astonishment as I watch him disappear down the walk.
He kissed my hand! My heart pounds so furiously I wonder why the laces on my bodice don’t pop. I look up at the windows of the royal apartments, hoping Elizabeth is watching, before deciding I am glad she isn’t. I want to keep this moment to myself, rather than giving it to her and Beatriz, like another bauble to play with as they wish.
***
I go up the hill every day to visit Elizabeth and Beatriz, but there’s still plenty of time to explore Tomar by myself. One day, I notice a doorway with a menorah carved above it. Though I play an endless game of fetch with a stray dog, waiting for someone to go in or out, eventually I give up. The next day and the next I walk by, but still see no one.
The afternoon shadows are growing long one Friday when, after a visit with the princesses, I make my daily trip down that street. My heart jumps to see a man go inside. I hurry to the door and hear the sound of men’s voices. “Shema, Isroel,” the men chant, and memories of my mother lodge painfully in my throat. I don’t know how long I stand there, but eventually the door opens, and two men go out.
Judah Abravanel sees me immediately and stops. “Shabbat shalom,” he says to the other man, who heads down the street.
He sees tears welling in my eyes. “A wish for Sabbath peace makes you cry?” He means it as a joke, but I have to fight the urge to blurt out how much I miss hearing those words. His gaze is as intense as it was in the garden when he saw me acting out stories with Elizabeth and Beatriz.
“I should go,” I say.
He knows why I am there. “Would you like to look inside?” he asks. “This is the synagogue of Tomar, humble as it is.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, I would.”
“I think it’s best if you stand in the doorway and look only for a moment. It would be unwise for you to appear too interested.”
I take in the small, square room, no more than eight paces across. A few men talk among themselves, but otherwise it is deserted. In the middle is a raised wooden platform with a rail around it and a table in the center.
“That’s the tebah,” Judah tells me. “It’s where we read from the Law.” He gestures to a niche in one wall, covered by a curtain. “That’s the Aron Kodesh, the Holy Ark, where we keep the Torah scrolls.” He points to four evenly spaced pillars holding up an unadorned stucco ceiling. “You see those? They’re for the four matriarchs—Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel. The pillars remind us that women enable men to become all we are capable of.”
“Do you have a family?” I blurt out.
His face lights up. “A wonderful family in Queluz. My wife and I have two girls and a baby boy.”
“You must be proud to have a son.”
He looks at me quizzically. “I am proud of all my children.”
We start up the street. “Don’t let this quiet little town fool you, Senhorita Riba,” Judah says. “People have an eye out for conversos who seem too interested in Jews. I wouldn’t come up this street again, if I were you.” He stops at the corner and bows politely. “The loss will be mine.” Without a word, he turns down the cobbled street and disappears around a corner.
***
“Esteemed Senhorita Riba,” Elizabeth reads aloud. “I would be most grateful if you could arrange an opportunity to meet with your father again before my departure for Lisbon.” She stares at me. “Again?”
Diogo left a week ago, and I have forgotten I slipped his note into Amadis of Gaul to hold my place. “He met with my father a few times,” I say with a shrug.
“Did he kiss you?” Beatriz asks. “Did he put his lips to yours in a passionate embrace?” The question is so fanciful, I wonder for a moment what strange creature would ask it.
“Of course not!” I reply.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Elizabeth says, in a tone that implies such failure is entirely my fault.
To distract her, I pick up where we left
He kissed my hand! My heart pounds so furiously I wonder why the laces on my bodice don’t pop. I look up at the windows of the royal apartments, hoping Elizabeth is watching, before deciding I am glad she isn’t. I want to keep this moment to myself, rather than giving it to her and Beatriz, like another bauble to play with as they wish.
***
I go up the hill every day to visit Elizabeth and Beatriz, but there’s still plenty of time to explore Tomar by myself. One day, I notice a doorway with a menorah carved above it. Though I play an endless game of fetch with a stray dog, waiting for someone to go in or out, eventually I give up. The next day and the next I walk by, but still see no one.
The afternoon shadows are growing long one Friday when, after a visit with the princesses, I make my daily trip down that street. My heart jumps to see a man go inside. I hurry to the door and hear the sound of men’s voices. “Shema, Isroel,” the men chant, and memories of my mother lodge painfully in my throat. I don’t know how long I stand there, but eventually the door opens, and two men go out.
Judah Abravanel sees me immediately and stops. “Shabbat shalom,” he says to the other man, who heads down the street.
He sees tears welling in my eyes. “A wish for Sabbath peace makes you cry?” He means it as a joke, but I have to fight the urge to blurt out how much I miss hearing those words. His gaze is as intense as it was in the garden when he saw me acting out stories with Elizabeth and Beatriz.
“I should go,” I say.
He knows why I am there. “Would you like to look inside?” he asks. “This is the synagogue of Tomar, humble as it is.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, I would.”
“I think it’s best if you stand in the doorway and look only for a moment. It would be unwise for you to appear too interested.”
I take in the small, square room, no more than eight paces across. A few men talk among themselves, but otherwise it is deserted. In the middle is a raised wooden platform with a rail around it and a table in the center.
“That’s the tebah,” Judah tells me. “It’s where we read from the Law.” He gestures to a niche in one wall, covered by a curtain. “That’s the Aron Kodesh, the Holy Ark, where we keep the Torah scrolls.” He points to four evenly spaced pillars holding up an unadorned stucco ceiling. “You see those? They’re for the four matriarchs—Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel. The pillars remind us that women enable men to become all we are capable of.”
“Do you have a family?” I blurt out.
His face lights up. “A wonderful family in Queluz. My wife and I have two girls and a baby boy.”
“You must be proud to have a son.”
He looks at me quizzically. “I am proud of all my children.”
We start up the street. “Don’t let this quiet little town fool you, Senhorita Riba,” Judah says. “People have an eye out for conversos who seem too interested in Jews. I wouldn’t come up this street again, if I were you.” He stops at the corner and bows politely. “The loss will be mine.” Without a word, he turns down the cobbled street and disappears around a corner.
***
“Esteemed Senhorita Riba,” Elizabeth reads aloud. “I would be most grateful if you could arrange an opportunity to meet with your father again before my departure for Lisbon.” She stares at me. “Again?”
Diogo left a week ago, and I have forgotten I slipped his note into Amadis of Gaul to hold my place. “He met with my father a few times,” I say with a shrug.
“Did he kiss you?” Beatriz asks. “Did he put his lips to yours in a passionate embrace?” The question is so fanciful, I wonder for a moment what strange creature would ask it.
“Of course not!” I reply.
“Well, that’s disappointing,” Elizabeth says, in a tone that implies such failure is entirely my fault.
To distract her, I pick up where we left
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