Summer swung her light about, revealing a morbid assortment of protruding skulls and bones. Madero hadn’t exaggerated when he cautioned them before the dive that it was like visiting a graveyard struck by a tornado.
The fact that the cenote had been used for human sacrifices seemed apparent, but Madero had yet to identify its occupants. The location was in a region once inhabited by the Olmecs, and later the Mayans, although Madero could not date any finds to either era. A small ceramic figurine had been dated to 1500 A.D., concurrent with Aztec rule farther north, and close to the time of the Spanish conquest.
Gazing at the exposed skull, Summer envisioned the ceremonial human sacrifice that had taken place centuries before on the cenote’s rim. If it was an Aztec ritual, the victim would have been held facing the sky while a high priest plunged a razor-sharp flint knife into the victim’s chest and ripped out the still-beating heart. The heart and blood were offerings to the gods, possibly the warrior deity, who ensured the sun’s daily travels across the sky.
In some instances, the victim’s limbs would be severed and consumed in a ritual meal while the torso was tossed into the cenote. In the case of the Aztecs, human sacrifice occurred daily. The smiling skull looking up at Summer might just be one of hundreds of victims sacrificed from the unknown village that once stood overhead. She shivered at the thought despite the warmth of her wetsuit.
Summer turned and followed Madero as he guided them over several excavation pits, pointing out a basalt grinding bowl, or molcajete, that had yet to be cataloged and removed. After several more minutes surveying the grisly bits of human remains, Madero motioned with his thumb toward the surface. Their bottom time had expired.
Only too glad to depart the submerged graveyard, Summer gently swam toward the surface ahead of the two men. As she followed her trail of ascending bubbles, she brushed along the limestone wall. A wayward kick jammed the edge of her fin against a protrusion, nearly pulling it off her foot. To her left, a ledge jutted from the wall and she propped an elbow against it as she readjusted her fin.
She pushed off from the ledge to continue her ascent but felt a smooth shape beneath her arm. She hesitated, examining the narrow ledge, which was crowned with a thick mantle of silt. As she fanned her hand through the water, she brushed away a layer of loose sediment that swirled upward in a brown cloud. As it began to settle, an image emerged through the murk, a painted butterfly.
Madero approached and glanced at the ledge. A glimmer of recognition sparkled in his wide eyes. He gently brushed a gloved hand over the surface, then dug his fingers into the sediment, tracing the object’s perimeter. Caught on the ledge during its descent, it had no associated cultural context to warrant a more methodical excavation. He scooped the silt aside, exposing a ceramic container roughly the size of a jewelry box. The lone corner not encrusted with sediment featured a tiny butterfly.
Madero motioned for Summer to take the box and ascend. She gingerly lifted it from its perch like the box was a ticking bomb and then kicked toward the surface.
Their limited time on the bottom didn’t require a decompression stop, so she continued finning until her head popped above the calm surface. She floated near a makeshift stairwell as Madero exited the cenote and dropped his dive gear, then returned to take the box from Summer’s anxious fingers. Dirk followed her as she climbed up the steps. They quickly stripped off their wetsuits as the steamy heat of the Mexican Gulf Coast enveloped them.
“The water was amazing,” she whispered to Dirk, “but I could have done without the graveyard tour.”
He shrugged. “Not the worst place to spend eternity, after losing your heart.”
“What did they do with the hearts?”
“Burned them, I believe. They might have left a few in inventory.” Dirk waved an arm about the surrounding light jungle. Madero had found only scattered remains of a temple structure and an adjacent village near the cenote. Little of it was now recognizable. Only a pair of canvas tents, used by Madero and his associates during their periodic excavations, gave any hint of human occupation.
The archeologist had taken Summer’s box to a nearby table. Summer and Dirk approached as he carefully brushed away a layer of concretion with an old toothbrush.
“So what did Summer find?” Dirk asked. “An old box of cigars?”
“No es una caja de cigarros,” Summer replied with a shake of her head.
Madero smiled. “Your Spanish is good.” He kept his eyes focused on the box. “I believe it is in fact something much more remarkable.”
Summer crowded in close to study the artifact. “What do you think it was used for?”
“I really can’t say, but the design certainly appears Aztec. They were wonderful artisans. I’ve viewed a large number of artifacts but never anything like this.” He set down the toothbrush and tilted the box toward Summer.
“The shape is unique,” he said. “A perfect square is much more difficult to create out of clay than a round pot. And look at this.”
He pointed to the seam along the edge of the lid, which was sealed with a gray substance.
“Glued shut,” Dirk said.
“Exactly. It looks like dried latex, which is easily extracted from the local rubber trees.” He picked up the box and gently shook it. A light object rattled inside.
“It’s remained sealed and watertight despite its immersion,” Madero said. “The sediments covering the box must have provided a layer of protection.”
“What do you think is inside?” Summer asked.
Madero shook his head. “There’s no telling. Once we get it back to my lab in Veracruz, we can X-ray it, then remove the latex and open it.”
Dirk grinned. “I still say it’s some musty cigars.”
“Perhaps.” Madero set the box down with reverence. “But I think it could contain something much more significant.”
He picked up the toothbrush and lightly scrubbed the center of the lid, gradually revealing a bright green circular pattern. Inlaid stones of green and blue were impressed into the design. The wing of a bird began to take shape.
“The Aztecs incorporated animals into much of their artwork,” Madero said. “Eagles and jaguars were popular motifs, representing the warrior classes.”
Summer studied the expanding image. “It’s a bird of some sort, but I don’t think it’s an eagle. Were other birds used symbolically?”
“Yes, especially exotic tropical birds. Their plumage was highly valued, more so than gold. The emperor and other nobility would commission elaborate headdresses from feathers of a green jungle bird called the quetzal. Then there is Huitzilopochtli. He was the ancestral deity of the Aztecs, perhaps their most important god. He was a patron of war but also of their home of Tenochtitlan. He was the guiding force for the Mexica in their original migration from Aztlán to Tenochtitlan — what is now Mexico City.”
“And he was associated with a bird?” Summer asked.
“Yes, a blue hummingbird. The image was typically reserved for items of the ruling class.”
Madero blew away the loosened debris and held the box toward Summer. She could now see the stones were pieces of jade and turquoise. They were joined by inlaid bone and pyrite in the shape of a bird in flight. There was no mistaking the animal’s stubby wings and long, thin bill.
It was a blue hummingbird.
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