The Quality of Mercy (73 page)

An auto-da-fé in England. Spitting as they tortured him, spitting the word Jewdog. The thumbscrews, the rack. He screamed. Yes, yes, whatever you say. Yes, stop the torture. Stop the pain!

He signed the confession. The one that Sir Edward Coke, the Solicitor General, held in his hand. Soon Coke would show it to the commission; it was a damning piece of evidence. The trial was a formality. Lopez had been officially condemned the minute his shaky hand had scratched his signature across that piece of parchment. But Roderigo knew that with an enemy as determined as Essex, he’d been condemned long before his arrest.

A Special Commission had been called to try him — not one of mere gentlemen, but of peers. They sat in two rows of chairs facing each other, a twenty-foot space separating the rows. It was occupied by a low table on which rested the “evidence” as well as Coke’s notes. Coke was positioned at one end of the table: he, Lopez, at the opposite end, heavily guarded. No spectators, no witnesses, no advocates on his behalf, no family members for support. Just him and the men who would execute judgment upon him.

Execute him.

The commission. All were present except the old man — William Cecil. His crookback son Robert was there. He sat next to Essex, who held a gleeful smirk. On the other side of Essex was the Lord Mayor of London, Sir John Spencer. Who was the man to his right? The Chancellor of the Exchequer. What was his name? Sir John something. The surname was Fort something. Something with a Q-U-E or a C-U-E in it. A dozen other lords as well. There were London’s sheriffs — Robert Lee and Thomas Benet. The official recorder, a sergeant of arms, a bailiff. They were wearing their robes. Why wasn’t he, Lopez, wearing his? Why was he costumed as a prisoner? He’d done nothing criminal.

Roderigo knew the answer only too well — it was all Essex’s doing. The doctor’s defiant eyes confronted Essex’s smiling orbs, then rested upon Coke.

The Solicitor General was ready to present his official opening speech. An aggressive, ambitious man, he resembled a bird of prey — a beakish nose, a feathery beard, the deep-set colorless eyes. He smoothed his robe with his fingertips, adjusting his mortarboard cap. He cleared his throat, silencing all noise in the chamber. All eyes were upon him. He addressed the commission in a booming voice.

Roderigo listened to the charges levied against him.

Muck.

All was muck.

Coke, acting in behalf of the Queen’s bench, began to establish King Philip as England’s most fearsome enemy — a foe with whom Roderigo had been conspiring. No matter that Roderigo’s schemes with the Spanish monarch had caused no trouble for England. Collusion with the enemy was grounds for treason.

Grounds for his death.

Coke rambled on and on. Roderigo managed to glean from the florid speech that he was being tried for two capital offenses: attempting to take the blood of the Virgin Queen by poison, and attempting to set England’s ships afire on Philip’s behalf. Consistent with what he’d been forced to confess under torture. His hands began to shake. Quickly, he clasped them together. He’d not show fear, he
swore
he wouldn’t, even as Coke’s words pierced his skin like poisonous barbs.

Coke pointed to Lopez, announced his name with contempt. Lopez tried to plant his feet firmly upon the ground, but the chair was too high and only his toes reached the floor.
God in Heaven, he prayed, let me put up a good face. Permit not the commissioners to see a Jew cower at their feet
.

Coke said, “This… man who calls himself a doctor, a perjured murderer, worse than Judas himself, undertook the poisoning, a plot more wicked, dangerous, and detestable than can be imagined.”

The commissioners’ heads were nodding in agreement. Roderigo was done in. The challenge: Would he maintain his dignity or fall upon his face and weep for mercy?

Coke continued to roar, “He was Her Majesty’s sworn servant, graced and advanced with princely favors.”

Dear God, help me be strong
.

“…used in special places of credit, permitted access to her person…”

Shma Yisroel, Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Ehad
.

“…not so suspected, especially by Her Majesty.”

So cold! Light of head. Clouded vision. Pray don’t let me faint as a weak woman!

“…Lopez made a bargain with the King of Spain and the price was agreed upon…”

Faith! As Daniel was cast into the lion’s den and kept his faith, so will I
.

“…the fact only deferred until payment of the money was assured. The letter of credit for his assurance was sent, but before it came into the doctor’s hands, God most wonderfully and miraculously revealed and prevented it.”

Bladder suddenly full, bowels about to explode. How could that be? They haven’t fed me more than a half cup of solids in three weeks
.

“It is my intent,” Coke said, “to prove to the commission that Lopez is guilty of the crimes of which I have spoken. Guilty of aiding and abetting the sworn enemy of England, King Philip of Spain. Guilty of trying to poison his mistress, the great Queen of England. Guilty of trying to destroy her navy with poison fireworks. And guilty of committing all these atrocious deeds not for religious conviction, but for advancing his own personal wealth.”

Coke had stopped speaking. The sudden stillness was worse than the orated lies.

What came next in their unholy plans?

Coke went over to the evidence table, his footsteps measured. He picked up a faded piece of parchment and said: “I hold in my hand a letter from Emmanuel de Andrada — a former courier for the Spanish government. The letter was addressed to Spain’s agent, Bernadino de Mendoza, and was intended for the eyes of the King of Spain himself. Note this is indeed Emmanuel de Andrada’s seal.”

Dear God, Roderigo had forgotten about that incident — words he’d uttered to de Andrada at the height of Don Antonio’s defeat, in the heat of frustration. Lopez had been so eager to make amends with Philip — to save Jews — that he had said he might do
anything
to Don Antonio that His Majesty desired. And it was the
anything
that was now being interpreted as
poisoning
. De Andrada had written down his impetuous words, had sent them to Philip through Mendoza. The letter was intercepted and de Andrada had ended up in the Tower. Only Lopez’s intervention and his pleas to the Queen had kept de Andrada’s neck whole. To think he had actually saved that worm’s life!

The Solicitor General handed the letter to Essex.

“If m’lord will be so gracious as to pass the evidence around. Here is the translation of the Portuguese text.” Coke handed Essex a second piece of paper. “The arraignment took as long as it did because so much of the evidence is written in Portuguese — Lopez’s native tongue — and not in mother English.”

Essex looked at the letter, immediately recognized de Andrada’s writing and smiled.

Coke said, “Master Recorder, let it be stated that the letter confirms Dr. Lopez’s willingness to do service to the King of Spain.” Coke bellowed out, “The text proves beyond doubt that Lopez was guilty of item one — aiding and abetting the King of Spain.”

A faint buzz was heard through Guildhall as the commissioners conferred with one another. Coke waited several minutes, then quieted the men down. Continuing his case, he said,

“Let it also be stated that the same letter shows Lopez’s willingness to poison Don Antonio, his
former
master, if the King of Spain so desires it. If in the past Lopez had been amenable to poisoning one master for the King of Spain, would he not oblige Philip and poison another master? I will soon show Lopez guilty of charge two — intent to poison the Queen!”

Roderigo couldn’t contain his anger. He rose from his chair and shouted, “Those are
de Andrada’s
words to de Mendoza! Not
mine
!”

“Guards will restrain the prisoner,” the Lord Mayor of London demanded.

“But—”

“Quiet!” demanded Coke.

Lopez sat back into his chair.
Let them have their venal game. Just let it be over. Let me be strong
.

Coke continued his lies, smiling as he spoke. Roderigo groaned inwardly. Unbearable it was to hear such treachery and not be able to respond to it.

Coke said, “We have clearly demonstrated that Dr. Lopez has been willing in the past to poison his master — provided that the King of Spain requests it and pays for it.”

No! Lopez wanted to shout. But he restrained himself, and managed to look at Essex. The bastard’s moment of triumph. But one day, God — Roderigo’s God, the God of Justice — would call upon the earl to account for his sins.
Midah keneged midah
— the way one lives is the way one dies. Essex will get his. Roderigo felt a sudden calm.

Coke waited until the letter was back on the evidence table. He picked up the next insidious document. “This letter was intercepted by our own Lord Essex’s spies in the Low Countries.”

De Andrada’s words — as deadly as a murder weapon. Roderigo tried to convince himself:
God will see me through
.

Coke handed the letter to Essex. Coke said, “Notice the signature. Though the name be Francisco de Torres, the writing is identical to Dr. Lopez’s hand. And also notice the purposely obscured language. Pearls? Since when has Spain become an international marketplace for the trade of
pearls
?”

Coke glared at Lopez. He demanded, “Just what do those words mean, Dr. Lopez?”

All heads had turned in Roderigo’s direction.

“Am I to speak?” he asked.

“Only if thy mouth has something of importance to say,” Essex sneered. “Which I doubt.”

Restrained laughter was heard.

“Go on, I say,” prodded Coke. “What meant you to the King of Spain when you asked him for the price of pearls?”

Roderigo chose his words. To admit the truth, that pearls meant the price of redeeming Jews, would brand his family as those of the full Mosaic faith. Only true, believing brethren would risk their lives to save one another. Being labeled as practicing Jews would mean deportation for his family — or possibly death, if the commission wanted to prove a larger conspiracy.

Roderigo said, “In the New Lands—” He stopped, noticed he was whispering. He started over in a clear voice. “In the New Lands the King of Spain had come suddenly upon a sea rich with pearl oysters. I was interested in acquiring a load—”

“Come, come,” scoffed Essex. “Are we expected to
believe
this?”

“It’s the truth,” Roderigo said.

“He lies in his doggish throat!” Essex exclaimed. “Even now he tries to save his neck. But it is too late!”

The Lord Mayor of London touched Essex’s shoulder, bidding him to quiet. The earl became quiet, an angry sneer upon his lips.

Coke said, “Is this commission to believe that you were paying the King of Spain for pearls?”

Roderigo nodded.

“Where did these pearls come from?” Coke inquired.

“An undisclosed sea in the New Lands,” Roderigo said.

Essex blurted out, “Under torture you have tried to convince us that the word pearls meant Jews. That you were saving Jews, yet you deny that now!”

“Yes,” Roderigo said.

“Why would you say under torture that the word pearls meant Jews?” Coke asked Roderigo.

Roderigo felt his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth. Had he really uttered those words?

“This vile Jew,” Essex said, pointing, “was no doubt plotting with his kinsmen, other secret Jews, as well as Philip, in the murder of Her Majesty.”

“I am a member of England’s Church,” Roderigo managed to say.

The statement was met with laughter.

“Let us not veer off the mark,” Coke said. “Everyone knows that Lopez is a secret Jew and is only a member of the Church of our land to prevent deportation—”

“That is not true!” Lopez said.

“Ye villainous dog!” Essex said. “Blessed be Jesus Christ that you hid your devilish practices, as mere deportation would have been a slap in the face of justice. You shall die the death of a traitor!”

Again the Lord Mayor hushed Essex. Coke was irritated with the interruption, but Essex didn’t care. He was flushed with delight.

Coke went on, “If
pearls
simply meant pearls, how do you explain this
ring,
Doctor?”

He held up a ruby and diamond ring — the one Roderigo had given to Her Majesty.

The one Her Majesty had given back to Rebecca.

“Was it not given to you by the King of Spain?” Coke said.

Lopez was slow to respond. Eventually he said, “The ring was—”

“Answer the question — yes or no! Was the ring given to you by the King of Spain?”

Roderigo spoke with dignity, “Yes, it was.”

Coke said, “Why would the King of Spain give
you
a valuable piece of jewelry? If you desire to purchase pearls from His Majesty, should not
you
be the one to offer him such payment?”

Lopez was silent.

“Why
did
the King of Spain pay you with a ring from his treasury?” Coke pressed.

“He did not pay me.”

“Then what was the true purpose of the ring?” asked Coke.

“It was given—” Lopez cleared his throat. “It was given to me by the King of Spain. I was to give it to Her Majesty as a token of friendship.”

“A token of friendship?” Coke said in disbelief. “The King of Spain giving our great Gloriana, our Virgin Queen, a token of friendship?”

It sounded absurd even to Lopez. He felt imbalanced, as if inflicted with falling sickness.

Coke asked, “Is that what you told Her Majesty when you gave her the ring?”

Lopez didn’t answer.

“Is this what you told Her Majesty when you presented the gift to her?”

“No,” Lopez whispered.

“Did you tell Her Majesty from whom you obtained the ring?”

“No.”

“And why was that?”

“Because I doubted that Her Majesty would accept the ring… if she knew from whence it came.”

“Then why did you give Her Majesty the ring?” Coke asked.

“His Majesty wanted it in her hands, not mine,” Lopez answered. “I simply served as his intermediary.”