Spain for the Sovereigns (21 page)

Ferdinand was with Isabella when she received Alonso de Ojeda and Diego de Merlo.

Isabella welcomed the monks cordially and begged them to state their business.

Ojeda broke into an impassioned speech in which he called her attention to the number of
Converses
living in Seville.

‘There are many
Conversos
throughout Castile,’ said Isabella quietly. ‘I employ some of them in my own service. I rejoice that they have become Christians. It is what I would wish all my subjects to be.’

‘Highness, my complaint is that while many of these
Conversos
in Seville profess Christianity they practise the Jewish religion.’

‘That,’ said Isabella, ‘is a very evil state of affairs.’

‘And one which,’ put in Diego de Merlo, ‘Your Highness would doubtless wish to end at the earliest possible moment.’

Isabella nodded slowly. ‘You had some project in mind, my friends?’ she said.

‘Highness, the Holy Office does not exist in Castile. We ask that you consider installing it here.’

Isabella glanced at Ferdinand. She saw that the pulse in his temple had begun to hammer. She felt sad momentarily, and almost wished that she did not understand Ferdinand so well. He was possessed by much human frailty, she feared. It had been a great shock to discover that not only had he an illegitimate son but that he had appointed him, at the age of six, Archbishop of Saragossa. That boy was not the only child Ferdinand had had by other women. She had discovered that a noble Portuguese lady had borne him a daughter. There might be others. How should she hear of them?

Now his eyes glistened, and she understood why. The Inquisition had been set up in Aragon and because of it the riches of certain condemned men had found their way into the royal coffers. Money could make Ferdinand’s eyes glisten like that.

‘Such procedure would need a great deal of consideration,’ said Isabella.

‘I am inclined to believe,’ said Ferdinand, his eyes still shining and with the flush in his cheeks, ‘that the installation of the Holy Office in Castile is greatly to be desired.’

The monks had now turned their attention to Ferdinand, and Ojeda poured out a storm of abuse against the Jews. He spoke of ritual murders, of Christian boys, three or four years old, who had been kidnapped to take part in some loathsome rites which involved the crucifixion of the innocent child and the cutting out of his heart.

Ferdinand cried: ‘This is monstrous. You are right. We must have an inquiry immediately.’

‘Have the bodies of these children been discovered?’ asked Isabella calmly.

‘Highness, these people are crafty. They bury the bodies in secret places. It is a part of their ritual.’

‘I think it would be considered necessary to have proof of these happenings before we could believe them,’ said Isabella.

Ferdinand had turned to her. She saw the angry retort trembling on his lips. She smiled at him gently. ‘I am sure,’ she said quietly, ‘that the King agrees with me.’

‘An inquiry might be made,’ said Ferdinand. His voice sounded aloof, as it did when he was angry.

‘An inquiry, yes,’ said Isabella. She turned to the monks. ‘This matter shall have my serious consideration. I am indebted to you for bringing it to my notice.’

She laid her hand on Ferdinand’s arm. It was a command to escort her from the chamber.

When they were alone, Ferdinand said: ‘My opinion would appear to count for little.’

‘It counts for a great deal,’ she told him.

‘But the Queen is averse to setting up the Inquisition in Castile?’

‘I have not yet given the matter sufficient consideration.’

‘I had always believed that it was one of your dearest wishes to see an all-Christian Castile.’

‘That is one of my dearest wishes.’

‘Why, then, should you be against the extirpation of heretics?’

‘Indeed I am not against it. You know it is part of our plans for Castile.’

‘Then who is best fitted to track them down? Surely the Inquisitors are the men for that task?’

‘I am not sure, Ferdinand, that I wish to see the Inquisition in Castile. I would wish first to assure myself that, by installing the Inquisition here, I should not give greater power to the Pope than he already has. We are the sovereigns of Castile, Ferdinand. We should share our power with no one else.’

Ferdinand hesitated. Then he said: ‘I am sure we could set up our Inquisition – our own Inquisition which should be apart from Papal influence. I may tell you, Isabella, that the Inquisition can bring profit to the crown. Many of the
Conversos
are rich men, and it is one of the rules of the Inquisition that those who are found guilty of heresy forfeit land . . . wealth . . . all possessions.’

‘The treasury is depleted,’ said Isabella. ‘We need money. But I would prefer to replenish it through other means.’

‘Are the means so important?’

She looked at him almost coldly. ‘They are of the utmost importance.’

Ferdinand corrected himself quickly. ‘Providing the motive is a good one . . .’ he began. ‘And what better motive than to bring salvation to poor misguided fools? What nobler purpose than to lead them into the Catholic Church?’

‘It is what I would wish to see, but as yet I am inclined to give this matter further consideration.’

‘You will come to understand that the Inquisition is a necessity if you are to make an all-Catholic Castile.’

‘You may be right, Ferdinand. You often are.’ She smiled affectionately. Come, she seemed to be saying, let us be friends.

This marriage of ours has brought disappointments to us both. I am a woman who knows she must rule in her own way; you hoped I would be different. You are a man who cannot be faithful to his wife; I hoped
you
would be different. But here we are – two people of strong personalities which we cannot change, even for the sake of the other. Let us be content with what we have been given. Do not let us sigh for the impossible. For our marriage is more than the union of two people. What matters it if in our hearts we suffer these little disappointments? What are they, compared with the task which lies before us?

She went on: ‘I wish to show you our new device. I trust it will please you, for it gives me so much pleasure. I am having it embroidered on a banner, and I did not mean to show you until it was finished; but soon it will be seen all over Castile, and when the people see it they will know that you and I stand together in all things.’

He allowed himself to be placated; and she called to one of her pages to bring the piece of embroidery to her.

When it was brought she showed him the partly finished pattern.

She read in her quiet voice, which held a ring of triumph: ‘
Tanto monta, monta tanto – Isabel como Fernando
.’

She saw a slow smile break out on Ferdinand’s face. As much as the one is worth, so much is the other – Isabella as Ferdinand.

She could not say more clearly than that how she valued him, how she looked upon him as her co-ruler in Castile.

Still he knew that in all important matters she considered herself the sole adjudicator. Whatever their device, whatever her gentleness, she still remained Queen in her own right. She held supreme authority in Castile.

As for the installation of the Inquisition, thought Ferdinand, in time she would agree to it. He would arrange for Torquemada to persuade her.

With Ferdinand on one side to show what material good the Inquisitors could bring them, with Torquemada on the other to speak of the spiritual needs of Castile – they would win. But it would not be until they had convinced Isabella that the Inquisition was necessary to Castile.

Isabella sent for Cardinal Mendoza and commanded that it should be a completely private audience.

‘I pray you sit down, Cardinal,’ she said. ‘I am deeply disturbed, and I wish you to give me your considered opinion on the matter I shall put before you.’

The Cardinal waited respectfully; he guessed the matter was connected with the visit of the two Dominicans.

‘Alonso de Ojeda and Diego de Merlo,’ began Isabella, ‘are deeply concerned regarding the behaviour of
Marrams
in Seville. They declare that there are many men and women who, proclaiming themselves to be Christians, cynically practise Jewish rites in secret. They even accuse them of kidnapping and crucifying small boys. They wish to set up the Inquisition in Castile. What is your opinion of this, Cardinal?’

The Cardinal was thoughtful for a few seconds. Then he said: ‘We have fanatics in our midst, Highness. I am deeply opposed to fanaticism. It warps the judgement and destroys the peace of the community. Through the centuries the Jewish communities have been persecuted, but there is no evidence that such persecution has brought much good to the countries in which it was carried out. Your Highness will remember that in the fourteenth century Fernando Martinez preached against the Jews and declared that they were responsible for the Black Death. The result – pogroms all over Spain. Many suffered, but there is no evidence of any good that this brought. From time to time rumours spring up of the kidnapping and crucifixion of small boys, but we should ask ourselves what truth there is in these rumours. It was not very long ago that Alonso de Spina published his account of the evil doings of
Conversos
. Strange, when he himself was a
Converse
. One feels that he wished it to be widely known that he was a good Catholic . . . so good, so earnest that he was determined to expose his fellows. Very soon afterwards rumours of kidnappings and crucifixions occurred again. I think, Highness, knowing your desire for justice, that you would wish to examine these rumours with the utmost care before accepting them as truth.’

‘You are right. But should they not be examined? And in that case, who should be the examiners? Should this task not be the duty of Inquisitors?’

‘Can we be sure, Highness, that this desire to set up the Inquisition in Castile does not come from Rome?’

Isabella smiled faintly. ‘It is as though you speak my thoughts aloud.’

‘May I remind you of the little controversy which recently occurred?’

‘There is no need to remind me,’ answered Isabella. ‘I remember full well.’

Her thoughts went to that recent incident, when she had asked for the appointment of one of her chaplains, Alonso de Burgos, to the bishopric of Cuenca; but because the nephew of Pope Sixtus, Raffaele Riario, had desired the post it had gone to him. As Isabella had on two previous occasions asked for appointments for two of her proteges – which had gone to the Pope’s candidates – she was angry and had recalled her ambassador from the Vatican. With Ferdinand’s help she had proposed to get together a council, that the conduct of the Pope might be examined. Sixtus, alarmed that his nepotism would be exposed in all its blatancy, gave way to Isabella and Ferdinand, and bestowed the posts they had demanded on their candidates.

It was quite reasonable to suppose therefore that Sixtus would have his alert eyes on Isabella and Ferdinand and would seek some means of curbing their power. How could this be done with greater effect than by installing the Inquisition – an institution which was apart from the state and had its roots in Rome? The Inquisition could grow up side by side with the state, gradually usurping more and more of its power. It could be equivalent to a measure of Roman rule in Spain.