January 1497
Gathered in the home of Don Benveniste de Mena, some of Seville’s foremost citizens were terror stricken. Leading “New Christian” families—including the San Miguels—believed they had finally achieved a degree of safety in their arrangement with Monsignor Abate. But as Don Fernando continued to explain, they were in grave danger, not because of Donna Isabel’s words, which Monsignor Abate had disclosed to him, but because of their confessions, and arrangement with the monsignor.
Now other events were causing great alarm. The authorities were on high alert. If knowledge of the arrangement was made known, all of the families would be facing the Inquisition.
Don Benveniste re-enforced what Don Fernando had just explained, regarding Donna Isabel. The greater danger facing them—what the servant girl heard was nothing more than the mumblings of a dying woman—easily explained as nothing more than a result of her feverish state. But more important was 172
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the question: would Monsignor Abate reveal the arrangement?
Now, news of the plot by Don Pedro de Susan, and other New Christians, calling for an armed attack against church dignitaries. The scheme unfortunately foiled by Don Pedro’s own daughter, the famed beauty, “La Susana,” who inadvertently revealed the plans to her Christian lover, who immediately informed the papal authorities. Don Pedro and all those involved in the plot were arrested, tried, and convicted, their executions to take place within the next few months.
Inquisitional fever was now sweeping through the city of Seville. Teeming with informers, the number of executions increased so rapidly, that additional space for the quemadero—
the burning place—had to be found.
These were the most important problems needing solution, Don Benveniste concluded.
“Then there is no hope of Monsignor Abate coming to our aid?” inquired Don Vidal.
“None, news of the plot, along with the servant girl’s confession, caused the monsignor great anxiety. He has washed his hands of us. Those were his last words on the subject, when I spoke with him last week,” Don Fernando sadly answered.
“Then we must make plans to leave as soon as possible. We have no other choice. No matter what we do or say, our motives, and limpieza de sangre—purity of blood, will always be questioned.
There will be no mercy shown by the Inquisition, especially one headed by Torquemada himself,” Don Benveniste abruptly declared.
All reluctantly agreed, except Don Fernando, who quietly declared his intention to remain in Seville. He saw no reason to forgo his life here, none. He could not be connected with the La Susana Plot. His wife’s words were explained very easily. The dream was just that, a dream. He was a Christian and a Grandee.
In spite of Monsignor Abate, he was confident no one would challenge him. But if he was forced to face the Inquisition, he was ready!
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Antonio, frightened at his father’s bravado, began to argue with him.
“I do not speak for you, Antonio. You may do as you wish. I am sure your decision will be one which does not bring shame to the San Miguel name.”
Ignoring his father’s ridicule but visibly relieved, Antonio began offering reasons why his father should leave with him.
“Do not argue with me, Antonio. I am staying. Pray to God that our decisions will lead us all to safe lives.”
Antonio, knowing his father’s unyielding ways, decided it would be useless to try and change his mind. His own considerable fear of the Inquisition left him in turmoil. Stay with his father or run with the others. A decision he would have to make very, very soon.
But whatever their choices or judgments, it would not matter.
Unknown to all, their fates still rested in the hands of Monsignor Abate.
* * *
Converso Fernando de Rojas baptized Luis Jesus de San Abate.The former Monsignor Abate lay in his filthy cell. racked with pain. Barely conscious, his mind wondering in and out of reality.
So close, I had been so close to the dream. Now all was in ruin.
Lurching in a spasm of pain as he tried to move, Monsignor Abate recalled in one of his few lucid moments—was it just a week ago, that the Inquisitor General, Torquemada himself, had questioned him?
I answered all his questions truthfully. I pleaded for mercy, what had I done? What sins had I committed? I revealed the confessions of the “Judaizing Grandees.” The plan they embraced to live as Christians. How they tried to entice me with their sinful ways.
By…by, rebuilding the church of San Pedro, by…so many other ways.
His tortured mind recoiled, he screamed as he remembered the potro—the rack. The triangular frame to which he was bound 174
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and stretched. The unbearable pain. Then mercifully he fainted.
When he regained consciousness he was ready to agree or do anything his torturers asked.
Within hours after Abate confessed, and corroborated Father Alfonso’s denunciations, orders for the arrest of all the families involved with the former monsignor were issued.
One week later all of the families, except Don Fernando and Antonio, were apprehended at the Portuguese border.
Don Fernando, true to his word, did not change his ways. He remained at home, where the authorities arrested him three days later.
Antonio, still free, vacillating between staying with his father or following the rest to Portugal, was not at home when his father was arrested.
* * *
Stirring from a deep sleep, a weak sun casting a dim light through the window, Antonio quickly came awake, as the door was roughly opened.“Ah, Dios, who is it?” he called out.
“Calma, Antonio, it is only me,” Amelia Gomez replied out, as she entered the room.
“Eh, bueno, any news?”
“No different than yesterday,” she answered.
Getting out of bed, Antonio quickly made his way to the chamber pot. Relieved himself, washed and began dressing. As he dressed, he recalled the events that led to his current predicament. Just last week, leaving his old hiding place, he warily made his way to his home. Wondering, if his father was well, and, if his plans had possibly changed.
A commotion in the area of his house had caused him to pause. There for all to see was his father in chains, being arrested. Barely managing to escape himself, he fled. Seeking refuge in this hovel, the whore Amelia Gomez called home.
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She had been one of his favorite pastimes. And lucky for him, he had always treated her well. She agreed to let him stay, on the condition that he would leave in a few days. He did not have to explain to Amelia why he needed her home as shelter. All of Seville was filled with news of the Grandees, accused by the Inquisition of being Marranos.
Guilt-ridden and full of remorse at his father’s arrest, Antonio, yesterday, decided to end it all. To stop running. But giving himself up to Inquisition torture was not what he had in mind.
After changing, and preparing something to eat. Amelia began to berate Antonio for not leaving.
“Señor Antonio, when are you going to leave? All the neighborhoods are being searched. It is very dangerous for me, if they find you here…it will be very bad.”
Antonio understood very well the danger Señorita Amelia was in and decided to do what must be done.
“Amelia, take the last of my money, go to the chemist. Ask him to make you an arsenic potion. Explain you are having a problem with rats.”
“But, Señor, I do not have a problem with rats. A mouse or two, maybe. Aye de mi! Señor, you do not plan to—”
“Just do as I ask, Amelia, I will be gone by tonight.”
With mixed feelings, Amelia took the money. Sad and relieved at the same time, said she would go to the chemist sometime this afternoon. Now she needed to rest. She had had a long busy night, and was very tired. Antonio agreed, climbed back into bed with her, feeling the warmth of her body once more.
* * *
A wet drizzle that began in the afternoon, turned to a cold downpour by evening. Bringing a chill to the entire city.176
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Returning drenched from her trip to the chemist, the brew Antonio had asked for in hand, a tearful Amelia, again admonished him.
“Señor Antonio, what you are planning is wrong. Confess your sins. The church is merciful, what you are accused of will be forgiven.”
“Yes, the church will forgive me,” a melancholy Antonio declared. “After they have burned me at the stake! There is no mercy from the Inquisition. Torquemada would burn his own mother at a hint of Jewish blood.”
“But some priest could—”
“No, Amelia, there is no other way. I would be tortured, then burned alive. My corpse left to rot, I prefer my method.”
Realizing she would not change his mind, Amelia wrapped the potion well in some oiled cloth, and gave it to him. “May God forgive you, Antonio.”
“The only forgiveness I seek is from those that I have failed or disappointed.”
Assuring her that now that he was leaving she would be safe, Antonio thanked her for her help, kissed her gently, and left.
Wandering the city, wet and cold, with very few people about, he had no fear of the authorities. He continued to walk through old familiar places wet with rain. Recalling memories of better times.
Not sure where he would spend his last night on earth, Antonio continued wandering. Through the rain, he observed an old abandoned building with a large courtyard. Vague feelings of recognition assailed him. Continuing to walk, he spied a filthy garbage strewn alley. Why not here. I deserve nothing better. I failed my family, myself, and anyone else I had ever known.
Entering the alley, he removed from his coat the package Amelia had prepared. He unwrapped it, and stared at the vial it contained for a few minutes. Hesitating for only a few seconds, he swallowed the contents in one gulp.
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As the poison coursed through his body, he began to feel its effects almost immediately. Leaning against the alley wall, memories of another, happier time, flooded his whole being.
Elena…Momma, he murmured. In a short while he collapsed in a heap. All life gone from him. Never knowing the alley he chose to take his life in was adjacent to the now deserted, Cal de Seville— the synagogue of Seville.
* * *
Three months later Seville was again witness to an auto-da-fé.Countless heretics and apostates were to be relaxed. Burned alive at the stake. Those who were reconciled to the church, were granted the mercy of strangulation prior to lighting the fires.
Their lifeless bodies left to be consumed by the flames. All sentences were carried out by the secular authorities, whose duty it was to perform the executions, on orders of the Church.
Don Fernando de San Miguel, condemned to relaxation after refusing reconciliation, spent his last days enduring inquisition torture. Unkempt and dirty, dressed in the miter and sanbenito of the condemned heretic, his hands tightly tied to his neck with a noose, he and others, were contemptuously paraded to the quemadora. Spat on and mocked by the large crowd, as they were led to the burning place. Don Miguel walked as if in a trance. He saw nor felt anything. The pain of torture, the humiliation of the sanbenito and miter, removed all thought from his mind. Once the quemadora was reached, the procession was halted.
More insults were hurled at the condemned, as the executioner bound each to a burning stake. Echoing through the quemadora ,the many prayers recited by the countless bishops, priests, monks and nuns in attendance.
Being tied to the burning stake, jolted Don Fernando back to reality, again feeling the pain he had managed to hide from himself. As the fires were lit, and the heat of the flames began to consume him. Visions of his family: Isabel, Elena, Antonio, 178
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transcended Don Fernando’s pain. Penetrated his mind, and within those visions another. Of a child, a boy—a grandson. At last finding peace, Don Fernando de San Miguel perished.
Seeking forgiveness of Adonai, the words, of the Shema on his lips, and, in his heart.
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