The Last Song (3 page)

“But I –”

He held his palm up in the air. “I know what’s best for you.”

“You promised to – ”

“I know what I am doing. Alfonso de Carrera is an Old Christian. His family has followed the Catholic faith for as long as anyone can remember. We live in perilous times. There is no doubt about de Carrera’s lineage. Any member of his family is safe from the Inquisition.”

“I don’t understand you, Papa. Why do we have to fear the Inquisition? They punish heretics, false Christians. We’re not like that. We go to church. Nobody is more devout than Mama. I never miss confession with Father Juan.”

Papa looked at me intently and opened his mouth as if to speak but then stopped and shook his head.

“Tell her, Enrique! Isabel should know the truth.”

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“Tell her,” she repeated.

“What’s Mama talking about?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” my father said
impatiently. “I am pleased that you are devout, like Don Alfonso and his family. They would expect Luis’s wife to share their faith. Don Alfonso is not only a good Christian. He owns vast, fertile fields and his name is honorable. King Ferdinand consults him regularly on matters of state. However, Don Alfonso’s crops have been poor for the past few years and he is having financial problems. I obtained his agreement to a betrothal between you and Luis only after I offered him your very generous dowry. Luis is Don Alfonso’s only son. He will inherit his father’s estates some day. He will make you an excellent husband. You will be the envy of all who know you.”

I grasped his arm. “Let me wait, Papa. You promised that you wouldn’t look for a husband for me for another year. That’ll give you time to find somebody I’ll like more than Luis. I don’t want to marry him. He seems arrogant and he has no conversation.” My voice rose higher and higher. “I don’t like the look of him!”

Papa pried my fingers off his arm, one by one. “You have been indulged, Isabel, and it is my fault. You are my only child and I always gave in to your wishes, but not this time.” His voice was stern. “I want what’s best for you.” He sat down heavily in his chair.

I turned to my mother. “Mama, I beg you, please tell Papa that he is wrong. I don’t want to marry Luis. I don’t like him!”

“Lower your voice,” Mama said. “Your father is not wrong. You can’t possibly dislike the boy. You just met him. We know what’s best for you. Luis won’t be returning with his father to Aragon. He will remain in Toledo so that the two of you can get to know each other. He will make you a good husband. You must do your duty.”

“But Mama –”

She cut off my words with a wave of her hand. “The marriage ceremony will not take place until you turn fifteen. You will be used to the idea of marrying him by then.”

I fell to my knees, my hands clasped in front of me. “Please, Papa! Please, Mama! I beseech you. Don’t do this to me!”

My mother turned her head. My father twirled his cup around in his hands, over and over again, but would not meet my eyes.

“The betrothal ceremony will be one week hence,” he said.

C
HAPTER 2
 

N
o matter how hard I tried, I could not change my parents’ minds, so I decided to follow Mama’s advice. I told myself that Luis was actually quite handsome, except for the meanness of his eyes. Perhaps if I gave him a chance and got to know him, I might grow to like him.

The rose garden was a riot of color. Red, yellow, and white roses lined our path. Wild, rambling roses climbed up the stone walls that enclosed the garden, their sweet scent overwhelming.

“My mama spends much of her time with the flowers,” I told Luis as we wandered down one of the paths leading to an arboretum in the center of the garden. Sofia was chaperoning us, following behind, out of earshot. “Does your mother have a garden, too?”

Luis snickered. “Indeed, she does. Like all women, my mother devotes too much of her time to frivolous pursuits. I will make sure that any wife of mine will not waste her time in such a manner. There are more important things a wife should do – such as supervising the lazy servants for her husband’s comfort and providing heirs to her lord’s property.”

“But the flowers are so beautiful – ”

His cold look silenced me.

We walked beside each other without speaking until a small salamander ran across the path. It must have been a baby for it was very small. It stopped on the path directly in front of us.

I picked up my skirts, ready to step over it, when Luis stomped on the poor creature with the heel of his boot. The little animal writhed in pain. Luis kept stomping and stomping on its body until it stopped quivering. He finally kicked it off the walk, into the bushes.

I began to tremble. “Why did you kill it? It did you no harm!”

“I hate those slimy creatures,” he said in a self-satisfied voice.

I no longer could bear to spend more time in his company. I shaded my eyes with my hand and looked at the sky. “It’s getting late. I must bid you good-bye. My parents are awaiting me.”

He shrugged his shoulders. I could see that he didn’t care that I wanted to leave. “As you wish.”

Before I could move, he turned on his heels and knocked against me. Suddenly I felt his cruel fingers pinching my breast.

“Ouch! How dare you.”

Sofia ran toward us. I did not wait for her. I slapped his grinning face with all my might.

He stepped closer and grabbed my wrist. His fingers were like a vice, but I stood my ground. “You will soon find out how much I dare!” he snarled. “You will pay dearly for your behavior, my lady.”

He made a deep, exaggerated bow and strode off toward the house. I hurried, almost running, down the path in the opposite direction to meet Sofia.

Once we were safely through the garden gate, we leaned against it to talk about what had just happened. Sofia handed me a handkerchief and I wiped away my tears.

“He is no good,” she said, gesturing in Luis’s direction with her head. “He whips his slaves. You better tell your papa what he is like.”

Papa would not listen to me. I begged, I cajoled, I raged – but to no avail. My father was deaf to my pleas.

“You are innocent of the ways of the world. Luis is no different from other men. I know what’s best for you,” he said. “The betrothal must take place.”

Mama took Papa’s side. She repeated constantly: “You must do your duty. The boy will make you a good husband. You will get used to his ways.”

I knew
that
would never happen, but she would not listen when I told her that Luis had an unkind heart. “He kills living things for no reason, Mama. You are the one who taught me never to hurt defenseless creatures.”

She would not relent.

I was so embarrassed that I could not bring myself to tell her about his lack of respect toward me. Instead, I tried to explain that the perfumes he used to cover the odor of his unwashed body sickened me. No matter what I said, she ignored my words.

I soon realized that there was nothing I could do to change my parents’ minds. I became determined to stay as far away from Luis as possible.

Finally, the day I had dreaded arrived – the day of my betrothal. The golden warmth of the sun woke me up. I lay in my bed, still drowsy, until I remembered what day it was. I rang for Sofia. She wept with me as she got me ready. Both of us knew that I had no choice,
that there was no escape. I had to obey my parents.

She bathed me and helped me into a chemise and kirtle. Above it I wore a blue gown embroidered in the colors of the rainbow. The flowing, long skirt made me feel grown-up. The blue color emphasized my purity, and the richness of the embroidery my position in society. She coiled my hair at the nape of my neck and covered it with a snood embroidered with gold thread. Finally, she rubbed a salve made of berries and spices over my cheeks to give them a rosy glow. She painted my lips with the same potion.

Mama entered my room, most handsome in green silk.

“You look beautiful,” she said.

“So do you.”

She pulled me close to her, as if to kiss me. Before I realized what she was doing, she plucked several hairs from my hairline.

I jumped back. “What are you doing? Why are you hurting me?”

She laughed. “Now you have a noble brow, like our queen, for whom you are named.” She took my hand and twirled me around. “Perfect! Luis will be mad with passion for you.”

I sank to my knees. “Please stop this charade, Mama. I beg you. I don’t want to become Luis’s bride.”

“That’s for your father and me to decide,” she said in a stern voice I rarely heard from her. She sat down on a stool, careful to spread her skirts around her. “By marrying Luis, you will strengthen your position at the royal court, and – most importantly – you will be safe from the Inquisition.”

“Why do I have to strengthen my position at court? Papa is their majesties’ favorite physician. He can do no wrong in their eyes. We have no reason to fear the Inquisition. We are good Catholics.”

Mama rose from her seat with a whisper of her skirts. “Again, too many questions, my girl. I must go to the kitchen to check on preparations for the food. The guests will expect a feast after the betrothal ceremony.” She patted my hand. “Go for a walk. It will calm your nerves.”

I found myself by the orange tree that grew beside the house. From where I sat I could see anyone coming, and the leaves hid me from prying eyes. I stretched my arms and legs wide and leaned against the trunk of the tree. I closed my eyes to try to take in the smells and sounds of this garden, my childhood playground.

I must have dozed off, because before I knew it, the clopping of hooves startled me awake. A boy, riding a
mule, was arriving at our front door. A large package wrapped in rags was slung over the mule, in front of his saddle. Quickly, I got to my feet and went to meet him.

He was a tall boy, a little older than me, with swarthy skin and wild, black curls partially covered by the pointed hood of his long cloak. The badge Jews had to wear, a white circle with a smaller red circle inside it, was sewn onto the left shoulder of his garment.

“Whoa! Where did you come from?” he asked.

I didn’t answer.

He pointed to the orange tree. “Were you hiding behind that tree?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“I am Yonah, the son of Natan Abenatar, the master silversmith,” he said proudly. “I am delivering a centerpiece for a table.” He nodded at the package in front of him. “I was told that it was needed for the betrothal meal in honor of the daughter of the house. Where should I take it?” He climbed off his mule with easy grace.

“Come with me.” I made my voice as haughty as I could.

The slight smile on his lips made me wonder if he was laughing at me. I looked around. There was no sign of Yussuf. He was most likely in the kitchen, driving the servants wild with his demands.

“Yes, my lady.” The slight tremor in his voice made me look at him more closely. I still couldn’t decide if he was making fun of me.

I led him through the house into the grand hall. There were flowers everywhere in large pottery vases. The table in the center of the room was set with silver dishes.

“This is a beautiful room,” he said, his eyes roaming over the rich carpets and wall hangings depicting knights rescuing damsels in distress. “Where would you like me to put the centerpiece?”

He undid the rags to reveal a golden skylark in a silver cage. The bird’s feathers were ruffled and he seemed poised for flight. His gold eyes seemed to sparkle, as if in the ecstasy of his song. I could actually hear his trilling notes in my imagination. Somehow, the bird also seemed frightened and sad. His silver cage was intricately carved with different kinds of silver fruits hanging over the bars – oranges, grapes, and pomegranates.

I stuck my fingers through the cage and touched the bird’s golden feathers. “This bird is beautiful. A masterpiece! He looks alive. I can almost hear his song. He wants to fly away. He wants to be free.”

The boy smiled at me. I smiled back.

“Thank you,” he said. “My father and I spent many happy hours with this little creature.” He patted the
bird’s head with calloused fingers. “I am happy that he will belong to somebody who’ll appreciate his grace and spirit.”

He turned toward the door. There was something so honest and so compelling about him.

I didn’t want him to leave. “What did you say your name was?”

“Yonah. What do they call you?”

I didn’t know how to reply. Should I berate him for his boldness? After all, I was Isabel, daughter of Enrique de Cardosa, the queen’s physician. Who was he but a simple silversmith and a despised Jew? How dare he speak to me as an equal? Despite this, my mouth seemed to have a will of its own.

“I am Isabel. The bird you made is for the table at the banquet in honor of my betrothal.”

An expression I could not fathom flittered over his face. “I wish you much happiness, Isabel,” he said.