August 1492
For the thousands of Jews who chose to remain in the faith of their fathers, the final stages of leaving España were unabated misery. Highways were choked with refugees, at seaports they were cursed, stoned, beaten and robbed. Local merchants cheated them. Ship captains took their passage money and then refused to let them board. Or worse allowed them onto the ship only to force them off at some hidden cove, without any food, water or shelter.
The Cal de Sevilla— the synagogue of Seville, the community which the Halavis and Mrs. Bejar were part of, was somewhat more fortunate than other synagogues in Seville. Since Rabbi Hachham had many relatives living in Ottoman lands for many years, and in Constantinople since 1450.
These “Grego” or “Romanoit” Jews had lived in these lands since Roman times and were very familiar with the Ottoman Sultan’s reliance on Rayahhs, the non-Turkish communities to help administer the empire, and to govern themselves.
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Writing numerous letters to these relatives, and asking for their help and advice, brought replies from the Romanoit communities which were heartening. It gave the congregation of Seville hope, and a destination to try to reach.
As for a ship to take them, that was another matter, time was running out. The congregation’s prayers were answered in the person of Captain Alonso de Vega, agreeing to transport them to Constantinople aboard his ship, for a cost of two thousand maravedis per person. A cost that proved to be a hardship for most. Señor Levi, a good friend of Alonso de Vega, convinced the captain, using his most persuasive arguments, to sympathize with their predicament, by allowing children under ten to travel without charge, eliminating a large part of the travel costs, for many congregants.
Very early on the morning of August 1, 1492, the final day of departure. Fifty families, about one hundred and fifty men, women and children. The fragment of the Seville congregation that chose to leave rather then convert, made their way to the old synagogue site, the starting point for their day-long trek to the port of Cadiz. There to board ship for their longer journey to the Ottoman city of Constantinople.
Rabbi Hachham ended the morning service, as the sun rose, with a prayer to Adoni that the journey ahead be a safe and easy one. The services completed, all of the families assembled, and they proceeded to make their way to the port of Cadiz.
By mid afternoon with the sun high in the sky, the heat had become almost unbearable. Supporting David on one side, and Mrs. Bejar on the other, Benjamin Halavi struggled to keep up with his fellow congregants. His efforts concentrated on one thing only. To reach the port of Cadiz with his father and Mrs.
Bejar safely, and board ship. He would face the problems of the ocean journey only when he had to.
So far, the only real danger they had to confront was the heat, and the waning strength of the older people. The few gentiles they had met along the way had not threatened them physically, 107
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only verbally, shouting insults and curses, which did no one any real harm.
Benjamin thanked God that so far no one had tried to stop them, or take any of the personal possessions most carried on their backs. With luck they would reach Cadiz in a few more hours.
Resting outside the port, no more than an hour away, the remnants of the Cal de Seville began to prepare the late afternoon meal. Their final one on the soil of España.
Mrs. Bejar, regaining some of her strength after a short rest, began preparing their meal by slicing some bread, cheese, and putting out some olives and wine. All began to eat heartily after proper prayers had been recited.
David Ben-Halavi, eating slowly, took a small sip of wine, and then began to sob. “Why, O Lord, are you doing this to us, what sins have we committed that you are punishing us so?”
Benjamin, watching his father sob, slowly put his arm around the old man’s shoulders and softly said, “Papa, it is not God who punishes us, but the King and Queen, the church that demonizes us. And…and ourselves, who let it happen.”
David, wiping his eyes, sat up, and declared, “What else can we do, Benjamin? If we tried to fight back they would slaughter us without mercy. However you are right. God is not punishing us, Adoni is trying to teach us something. What that lesson is I do not know or understand. I doubt the rabbi is able to give meaning to what is happening to us. But the centuries we spent in España, the great accomplishments of our people must never be forgotten. This I know with all my heart. Promise me, Benjamin, that you will never forget, that you will teach your children, your grandchildren’s children, their children, the magnificent accomplishments of our ancestors in the land of España.”
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Benjamin, in a voice filled with emotion, whispered, “I promise, Papa. Now finish eating and rest. We will reach the ship very soon, once we are on board you will feel much better.”
“Yes, Benjamin, I will try,” David softly replied.
The rest of the journey to de Vega’s ship continued without further delay or incident, reaching the wharf by sundown, tired, dusty and thirsty.
After resting for a short while, all of the members of the congregation of Seville were effectively rushed aboard the ship.
The ship’s crew, mostly Portuguese seaman, managed to feed those who chose to eat, since the Fast of Av had begun at sundown, assigned sleeping quarters, provided bedding for all, loaded and tied down all their personal belongings in a swift and efficient manner. Captain de Vega ran a tight ship, and his plans to sail the next day were not to be delayed.
On the morning of August 2, 1492, Captain de Vega set sail to the east, heading for the island of Crete. From there onto Constantinople. Twenty-four hours later Christopher Columbus would leave Palos de la Frontera, sailing west to the lands of the Indies , Cipango and Cathay—he believed.
The Halavi family torn apart by events they could never hope to control would never be together again.
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