14 miles (23 kms) to the Maya stronghold of Uaxactun. He executed royals and pronounced himself governor. Fire is Born was actively creating a new regional order; several ruins in the area mention his arrival around the same time.

Back in Tikal, Teotihuacáno architecture and iconography became prominent in the city during the reign of First Crocodile. Existing talud-tablero buildings were renovated, and others were constructed. Likenesses of Teotihuacáno gods like the goggle-eyed rain deity Tlaloc began showing up in artwork. In a recent discovery, lidar technology detected what is thought to be a smaller replica of Teotihuacán’s Citadel at Tikal. Mistaken for years as a hillock, it was built to the south of the Lost World.

While some experts stop short of calling the Teotihuacán Entrada a conquest, it certainly contained all the elements. The Maya Lowlands didn’t have a formally recognized capital city, but Tikal was its de facto center of power. With First Crocodile anointed its new king and Fire is Born acting as his regional overlord, the city – and therefore surrounding area – was now suddenly controlled by Teotihuacán.

The seismic power shift that occurred on a single day in January 378 CE sent shockwaves through the centuries that followed. Maya civilization had just been altered fundamentally; warfare was now a foundational part of their culture.

* A stela is an inscribed or carved stone that commemorates people and/or events.

The Maya “Star Wars”

Leaving the Lost World, I weaved my way along jungle trails to Tikal’s Gran Plaza. I climbed the stairs to the main platform on Temple II and faced east toward Temple I. Although not its largest structure, Temple I, also known as the Temple of the Great Jaguar, is Tikal’s most recognizable. It was built centuries after the Teotihuacán Entrada during a tumultuous time in the Maya Lowlands.

Following First Crocodile’s ascension to kingship in 378 CE, Tikal’s regional supremacy went unrivaled for nearly 200 years. The dynamics, however, began to change during the sixth century. Teotihuacán’s influence across Mesoamerica mysteriously waned, retracting back into central Mexico. This gave rise to a new set of upstart city-states that opposed Teotihuacáno influence, including Tikal’s eventual arch-nemesis Calakmul.

Situated across the Mexican border north of El Mirador, the ruins of Calakmul were once a major Maya polity that abhorred Teotihuacán. As the distant metropolis continued to fade, Calakmul forged alliances with Caracol and nearby Naranjo. They launched the first “star war,” the term the ancient Maya used for a critically important conflict, toppling Tikal in 562 CE.

I am shown venturing down a trail leading to Temple 38 at Tikal National Park. The pre-Columbian ruins are in the Maya Forest of Guatemala.
I am shown venturing down a trail leading to Temple 38 at Tikal National Park. The pre-Columbian ruins are in the Maya Forest of Guatemala.

Calakmul veritably ruled the region for over a century, although significant warfare with Tikal and other Maya cities was a persistent occurrence. Its dynasty attempted to eradicate all memory of Teotihuacáno influence at Tikal, even removing historical records from 378 CE to its sixth-century conquest. The former city of Fire is Born and First Crocodile, however, had one final era of greatness left in it.

In 695 CE Jasaw Chan K’awiil, counted as Tikal’s 26th king, defeated Calakmul. He retained power over the Maya Highlands until his death in 734 CE. The day he perished began what must have been a slow and painful decline into oblivion for the once revered superpower. Tikal was abandoned sometime in the following century.

The tomb of Jasaw Chan K’awiil was discovered in 1962 under Temple I by a team of researchers from the University of Pennsylvania. A carved lintel shows him wearing a deity mask. At the top of the illustration, coiled and ready to strike, is Waxaklajuun Ub’aah K’awiil – the Teotihuacán War Serpent.

Legacy of an Empire

Around a month after walking out of Teotihuacán’s Gate 2, I exited Tikal National Park. The sweltering tropical heat of the Maya Lowlands felt a world away from the arid, oft-brisk air of the Valley of Mexico. Looking beyond environmental differences, though, I knew both places are forever enmeshed.

Many historians not only balk at labeling the Teotihuacán Entrada a conquest; they also stop short of calling the mysterious metropolis in central Mexico an empire. I’m no archaeologist, but the city’s former influence fits the mold. 

Empires are characterized as “an extensive group of states or countries” falling under the control of a central authority. The installation of First Crocodile as king of Tikal some 500 miles east of the Valley of Mexico is one thing; establishing the satellite city of Chulchihuitl the same distance away but to the north is another. Considering the myriad of native peoples that lived in Mesoamerica during antiquity, the radius of Teotihuacán’s unchecked power is staggering.

The key difference between Teotihuacán and other more celebrated ancient superpowers seems to be methodology; while the Egyptians and Romans often used a proverbial hammer during expansion, the Teotihuacános may have favored a scalpel.

Glyphs at Tikal documenting the Teotihuacán Entrada suggest that it was largely peaceable: Jaguar Paw died, but no damage was done to the city. A distant yet valuable metropolis was secured largely without incident, which saved potential military losses and prevented disruptions to their eastern trade network. Teotihuacán continued to thrive for nearly two centuries, no doubt aided by their newfound control of the Maya Lowlands.

The depth of the culture’s imprint on the Maya is still not fully understood, but what’s been learned so far stands as an important testament to the legacy of Teotihuacán. 

In the opening feature article in this two-part series entitled “Teotihuacán: Down the Avenue of the Dead,” I wrote about how the idea of the great city has echoed into the present. Almost a millennium after being abandoned, its ruins directly inspired the Nahua as they forged the Aztec Triple Alliance during the 15th century. The descendants of that empire carry on their traditions, many which are reverential to the ancient city, in present-day central Mexico.

This article was about Teotihuacán’s gargantuan impact during and just after its golden age. Unlike the Maya, a written language hasn’t been discovered at Teotihuacán. Archaeologists are therefore reliant in many ways on the inscriptions at Maya sites like Tikal to reveal more important details about Mesoamerica’s most influential ancient civilization.

There’s plenty more secrets hiding in the Maya Forest, many of which will reveal themselves in due time. As Barnhart said, “If there’s any place that remains unknown, it’s the Petén rainforest in Guatemala.”

A similar statement could be made about its shadowy overlord from long ago that marched in from the west.

Related Content
– Click to read my feature article “Teotihuacán: Down the Avenue of the Dead” for an in-depth look into the mysterious history of the ancient ruins near Mexico City. It’s the first half of this two-part series on Teotihuacán’s seismic impact on Mesoamerica.
– Click to read my travel guide “A Visitor’s Guide to Tikal National Park” to learn about where I went, ate, and stayed at the world-famous location.
– Click to view my high-resolution photo collection featuring images from Tikal National Park.

Enjoy this content? Please share it with others.