By Fire, By Water (47 page)

When Cristóbal Colón returned to European soil after discovering vast realms, he wrote first to the chancellor of Aragon. As the immense success of the voyage resonated through Spain, copies of his letter were printed throughout Christendom, bringing fame to both the sender and the recipient:

Chancellor:

Believing you will take pleasure in hearing of the great success that our Lord has granted me in my voyage, I write you this letter. Thirty-three days beyond the Canary Islands I reached the Indies and found very many islands thickly peopled, of all of which I took possession without resistance for their Highnesses. The lands are high, and there are many lofty mountains covered with trees of a thousand kinds, of such great
height that they seemed to reach the skies. Some were in bloom, others bearing fruit. The nightingale was singing. There was one large town of which I took possession, situated in a locality well adapted for the working of gold mines and for all kinds of commerce. To that city I gave the name of Villa de la Navidad, The City of the Birth, and I fortified it with a fortress, which by now is surely completed. I have established the greatest friendship with the king of that country, so much so that he took pride in calling me his brother, and treating me as such. Our Redeemer has granted this victory to our illustrious king and queen and their kingdoms, who will acquire great fame by an event of such high importance, in which all Christendom ought to rejoice. Done on board the caravel, off the Canary Islands, on the fifteenth of February, fourteen hundred and ninety-three
.

At your orders
,
The Admiral

When he first read Colón’s letter, the chancellor of Aragon laughed aloud, amused by the captain’s immediate assumption of the title “Admiral.” He strode out of his office, waving the missive, shouting the news to others in the royal palace.

That letter made Luis de Santángel a favorite not only of the king, but also of the queen. Tomás de Torquemada was left with no option but to relax his pursuit of the chancellor. King Fernando again behaved toward Santángel as though nothing had changed. He clapped his old friend on the back and confided to him about salacious trysts. He entrusted him with his most important and confidential business—financial, diplomatic, and political.

Luis de Santángel died in his sleep on a snowy February night, a mere six years after the discovery of the New World. At the moment of his departure, he dreamed he was sitting in the courtyard of Judith Migdal’s home in Granada, bathed in scents of jasmine, listening to the splashing of a small fountain, waiting for something or someone.

Many of the most influential men in Aragon and Castile attended his funeral. The celebrated Admiral of the Ocean Sea, Cristóbal Colón, did not restrain his tears. Nor did Luis de la Cerda, the duke of Medina-Celi, standing beside him. But no one bothered to tell Santángel’s closest living relative, the pious Brother Gabriel, who dwelled in the new Dominican monastery in Avila, of his father’s passing.

    
AUTHOR’S NOTE

T
HE IDEA FOR
By Fire, By Water
came to me several years ago, when I began to think (as have many others) about the connections between four simultaneous, world-changing events: the establishment of the New Inquisition in Castile and Aragon, the reconquest of Granada, the expulsion of all Jews from Spain, and Cristóbal Colón’s so-called discovery of the Western Hemisphere. Taken together, these events amounted to a cataclysm, foreshadowing the collapse of the medieval economic, governmental, and religious systems and the birth of the modern nation-state.

My focus eventually narrowed to the man who stood at the center of it all, Luis de Santángel. Caught between competing faiths, social classes, and loyalties, Santángel seemed to me a prototype of modern man. The character I developed is in some respects an amalgam of several
conversos
close to the king and queen. I have blended into my story elements from the lives of Gabriel Sánchez, royal treasurer of Aragon; Abraham Seneor, tax-farmer-in-chief of Castile; and others. These men faced similar challenges.

Within the scholarly community, a debate rages: Are we to trust the inquisitors’ accounts regarding the extent of covert judaizing in King Fernando’s court? Some argue that the Inquisition, for political and economic reasons, exaggerated the “problem.” However, there is a significant body of evidence, physical and cultural, that covert judaizing did persist in the
converso
population—and continues to do so, here and there, to this day. Defenders of the Inquisition see this as a justification for its methods. The prevailing sentiment in the worldwide Jewish community, however, is one of pride in the fact that so many marranos found meaning in their secret faith, despite enormous risks.

The basic facts of my novel are historically accurate. However, in many ways, I have massaged the facts to fit my dramatic purpose.

• Luis de Santángel’s title was
  “escribano de ración.”
  The iconoclastic historian of medieval Jewish history Norman Roth translates this as “Comptroller of the Treasury.” Based on Santángel’s function and responsibilities, the historian Cecil Roth refers to him as “Chancellor and Comptroller of the Royal Household.”
  

• The first Inquisitor of Aragon, Pedro de Arbués, was assassinated on September 17, 1485, in prayer at La Seo Cathedral. The assassination was blamed on a cabal of New Christians, including Santángel.
  

• Luis de Santángel’s family was decimated by the Inquisition. King Fernando intervened to preserve Santángel’s life. Santángel’s son, however, was forced to wear the sanbenito, the smock of shame, and his cousin, also named Luis, was burned at the stake.
  

• Cristóbal Colón lived for a time with Luis de la Cerda, the duke of Medina-Celi, who was a business associate of Santángel. Various details regarding Colón’s relationship with the king and queen have been omitted or simplified. Colón’s dramatic final appeal actually took place in Santa Fé, outside Granada.
  

• Santángel encouraged the queen to sponsor Colón’s first voyage and arranged the financing of that voyage, which involved borrowing 1,140,000 maravedis from a variety of sources. Colón’s discoveries, of course, ultimately made Spain the wealthiest country in the world.
  

• The only non-sailor aboard Colón’s ships was named Luis de Torres (a literal translation into Spanish of the Hebrew name Levi Migdal). Colón refers to Luis de Torres in his diaries as a Jew, with no discernible animosity. It is known that Luis de Torres (who lived in Murcia, north of Granada, immediately prior to Columbus’s departure) hastily converted to Christianity in order to sail with Colón. His official function aboard Colón’s ships was “translator.” Along with thirty-eight other sailors, he chose to stay behind in the New World rather than return to Spain. When Colón went back a year later, all the settlers had either fled or died.
  

• Ysabel and Fernando’s war against the kingdom of Granada did take place much as described, though it has been simplified here.
  

• I invented the
  aquae serpentis
  subplot, but it does have some basis in history. While Ysabel and Fernando were perhaps blessed in their military career, they were severely disappointed in their progeny. Prince Juan died shortly after marrying Princess Margaret of Austria. Princess Ysabel married Prince Manuel of Portugal, then died in childbirth. Princess Catalina became the first wife of Henry VIII, who eventually divorced her and separated her from their daughter. After Queen Ysabel died, her titles passed on to Juana, who was pronounced mad. The king continued to rule over Castile as her regent.
  

• I have conflated two popes, Sixtus IV and Innocent VIII. The attitudes of these two popes toward the New Inquisition were neither simple nor consistent. However, it is clear that Rome perceived the New Inquisition as a threat, and that despite their “Catholic Kings” sobriquet, the Crowns of Aragon and Castile well understood how to treat the papacy with contempt.
  

• Hernando de Talavera and Tomás de Torquemada did hold many of the positions and views attributed to them in this novel. Some thirteen years after the events related in this book, Hernando de Talavera, then archbishop of Granada, was himself tried by the Inquisition.
  

Regarding the motives of the sovereigns and their associates, historians disagree. Some consider the queen or the king, or both, to have been religious fanatics. Others identify primarily financial reasons for the Inquisition and the expulsion of the Jews. For further insight, I refer the reader to the historical works of Henry Charles Lea, Cecil Roth, Henry Kamen, and Benzion Netanyahu. For a stimulating, recent overview of the history of Jewish–Catholic relations, I would recommend James Carroll’s
Constantine’s Sword
. For information on Nasrid Granada, I largely relied upon Rachel Arie’s extraordinary and exhaustive
L’espagne musulmane au temps des nasrides
. I have borrowed ideas from all these writers and others, and melted them—sometimes, perhaps, beyond recognition—in the crucible of dramatic narrative.

As for the Hebrew manuscript that lies at the center of my story, the
Toledoth Yeshu
, the following can be said: No one knows when the
Toledoth Yeshu
was written. Fragments of it have been discovered in several ancient
genizahs
(storerooms for damaged texts), and the Church Fathers refer to it as early as the second century. It is true that Colón took a great interest in acquiring—sometimes, perhaps, by dubious means—the works of Jewish (and other) prophecy, apocryphal or not, and in their interpretation. However, there is no evidence that Colón ever possessed this particular text.

The purpose of a historical novel is to locate and reveal the dramatic core of history. While writing
By Fire, By Water
I felt much like a sculptor searching for the statue—the drama, the gist—within the dappled, streaked, sometimes impenetrable marble of chronological events.

M
ITCHELL
J
AMES
K
APLAN
Mt. Lebanon, Pennsylvania, Columbus Day 2009