December 1501
Riding along with his Uncle Juan, and his father Martine, Diego was content. The air was cold and invigorating, while the heat of his horse under him made ride comfortably.
Talk of the coming Navidad holiday filled him with excitement. This year he would be old enough to light the Hogueras— the traditional bonfires. Lit to commemorate the winter solstice—the shortest day of the year, and the start of the Navidad festivities. Beginning in early December the holidays concluded in early January.
It also meant that Hernan would be coming home from university. Something Diego was anxiously looking forward to.
Martine had told him he received a message that Hernan was already on his way.
Juan and Martine were conversing intently as they rode.
When Juan, pulling on his horse’s bridle, suddenly stopped, exclaiming, “Ay de mi, no!”
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Aware Diego was within earshot, Martine called to him,
“Diego, time for you to return home. You have neglected your studies long enough.”
“But, Papa…”
“No arguments, young man. You promised, a short ride, then you would study hard until the day before Hogueras.”
“But, Papa, that’s a week away I—”
“Diego…”
“Si, Papa,” Diego replied, halting and turning his horse in the direction of the hacienda.
“We will see you at the midday meal,” Juan called out.
Waving to his uncle and father, Diego headed for home, and his studies. As he approached the stables, Diego noticed a group of braceros— farmhands—talking excitedly. Riding up, he recognized Manuel Montes. A bracero who had worked for his father for as long as Diego could remember.
“Que paso, Manuel—what’s going on, Manuel?” Diego called out to him.
“Ah, buenos dias, Señor Diego. It is the Marranos, the Romero family, they were relaxed today. The entire family burned at the stake!”
“Burned…? But…why, what did they do to be burned?”
Diego asked. Astonished that a whole family, one that he had known, could be destroyed so horribly.
“They were secret Jews, false Christians. The Inquisition sentenced them all to death.”
Feeling ill, Diego thanked the bracero for his news, and continued to the stables, where he dismounted and walked to the house. He met his mother and aunt as he entered the house.
“Diego, are you alright, you look sick?” his mother asked.
“Yes, you do not look well at all,” Francisca echoed his mother.
Diego, confused and upset, could not bring his mind to focus on the fact that someone he had known practically all of his life 205
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was dead. Her life taken in a most horrific way. Maria Romero, her mother, father and sister all gone.
And though the relationship with the Romero family had not been a close one, their deaths greatly affected Diego.
“Mama, why did it happen? Why were they burned?”
“Who, Diego? What are you talking about?” his mother and aunt asked.
“The Romero family, they were all burned today!”
“Ah Dio, who told you this?” his mother sternly replied.
“One of the braceros…Manuel. I don’t feel well, Mama. I am going to lie down.”
Following Diego to his room, Eva Cortes was furious. She and Martine had known of the Romero family misfortune. But could do nothing to help them. However, they desperately wanted to keep the news from Diego. Talk of Marranos, or secret Jews, was a subject that caused them deep regret. And one they hesitated to discuss with Diego.
Calling one of the maids, Eva told her to mix a tonic of herbs, and to make sure Diego drank it all. Gently kissing his cheek, Eva left him to rest.
Drinking the herbal tonic the maid brought, Diego began to feel sleepy. But his mind was racing. Images of the Romeros being burned to death raced through his mind. He could almost smell the burning flesh.
Secret Jews! What could that mean? What was a Jew! Why burn them to death? I wish Hernan was here. With his mind churning, the tonic finally took hold and he fell into a deep sleep.
Silently completing the midday meal without Diego. The usual mealtime chatter he normally provided, missing. The Corteses and de la Casas quietly sipped the last of their dessert wines. When Martine Cortes began to apologize for the day’s events.
“Forgive me, Juan, Francisca. I should have informed you of the Romeros’ situation. Their…passing was to have taken place, 206
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after the Navidad festivities. But in matters of the church one can never be sure.”
“Well, it is not us you should be concerned with. How will you explain to Diego, he was very upset?” Francisca asked.
Juan, saddened at the whole sorry affair, experienced again the utter despair he had felt at Diego’s birth. The hopelessness of spirit, over differing beliefs. At the slaughter of one another over religious differences.
Now Diego had been exposed to the most appalling form of the madness. Juan’s concerns centered on his wife, Francisca, and her motherly instinct, concerning Diego. These feelings could become the cause conflict between Eva Cortes, and herself. This he wanted to avoid at all costs.
“Francisca your anxiety for Diego is understandable, but unnecessary,” Juan replied. “I’m sure Martine and Eva have thought about the possibility of Diego learning how our culture handles differing points of view. I believe they will be able to explain to him whatever has to be explained.”
“But, Juan…”
“Diego will be fine, not to worry, mi amigos— my friends.”
Martine quickly interrupted. “Now I think it is time for our siesta.”
* * *
Riding hard for the past two days, Hernan was assailed by mixed emotions and thoughts. Just a day and half from home, the duel, leaving the University of Salamanca under conditions far from ideal; but he had no other choice.That fool Torres insisted on fighting. I didn’t know the woman was his betrothed. She flirted like a common puta.
Now Gilberto Torres was seriously wounded. And he Hernan, unscathed, was close to being expelled from university. Ay de mi, not a promising start to the Navidad festivities.
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In a about an hour he would reach the inn where he would spend the night. Then a quick day’s ride tomorrow, and he would be home. And all the explanations that would be necessary!
One thing was certain, he was not returning to university, not because his studies of law were failing, or because of the duel, the New World had become his new passion. The riches just waiting there for anyone with the courage and strength to possess them. And he was ready to do anything to travel there.
Anything!
* * *
Not leaving his room, Diego was unable to rid himself of the despair he was experiencing. Eating little, he slept most of the day. Juan examined him thoroughly, and found nothing physically wrong. He surmised the shock of what he had heard was causing his depression, and suggested he be left alone, time would heal him.Sipping the broth his aunt was spooning into his mouth, Diego was beginning to feel a little better, the sadness was dissipating, and his appetite was returning.
Diego tried to understand what was making him so sad. But the actual reasons eluded him. His knowledge of other religions was limited, church attendance was sporadic. Home schooled by his mother Eva, his only teacher. Not overly religious, his parents attended church only when necessary. Hernan almost never.
Diego knew his Catholicism well enough. But followed Hernan’s example: skeptical acceptance. Now, he was in fact, questioning these religious convictions.
What terrible thing had the Romero family done, that made the religious authorities take their lives in such a horrible way?
If only Hernan were here he would explain it all!
“Diego, open your mouth, or I’ll spill the soup.”
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His aunt’s voice roused him from his thoughts, and he quickly did as she asked.
“Bueno—good only a few more spoonfuls and you will be done. You should get out of bed, dress, ride your horse, you will feel…”
A commotion outside of the room drew their attention. Then the door flew open and in rushed Hernan. Flushed, sweaty and full of mud. He hugged them both to him and exclaimed,
“Hermanito—little brother, what are you still doing in bed. Tia Francisca, don’t baby him, make him get up.”
Rustling Diego’s hair and pinching his aunt’s cheek, Hernan pulled the covers off Diego and started to drag him out of the bed.
“Ah Dio! Hernan, he has no clothes on!” Francisca yelled as she ran from the room.
Laughing for the first time in days, Diego ran to get his clothes. “Hernan, when did you get home?” he shouted as he quickly dressed himself.
“Just awhile ago, come have something to eat with me,”
Hernan said, as he ushered Diego out of the room.
Sitting at the large dining table, the whole family was beaming. “I told you he would get Diego out of bed,” Martine exclaimed to Juan.
“You were right, Martine. Well done, Hernan. And how are you feeling now, Diego?”
“Much better, Tio, much, much better.”
“Sit both of you, eat,” Eva called out.
Doing as they were told, both boys sat, and began eating.
Hernan hungrily ate his food. This was the first decent food he had had in three days. While Diego gingerly pecked away at the empanada—meat pie, he decided to eat.
Pouring more wine for all, Martine said, “I knew Hernan would make you feel better, Diego. You do feel better, don’t you?”
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“Si, Papa…yes, I feel much better now that Hernan is home.”
“And what was all this about, little brother, sitting in your room for days? Not eating, worrying your mother and aunt to death?”
Before Diego could answer, Martine cautioned his older son.
“Not now, Hernan, it would be best if we discussed Diego’s illness some other time. Don’t you agree, Juan?”
Shaking his head in agreement, Juan started to explain why.
Thought better of it, and changed the subject by asking Hernan how his studies were going.
Hernan, reaching for few more empanadas, placed them on his plate, smiled and said, “I think it would be best if we also saved that discussion for another day.” Everyone laughed.
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