The Jade Necklace

           The Pochtecatl man was weary from a week’s travel on foot. His slender calves ached, and the small pouch slung under his plain cloak chafed against his shoulder. He looked up, the waning sun casting a shadow on his destination: the Templo Mayor. He had important information to relay to his Emperor, Montezuma, and then he could finally return home and rest.

           As he passed the tall wall encircling the temple into the pavilion, he thought of his young son and daughter, and of his wife. He reached up into his pouch and pulled out the thin jade necklace he purchased for her while undercover in Tlacopán. He swung it gently between his fingers, enjoying the smooth texture of the green beads. He was barely able to sneak time away from his targets, two tepaneca nobles embedded in their emperor’s inner circle, to purchase it from a trader with the stipend Montezuma gave him for travel expenses. But he knew how his wife longed for one and figured that even though he must keep a low profile through humble clothing, she had no reason to do the same.

           He walked along the manicured dirt path, his daydreams interrupted by a scuffle within the chapel that skirted the Templo Mayor. Suddenly a dog, hairless and brown excluding a shock of white pluming from its head and tail, bolted out of the doorway. The man barely had time to blink before he felt a tug at his fingertips, and saw the jade necklace tangled within the dog’s high tail-hairs. Panicked, he ran in pursuit, pushing himself through the highly decorated guards that stood sentry. He would not let the dog out of his sight.  

           He soon heard another set of feet tumble heavily behind him. He looked back and nearly tripped when he saw a Tlamacazui, a priest, dressed in his sleeveless xicolli adorned with gold ornaments and colorful feathers. They did nothing much but weigh down the Tlamacazui now, shaking in their pursuit.

           “What are you doing?” He heard the words slip from his mouth and immediately felt the inappropriateness of his response. He was thankful for the equalizing effect of running after the same dog. “I mean, surely a man of your stature is beneath such action.”

           The Tlamacazui huffed alongside him, squaring his shoulders. The Pochtecatl man trained his eyes forwards again, just in time to see the jade-clad tail whip around a corner. His heart dropped. The further from the center of the Sacred Precinct they ran, the more packed with macehalli the causeways would be. He began to doubt his hasty action to pursue the dog, thinking that his duty to Montezuma was far more pressing than a gift to his wife she wouldn’t even know about, much less miss.

           “Curses!” shouted the Tlamacazui, out of breath. “How could I be outwitted by a four-legged animal?”

           The man wasn’t sure what to say. He saw the dog scamper under a fruit stall and weaved himself through the evening bustle. “It has a type of stamina I wouldn’t expect from a creature of its size,” he settled on.  

           “I admit, it was especially bred for its exemplary physique,” the Tlamacazui said between breaths. “It had to be a worthy sacrifice to Huitzilopochtli, whose divine presence guides Montezuma in his conquests.” The Tlamacazui shook his head. “Not tying up the dog sooner was an oversight on my part, but how could I expect the creature to evade me, much less the guards standing sentry?  By my gods!” The Tlamacazui stopped, and the man slowed with him. “I have a whole litter, and Montezuma will be none the wiser. I dare not indignity myself more by keeping up this failing pursuit.”

           The man’s heart dropped. It felt less foolish running after a dog with a priest by his side. But he had invested too much time to give up on his necklace and the wretched dog. Fearing he would lose sight of the animal, he forgoed a proper parting exchange with the Tlamacazui, only hoping the distinguished man would forgive his improper behavior. Sweat drenched his cloak and ran into the band of his loincloth as he followed the dog in the dying sun, past the heart of the marketplace into the thick chinampa fields floating above the lake’s surface, budding with the new harvest. He stepped along carefully, the water cool against the thick skin of his heels and the heat of his dusty ankles. He envied the dog’s agility as it weaved atop the rafts and between the crops, entering a small hut perched on solid ground.

           It was slow work picking his way through the chinampas, which made him aware of the ache at the base of his skull and the heaviness of his limbs. Above all, he found himself wishing he could lay down and float weightlessly in the refreshing water, washing off the grime of the day. With a sigh he stepped onto the small patch of land and walked up to the house, hoping it was less cramped inside than it looked on the outside.

           Upon walking through the doorway, he saw the house was sparsely furnished. There were a few woven mats that looked undesirable to sleep on even in his tired state. A chipped medley of ceramics lined the far wall. In the far-left corner he spotted the dog. It huddled with its back pressed into the crook of a small girls’ arm. She looked up at the man, frightened, the jade necklace wrapped around her thin fingers. Any contempt he held for the dog quickly dissipated at the sight of the girl.

           “Hello, young one. I believe you have something I’ve worked very hard to get.” He held out his hand and the girl stood slowly, her plain dress stained with mud. She dropped the jade necklace into his hand, then backed away, looping her arms around the dog’s neck.

           The man felt some duty to return the dog as well, as it was bred especially for Montezuma. Perhaps the dog could be saved for another, equally as important occasion? As he stepped forward the dog growled, and the girl whimpered. He looked her over once again, saw how small she was, how her hair tangled at her neck and her nails were cracked and dirty.

           “Where is your mother?” he asked, thinking of his own wife and children.

           “The marketplace,” said the girl. He could barely hear her words despite the room’s proximity. “I have to stay here to keep out of trouble.”

           He looked around. There was nobody outside, and the hut was built so no evening sun could enter, keeping the inside dark and cool. “You don’t have any siblings?”

           The girl shook her head, clinging onto the dog tighter. The man sighed. He still had to talk to Montezuma, and the sun was almost flush with the horizon. After all, he reasoned with himself, the dog wasn’t his responsibility, it was the Tlamacazui’s. And he had to admit, seeing the dog cower in the corner of the hut, he felt much more at ease with its fate here than in the chapel that reeked of decay.

           He nodded his head to the girl and exited the hut, placing the necklace safely into his shoulder pouch. He didn’t know how he would explain his tardiness to Montezuma, and only hoped the information he’d acquired at Tlacopán would be enough to excuse it. All he desired was a familiar place to lay with a familiar person, and let his weariness plunge him into slumber.