physician to King Fernando. My family and I cannot simply vanish beneath the dungeon gates of the Inquisition as so many thousands of others have.”
Torquemada had always hated the tranquil assurance Torres exuded, but now he seized his opportunity to break the man. “Your royal appeal has been denied. You and your family,” he paused to let the words sink in, “are under the complete jurisdiction of the Holy Office.”
“On what charges?” Benjamin knew he was betraying fear for Serafina and Ana now. He fought to remain in control.
“You have attempted to corrupt a noblewoman from an Old Christian family, the daughter of one of my own Crossbearers here in Seville. Bernardo Valdés's youngest child, Dona Magdalena.”
“She, too, was my patient. I am not to treat Jewish women, and now it seems I am not to treat gentile women either. If my credentials to practice medicine are in question, that, too, is a matter for secular courts, not the Holy Office,” Benjamin argued. Serafina had warned him about Bernardo's spleen when he had befriended Magdalena. Pray God his wife and their Ana did not pay for his heedlessness. Bernardo Valdés was as ruthless as the man before him.
“There are other matters beside my foolish daughter's irresponsible behavior,” Don Bernardo interrupted. He was pleased when Torres turned in surprise as he entered the room. “There is also the matter of your daughter's behavior—such as lighting candles on Friday evenings at sundown, abstaining from pork, and overmuch washing. Your wife, too, seems to purchase little pork for your household consumption.”
“We do not keep the Jewish Sabbath, neither at my home nor at Ana's. Ask any of our Christian friends or our servants. As to eating pork, that is a medical matter. The heat of Andalusia engenders worms in it that cause a bleeding sickness in some. There is no rule in Christian instruction that enjoins us to eat particular meats, only that we eat none on Fridays or fast days. That we have observed.”
“We have servants in your daughter's home who say otherwise,” Torquemada said.
Benjamin turned from Bernardo to Tomás. “That is absurd! Ana is a good Christian. She has had her child baptized and will raise her as a Christian.”
“Some trustworthy Old Christian family will...I doubt Ana Torres de Guzman will live to do so.” As Benjamin paled visibly, the Grand Inquisitor felt a surge of triumph.
* * * *
Now that the Jews had all left Castile, Magdalena was finally allowed to ride again. The roads were no longer filled with the heart-wrenching refugees and she was considered safe from any temptation that might disgrace her family. Only a few days ago her father had returned home and announced that she was no longer confined to the dreary interior of their rural estate. Unlike the city house, the crumbling old stone fortress had not yet been restored. Magdalena no longer cared about the ill repair of her surroundings, only that she be allowed to feel the wind in her hair as she set Blossom flying across the marshes.
As she returned home, sweat-soaked and weary, she noted a strange horse tethered near the door. It did not belong to one of the odious familiars of the confraternity, nor did she recognize it as one from her neighbor's stable. Such a magnificent black Barb would not go unremarked about the area.
Curious, she dismounted and approached the horse, but knew that in her present bedraggled, filthy state she dare not show herself before a visitor of rank. She would go upstairs and order a bath, but first...she must learn if the visitor was worthy of note or not. She slipped into the courtyard and listened at her father's study window.
“All has gone according to plan, then?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“Better than even your
Torquemada had always hated the tranquil assurance Torres exuded, but now he seized his opportunity to break the man. “Your royal appeal has been denied. You and your family,” he paused to let the words sink in, “are under the complete jurisdiction of the Holy Office.”
“On what charges?” Benjamin knew he was betraying fear for Serafina and Ana now. He fought to remain in control.
“You have attempted to corrupt a noblewoman from an Old Christian family, the daughter of one of my own Crossbearers here in Seville. Bernardo Valdés's youngest child, Dona Magdalena.”
“She, too, was my patient. I am not to treat Jewish women, and now it seems I am not to treat gentile women either. If my credentials to practice medicine are in question, that, too, is a matter for secular courts, not the Holy Office,” Benjamin argued. Serafina had warned him about Bernardo's spleen when he had befriended Magdalena. Pray God his wife and their Ana did not pay for his heedlessness. Bernardo Valdés was as ruthless as the man before him.
“There are other matters beside my foolish daughter's irresponsible behavior,” Don Bernardo interrupted. He was pleased when Torres turned in surprise as he entered the room. “There is also the matter of your daughter's behavior—such as lighting candles on Friday evenings at sundown, abstaining from pork, and overmuch washing. Your wife, too, seems to purchase little pork for your household consumption.”
“We do not keep the Jewish Sabbath, neither at my home nor at Ana's. Ask any of our Christian friends or our servants. As to eating pork, that is a medical matter. The heat of Andalusia engenders worms in it that cause a bleeding sickness in some. There is no rule in Christian instruction that enjoins us to eat particular meats, only that we eat none on Fridays or fast days. That we have observed.”
“We have servants in your daughter's home who say otherwise,” Torquemada said.
Benjamin turned from Bernardo to Tomás. “That is absurd! Ana is a good Christian. She has had her child baptized and will raise her as a Christian.”
“Some trustworthy Old Christian family will...I doubt Ana Torres de Guzman will live to do so.” As Benjamin paled visibly, the Grand Inquisitor felt a surge of triumph.
* * * *
Now that the Jews had all left Castile, Magdalena was finally allowed to ride again. The roads were no longer filled with the heart-wrenching refugees and she was considered safe from any temptation that might disgrace her family. Only a few days ago her father had returned home and announced that she was no longer confined to the dreary interior of their rural estate. Unlike the city house, the crumbling old stone fortress had not yet been restored. Magdalena no longer cared about the ill repair of her surroundings, only that she be allowed to feel the wind in her hair as she set Blossom flying across the marshes.
As she returned home, sweat-soaked and weary, she noted a strange horse tethered near the door. It did not belong to one of the odious familiars of the confraternity, nor did she recognize it as one from her neighbor's stable. Such a magnificent black Barb would not go unremarked about the area.
Curious, she dismounted and approached the horse, but knew that in her present bedraggled, filthy state she dare not show herself before a visitor of rank. She would go upstairs and order a bath, but first...she must learn if the visitor was worthy of note or not. She slipped into the courtyard and listened at her father's study window.
“All has gone according to plan, then?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“Better than even your
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