The Last Song (18 page)

I followed it to the yard behind the house. A youth, stripped to the waist under the hot July sun, was breaking a wooden table into pieces with an ax.

“What are you doing?”

He whipped around. He was a boy about my own age with dark hair. The metal cross at his throat gleamed in the sunlight. He held his ax pressed against his bare chest, as if it were a weapon. “Who are you? What do you want? There is nothing left here for you if you are one of them scavengers!”

“I am not!” I answered.

His grip on the handle of his ax tightened.

“I am Yaacov, Yonah’s friend. Where can I find him?” I struck out my hand.

He looked suspicious but finally grasped it. “Your hand is soft, like a woman’s,” he muttered.

“Where can I find Yonah?”

His eyes traveled warily to the red and white badge on my cloak. “If you are one of them, why don’t you know?”

“Know what?”

He wiped his brow with the back of his arm. “All the Jews know.”

“I have to tell you the truth. My father is a physician in their majesties’ court. He received special dispensation from the queen and the king to live outside
the Juderia. I usually meet Yonah in the streets of Toledo. I am not privy to everything that goes on in the Aljama.”

“ ‘Dispensation,’ ‘privy,’ ” he muttered. “You use big words like the gentry. So do my master and Yonah. You better not be wanting to hurt my master or his son!” he said fiercely.

I realized then that he was the apprentice whose brother Pablo had overheard Torquemada and Fray Armand talking about my papa.

“There is nothing I want to do less than hurt Yonah or Master Abenatar. I told you – Yonah is my friend.”

“He better be. There is no master who is kinder or more fair than Master Abenatar. You’d never know that he was a Jew!”

I opened my mouth to ask him what the Jews had done to him to deserve such a hateful remark, but I thought better of it. It was no use making him angry if I wanted him to give me information. “Yonah talked about you to me. He said that you are a loyal person. Where is he? Where is your master? I have to speak to them right away!”

His forehead puckered as he considered my question.

I tried again. “So, what do you say? I have to find Yonah. Where is he?”

“I guess there is no harm in telling you. The Jews have gone to their cemetery.”

“Where is it?”

“You really don’t know much, do you?”

“I told you why. I don’t live in the Juderia.”

He pointed to the north. “Follow the lane behind the house to the edge of the Juderia. You can’t miss it.”

I heard the cries even before I saw the cemetery. It seemed that every Jew in Toledo had gone there to say a last good-bye to their loved ones. I passed graves where bearded men were placing stones on their parents’ graves. An old lady sat on the ground beside her long-departed husband’s grave, tears streaming down her face. Everywhere, men stood in groups of ten to chant the Mourners’ Kaddish in memory of the loved ones they had lost many years ago. The rabbi’s wife was hugging a slender, weeping girl.

I looked around but I couldn’t see Yonah in the crowd.

“Isabel, is that you?” He had found me. He took my hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to tell you that we are hiding in a shed in the garden behind the house of my friend Brianda de Alvarez.”

“Brianda de Alvarez? Is she not the daughter of Diego de Alvarez?”

I nodded.

“Diego de Alvarez is a familiar of the Inquisition. He doesn’t wear the black clothing of a familiar, like most of them do, but he is one of their informers. I am certain of this.”

It took me a moment to understand his words. Tio Diego – an informer? An enemy of our family? Why, he used to carry me on his shoulders when I was a child. We shared meals in each other’s homes. He was family. His wife was my godmother, and his daughter my best friend. I remembered for a moment the figure I had seen in the corridor in the Grand Inquisitor’s palace. Could that have been Tio Diego? I no longer knew what to think.

“The world doesn’t make sense anymore.”

Yonah sighed. “No, it certainly doesn’t. But I don’t understand … why would Don Diego want to help you?”

“He doesn’t. Neither does his wife. They wouldn’t even open their door to us when we went to ask them for help. Tio Diego and Tia Juana don’t know that Brianda offered us their shed as a hiding place.”

“You’re lucky to have such a good friend!”

“I know!” Then, more quietly, I added, “I wanted to tell you something else. Don Alfonso and Luis came to see us. They broke the betrothal contract. I am free.”

Yonah grinned. “I am so glad! I must speak to your father.”

“Not yet. Not until we are safe again. There is too much on his mind.”

He leaned closer. “It won’t be easy to wait.”

I felt too shy to meet his eyes.

He laughed and released my hand. “Let’s go to my papa,” he said.

He led me toward a grave a few steps away. Master Abenatar was standing next to it, his back to us. He was rubbing the top of the headstone with a cloth. We were too far away for me to read the inscription on it.

“It’s my mother’s grave,” Yonah said. “My baby brother is buried beside her. Papa,” he said, “look!”

Natan Abenatar turned around. He stared at me for a long moment before holding out his hand. “Doña Isabel, I almost didn’t recognize you in these clothes. Are you all right?”

“I am, because of you. I came to thank you for offering us a way to freedom.”

The pious man did not want to hear my words. “It is I who should be thanking you, Doña Isabel. I am grateful that I can offer help to your family. The Talmud says that if you save one life, you save the world.” He rubbed the headstone again. “Who would have thought …” He shook his head. “We will come
for you at sunrise.” His eyes roamed around the cemetery. “It is so hard to leave our loved ones. We haven’t the power to withstand the injustices heaped upon our heads.”

“What do you mean, Papa?”

“I heard that Rabbi Seneor was baptized, as was his whole family.”

“Oh, Papa, no.”

“Don’t judge him too harshly, son. Seneor is an old man. Rumor has it that he agreed to his baptism in order to save the lives of our people.”

“What about Isaac Abravanel?” Yonah asked.

“They tried to force the baptism font upon him by attempting to kidnap his grandson, but Abravanel beat them at their own game. Abravanel is still a Jew and will die a Jew.”

Abravanel and Seneor – why were these names so familiar to me?
I thought to myself. Then I recalled what I had heard about them. They were the Jewish courtiers who had tried to prevent the expulsion of the Jews from the kingdom. Abravanel even offered the queen and the king thirty thousand gold ducats of his own money if they let the Jews remain in Sefarad. I remembered how Papa had admired their courage.

Tears filled Master Abenatar’s eyes. “Yonah and I came to the cemetery to say good-bye to my beloved
Tova and my little Simon.” He drew a finger along the rough edge of the headstone. “I pray that the good Lord guides us to safety and to new lives, just as he led our people out of Egypt.”

C
HAPTER 18
 

T
he shed was stifling and airless in the summer heat. It was hard to know if morning had come because a thick mist blanketed the garden. I had perched myself at the small shed window, to watch for any strangers, when I saw the shape of a man. He came closer and stopped in the doorway. I could finally see his face. It was Yonah. He was carrying a parcel in his hand.

“I have a surprise for you,” he announced after greeting us.

He stepped aside and motioned behind him with his hand. Out of the shadows came Yussuf and Sofia. Both slaves were dressed like Yonah. They came inside and I closed the door behind them.

“What are you doing here?” Mama whispered urgently.

Sofia dropped to her knees. She grabbed Mama’s hand and kissed it. “Forgive me for coming, my lady, but I could not bear being separated from my young mistress.”

Mama pulled her up from the ground. “Don’t be foolish. Don’t you realize what could happen to you if you stay with us? The Inquisition might capture you. You might go hungry. Return home! It’s not too late. Nobody knows yet that you came to us.”

Sofia hung her head. I put my arm around her shoulders.

Mama turned to Yussuf. Gently, she said, “I am disappointed in you. You should have known better.”

The Moor bowed deeply. “Forgive me, Doña Catarina. Let us come with you. We’ll be of use to you.”

I couldn’t remain silent any longer. “Please let them stay, Mama. I would miss them more than I can say.”

“You are being selfish, Isabel. If the Grand Inquisitor’s people capture us, what do you think will happen to Sofia and Yussuf? They are slaves.”

“They won’t catch us. I am sure of it.” I prayed quickly that I was right. “With us gone, Sofia and Yussuf would get a new master. Who knows how he would treat them? He might be cruel to them.”

“Isabel is right,” Papa said. “Yussuf and Sofia are
here already, so let them stay for now. We’ll part from them in Cartagena.”

Mama nodded, but I could see that she wasn’t happy with Papa’s decision.

“Let’s not worry about what’ll happen in Cartagena until we get there,” I said.

“Thank you, master, mistress,” Yussuf said, bowing again. “You won’t regret your decision.”

Sofia was beaming from ear to ear.

“How did you find us?” Papa asked.

Sofia glanced at me. “I was certain that Master Yonah would know where my young mistress was. Yussuf and I went to the Juderia to find him. Fortune was on our side. Master Yonah was just leaving his home to come to you when we arrived.”

“Sofia is more clever than the familiars or the alguazil,” Yussuf said. “They couldn’t find you, Don Enrique, but she did. Santos led Torquemada’s men when they came for you last night. Santos is so full of hate. They tore the house apart looking for you.”

“They threatened Yussuf with torture if he didn’t tell them where you were,” Sofia said. “They punched him in the stomach many times.” She shook her head. “And to think that only a few months ago I thought that the Inquisition was fair and just!”

“Are you all right, Yussuf?” Mama cried.

“I am fine, my lady. I told them over and over again that I didn’t know how to find you. They finally left. Santos promised that they would be back. I believe him. I give thanks to Allah that you got away.”

Mama began to cross herself, but then she let her hand drop. “Old habits die hard. I, too, thank the Lord for saving our lives.”

“After Santos and the familiars were gone, Yussuf and I decided to find you and to warn you.”

Yussuf looked at Yonah and shook his head. “It took a lot of convincing for Master Yonah to agree to us coming with him.” He smiled. “He is even more strong-minded than you, Don Enrique.”

“But not more stubborn than you,” Yonah laughed.

The rising sun was burning away the mist.

“We must leave before we are discovered,” Papa said.

Yonah handed the package he was cradling to my mother. “These are the clothes we have to wear. It’ll be safer for you to look like one of us.”

“We
are
one of you,” Papa said.

We waited outside while my parents changed into their new clothes. Don Enrique de Cardosa and his lady wife were transformed into a Jewish couple with red and white badges on the shoulders of their cloaks. Next it was my turn. I put on the boy’s clothes I had worn
to the Juderia. Suddenly, I thought of the silver kiddush cup Yonah had given me. I knew that I was forbidden to take it with me because we were pretending to be Jews, but I couldn’t bear to part with it. The petticoat I had taken off was lying in a heap on the clay floor. I tore a long strip of lace from the hem and tied it tightly around the cup. Then I wound the lace around my waist, so that the cup hung from my waist.

We followed Yonah through the sleeping streets. I tried to memorize everything that I saw. Here was Butchers’ Lane, where we always bought our meat. We passed the Church of Santo Tome, where Alberto had swung his sambenito high up into the air.

At the edge of town, we came upon an incredible sight. A long, long line of people was trudging down the dirt road as far as the eye could see. We began to walk along the column of people, in search of Yonah’s father. I saw courtiers and scholars and silversmiths like Natan Abenatar. There were farmers and innkeepers. Most people walked on foot along the rutted path. The swollen-bellied pregnant women and infirm were in carts pulled by donkeys.

Rabbis encouraged the people to sing hymns.

I saw an old man fall to the ground. Despite his friends’ pleas, he could not get up. They had to leave him behind. Farther down the road, the crowd parted
to walk around a girl bent over the body of a woman.

“Mama, don’t die! Don’t die!” she wailed.

A newborn baby’s tiny cries came from the back of a donkey cart.
One dead, one born
, I thought.

Even though it was early in the morning, the air shimmered in the heat. But the heat did not stop priests and monks in long cassocks, who held crosses high, from running along the line of people.