‘YOU HAVE ORDERED the arrest of my servant, Bartolomé.’
I could clearly hear Papa’s voice even though his study door was closed. Father Besian’s reply was lower but audible. ‘He has been disrespectful to the point of blasphemy.’
‘Bartolomé is not aware that his actions can be interpreted in that way.’
I gave Serafina a little push towards the kitchen. ‘You attend to your duties. I will go and add my voice to Papa’s pleas.’
‘I have the right to arrest anyone I think may be a heretic or who may be conspiring against Holy Mother Church.’
Father Besian and my father were standing facing each other as I entered the room. They were so intent on their argument that they took no note of my presence.
‘The boy you have arrested is a simpleton and has no idea what a heretic is.’
‘Yesterday my men asked him if he had ever entertained wicked thoughts against priests or the Church and he replied that he had.’
‘Bartolomé would agree with anything anyone said,’ Papa, never a patient man, snapped in return. ‘It’s in his nature to do so. He has no thoughts to call his own and seeks to please everyone he meets.’
‘Furthermore,’ the priest continued, ‘when asked if he had ever plotted to attack the priest during mass, he said that he did sometimes entertain these thoughts when he attended the holy service.’
My father laughed harshly. ‘The sermons of certain priests might warrant such a reaction.’
‘I caution you to be mindful of what you say.’ There was an edge to the priest’s voice.
‘I told you, the boy is a simpleton! He can barely dress himself unaided. He could no more conspire against the Church than he could count from one to one hundred. Surely you can see that?’
‘Even in the simplest person the evil one seeks to find a place.’
‘He’s only a boy!’ Papa exploded in exasperation.
‘Almost twenty years of age makes him a man, but I will bear in mind all you have said when he is put to the question.’
‘Put to the question!’ My father looked appalled. ‘You surely don’t intend to question the boy by trial?’
‘If I am dissatisfied with his initial answers, yes.’
‘But you know what his initial answers will be, so why proceed—’ Papa broke off as if he was beginning to work out the import of what he had just heard. He looked more closely at the priest. ‘What game do you play here that you use the boy as your pawn?’
Father Besian hesitated. Then he said, ‘It may be that our examination of this first person accused of wrongdoing will prompt the townsfolk to lead us to others.’
There was something happening within the room that I didn’t understand, but I was too young, foolish and headstrong to be prudent and wait and listen. I burst out, ‘There are no others!’ I cried out. ‘The people of this town are good souls. You must release Bartolomé at once!’
Both men swung round to face me. The colour leeched from my father’s face. ‘Zarita! You shouldn’t be here.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Father Besian. ‘This is exactly where your daughter should be. She is old enough to appreciate right from wrong, and must learn what will and will not be tolerated by Church and State.’ He turned back to my father. ‘I give you this instruction now. No one may leave this town without first applying to me for permission. That order includes every member of your staff and family. Anyone who tries to do so will be arrested and held by the officers of the Inquisition.’