Spain for the Sovereigns (24 page)

The
Marrano
family was brought before Ojeda.

‘It is useless,’ he told them, ‘to deny your sins. I have evidence of them which cannot be refuted. You must furnish me with a list of all those who took part with you in the Jewish Passover.’

The head of the house spoke earnestly to Ojeda. ‘Most Holy Prior,’ he said, ‘we have sinned against the Holy Catholic Church. We reverted to the religion of our Fathers. We crave pardon. We ask for our sins to be forgiven and that we may be taken back into the Church.’

‘There must have been others who joined in these barbarous rites with you. Who were these?’

‘Holy Prior, I beg of you, do not ask me to betray my friends.’

‘But I do ask it,’ said Ojeda.

‘I could not give their names. They came in secrecy and they were promised secrecy.’

‘It would be wiser for you to name them.’

‘I cannot do it, Holy Prior.’

Ojeda felt a violent hatred rising in his heart. It should be possible now to take this man to the torture chambers for a little persuasion. Oh, he could stand there very nobly defending his friends. How would he fare if he were put on the rack, or had his limbs dislocated on the hoist? That would be a very different story.

And here am I, thought Ojeda, with a miserable sinner before me; and I am unable to act.

‘Your penance would be less severe if you gave us the names of your friends,’ Ojeda reminded him.

But the man was adamant. He would not betray his friends.

Ojeda imposed the penance, and since these
Marranos
begged to be received back into the Christian Church, there was nothing to be done but admit them.

When he was alone Ojeda railed against the laws of Castile. Had the Inquisition been effective in Castile, that man would have been taken to a dungeon; there he would have been questioned; there he would have betrayed his friends; and instead of a few penances, a few souls saved, there might have been hundreds. Nor would they have escaped with a light sentence. They would have been found guilty of heresy, and the true punishment for heresy was surely death . . . death by fire that the sinner might have a foretaste of Hell’s torment for which he was destined.

But as yet the Inquisition had not been introduced into Castile.

Ojeda set out for Avila, where Torquemada was busy with the plans for the monastery of Saint Thomas.

He received Ojeda with as much pleasure as it was possible for him to show, for Ojeda was a man after his own heart.

Ojeda lost no time in coming to the point.

‘I am on my way to Cordova, where the sovereigns are at this time in residence,’ he explained. ‘I have uncovered certain iniquity in Seville which cannot be passed over. I shall ask for an audience and then implore the Queen to introduce the Inquisition into this land.’

He then told Torquemada what had happened in the house in the
juderia
.

‘But this is deeply shocking,’ cried Torquemada. ‘I could wish that the young Guzman had gone to the house on a different mission – but the ways of God are inscrutable. In the cupboard he heard enough to condemn these people to death – if as much consideration had been given here in Spain to spiritual life as has been given to civil laws. The facts should be laid before the Queen without delay.’

‘And who could do that more eloquently than yourself? It is for this reason that I have come to you now. I pray you accompany me to Cordova, there to add your pleas to mine.’

Torquemada looked with some regret at the plans he had been studying. He forced his mind from a contemplation of exquisite sculpture. This was his duty. The building of a Christian state from which all heresy had been eliminated – that was a greater achievement than the finest monastery in the world.

Torquemada stood before the Queen. A few paces behind her stood Ferdinand, and behind Torquemada was Ojeda.

Ojeda had recounted the story of what the young man had heard in the cupboard.

‘And this,’ cried Torquemada, ‘is an everyday occurrence in Your Highness’s city of Seville.’

‘I cannot like the young man’s mission in that house,’ mused Isabella.

‘Highness, we deplore it. But his discovery is of the utmost importance; and who shall say whether or not this particular young man was led to sin, not by the devil, but by the saints? Perhaps in this way we have been shown our duty?’

Isabella was deeply shocked. To her it seemed sad that certain of her subjects should not only be outside the Christian faith but that they should revile it. Clearly some action must be taken.

She did not trust Sixtus. Yet Ferdinand was eager for the setting up of the Inquisition. She knew, of course, that his hope was that by its action riches would be diverted, from those who now possessed them, to the royal coffers. She knew that many of the New Christians were rich men, for the Jews had a way of enriching themselves. She needed money. But she would not so far forget her sense of honour and justice as to set up the Inquisition for the sake of monetary gain.

She hesitated. Three pairs of fanatical eyes watched her intently while the fate of Spain hung in the balance.

Ojeda and Torquemada believed that torture and death should be the reward of the heretic. Isabella agreed with them. Since they were destined for eternal Hell fire, what was a little baptismal burning on earth? Ferdinand was a fanatic too. When he thought of money and possessions his eyes flashed every bit as fiercely as Torquemada’s did for the faith.

Isabella remembered the vow she had once made before Torquemada; he was reminding her of it now.

An all-Christian Spain. It was her dream. But was she to give the Pope more influence than he already had?

Yet, considering her recent victories over him, she believed she – and Ferdinand with her – could handle him, should the occasion arise. Therefore why should she hesitate to set up the Inquisition in Castile that the land might be purged of heretics?

She turned to Ferdinand. ‘We will ask His Holiness for permission to set up the Inquisition in Castile,’ she said.

The waiting men relaxed.

Isabella had decided the fate of Spain, the fate of thousands.

Chapter VI

I
t was spring in Toledo. Isabella rode through the streets between the Moorish buildings, and with her was Ferdinand and her two-year-old son, Prince Juan.

This was an important occasion. The Cortes was assembled in Toledo.

Isabella, so simple in her tastes on ordinary occasions, displayed the utmost splendour when she took her place at affairs of state. Now she was dressed in crimson brocade which was embroidered with gold, cut away to show a white satin petticoat encrusted with pearls; and seated on her horse she made a beautiful picture.

The people cheered her. They did not forget that she had brought justice into the land. They recalled the reigns of her father and half-brother, when favouritism had ruled in the palace and anarchy on the highway. Yet this young woman with the serene and gentle smile had been responsible for the change.

The sight of the little Prince in brocade and satin, as fine as that worn by his parents, warmed their hearts. There he sat on his pony, smiling and accepting the applause of the crowd as though he were a man instead of a very small boy.

‘Long live Isabella and Ferdinand! Long live the Prince of the Asturias!’ cried the people.

The citizens of Toledo were sure that this little one, when he reached manhood, would be as wise as his parents.

Into the great hall they went, and the first duty of that Cortes was to swear allegiance to the young Prince and proclaim him heir to the throne.

Isabella watched her son, and her smile became even more gentle. She was so proud of him. Indeed, she was proud of all her children. She wished that she had more time to spend with them. It was one of her greatest regrets that her duties called her so continually from the company of her children.

But she was dedicated to a great task. She was already achieving that which she had set out to do; she had made of Castile a law-abiding state. Galicia and Leon were following Castile. Once she had made them a
Christian
state, perhaps she would be able to think a little more frequently of her own family. For the time being she must leave them in the care of others; and only on rare occasions could she be with them.

Now little Juan was the recognised heir to the thrones of Castile and Aragon. Isabella determined that, before he reached these thrones, she and Ferdinand would have done their duty, so that it would not only be Castile and Aragon that he inherited but the whole of Spain, including the kingdom of Granada.

The Cortes then discussed the finances of the country; and it was agreeable to realise that these had been placed on a much firmer foundation than had existed when Isabella had inherited the throne.

But the most important edicts of that Cortes were the rules against the Jews, which were being reinforced.

These were unanimously adopted.

‘All Jews in the kingdom to wear a red circle of cloth on the shoulders of their cloaks that they may be recognised as Jews by all who behold them.

‘All Jews to keep within the
juderias
, the gates of which shall be locked at nightfall.

‘No Jew is to take up a profession as innkeeper, apothecary, doctor or surgeon.’

The persecution had been renewed.