conversation with the farm steward, José Galindo, while both of them studied Yonah.
It chilled his blood. If the officer began making inquiries, Yonah knew what would follow.
He finished the day in a miasma of apprehension. When night fell he led the burro away into the darkness. He was owed a few coins for his labour but he forsook them, taking the broken hoe instead.
As soon as it was safe, he mounted the ass and rode away.
On a diet of grass the burro's digestion was greatly improved. The beast moved so steadily, so willingly, that affection for him welled in Yonah.
'You must have a name,' he said, patting the animal's neck.
After contemplation that covered a great deal of trotted ground, Yonah arrived at two names.
In his own mind and in the dark of night he would call the good and faithful beast Moise. It was the finest name he could think of, in honor of two men, his ancestor who led the Hebrew slaves forth from Egypt, and Moise ben Maimon, the great philosopher-physician.
'And in the presence of others, I will call you Pedro,' he confided to the burro.
They were fitting names for the companion of a maestro who also had several names.
Reverting to his earlier caution, for two nights he traveled in darkness and found secure daylight sleeping places for Moise and himself. The grapes in the roadside vineyards were ripe and each night he ate several bunches that were very good, except now it was he instead of the burro who developed wind. His guts growled for food.
On the third morning, a signpost at a crossroads pointed the way west to Guadalupe and south to Ciudad Real. Since he had announced to Capitán Astruells that Guadalupe was his destination, he dared not go there, and he turned the burro onto the southern fork.
It was market day and Ciudad Real was bustling. Enough people were there so that no one would question the presence of a stranger, Yonah thought, although several people who saw him grinned at the sight of such a lanky young man riding a burro, his feet so low they could almost have walked.
Passing a cheese maker's booth in the Plaza Mayor, Yonah couldn't resist, and he spent a precious coin for a small cheese that he downed hungrily, though it wasn't as good as the cheeses Uncle Aron had made.
'I am seeking employment, señor,' he said hopefully.
But the cheese maker shook his head. 'So? I can employ no one.' But he called out meaningfully to a nearby man, 'Bailiff, here is a young soul seeking labor.' The man who swaggered over was short, with a very large stomach. What little hair he had on his head was plastered greasily across his scalp.
'I am Isidoro Alvarez, the alguacil of this city.'
'I am Tomás Martin. I am seeking work, señor.'
'Oh, I have work ... Yes, I do. What sort of work have you done?'
'I have been a peón on a farm near Toledo.'
'What did they raise on that farm?'
'Onions and grain. They kept a herd of milch goats, also.'
'My crop is different. I raise criminals and earn my bread by keeping them out of the sun and the rain, the alguacil said, and the cheese maker guffawed.
'I need someone to clean the jail, empty my miscreants' slop buckets of their sweet-smelling shit, and throw them a little food to keep them alive while they are my responsibility. Can you do that, young peón?'
It was hardly an inviting prospect, but the alguacil's small brown eyes were dangerous as well as merry. Nearby, someone snickered. Yonah sensed they were waiting for an amusement to commence, and he knew he would not be allowed to refuse politely and ride away.
'Yes, señor. I can do that.'
'Well, then you must come with me to the jail so you will start doing it at once, the alguacil said.
As he followed the man from the plaza the hair on the back of Yonah's neck prickled, for he had heard the smiling cheese maker tell a companion that Isidoro had found someone to tend the Jews.
The jail was a long and narrow stone building. On one end of the structure was the office of
It chilled his blood. If the officer began making inquiries, Yonah knew what would follow.
He finished the day in a miasma of apprehension. When night fell he led the burro away into the darkness. He was owed a few coins for his labour but he forsook them, taking the broken hoe instead.
As soon as it was safe, he mounted the ass and rode away.
On a diet of grass the burro's digestion was greatly improved. The beast moved so steadily, so willingly, that affection for him welled in Yonah.
'You must have a name,' he said, patting the animal's neck.
After contemplation that covered a great deal of trotted ground, Yonah arrived at two names.
In his own mind and in the dark of night he would call the good and faithful beast Moise. It was the finest name he could think of, in honor of two men, his ancestor who led the Hebrew slaves forth from Egypt, and Moise ben Maimon, the great philosopher-physician.
'And in the presence of others, I will call you Pedro,' he confided to the burro.
They were fitting names for the companion of a maestro who also had several names.
Reverting to his earlier caution, for two nights he traveled in darkness and found secure daylight sleeping places for Moise and himself. The grapes in the roadside vineyards were ripe and each night he ate several bunches that were very good, except now it was he instead of the burro who developed wind. His guts growled for food.
On the third morning, a signpost at a crossroads pointed the way west to Guadalupe and south to Ciudad Real. Since he had announced to Capitán Astruells that Guadalupe was his destination, he dared not go there, and he turned the burro onto the southern fork.
It was market day and Ciudad Real was bustling. Enough people were there so that no one would question the presence of a stranger, Yonah thought, although several people who saw him grinned at the sight of such a lanky young man riding a burro, his feet so low they could almost have walked.
Passing a cheese maker's booth in the Plaza Mayor, Yonah couldn't resist, and he spent a precious coin for a small cheese that he downed hungrily, though it wasn't as good as the cheeses Uncle Aron had made.
'I am seeking employment, señor,' he said hopefully.
But the cheese maker shook his head. 'So? I can employ no one.' But he called out meaningfully to a nearby man, 'Bailiff, here is a young soul seeking labor.' The man who swaggered over was short, with a very large stomach. What little hair he had on his head was plastered greasily across his scalp.
'I am Isidoro Alvarez, the alguacil of this city.'
'I am Tomás Martin. I am seeking work, señor.'
'Oh, I have work ... Yes, I do. What sort of work have you done?'
'I have been a peón on a farm near Toledo.'
'What did they raise on that farm?'
'Onions and grain. They kept a herd of milch goats, also.'
'My crop is different. I raise criminals and earn my bread by keeping them out of the sun and the rain, the alguacil said, and the cheese maker guffawed.
'I need someone to clean the jail, empty my miscreants' slop buckets of their sweet-smelling shit, and throw them a little food to keep them alive while they are my responsibility. Can you do that, young peón?'
It was hardly an inviting prospect, but the alguacil's small brown eyes were dangerous as well as merry. Nearby, someone snickered. Yonah sensed they were waiting for an amusement to commence, and he knew he would not be allowed to refuse politely and ride away.
'Yes, señor. I can do that.'
'Well, then you must come with me to the jail so you will start doing it at once, the alguacil said.
As he followed the man from the plaza the hair on the back of Yonah's neck prickled, for he had heard the smiling cheese maker tell a companion that Isidoro had found someone to tend the Jews.
The jail was a long and narrow stone building. On one end of the structure was the office of
Similar Books
