Torquemada by Howard Fast Page B

when they whipped Alvero and all through that time in his memory there was the sound of church bells. After they whipped him they left him for long enough for his back to heal. That was the last of the torture. He remembered that one day while his back was still healing he managed to lift himself from his prison cot and go to the window – a tiny window high up in his prison cell – and to look out of it. That brought his eyes into a position a few inches above the ground level. Not far from where he was, a very young child played. This was a naked little boy of two years – one of the orphans who had been given shelter in the monastery. The little naked child played with a pigeon. The pigeon was without fear, and apparently he knew the child very well. He hopped over to the child and fluttered up onto the child’s head, while the little boy giggled with delight.
    Once during this period of torture, Alvero recalled to himself the letter he had written to Catherine. Strangely he remembered every word of the letter and he repeated aloud what he had written to her,
    â€œYou will remember my dear Catherine that once you said to me that of all the knights in Spain I was the finest. That was your judgment just as in my judgment you are the purest and the most beautiful’ of women. So I take this opportunity to remind you that even a knight bereft of all his weapons is defenceless. I sometimes feel that this is the way I stand at this moment. Defenceless and naked too. As I came into this world, so do I go out of it with all that I own surrendered to the King and the Inquisition. This has not yet happened but it will happen and nothing can stop it. Had I a son I would have managed at least to leave him my sword so that he might have with him always the knowledge that his father was a Spanish knight. But to you, my daughter, I can leave only a memory and that is a thing both precious and dangerous—”
    He stopped remembering. It had become too painful.
    The days passed and his back healed. There was no more torture. Twice a day bread, water and onions would be left in his cell. This was his diet and finally one day he slept and he awakened and there facing him at the foot of his bed was Torquemada. At first Alvero thought it was a hallucination, an illusion. During the time of his torture hallucinations had become a common occurrence in his life, and so he closed his eyes and waited a little while and then opened them again. Torquemada was still there.
    Alvero reached out for the jug of water that stood on a table next to his bed. Torquemada handed this to him. Alvero drank and then sat up.
    â€œIs there much pain, Alvero?” Torquemada asked.
    â€œYou ask me?”
    â€œI ask you, Alvero – yes.”
    â€œWhat shall I tell you about pain, Thomas, my Father?” Alvero asked incredulously. “Shall I tell you what Christ felt when he was nailed onto the cross? I know.”
    â€œI also know.”
    â€œDo you, Thomas?”
    Torquemada nodded. “God in heaven, what do you think, Alvero? Do I love suffering? Am I a monster who feeds on death and misery?”
    â€œTell me – are you?”
    Almost shrilly Torquemada cried, “I serve God!”
    â€œI know.” Alvero nodded. He filled his mouth with the rancid water from the jug, swallowed slowly. “You must forgive me, Thomas, because it is not easy for me to talk now, but as I said, I know. I have become a part of your devotion, Thomas. I know how you serve God. Oh how truly I know how you serve God!”
    â€œI pleaded with you before, Alvero. I beg you now confess yourself and cut me down from my own cross.”
    â€œNo!” Alvero shouted fiercely.
    â€œYou are without remorse and you are without pity.”
    â€œFor you, Thomas? Pity for you? Is that what you are asking me to do – to pity you? Perhaps to pray for your salvation? Is that it?”
    â€œGod help me, do you think I have