February 1502
The city of Cordoba, where Muslim, Jew, and Christian once lived in peace, was a symbol of the tolerance and understanding that at one time pervaded the Iberian Peninsula. Now only remnants of that auspicious era were to be encountered.
From the Tower of Calahorra to the Mezquita-Cathedral— the mosque rebuilt as a church—Diego was enthralled by it all. His days were filled with numerous visits to historic sites. Along with talks with Juan and Francisca, Diego was beginning to understand the history of Spain. And the effects of that history.
Today they were going to visit the Alcazar de Los Reyes. The castle which the King and Queen used as their summer home.
Making sure both Diego and Juan had dressed in warm clothing, Francisca donned her own coat as they all made their way to a waiting coach.
Riding along for a short while, as the coach was making its way through the Zoco, the street market. They passed a large building that was apparently undergoing some renovation, since it was surrounded by many scaffolds.
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Looking out the window, Diego observed some workmen, struggling to remove a large six pointed star located at the roof of the building.
“What is that?” he cried.
Both Juan and Francisca looked at each other. Then Juan slowly nodded to her, as he began to explain.
“The building is an old synagogue. The Cal de Cordoba, I think it was called. The star is a Jewish symbol. Referred to as a ‘Star of David.’ The building is now being converted to a church.”
Pausing to see how Diego reacted to this information, Juan continued. “Once the Expulsion Edict was enforced, Jews that chose not to convert, left. Leaving their synagogues, schools, shops to be taken over by revenue collectors, in the King and Queen’s name. Many left with only the clothes on their backs.”
Shaking his head in dismay, Diego forlornly asked, “I don’t understand, Uncle, if the different faiths in Cordoba lived in peace years ago, why did it change? Why are we, only Christians, living here now? Where did the others go?”
Juan hesitated in order to formulate an answer Diego would understand but was interrupted as Francisca loudly began speaking, her frustrations concerning Diego causing her to speak without thinking.
“Hijo, the King and Queen have decreed it to be so! After so many years of battling the Moors, it was their wish—no their command—that all of España be Catholic. The choice given to non-believers was a just one; accept the true faith and remain, or reject it and leave. Those who chose to remain, were honor bound to truthfully follow the faith. Those who took their vows unfaithfully and would secretly return to their old ways, were to be punished severely.”
Stopping to catch her breath, Francisca continued. “That is why the Romeros received the punishment they justly deserved. Your father…”
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Juan stunned at Francisca’s outburst, hoarsely whispered to her, “Francisca, mind your tongue, do not speak of such things, remember…”
Quickly realizing her mistake, and the effect it would have on Diego. She began speaking in hushed tones. “Diego…Juan, forgive me I didn’t mean to speak of…the…Romeros.”
Taking Diego into her arms, she continued whispering apologies, as she kissed and embraced him.
The rest of the journey to the Alcazar continued in silence. All were lost in their own thoughts.
Returning home in the early evening—the rest of the day had gone fairly well. The visit to the Alcazar was interesting, and everyone seemed to have forgotten Francisca’s flare-up. All were very tired after the day’s outing, and Juan was in pain as well. His arthritis becoming more of a problem every day.
Preparing himself for bed, Diego began thinking about his aunt’s emotional words. Whose father was she talking about?
Remembering the old synagogue that was being turned into a church, sent chills down his spine, as well as an almost unbearable sadness. I want to go home, he thought. I miss Hernan, Momma, Papa.
Climbing into bed, trying to rid himself of the melancholy he was feeling, Diego fell into a fitful sleep. A sleep, with dreams filled of quemadoras, and burning synagogues.
Both the de la Casas, as well, spent a night of restless sleep.
* * *
Hernan was troubled, he had asked Martine to write to Don Tomas three weeks ago. No reply had been received, no word at all. Martine tried to reassure Hernan, Don Tomas was a busy man, he had other pressing matters to attend to. He would surely reply once he found the time.228
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Hernan refused to accept this. Had made up his mind that if no word was received from Don Tomas by the end of February, he would confront him. He would elicit a reply, one way or the other.
Martine, with much arguing, tried to change Hernan’s mind.
But was unsuccessful. Hernan was becoming more sullen as each day passed, without word from Don Tomas. It was into this dismal situation that Diego returned home, accompanied by the La Casas.
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