The Last Jew (52 page)

The sun of early springtime was very strong, and the armor absorbed heat like a cooking pot. Aromatic herbs had been strewn on the flagstones and were crushed by passing feet, but the odor of death was soon pervading. María del Mar Cano had planned to have the body rest in state in the courtyard for several days, to allow the 'little people' in the surrounding country to come and offer farewells, but she soon saw that it could not be.

A grave had been dug in a corner of the courtyard, next to the graves of three earlier counts of the district. A small army of men moved the great casket to the edge of the grave, but as the coffin was about to be closed Countess María del Mar Cano quietly instructed the funeral detail to desist.

She hurried back into the castle, to reappear in a few moments with a single long-stemmed rose that she placed in her dead husband's hands.

Yonah was standing eight paces away. It was not until the coffin lid was lifted again by the soldiers and had begun to be lowered that he was struck by a thought that made him stare at the flower.

It appeared to be only a rose. Yet perhaps the loveliest rose he had ever seen.

Yonah could not restrain himself from taking a step toward the casket, but in a moment, far too soon, the heavy stone lid settled over the Latin inscription, the dead knight, and the golden rose with the silver stem.

45

Departures

In the morning María del Mar Cano came to him while he was packing his saddlebags. She wore mourning, a black gown heavy enough for travel. The veil of her black cap hid the small scar on her cheek, from which he had removed the stitches only a few days before.

'I am going home. My father will send a factor to deal with the matters of property and inheritance. Will you come to Madrid with me, Physician?'

'It is not possible, Countess. My wife waits for me in Saragossa.'

'Ah,' she said in regret. But she smiled. 'Then you must come and visit someday when you may need a change. My father will want to reward you handsomely. Daniel Tapia might have done me great injury.'

It took him a moment to realize that she thought he had killed a man for striking her.

'You are confused about what has happened here.'

She lifted her veil, leaned forward. 'I am not confused. You must come to Madrid, for I would reward you handsomely, as well,' she said, and kissed him on the mouth and departed, leaving him depressed and angry. No doubt her father -- or anyone else who heard her -- would assume that the physician of Saragossa had used poisons to kill. He did not want that kind of intelligence to be whispered about.

María del Mar Cano was young and would be a temptation to men even when she was old, but her presence in Madrid would ensure that he would never go there.

By the time he finished packing he was in better humor. When he looked from the window he saw the Countess of Tembleque riding through the front gate, and despite himself he was amused to note that she would be well protected on the ride to Madrid, for she had found herself a strong young member of the guard to accompany her.

He made his farewells to the two priests in the courtyard. Padre Sebbo had his pack on his back and a very long staff in hand.

'In the matter of my fee,' Yonah said to Padre Guzmán.

'Ah, the fee. It cannot be paid, of course, until the details of the estate are settled. It will be forwarded to you.'

'I have noticed ten silver goblets among the count's possessions. I am willing that they should be my fee.'

The priest steward appeared interested, yet shocked. 'Ten goblets of silver are worth far more than a fee for failure,' he said drily. You did not keep him alive, his eyes told Yonah. 'Take four if you are interested.'

'Fray Francisco Rivera de la Espina said I would be well compensated.'

Padre Guzmán knew from experience that one must keep any matter out of the hands of meddling diocesan officials. 'Six, then,' he said, a hard steward.

'I will take them if I may buy the other four. Two are damaged.'

The steward named a price that was unfair, yet the goblets were worth more to Yonah than money and he agreed at once, although with some small show of reluctance.

Padre Sebbo had listened to the exchange with a small smile. Now he said his farewells, and with a lifted hand and a last blessing for the guards strode through the gate like a man with the world as his destination.

An hour later, when Yonah sought to ride through the same gate, he was halted.

'I am sorry, señor. We have been instructed to inspect your belongings,' the sergeant of the guards told him. They took out everything he had so carefully packed but he kept a check on his temper, though his stomach began to knot.

'I have a receipt for the goblets,' he said.

Finally the sergeant nodded to him, and he led Hermana to the side while he repacked his belongings. Then he remounted and gladly left the castle of Tembleque behind.

They met in Toledo, in front of the diocesan building.

'No trouble?'

'No,' Padre Sebbo said. 'A driver who knew me stopped his empty coach. I rode here like the pope.'

They went into the building and announced themselves and sat together on a bench without speaking, until the friar came and told them that Padre Espina was now able to see them in private.

Yonah knew Padre Espina was puzzled to see them together.

'I would tell you a story,' Padre Sebastián Alvarez said, when they were settled into chairs.

'I shall listen.'

The grizzled old man told of a young priest, beset with ambition and blessed with family connections, who had begged for a relic that would make him the abbot of a great monastery. He told of intrigue and theft and murder. And of a physician of Toledo who had lost his life at the stake because he had not refused a request from a priest of his chosen faith. 'That was your father, Padre Espina.'

Padre Sebbo said that down through the long years wherever he had wandered he had asked about stolen relics. 'Most people shrugged. It was difficult to gather information, but I garnered a word here and a word there, and the words pointed me to Count Fernán Vasca. So I began to go to the castle of Tembleque every so often, but not until this year did God see fit to bring me together with this physician at that castle, for which I thank Him.'

Padre Espina listened with rapt attention that turned to amazement as Padre Sebbo took an object from his bag and unwrapped it with great care.

The three men fell silent as they sat and studied the reliquary.

The silver was black with tarnish but the color of the gold was pure, and even beneath the tarnish the sacred figures and the decorations of fruits and plants called out to the viewer.

'God moved the hands of the maker,' Padre Espina said.

'Yes,' Padre Sebbo said. He removed the cover of the ciborium and they gazed at the relic within. The two priests made the sign of the cross.

'Fill your eyes,' Padre Sebbo said, 'for Santa Ana's relic and the reliquary must be sent to Rome as soon as possible, and our friends of the papal curia are notoriously slow in reaffirming authenticity when a stolen relic is recovered. It may not happen in our lifetime.'

'But it will happen,' Padre Espina said, 'and because of the two of you. The legend of Toledo's stolen relic of Santa Ana is known everywhere, and both of you will be lauded as the heroes of its recovery.'

'Recently you told me that if I needed your help I had but to ask,' Yonah said. 'I am asking for it now. My name must not be mentioned in connection with this matter.'

Padre Espina was disturbed by the unexpected turn, and he regarded Yonah silently.

What do you think of Señor Callicó's request, Padre Sebastián?'

'I support it wholly,' the old priest said. 'I have come to know his goodness. In times that are strange and difficult, sometimes anonymity can be a benison, even to a good man.'

Padre Espina nodded finally. 'I am aware there was a time when my own father might have made such a request. Whatever your reasons, I shall not cause you pain. But is there any additional way in which I may help you?'

'No, Padre. I thank you.'

Padre Espina turned to Padre Sebbo. 'You, at least, as a priest must be available to testify about what happened at the castle of Tembleque, Padre Sebastián. Can I not seek to find you easier work than wandering among the poor, begging for your supper?'

But Padre Sebbo wished to remain a begging priest. 'Santa Ana changed my life and vocation, leading me to a priesthood I had not imagined. I ask your help in seeing that I am mentioned only as is necessary, so my priesthood may continue.'

Padre Espina nodded. 'You must write a report of how these objects were recovered. Bishop Enrique Sagasta knows and trusts me, as a man and as a priest. I am confident I can convince him to send the precious objects on to Rome, stating that they were recovered by the Toledo See's Office of Religious Faith, from the castle of Tembleque after the death of Count Fernán Vasca, known to be a dealer in relics.

'The ancient Basilica of Constantine in Rome has been razed and a great church is to be erected over the tomb of Saint Peter. Bishop Sagasta yearns to be transferred to the Vatican, and I yearn to be taken there with him.'

He smiled. 'It will not hurt the bishop's reputation as a Church historian to receive credit for the recovery of Santa Ana's relic and such a reliquary.'

The two men stood in the street outside the diocesan building and regarded each other.

'Do you know who I am?'

Padre Sebbo placed a callused hand on Yonah's mouth. 'I do not wish to hear a name.'

But he looked into Yonah's eyes. 'I have noted that your features resemble the good face of a man once known to me, a fine man of wonderful skill and art.'

Yonah smiled. 'Good-bye, Padre.'

They embraced.

'Go with God, my son.'

He stood and watched Sebastián Alvarez walk away, the mane of white hair and the mendicant's tall staff bobbing down the crowded street of the city.

He rode to the outskirts of Toledo, to the field that had been the Jewish cemetery. No sheep or goats had been there in a while; the grass was greening nicely above all the Jewish bones, and he let the horse crop while he stood and said the Kaddish for his mother and Meir and all who lay there, then he got up into the saddle again and walked the horse back into Toledo, through the streets where the happiest and most innocent days of his life had been spent, up onto the cliff road overlooking the river.

The synagogue had been taken over by woodcutters, at least for the time being. Billets of firewood were stacked and piled on the front steps and along the face of the building.

He reined the horse to a halt when he came to the former house and atelier of the family Toledano.

Still a Jew, Abba, he called silently.

The tree over his father's grave had grown high, and behind the house the leafy branches hung over the low roof, giving shade, swaying in the breeze.

He felt the strong presence of his father.

Whether it was real or imagined, he reveled in it. Without words he told his father what had happened. There was no regaining the dead; what had been lost was lost, but it felt to him that the affair of the reliquary had come full circle and was done.

He patted Hermana, studying the house where his mother had died.

Sebastián Alvarez had said he looked like his father. Did Eleazar Toledano look like their father as well? If Yonah passed him in the street, in a crowd of people, would there be anything to make him realize that Eleazar Toledano was his brother?

Everywhere he looked he seemed to see a skinny boy with a large head.

Yonah, shall we go to the river?

Yonah, am I not to come along with you?

He was brought back to the present by the sudden sharp awareness of the stink; the leather tannery was still in operation.

I love you, Abba.

When he rode past the adjoining property of the neighbor, Marcelo Troca, he saw that the old man was still alive and in his field, placing a halter over a burro's head.

'Hola!' Yonah called.

'A good day to you, Señor Troca!' he shouted, and touched his heels to the horse's flanks.

Marcelo Troca stood with his hand on the burro's neck, peering in puzzlement after the black horse until the rider was out of sight.

46

The Barn

The place and he were a good match. The rectangular piece of property, really just a long, low hill with a meager brook running through it, was not Eden, nor could the hacienda be compared with a castle, yet the land and the house suited Yonah exactly.

That year spring had come to Saragossa early. The fruit trees he and Adriana had pruned and fertilized were heavy with buds by the time he arrived home. Adriana welcomed him with tears and laughter, as if he had returned from the dead.