‘BEATRIZ!’
I judged it to be late afternoon of the following day when the door of my cell opened and my aunt stood in the doorway.
I rushed to greet her but the gaoler ordered me to stand against the far wall. Beatriz had a bundle of clothes over her arm. The gaoler seemed prepared to let her in, but he was very suspicious about the clothing she carried.
‘It’s a nun’s habit; all the sisters of my order wear them.’ Aunt Beatriz showed it to him and then begged him in the sweetest tones to let me put it on.
‘I don’t know if it’s allowed,’ he grumbled.
‘Your prisoner, this young woman, Zarita, is one of my novices. Surely no one can object to a novice nun reclaiming her habit,’ my aunt replied, still keeping her voice peaceable and quiet. ‘I understand that she is to be brought to trial. It would be unseemly in the eyes of God for even a novice nun to appear in public in her night shift. And’ – Beatriz’s voice quickened as if a thought had just occurred to her – ‘she is obliged to wear this grey dress day and night. It means . . . that we do have the problem of disposing of her shift and wrap. I, as a nun with vows of poverty, cannot accept such an expensive gift. Perhaps you would take care of this matter for us?’
The gaoler looked at me. His eyes took in the heavy velvet dressing gown with its gold and green embroidery and trim of miniver around the neck and cuffs. Its worth was probably twice his annual salary. He took only a few seconds to decide.
‘It is permitted,’ he said.
He hovered by the open door while I changed my clothes. My aunt shielded me with her body, and as I put on the familiar grey dress of her order, I felt a measure of peace. I smoothed my hair under the coif and tied the leather sandals on my feet.
When the gaoler left clutching his booty, we sat together on the cot bed, holding each other close and talking.
I asked after Eloisa. Beatriz told me that her friend had taken some kind of seizure but was recovering. Although she wanted to stay, Beatriz had insisted that she go back to her own home.
‘Eloisa wrote many notes and pleas to the queen, and also bribed everyone she could think of bribing, yet she couldn’t discover why you’ve been arrested. Do you have any idea what the charge might be?’
‘None.’ I shook my head. ‘And I’ve thought of little else since it happened.’
‘Eloisa says that Ramón came to supper yesterday evening. Was anything untoward said then?’
‘No. Ramón wouldn’t compromise his own position. He is engaged in making a profitable marriage contract for himself. He’d allow nothing to get in the way of that.’
‘Ah,’ said Beatriz, ‘you know about his intended wedding. So it won’t break your heart to learn that he left Granada at great speed early this morning to put as much distance as possible between you and himself?’
‘Not at all,’ I replied. ‘I found Ramón pompous, overbearing and arrogant. And I decided not to tell him anything about the baby. He would not have cared a scrap for his child. He didn’t even react when I spoke about Lorena’s death – yet he was obviously quite besotted by her at one time.’
‘He was always more besotted by himself, that boy,’ Beatriz observed.
‘You knew!’ I exclaimed. ‘You knew that Ramón was shallow and deceitful. Yet you sent me to meet him!’
‘I had faith in your good judgement, Zarita. The months you spent in the convent weren’t wasted. The world believes that those who choose to shut themselves away from its influences have no knowledge of its doings. Yet in the time we spent together I saw you mature from girl to woman – a woman of grace and wisdom. I was confident that you would see Ramón for what he was, and then it was your choice if you decided that you wished to spend your life with him.’ She cupped my cheek in her hand. ‘Life is very, very precious. One must be careful what one does with it.’
‘Well, you were right, Ramón was not for me. But,’ I faltered, ‘there is another.’
She listened quietly as I told her about Saulo. I began with the exciting and happy part of my great love. And then I related what had happened in my bedroom just before my arrest.
‘I can see why Saulo would be angry,’ Beatriz said at last. ‘He would experience twofold rage. One, that you were the girl whom he blames for the death of his father. Two, and very damaging to the pride of a man, not recognizing you, he falls in love with you and then discovers your identity. His fury would be all-consuming.’
Yes, I thought. It had almost consumed me.
‘And yet,’ Beatriz mused, ‘he had the courage to confess to you his part in the death of your father.’
The gaoler knocked upon the door. ‘The visit must end now,’ he said gruffly.
Beatriz spoke rapidly. ‘Zarita, you should prepare yourself to face the worst possible accusation, that of heresy. Try to be strong. Once you have been charged, I may not be allowed to visit you again. I will help you all I can. I will petition the queen, and I will pray for you.’
When my aunt had gone, I stood up and let the rough grey wool of my habit fall into the natural folds of the skirt. It comforted me more than if I were wearing lace and brocade. I welcomed my rough sandals instead of fine satin slippers. I drew the veil across my face and pulled up the cowl around my head. I slid my hands inside each opposite sleeve and clasped them together. There! Now I was cocooned from the outside world. Safe.
For the moment.