The Last Song (4 page)

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Happiness is not my fate. My parents are forcing me to marry a boy I detest. He is unkind, with a heart of ice.”

“Do your parents know how you feel?”

I brushed away my tears angrily. “They won’t listen to me. I don’t understand why.”

There was a loud noise outside. He put a finger to his lips. Several servants carrying crockery in their
arms charged into the hall. He bowed and walked out of the room.

The sun was still hot despite the lateness of the day as Luis and I stood in front of the chapel door. My parents were on my right. Luis’s father stood on his left. The rolled-up betrothal contract, describing my dowry in detail, was clutched in Don Alfonso’s hand. Friends and relatives crowded around us. Brianda was standing with her parents at the back; she gave me a loving smile. Father Juan, who had officiated at my christening, joined Luis’s hand and mine.

“Do you, Luis de Carrera, swear a solemn oath that you wish to be betrothed to Isabel, the daughter of Enrique de Cardosa?”

“I do,” Luis said.

“Do you, Isabel de Cardosa, wish to be betrothed to Luis, the son of Alfonso de Carrera?”

I looked at Papa. His features were set in stone. Mama nodded her head when my eyes turned toward her. I could hear whispers all around me.

“Do you, Isabel de Cardosa, wish to be betrothed to Luis, the son of Alfonso de Carrera?” Father Juan repeated in a louder voice.

I lowered my head. “I do.”

“The marriage between Luis de Carrera and Isabel de Cardosa will take place a year from this day unless both parties agree to the dissolution of this betrothal contract for a just cause prior to that date,” announced Father Juan. He turned to Luis. “You and your lady are now betrothed. You may kiss her.”

Luis lowered his head, his eyes gleaming darkly. His lips were cold and wet against my cheek. “You will learn who your master is very soon,” he whispered.

I looked away to escape his gloating eyes.

The guests were greeting one another and laughing heartily. I blinked away the tears in my eyes. Several ladies embraced me. Brianda took my arm while my other friends danced around me as we made our way toward the house. The young cavaliers congratulated Luis with claps on his back and winks at me. Musicians in colorful garb plucked lutes and shook jingling tambourines as we walked. The high-pitched sound of a lonely flute pierced the clear sky. A young woman sang sweetly.

Gradually, the other revelers joined in the song. As I led this happy procession, I felt numb, as if I was looking at the events around me from a place far, far away.

Mama hugged me. “We’re doing this for your own good, for your safety,” she said quietly. “You will thank us.”

I did not answer her.

At the house, the boisterous guests claimed their seats at the banquet table laden with all kinds of delicacies. They ate quail, goose, and oysters steamed in almond sauce. They tore at roasted peacock, mutton, and boar. They clinked their cups filled with ale or spicy mulled wine and washed away its taste with the sweetness of wild pears. I forced myself to take a little fruit. Each mouthful choked me.

The musicians played their songs, but the guests didn’t pay them much attention while they ate. By the end of the meal, though, the young men and women formed a circle and began to turn and dip to the musicians’ plaintive tune.

Suddenly, I couldn’t bear the gaiety any longer. I whispered to Mama that I had to use my chamber pot and rushed out of the hall. I made my way toward the staircase, quiet as a ghost, my silk slippers whispering against the tiled floor. I had to pass a room the servants usually used. Its door was open a crack and I heard two people talking. I recognized Sofia’s voice. I heard my name spoken, and I stopped.

“Isabel is far too gentle and kind for your young master,” Sofia said. “Luis is cruel and has roving hands.”

“At least he is of pure blood, unlike the Converso mongrel you serve every day,” replied a gruff male voice I did not know.

“How dare you speak with such a lack of respect for my young mistress!” Sofia spat back. “Isabel is a fine lady, as is her mother, Doña Catarina. That’s more than I can say of your master with his crude ways.”

The man laughed. “At least Luis is an Old Christian and not the whelp of cursed Marranos. Doña Catarina and Don Enrique, they probably still worship in their Jew religion secretly.”

“You lie!” Sofia shrieked.

“Mark my words,” the man said, “the Inquisition will come for your fine mistress one day. She is lucky that Luis is willing to marry her – he was lured in by her large dowry.”

“That’s not true! My lady goes to church –”

I heard footsteps approaching the door, so I picked up my skirts and ran up the stairs as fast as I could.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, repeating to myself what I had just learned. Why did the man call us Marranos? A marrano was a pig. Why did he say that we were Conversos, New Christians? Our family has served the mother church forever. He accused us of practicing Jewish customs. I didn’t even know any Jews – except Yonah. And I had just met him.

Mama knocked softly and came into my chamber.

“Come down to the banquet immediately. It is a great insult to Luis and his father if their future wife and new daughter disappears.”

“I have to ask you a question first.”

“Later! Everybody awaits you downstairs.”

One look at her determined face convinced me to wait.

C
HAPTER 3
 

T
he betrothal feast was finally over.

“I have to talk to you. And to Papa, too,” I whispered in Mama’s ear.

She glanced at me before turning back to the guests bidding her good-bye. After a few minutes, only Luis and his father were left behind. Alfonso de Carrera was in conversation with my father at the table again, and Luis was slumped over the table, deep in his cups.

“It’s time for us to return to our chambers,” Don Alfonso finally said, pushing himself up from the table. “Come, son. We have to go to bed.”

He slapped Luis on the back. Luis groaned but didn’t stir. Don Alfonso grabbed a fistful of Luis’s hair and lifted his head off the table. “We have to go!” he yelled into Luis’s face.

Luis’s head dropped back to the table with a bang when his father let go.

“The boy celebrated his betrothal too vigorously,” Don Alfonso said with a lascivious smile. He slapped his thigh in merriment. “Wait until he celebrates his wedding night!”

I swallowed hard. Sofia had told me of the things that newlyweds did on that night, after Mama had refused to answer my questions.

Don Alfonso beckoned to two of the Moorish slaves standing against the wall. “Take the boy,” he ordered.

Each slave put one of Luis’s arms around his neck and dragged my betrothed out of the room, leaving behind a trail of drool.

After much bowing and protestations of kinship, Don Alfonso followed them.

Mama leaned against the table. “Finally! I didn’t think that they’d ever leave. I am so weary. I must go to my bed before I fall asleep on my feet.”

I tugged at her sleeve. “I told you that I have to talk to you and to Papa … without strange ears near us.” I nodded toward the servants, who had begun to clear the table.

“Can it wait until tomorrow? I am tired.”

“No, Mama. It can’t. I must speak to you. Now.”

She sighed and dismissed the slaves with a wave of
her hand. “What’s the matter, Isabel? What’s so important?”

“I have heard something that frightened me. Sofia was arguing with one of Luis’s servants.”

“So?”

“Wait, Mama. I am coming to it. The man she was talking to said that I was fortunate that Luis was willing to marry me, even with my large dowry, because we are Marranos. A marrano is a swine. He said that we were pigs, Mama! Why would he call us such an awful name? He also said that we were Conversos, New Christians.”

“Hush!” Mama cried. She ran to the door and slammed it shut. “Keep your voice down. The servants might hear you.” She put her hands on her hips and berated Papa. “I hope that you are pleased with yourself, Enrique. You wouldn’t listen to me when I told you that Isabel should know the truth.”

“I thought that it was safer for her not to know, but if the servants are gossiping, we don’t have a choice. Everybody must know.” Papa turned to me. “We have to explain our situation to you.”

Mama sat down at the table with Papa and me. Both of them stared at me intently for a long moment. Mama clasped my hand and she rested her head on my shoulder. My heart began to race.

“My daughter, my only child, you are more precious to me and to your lady mother than all the untold riches that are hidden in the Indies far, far, away. It pains me that I must have this conversation with you – ”

“Papa – ”

He held up his hand. “Be patient, my daughter, and listen carefully.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Start at the beginning,” Mama said tartly. “Just tell her.”

“The beginning … as good a place as any. I am sorry to tell you that we are not who you thought we were. Both your mother’s grandparents and my grandparents were Jewish. I wish that you could have met them. They were wonderful people.”

All the breath squeezed out of me. Our family Jewish! How could that be? I knew very little about Jews. They were an accursed, greedy race forced to wear a round red and white badge that exposed them to the world’s contempt. All who knew them despised them.

“This can’t be true! Being a good Catholic means that we’ll go to heaven. We never miss church on Sunday. You’ve always said how important it is to pay close attention to Father Juan during my catechism lessons. I’ve never even met any Jewish people – except
the silversmith’s son, who delivered this beautiful bird.” I gestured at the golden skylark warbling his unheard song.

Mama leaned closer. “We are descended from the ten lost tribes of Israel,” she said. “Our grandparents were forcibly converted to Christianity at the point of a sword. It was either death or the acceptance of Jesus Christ. They chose life.”

“Forgive us for not telling you, but try to understand,” Papa said. “I felt that the less you knew, the safer it was for you. We live in perilous times. The Inquisition is ready to accuse New Christians, like us, of heresy in order to gain control of our property. They hate us. As you heard, they call us Marranos, swine. The Inquisition’s familiars are everywhere, ready to lay false charges against us. We must be careful. We can’t trust anyone.”

“We’ve never forgotten the old ways of the God of Abraham and of Moses,” Mama said. “We still worship the one and only God, the God of our forefathers, blessed be his name,” she added, her voice trembling. “In our hearts, we are still Jewish!”

“How
can
you be? Everybody knows that Jews are loathsome, evil creatures.”

As soon as the words slipped out of my mouth, I thought of Yonah. He seemed so honest and so kind. He tried to help me during my moment of despair.
Would an evil person do that? Why was he so different from the rest of his people?

Mama began to cry. “What have we done? What have we done?” She hid her face in her hands, frightening me even more. “Our daughter detests her own kind!”

Papa patted her knee before resting his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t believe the lies you hear, Isabel,” he said somberly. “Our people are no better and no worse than anybody else. Our only crime is that we are still waiting for the Messiah.”

“Do Luis and his father know that we are New Christians?”

Papa shrugged his shoulders. “I never told them, but if the servants are gossiping about it, they must.”

“There are many Conversos in our beloved kingdom, which our people call Sefarad,” Mama said. “Some Conversos are devout Christians. But others, like us, follow the old ways secretly, away from the prying eyes of the Inquisition. Luis and his father certainly don’t know that.” Her face softened. “It would give me the greatest pleasure to teach you about the religion of the Jewish people, as my mother taught me.”

“But, Mama, I –”

“No more questions,” Papa interrupted. “We’ve told you enough for now. I can’t bear another second
of this.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I don’t have to tell you that no mention of our secret should ever pass your lips. Only a handful of trusted friends know of our Jewish background. Our lives may depend upon your silence.”

C
HAPTER 4