The Last Song (11 page)

“Smiled? How could they smile when they already sealed the fate of these men, when they exiled them from their homes?”

I could feel Mama’s anger.

Papa cleared his throat. “Royalty is different from the rest of us. Let me tell you what happened next. The two courtiers fell to their knees in front of the monarchs. The queen leaned forward as if to help Seneor stand up. The old man must be at least eighty years of age.”

Papa paused.

“The two men reminded Isabel and Ferdinand of the loyalty of their Jewish subjects to the crown over many generations, and of their own devotion to the queen and the king, and of their love for their kingdom. They begged the monarchs to cancel the Edict of
Expulsion. They advised Isabel and Ferdinand to tax the Jews even more than they are already taxed, instead of expelling them from Sefarad.”

“Why would they say that?” Mama asked.

“The crown would gain the Jews’ property if they expelled them from the kingdom. Abravanel and Seneor were suggesting another way for the crown to get hold of Jewish money.”

“Will their majesties’ greed never be satisfied?”

“Hush now, and listen to what happened next,” Papa said. “Abravanel made a most extraordinary suggestion. He offered the king and the queen thirty thousand gold ducats if they allowed the Jews to stay in their homes.”

“His own fortune? What a noble man.”

“Yes, Isaac Abravanel is a true cavalier. He is a man of principle.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Mama’s voice. “Isabel, are you awake?”

I knew there was no use in trying to pretend any longer, and certainly no use in trying to fall asleep. Mama adjusted the pillows so I could sit up and she poured a goblet of wine for me.

Papa continued his story. “As soon as Abravanel made his offer, the queen sat up straighter on her throne. A nasty little smile appeared upon the king’s
lips. ‘Thirty thousand gold ducats you are offering us, Don Isaac?’ he asked. ‘In that case, we must reconsider …’ At that very moment, a side door opened and Tomás de Torquemada burst into the throne room. He was trembling like the leaves of a fig tree in a storm and waving a crucifix.”

Papa took a sip of his wine and went on. “ ‘Behold the crucified Christ whom Judas Iscariot sold for thirty pieces of silver!’ Torquemada cried. ‘Your majesties are about to sell him again for thirty thousand pieces of gold. You shall have to answer to God!’ Torquemada threw the crucifix down on a table and left the throne room without another word.”

“Oh no!” Mama said. “How did their majesties respond?”

“The queen’s face was as white as the wings of a dove. Seneor could only stare, but Abravanel tried to address her. She silenced him with a wave of her hand. ‘Do you believe that this comes upon you from the king and me?’ she asked them in a terrible voice. ‘The Lord has put this thing into our hearts!’ Ferdinand touched her arm. ‘Let us not be hasty,’ he said. ‘If Don Isaac offers us thirty thousand gold ducats –’ But the queen interrupted him. ‘It is God’s will,’ she said angrily. ‘Go!’ she commanded Abravanel and Seneor. ‘Go now! You have your answer!’ ”

Although I wanted to hear more, and I knew that it was unusual for Mama to let me listen in on the two of them talking, the wine was doing its work. “I’m going to bed, Mama, Papa.”

“Remember, not a word of any of this to anyone.” Papa’s warning sounded desperate and forlorn.

C
HAPTER 10
 

T
he clanging church bells made my head pound. My stomach churned with fear. I had to warn Yonah somehow. I longed to tell Mama what I wanted to do. I was afraid of her anger, but I knew that she would forgive me eventually and give me good advice. Sofia appeared at my door.

“It’s time for mass, mistress.”

“I am not going today.”

Her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.

“I don’t feel well. My head hurts. I must talk to my lady mother. Have you seen her?”

“She is in the sitting room.”

I got up. “Help me dress.”

Mama was sitting by the window, at her needlework.
Her kiss on my forehead felt like the wings of a butterfly.

“You are pale, my love. Are you feeling well?”

“I am fine, but I have to talk to you about something important. You will be angry …”

Yussuf entered. He bowed and waited patiently until Mama took notice of him.

“My lady, the cook requests your presence in the kitchen immediately.”

Mama lifted her eyes to the heavens. “Am I never to have a moment of peace?” She rose from her seat, putting her needlework beside her. “We’ll talk later,” she said over her shoulder as she followed the Moor out of the room.

I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed a peach from a fruit bowl to take to the garden. I carried Anusim’s cage to a stone bench and sat down. The scent of the roses and the pomegranates was overwhelming. Anusim burst into a song of unbearable sweetness. The sun warmed my face as I slurped my way through the peach and thought about everything that I had heard last night. I couldn’t alter a royal edict, but if I could warn Yonah, at least he and his father could prepare. I didn’t dare to wait any longer for Mama’s counsel before I spoke to him. It was too late for that. I would have to go to the Juderia myself. If I slipped out of the house
while Mama was occupied in the kitchen, I might be able to return before she even realized that I was gone.

I picked up Anusim’s cage and hurried to my room. I put it back on the windowsill and rang for Sofia to bring me the boy’s clothes I wore to Rabbi Abenbilla’s study group.

I sat down on the edge of my bed to wait for her, forcing myself to breathe slowly to calm down. My eyes fell upon the armoire. Something seemed different about it. I could have sworn that the second drawer was half open when I had hidden the kiddush cup in it. With my heart hammering in my throat, I pulled out the drawer. The cup was still there, wrapped in the folds of a petticoat, exactly where I had left it.
I must have closed the drawer without realizing it
, I told myself. Still, I felt uneasy and decided to hide the cup somewhere else. The only other place I could think of was in my jewelry chest. I took the key out of the vase on top of the armoire and unlocked the chest. I put the cup into it and locked it again. Then I put the key back into its hiding place.

The streets were so full of people that nobody paid attention to the Jewish boy who slipped out of our garden. Somebody jostled me and I bumped into the
man in front of me. I could tell by his clothing that he was a member of the potters’ guild. He stumbled and dropped the clay urn he was carrying. It shattered.

“A pox on you!” he cried. “But what else can I expect from a vile Jew?” He grabbed hold of my sleeve and spat in my face. “Somebody call the hermandad! The police!”

“Oh no, you don’t!” I kicked him in the shin and he let go. I took off at full speed.

“Stop him! Stop him!” he yelled.

I didn’t slow down until I turned the corner. I leaned, panting, against a building and wiped my face with my sleeve and tried to catch my breath. The sound of trumpets and drums was loud. Suddenly, I was swept up in a crowd heading toward the Juderia.

It seemed that all of Toledo was in that mob: women with their market baskets on their hips and nobles in rich velvets and hats with tall plumes surrounded me. There were priests and monks in sober vestments and even more sober faces. I could see members of every guild I could think of, from butchers with bloody aprons to bakers covered in flour from head to toe. I could hear the whips of the flagellants. Professional mourners dressed in white, crying and moaning, followed them. And there were Jews, hundreds of them, in their long cloaks with pointed hoods and circular
badges, like the one I was wearing. The Jewish men had long beards, and their wives were modestly clad.

Four heralds stood in front of the gates of the Juderia. My heart began to race. Was I too late? There was another drum roll and the bleat of trumpets. One of the heralds stepped forward and announced that he was the bearer of a proclamation from their royal highnesses, Queen Isabel of Castile and King Ferdinand of Aragon. He unrolled a parchment and began to read.

It was as I had feared. I
was
too late. The Edict of Expulsion was being made public. It stated that Jews had to leave our country by the last day of July of the present year of 1492, never to return on pain of death.

They were allowed to sell their businesses and property, but they were not allowed to take gold, silver, and money with them. Christian citizens were forbidden to aid or shelter any Jews on pain of confiscation by the crown of all of their property.

The words fell on the Jews like arrows. The women wailed and tore at their clothes. An old man beat his chest with his fists. He cried, “What will happen to us? What will happen to us? Where shall we go?” Some people wept and others were struck dumb. Among the Christians, there were those who laughed, but there were also many who shook their heads, grim expressions on their faces.

I caught sight of Yonah talking to a man. They were gesturing angrily. I pushed my way toward Yonah, but the crowd swallowed him up before I reached him.

There was nothing for me to do. I set out for home. I would tell my father what I had heard and seen. He would think of a way to help Yonah and his father.

Dozens of noisy, agitated people were milling in front of our villa. I hung back, afraid that they’d see me in my disguise.

At first, I didn’t see my parents. When I finally caught sight of them, I saw that they were surrounded by the servants and a dozen of the Inquisition’s familiars, distinctive in their sinister black clothing. An alguazil, a constable of the Inquisition, was with them. I thought that I saw Luis, but his back was turned toward me so I couldn’t be certain. Two of the Inquisition’s men were holding Papa’s arms behind his back and kicking him. My father tried to fight back, but to no avail.

“Let go of me, you fools!” he roared.

Mama was sobbing. “Let my husband go!”

“Don’t you know who you are dealing with? You’ll pay dearly for your actions!” Papa cried.

The constable stepped forward. “We know what we’re doing, Don Enrique,” he said sheepishly.

“I know you, Miguel Santos,” Papa said. “The last I saw you, you were serving drinks in a public house. I always thought that you were a sensible man. Why are you behaving so foolishly? Have I not paid enough for your inn’s ale?”

Santos’s face turned crimson. He would not meet Papa’s eyes. “My lot in life has changed,” he growled. “I am a servant of the holy Inquisition now. I am following the orders of the Grand Inquisitor, Tomás de Torquemada.”

“I’ve done nothing!” Papa said. “What am I accused of?”

Santos adjusted the sash around his waist. A dagger peeked out of it. “You know that I can’t tell you that, Don Enrique. Their excellencies, the Inquisitors, will tell you all you need to know.”

With a wave of his hand, Santos ordered his familiars to march off with my father in the direction of the walls of Toledo.

“I’ll be back before you know it!” Papa called to Mama over his shoulder.

Mama’s response was a tremulous smile. Only the compulsive curling and uncurling of her fingers showed her terror.

The servants turned back to their work. I looked around for Luis, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.
I must have been mistaken
, I told myself. What would he have been doing here, watching as Papa was taken away?

Nobody was around to see me climb the servants’ staircase, two steps at a time. I sat down on the edge of my bed to catch my breath and rang the bell for my slave.

Sofia’s eyes were red.

“Where were you, young mistress? They took the master. They banged on the door, bold as anything, while you were gone. May they be cursed!” She slapped her fist into her palm furiously. “How could I ever believe that the Inquisition was right?”

“I saw it happen. I was at the back of the crowd. Where is my lady mother?”

“She took to her bed, poor lady.”

I stood up. “Help me, Sofia. Bring me my pink gown.”

Mama was lying motionless on her bed, staring at the wall. I opened the shutters to let in some air. She turned her head toward me.

“They took away your father.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “Where were you?”

Now wasn’t the time to burden her with Yonah’s troubles. “I was having a siesta. It’s so hot.”

She didn’t ask why I had heard nothing. “What shall we do?” She reached out and clutched my arm. “They’ll burn him alive!”

“No! They have to let him go. He’s done nothing.”

I sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled her up to me. She put her head on my shoulder. We sat there, not speaking, but each of us praying silently for Papa’s safe return.

“This is my punishment for eating pork,” she said.

“Don’t be silly. God will forgive you. You only did what you had to do.”

She let go of my embrace and stood up. “I pray that God will listen to my voice.”