31

Don Solomon sent Hamdun to find a physician. While we stood over Belo, I began the prayer, since Don Solomon didn’t.

May the One Who blessed our ancestors—

Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,

Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah—

bless and heal Belo.

Don Solomon joined in.

May the Holy Blessed One

overflow with compassion upon him

to restore him . . .

When we finished, he said, “I wouldn’t have told him if I’d thought . . . I wanted him to hear it in my own words.”

I said nothing. We watched Belo in silence. Eventually, Don Solomon sat again.

After half an hour, the Duke of Medinaceli himself and his personal physician, Don Miguel, entered the tent, followed by Hamdun.

The duke embraced Don Solomon. “Your decision delights my heart.”

The physician was a tall, middle-aged man in a yellow-and-white silk overgown and a pointed green hat that added almost an extra foot to his great height. He put down a linen satchel and looked thoughtfully at Belo for a minute or two before he touched him. Then, as Don Israel had, he took Belo’s pulse, and I approved of how carefully he lifted Belo’s wrist. “Thready. How old is he?” He looked at Don Solomon.

“Much younger than I am!”

The duke looked at me, but I said I didn’t know, either.

“I’ll bleed him.” He smiled at the duke. “Bleeding works best in spring.” He untied the strings of his satchel. “I have other remedies, too.”

Don Miguel spent more than an hour with Belo, bleeding him, applying a mustard plaster to his forehead, and putting herbs on his tongue. Don Solomon sat, but the duke and I stood nearby. Hamdun hovered a yard away. I kept holding my breath, looking for a sign that the treatment was having an effect.

Belo stirred once, opened his left eye, and seemed to see us. He said something I couldn’t understand. Saliva stood in the corner of his mouth.

“What, Belo?”

He said more, also incomprehensible.

Finally, the doctor put his things back in his satchel. “The first treatment often fails when later ones sometimes succeed. I’ll return tomorrow morning.”

Sometimes?

He didn’t know that Belo, like me, was stubborn, though he didn’t look stubborn now, sagging in the chair, breathing noisily.

The duke thanked the physician and stayed with us after he left. When Don Miguel must have gone far enough not to be able to hear, His Grace said, “The king and queen will know soon—in an hour or two—that Don Joseph has been struck. Queen Isabella will take it as a sign from God and will baptize him. Paloma, if you want him to remain a Jew and want to remain one yourself, flee!”

The breath rushed out of me. How could I take him? Where would we go? Would I ever see the littles again?

“But”—the duke gripped my shoulders—“if you let them baptize him, he’ll get the best care, wonderful care, and he’ll be safe. He’ll be more likely to recover. The monarchs love him.” He let me go. “And I’m very fond of you. I hate to think of your uncertain future as a Jew.” He stepped back. “What will you do? You mustn’t hesitate.”

I didn’t need to. “If Belo wakes up and finds himself a Christian, he’ll have another spell.” And die cursing me.

But how would we leave Spain? I fought back tears. Would Belo die anyway?

Don Solomon pushed himself out of his chair. “I can’t go with you. I have to organize the departure. I have to send people ahead to Portugal, visit . . .”

Whatever else he said, I didn’t hear. I’d never traveled without Belo or Papá.

But we had Hamdun and guards. I started for the tent flaps. “We have to get ready.” I needed a cart for Belo, who couldn’t sit a horse. Hamdun followed me.

Don Solomon said, “Wait! The road will be watched.”

“Queen Isabella,” His Grace said, “will think it her holy duty to find him and bring both of you into the fold.”

Don Solomon added, “Her people will persist until they succeed.”

I turned back. We had to go and couldn’t leave.

“I’ll hide him.” Don Solomon surveyed his tent. “I don’t know where.”

He’d give us up soon enough. I touched Bela’s pendant.

She sent the thought, or God did. “Can we be disguised?”

No one answered. I supposed they were thinking.

A sensible, planning part of me took over. “People don’t notice the poor.”

Both of them were smiling at me.

His Grace said, “Don Joseph’s prodigy. I have two donkeys.” He chuckled. “The poor ride donkeys.”

Belo couldn’t sit a donkey. I looked at him to see if anything had changed, but nothing had.

Hamdun coughed.

I nodded at him.

“Don Joseph can ride with me.”

Ah. Hamdun would prop him up.

The duke and Don Solomon approved the suggestion. In a few minutes, all was arranged. His Grace would give us two donkeys and three shabby, hooded cloaks from his servants, cloaks without the badges that would mark us as Jews. Don Solomon would send the guards after us with a cart. Beyond the camp, when we came to a deserted spot, we would wait for them to catch up. Then we’d all turn off the road until night.

I sent Hamdun to tell the guards and gather what we needed from our tent.

His Grace took my hands. “May luck travel with you.” He kissed Belo’s forehead. “I wouldn’t have dared do that if he was awake.” He left.

I’d found my way home when I was kidnapped. I’d visited Pero without telling anyone. I said to Don Solomon, “We’ll go to Málaga.”

“When you get there, find a ship for Lisbon. The aljama will welcome you.”

I nodded, but I’d already decided to go to Naples, where Bela’s sister and her family lived. No need to tell Don Solomon, the traitor, where to find us.

I wasn’t thinking clearly and didn’t see my mistake.

A short while later, Hamdun returned and gave me the saddlebag full of ducats from our tent. A servant came with the cloaks. He said the donkeys were waiting outside.

Hamdun stood Belo up, and he managed to keep his feet though he teetered. I wrapped a cloak around him.

When we were cloaked and hooded and our finery hidden, Don Solomon hugged me. I stood stiffly, but then I thanked him. Would I ever see him again? Would he be a Christian if I did?

Hamdun draped Belo’s arm over his shoulder. “I have you. Never fear.”

“The letter!” I took it off the table, glad I remembered.

Don Solomon said, “You won’t need it. I’ll deliver it to your papá.”

He was right. We’d be gone. I was loath to trust him, but I had to.

At a gesture from Don Solomon, a servant opened the tent flap. Hamdun, Belo, and I exited, followed by Don Solomon, who shouted at us, “I don’t pay you to spend my money on wine. Get out of my sight.”

I hadn’t thought of it, but he was explaining our departure to anyone in earshot: We were tipplers, and Belo was so drunk he couldn’t sit a donkey.

Thank you, Don Solomon. I still despise you.

Hamdun hoisted Belo on the donkey’s back and climbed up after him. I mounted my donkey and spurred it. Hamdun spurred his.

The road out of the camp was cobbled. No one seemed to notice us. The flow of people and carts was mostly against us: nobles on horses; mule-drawn carts bearing provisions; burdened mules and donkeys; clusters of Christians on their way to settle in Granada.

Belo might be jounced by the donkey’s gait. I prayed he wasn’t in pain. Could he feel pain?

Did the monarchs know yet? Were they sending for Don Solomon? Would he betray us again? I wished I hadn’t told him we were going to Málaga.

I almost giggled. The secretaries who’d made us wait endlessly might be delaying the physician from passing along his news. The search for us may not have begun.

Any bushes and trees that had once lined the road had been razed for the siege. There was nowhere for us to hide.

Even though the air was cool, the sun shone in the late-afternoon sky. The river Genil, which the road followed, shooshed as it streamed by.

After half an hour, a fan palm rose along the edge of the road. If no one had been about, we could have concealed ourselves behind it, so long as we kept the donkeys still and they didn’t bray. But we were overtaking a dozen barefoot monks, arguing among themselves about the holiness of ale.

The monks paid us no heed. The cobbles ended, and the road became pale and dusty dirt. A farmhouse stood on our right. Chickens pecked in the yard. Beyond the house, we passed an olive tree with a wide enough trunk to hide us, but now four noblemen rode by. Ahead, more fan palms and olive trees cropped up, along with oleander bushes. If the road ever cleared, we’d have places to go.

A cloud drifted in from the west. The road curved. A shepherd came toward us, driving a flock of geese and raising dust. Belo’s head sagged back against Hamdun’s shoulder. Anyone going by would see his face.

I said, “Please keep his face down.”

Hamdun palmed the back of Belo’s scalp, as a mother might a baby’s, and lowered his head.

Merciful One, thank You for Hamdun. Now, how much trouble would it be to hold people back to give us three minutes to hide? Help me save Belo, who loves You. I love You, too.

The cart and our guards should reach us soon. Had Don Solomon told them not to speak to us if others were near? I turned to look. A party of nobles cantered toward us. I didn’t see our people.

The nobles passed us. A few more clouds sailed out of the west.

Hamdun said, “Oh, oh, oh, oh.”

Belo was sliding sideways, but Hamdun managed to straighten him again.

About twenty minutes later, God gave us our miracle: the nearest travelers were just dots, and the road was lined with fan palms and olive trees. I turned my donkey, and Hamdun followed.

Behind our screen of fronds and leaves, I dismounted. Hamdun did the same, while lifting Belo to the ground, where he set him against the trunk of an olive tree. Hamdun held the donkeys’ reins loosely and let them nuzzle him. Then he led them down the riverbank to drink. I crouched to tip Belo’s head back so I could dribble the watery wine from my flask into his mouth. He took the draft and swallowed, which I considered a good sign. His left eye, the alert one, I thought, watched me with what I hoped was recognition.

He said, loudly, “Lo . . . ,” and trailed off.

My name, or almost! But too loud. I put my finger over my lips, and he didn’t try again. I patted his cheek, walked to the fan palm, and peeked between the fronds.

Alas, I could see only a swath in front of me, five yards or so of dirt, and, across the road, an oleander bush next to another olive tree. I’d hear travelers, but I wouldn’t be able to distinguish our guards until I could see them, and then we’d still have to wait to see if anyone else came along. Emerging would be a moment of great danger.

The day waned, and the fronds took on a dusky glow. My stomach grumbled. Our provisions were in the cart. For a while, no one had crossed my range of road. People were probably setting up camp for the night or finding lodging.

I thought of the littles at home and the adults, who didn’t yet know what was about to befall them. Would I ever see them again?

I hoped they were happy at this moment. I imagined them: Jento and Todros playing tag with the other boys in the street outside the synagogue; energetic Jamila, jumping up and down in Ledicia’s house; Clara, petting her cat, Yowl; Beatriz, wondering where I was and worrying.

Belo was watching me. I didn’t want him to see me weep, so I blinked the tears away. What was he thinking? Did he have thoughts?

I heard hooves and clinking. The leader of our guards, Señor Menahem, Belo’s favorite, trotted into view on a piebald horse. He was followed by three more guards, the cart, and two donkeys, loaded with provisions.

The timing was perfect. The road ahead and behind was probably empty. Still, I waited, counting in a measured way to a thousand. I didn’t want our party to get too far from us, because I didn’t know what lay ahead.

I held my hand up, which by now was dim in the fading light. I pointed to the road, and Hamdun nodded. But as I began to part the fronds, I heard clinking and hooves coming from the direction of Granada. I straightened and gestured in a downward motion to Hamdun.

A party of ten trotted by. The final rider wore a high, pointed hat that, despite the failing daylight, I could still tell was green. The physician Don Miguel!