CHAPTER TWENTY
WHAT MINGO LEARNED
Mingo had been spending more and more of his time at the Alhambra, returning to the caves on the Sacromonte only one or two nights a week, and one evening he confronted Yonah with troubling news.
“Because the monarchs soon will come to the Alhambra for an extended stay, the Inquisition is planning to examine very closely all Marranos and Moriscos in the area surrounding the fortress, lest some sign of backsliding Christians offend royal eyes.”
Yonah listened silently.
“They will search for heretics until they have them in good supply. Doubtless there will be an auto-de-fé to demonstrate their zeal and their efficiency, perhaps more than one, with court members, or even the Crown, in attendance.
“What I am trying to impart, my good friend Yonah,” he said gently, “is that it would be prudent for you soon to go elsewhere, where the need for examination of each Paternoster of your life will be less urgent.”
* * *
Out of common decency, Yonah could not resist trying to warn those with whom recently he had prayed. Perhaps deep within him there was a wild hope that Isaac Saadi’s family would react to him as a savior and look upon him more favorably.
But when he reached the small house in the Albaicin, it was empty.
So was the nearby house that had been occupied by the Benzaquen family, and the houses of the other New Christians. The converso families had heard of the approaching visit of Ferdinand and Isabella and had fully realized its danger to them. All had fled.
Alone in front of the abandoned houses, Yonah squatted in the shade of a plane tree. Idly, he marked four points in the dust: this mark represented the Old Christians of Spain; this, the Moors, here were the New Christians. And the fourth mark represented Yonah ben Helkias Toledano.
He knew he was not the kind of Jew his father had been, or all the generations who had gone before. In his heart he yearned to be that kind of person but already he had become something else.
His true religion now was to be a Jew of simple survival. He had dedicated himself to continued existence as a group of one, standing apart and alone.
A few feet from the deserted house he found the little red stone that had been Adriana’s plaything. He took it and placed it in his purse as a memento of the child’s aunt, who was certain to haunt his dreams.
* * *
Mingo returned to the caves from the Alhambra to tell urgently of more overheard intelligence.
“Action against New Christians will occur at once. This day must see your departure from this place, Yonah.”
“What of your Roma?” Yonah asked him. “Shall they be safe from harm?”
“My people are grooms and gardeners. We number among ourselves none so ambitious as Moorish architects and builders or Jewish financiers and physicians. The gadje don’t bother to envy us. Indeed, most of them scarcely see us. When the Inquisition studies us it observes only peóns who are good Christians.”
He made another suggestion that sorely troubled Yonah. “You should leave here without your burro. The creature is very close to the end of his life, and if he were ridden hard on the trail, very soon he would sicken and die.”
Yonah knew in his heart it was true.
“I give the burro to you,” he said finally, and Mingo nodded.
Yonah brought an apple down to the pasture and fed it to Moise, scratching the burro gently between the ears. It was difficult for him to turn away.
* * *
The small man did him one last service, arranging that Yonah would ride with two Romani men—the Manigo brothers, Eusabio and Macot—to deliver horses to dealers in Baena, Jaén, and Andujar. “Macot Manigo is sending a package to Tangier, by way of a boat he is to meet in Andujar. The boat is owned by Moorish smugglers with whom we have done business for many years. Macot will try to get you on that boat, to go down the Guadalquivir River.”
There was little time for farewells. Mana gave him bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth. Mingo gave him two handsome parting gifts, a dagger of worked Moorish steel that could keep a fine edge, and the guitar Yonah had played and admired.
“Mingo,” he said, “you must please take care that you do not make the Catholic monarchs too angry.”
“And you must not worry about me. May you have a good life, my friend.”
Yonah dropped to his knees and embraced the voivode of the Roma.
* * *
The horse traders were sweet-tempered men with swarthy skins and such facility with animals that they thought nothing of driving a delivery of twenty horses. He had grown familiar with them on the Sacromonte, and now they proved pleasant travel companions. Macot was a good trail cook, and they had brought a supply of wine. Eusabio had a lute and he and Yonah played together every night, banishing their saddle soreness with music.
During the long hours of riding under the hot sun, in his mind Yonah compared two men whom nature had formed strangely. He marveled that the tall and comely friar Bonestruca had become hating and hateful, while the gypsy dwarf Mingo had gathered so much goodness into his small body.
Yonah’s own large body ached from being too long in the saddle, and his soul ached with loneliness. Having tasted warm and welcoming companionship, it was wrenching for him to return to the forlorn wandering life.
He thought about Inés Saadi Denia. He was forced to accept the fact that her path through life would be far different from his own, but he allowed himself to brood more fully over another loss. A beast of burden had been his sole and constant companion for more than three years, willing and undemanding. It would be a long time before he would cease to regret bitterly the absence of the burro he called Moise.