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INQUISITION

My family traces its history to the time of the Inquisition. The following story, although possibly fictionalized, represents the stories of my family as far back as I remember.

The Family y Aguilar

A story of Jewish heroism during the Spanish Inquisition.

Adapted from the German by Jacob Breuer

I. CONFLICT 

[Page 1] A few miles off the Alameda, a broad highway connecting Valencia with the little town of Grao, lay the sprawling estate of Don Manuel y Aguilar. Wide lawns and green olive groves, steep vineyards and shady orchards surrounded the main house, a spacious white villa whose flat roof and curved balconies reflected brilliantly the strong rays of the hot Spanish sun. Here, among fragrant orange trees and tall palm trees, the Caballero lived happily and peacefully with his wife, Donna Annunciata, and their two children, Diego and Inez.

Our story begins towards the end of the 17th Century. It was a hot summer day. The windows of Don Manuel's villa were tightly shut and all shades were drawn. Inside it was dark and comfortably cool. The Bukaros moistened the still air and spread a pleasant coolness throughout the house. (Bukaros are gilded pots made of red American clay, which are filled with water and placed near the doors of [page 2] the rooms. The water penetrates the pores of the clay and evaporates quickly, moistening the hot air.)

Donna Annunciata paced the floor of the luxuriously furnished library, impatiently awaiting the return of her husband from Grao. Presently Don Manuel entered, greeted anxiously by his wife.

"Have you taken care to lock all doors, dear?" he said, slowly examining the room.

"They are all locked. We are completely alone."

With a sigh of relief, Don Manuel sank into an easy chair and wiped his brow with a finely embroidered silken handkerchief. Donna Annunciata brought in a cold drink, placed the silver tray near her husband, and asked anxiously, "Have you got the letters with you?"

The Caballero smiled contentedly. "Indeed I have, my dear. Oh, how we have waited for them! You know that for weeks I have gone daily to Grao to look for a Dutch ship."

"And today a Dutch ship came into port?" cried Donna Annunciata excitedly.

"It did not enter the harbor proper. But I recognized the Dutch flag above starboard and had Pietro row me to the ship as quickly as possible. Once on board, I was led directly to the Captain. 'You come from Amsterdam, Senor,' I asked. He answered in the affirmative, speaking in broken Spanish. 'Do you happen to have letters with you for Manuel y Aguilar?' Believe me, Annunciata, my heart was [page 3] beating faster when I asked him this question. At first he did not answer and my hopes sank. Then he demanded proof that I was sent by Don Manuel. I solemnly pronounced the pre-arranged password: 'Happy Netherlands which has thrown off the Spanish yoke.' Upon hearing these words, he delivered the letters to me without further discussion. And now let us read them together."

He pulled a pack of letters from a hidden pocket of his abrigo and broke the seal.

With a barely suppressed outcry, Donna Annunciata. reached for the letter on top of the pile. "Oh, it is from Don Pedro Texeira - and here, this one is from my sister Beatrix - and there, there are more, from Fernandez Ovales and Rodrigo Guadilvo, from Dolores Morteira and her son, Juan. Oh, what a wonderful surprise!"

Don Manuel smilingly watched the growing excitement of his wife. He was a handsome man of about thirty. He looked like a typical Spaniard but to the close observer his movements must have seemed somewhat more lively than the stiff grandezza with which the Spanish nobleman moved about. Donna Annunciata, a few years younger than her husband, was a woman of stunning beauty, rare even in a country famous for its beautiful women.

All the letters had been read. The couple sat silently, deep in thought. Finally Don Manuel spoke. "It seems that our dear relatives and friends not only [page 4] arrived safely in Amsterdam, but that they already have become citizens of the Netherlands. These letters relieve me of a great worry."

Donna Annunciata sighed. "I have never for a moment doubted their safe arrival. I knew that the Almighty would guide and protect them. Oh, my Manuel, when will you grant my most fervent wish and leave this unfriendly country?"

Manuel patted his wife affectionately on the shoulder. "Please, do not demand the impossible from me, my beloved wife," he said warmly. "You know how I love you and how I am trying to fulfill your slightest wish. But this I cannot do. I cannot leave my beautiful, sunny Spain and move to the cold and unfriendly North, where gray skies shut off the sunlight most of the year."

Donna Annunciata rose impatiently. They had been through all these arguments before, always with the same results.

"Is it so hard to understand," she said almost violently, "that the disadvantages will be balanced a thousandfold by the freedom and peace we may enjoy there? Think, Manuel, of our relatives who are able to pray to the G-d of our ancestors freely and unmolested, who can fulfill His holy laws openly and unashamedly before the eyes of the whole world! They do not have to hide in cellar apartments to sing the joyous Psalms in the language of our people. They have a beautiful synagogue in Amsterdam [page 5] and rabbis who teach them and their children. They are not compelled to worship idols in public; they are not forced to go to 'confession,' to lie and to pretend."

"That is all true," said Manuel thoughtfully, but there was doubt in his voice. "Do you really think they are happy?"

His wife picked up the letters from the low table and waved them almost hysterically before his eyes. "Happy?" she cried. "Have you read these letters? Read them carefully and you will see how happy they are! How happy I would be if Diego and Inez could grow up in peace and freedom such as our family has not enjoyed for the past two centuries."

She wept. In vain did Manuel attempt to calm her. She was too upset at the thought of her children growing up under the yoke of the Inquisition.

"With all my heart and soul I love the faith of our ancestors," said Manuel softly, "but I also love this beautiful land, the 'face of Europe,' and especially Valencia and the Huerta. I could never be happy in a foreign land and surely not in the cold Netherlands, where the phlegmatic Dutchmen, with their slow temper, would drive me insane. And there is another thing, my dear: I am a land owner, a country squire, and I love the land. You know very well, Annunciata, that in the Netherlands Jews are not permitted to own any land or farm."

Again the old argument. "If you would sell our [page 6] estate, we could live on the money alone without conducting any business or managing an estate."

Manuel grew serious. "It is very difficult to sell such a large estate. Besides, it would only cause suspicion. Once we have attracted the attention of the Holy Tribunal, G-d forbid, nothing can save us."

Annunciata shuddered at the very mention of the terrible Inquisition Tribunal, which was the fear of her days and the terror of her nights. Her own father, one of the most respected members of the city council, was torn from the side of her mother and dragged to the infamous prison of the Inquisition, which no one had ever left alive. There he was subjected to the most brutal tortures that depraved human minds could invent. Eventually, he was burned alive at an auto-da-fe celebrating the marriage of King Carlos II. Ever since, she shuddered at the slightest mention of the dreaded Tribunal. Often, harmless noises in the night cruelly aroused her from deep slumber, thinking them to be the rattling of the chains which were to imprison her family.

Manuel knew what she was thinking. He attempted to dispel her fears although he did not at all feel secure himself.

"My dear wife," he said soothingly, "I know you are thinking of your poor late father. But the very fact that he never gave in to the terrible tortures and never gave any of us away, guarantees our safety. No one is suspicious of us, although everyone knows [page 7] that Jewish blood flows 'in our veins and that our ancestors were Marranos. But we are looked upon and accepted as good and loyal Christians."

Donna Annunciata knew that this discussion would lead nowhere. She loved her husband, his kindness and simplicity. And she knew how his heart ached at the very thought of leaving his beloved Spain. She knew that further arguing was futile. Yet she tried once more.

"Does the Jewish law not oblige us to leave a country which forces us to hide our Judaism? Is it not our duty to move to a place where G-d has provided a haven for us?"

Manuel shook his head. "More than a hundred years ago the first Marranos fled to Holland and found freedom. Many have followed their example, but many others have preferred to remain here. If this obligation were really binding, why did my great-grandfather choose to remain in Spain, why did my father not think of leaving his homeland?"

"I am only an ignorant woman, my Manuel," said Annunciata. She was exhausted. She knew she would never be happy in Spain. "I cannot disprove your arguments. But my heart tells me that we should leave, leave tonight!"

Gently Manuel led his wife to a comfortable couch. "Let us not talk about it anymore," he said firmly, "at least not tonight. There is a task ahead of us: We must answer these letters and then burn [page 8] them. The ship will leave tomorrow and we have to hurry. It is a pity that we must send our letters with this ship, for it will be a long time before it reaches Amsterdam. But we cannot entrust them to the royal mail; it would be very dangerous."

With a heavy heart Donna Annunciata sat down at her desk to answer the letters. Were her fears justified or did she paint too black a picture of the future?

OUR STORY TAKES PLACE during one of the saddest periods in the history of Spain. This once rich and powerful country which, under Carlos 1, dominated most of Europe and ruled over the newly discovered vast areas of the Americas, had become the battlefield of political strife and economic rivalry, leading the country to the brink of national disaster. This was a direct result of the depravity and the ruthless selfishness of her kings and the blind fury of a fanatically religious population. The expulsions of the Jews and the Moors robbed the country of its most industrious and useful citizens. Thousands of those who had secretly remained behind and outwardly adopted the Christian religion were persecuted and tortured and murdered by the ruthless Inquisition Tribunal.

The situation grew worse under Carlos II, a weak, pleasure-loving King who let his underlings rule as they pleased. He was the last descendant of the [page 9] dynasty of the Spanish Hapsburgs, the last direct descendant of Ferdinand and Isabella.

He issued a royal edict ordering an intensification of the Inquisition and demanding the immediate denunciation of even the remotest suspect to the Holy Tribunal. Fiery and fanatical preachers were sent to all parts of the kingdom to incite the people against the Marranos, the Moors and the heretics.

In Valencia there appeared Guerre Ribere, a fanatical monk, professor of theology at the University of Salamanca, who summoned the entire population to his sermon in the Church of the Holy Franciscus. No one who had reason to fear the Inquisition Tribunal could afford to stay away. Don Manuel and his wife were also present in the Church. The monk subjected his strange audience of Marranos and fanatical Catholics to a violent tirade against the arch-enemy of the Catholic Church: the Jew.

"You are all Christian soldiers," he thundered from the pulpit, "and a soldier must report the presence of the enemy to his superior officer. You must report at once to your bishops whether there are any secret Jews and heretics among you. Tell us their names and leave the rest to us. You will be richly rewarded."

Don Manuel broke into a cold sweat as he sat there with his wife, surrounded by a fanatical crowd that roared its wild approval of the monk's vicious attack. He imagined all eyes to be focused on him [page 10] and was certain that he and his wife would be arrested and brutally beaten. But nothing of the sort happened. His neighbor, a rich, old country gentleman, slapped him jovially on the shoulder and exclaimed laughingly, "Come on, friend, let's catch those miserable Jews." Was there mockery in his voice? Why did the old fool look at him with sharp, cool eyes? What did he know?

Donna Annunciata tore him from his anxious thoughts. She was pale and trembled visibly. "Let us leave this very minute," she whispered into his ear, after carefully looking around to make sure that no one watched them.

They got up and walked calmly towards the door, terror in their hearts. No one noticed them. They hurried home through deserted streets, constantly throwing anxious glances in all directions. "Like escaped criminals," Manuel thought bitterly. Once at home, in the cool twilight of her private boudoir, Donna Annunciata, in tears, embraced her husband and implored him to leave Spain before it was too late.

Don Manuel nodded silently. It took all his energy and self-control to keep his calm composure. His mind was confused and stark terror filled his soul. "I must not betray my own uneasiness and apprehension," he thought. "Calm yourself, my dear," he said to his wife. "It is not as bad as you imagine it to be. For more than [page 11] two hundred years my ancestors were Marranos and they were always faithful to their religion. But never was one of them suspected or even charged with treason. One of our family always entered the Holy Order as an ordained priest and many have attained high positions in the Church of Spain. Think of the Archbishop of Cordova, Don Alphonso Fernandez y Aguilar, Cardinal of the Roman Chair, who is my great-uncle. He enjoys the respect of all Spain. Who would dare to suspect his relative, his own flesh and blood?"

Donna Annunciata took Manuel's hand in her own. "I wish you were right," she said with deep emotion, "but my heart is full of dark and terrible apprehension. If we were really caught, what could your great-uncle do to help us? The murderous Tribunal kills dukes, princes and archbishops alike. Why should you be spared?"

"Are these discussions never to end?" Annunciata thought bitterly. "I cannot stand them much longer. We have got to do something. But perhaps Manuel is right. After all, who should give us away? We have no enemies. Those of our friends who know of our secret are as good as gold. But what about the servants? Are they reliable?"

Manuel guessed the thoughts of his wife. "Do not worry," he said quickly, "all our servants are Marranos. True, there is Juana, the nursemaid. She will [page 12] surely not give us away, for the simple reason that she knows absolutely nothing."

To be sure, Manuel was not entirely convinced that Juana was harmless. She must have noticed strange things going on in the house, especially on the Sabbath when the other Marranos assembled in the secret cellar-room directly below the nursery. Perhaps she accepted these goings-on as strange customs of the people of Valencia. More- over, she knew that the revered Cardinal-Bishop of her own home town was related to her employer.

"Do you remember," Manuel said laughingly to his wife, "when Juana came here for the first time? I brought up the topic of the Jews. 'Have you ever seen a Jew, Juana?' I asked her. And when she answered in the negative, I gave her a detailed description of the Jews that must have made her shudder. I assure you, Annunciata, if the girl were to meet a monkey or an ape, she would immediately denounce him to the Holy Tribunal as a secret Jew."

Donna Annunciata. laughed heartily. This was too funny. Manuel smiled. "I am glad that you can laugh again," he said happily. "And now let me tell you something else: As soon as the right moment comes - who knows when that will be - I promise you that I will sell my house and the estate and go with you and the children to Holland."

La Donna was overjoyed. "Thank you, oh, thank you, my beloved husband, your promise has made [page 13] me immensely happy." She kissed her husband affectionately. "I have finally won him over to my side," she thought happily.

The door opened and Diego entered, a handsome boy about seven years of age. He ran towards his father and kissed his hand. His mother drew him gently to her breast. "My darling boy, where have you been?"

"I was with Raphaelo," said the boy, his clear eyes shining. "Oh, I love to be with Raphaelo. He tells me such beautiful stories about King David, and Solomon, who ruled over the world of the demons."

Anxiously, Donna Annunciata turned to her husband. "Manuel, if the child in his innocence . . . "

"Do not fear, dear mother," said the boy calmly. "Neither Juana nor any other Christian will hear anything from me that might arouse suspicion."

"My Diego is a clever boy," said Don Manuel proudly. "For generations the boys in our family were told the secret and studied the religion of our fathers. It never happened that a child of our family gave the secret away."

The father took the boy on his knees and began to play with him while Annunciata pulled a cord besides the divan.

Presently, Juana entered the room, little Inez on her arms. The mother took the baby on her lap, seating herself besides her husband. Could there be a more beautiful picture of happiness and peace?

[page 14] At this moment Raphaelo, Don Manuel's old and trusted valet, entered and announced a Dominican monk, Fray Balthasar, who wished to see the Caballero. Little did they know that the visitor was to change their entire lives.

II. DANGER

DON [page 15] MANUEL HAD never heard of Fray Balthasar and he was not particularly anxious to make his acquaintance. Yet he could not afford to cause suspicion by refusing to see him. "I will see the priest," he told Raphaelo. He turned quickly to his wife. "Be very careful and speak as little as possible," he whispered. Annunciata nodded silently. She knew how to treat unwelcome guests.

The valet opened the door wide and the monk entered silently. The Caballero and his wife, who was still holding the baby on her lap, rose to receive the visitor. Normally, Spanish custom does not permit the Senora to rise when a man enters her boudoir; but when the visitor is a priest, this strict rule is relaxed. At the sight of Donna Annunciata the monk stopped short in amazement.

"Madame," he said ceremoniously, bowing lightly, "Madonna with the child. Oh, happy Spain that produces such women. Be proud, oh Fatherland, that Donna Annunciata y Aguilar is among the daughters is [page 16] of your kingdoms."

He turned to Manuel. "I beg your forgiveness, Senor Caballero. The heavenly beauty of your wife has stunned me. How happy you must be to possess such a wife. And such dear, lovely children. Come here, my boy, I will give you a present."

Diego approached the monk and kissed his hand as he had been taught. Fray Balthasar fished a crudely carved wooden figure from his widely flowing robe and gave it to the boy.

"Here, take this," he said solemnly. "It is a statue of the holy Peter Arbuez, the protector and first Inquisitor of the royal city of Valencia, who was murdered by the cursed Jews. Pray often to him that he may protect you from heresy."

At these words he looked sharply at the Caballero. The latter, however, was used to such situations and betrayed no sign of uneasiness. "What is your desire, Reverend Father?" he asked calmly.

"I have come for an extended visit with you and your family," replied the priest. "My name is Balthasar and my Order is that of the Holy Dominicus, as this garment shows."

Manuel glanced quickly at his wife. His heart pounded heavily. Was this a trick to catch him? Was this the beginning of the end? What was he to do? Question upon question raced through his troubled mind. Yet no sign of nervousness betrayed his inner anxiety to the watchful eyes of the intruder.

"You [page 17] are welcome in this house, Reverend Father," he said coolly. "Would you be kind enough to inform me to what happy circumstance I owe the great privilege of having a holy servant of our blessed Church as a guest in my house?"

"You cannot guess the reason, Senor Caballero?"

Don Manuel appeared puzzled. "Perhaps your visit is a result of today's sermon in the Franciscan Church," he said slowly.

"Correct, Senor," smiled the monk. "No auto-da-fe has taken place for a long time. The Church hopes to catch many unbelievers by placing an observer in the house of each family whose ancestors were Jews or Moors. In your case, Senor, there is naturally no reason for suspicion. Otherwise, I would not have spoken to you quite so frankly. The great-nephew of the revered Cardinal-Bishop of Cordova is surely no heretic. I do hope that my stay in this house will be a pleasant one. May we part as friends."

Manuel was not sure exactly how much the monk knew about his activities. Yet he had no choice but to offer him his hospitality. "I also hope we will be friends," he replied. "Raphaelo will show you to your room, where refreshments will be served shortly."

Again the monk bowed slightly, almost ironically it seemed to Manuel, and, casting a long look at Donna Annunciata, left the room quickly. By now, Manuel knew what had to be done. The presence of [page 18] the undesirable house-guest warranted several new arrangements. The weekly gatherings of the secret Jews were discontinued at once. Dirt and bricks were heaped in front of the entrance to the underground room that served as their synagogue. Raphaelo, the old and trusted servant who was also Diego's Hebrew teacher, was told to stop the lessons immediately. The cook received strict orders to avoid anything that might resemble kosher food being cooked in a Jewish kitchen.

For some time all went well. Fray Balthasar was a youngish man of pleasant manners and he became very friendly with all members of the family. He assisted the Caballero in the administration and management of the huge estate; he supplied the Senora with the latest novels and adventure books, hoping thereby to gain her personal favor; he told Diego fascinating stories about the old Spanish heroes, about Cid, the brave General, and Columbus, discoverer of a New World.

Thus six weeks passed, the time limit set by the Archbishop of Valencia for the monk's stay in the house of the Caballero. But Fray Balthasar did not make the slightest effort to leave. Evidently he intended to stay on as long as possible. Don Manuel did not dare to remind him of his negligence. Yet the more the uninvited guest felt at home in the Caballero's house, the more unpleasant his attitude became to the mistress of the house, who was finally [page 19] forced to ask her husband to make the intruder leave, by force if necessary. Don Manuel preferred to lodge a complaint against the monk with the Archbishop of Valencia. As a result, Fray Balthasar was ordered to leave the house of the Caballero immediately. His punishment was a six-month suspension from the holy Order of Dominicus.

Although he had finally succeeded in ridding himself of the dangerous guest, the events of the past weeks strengthened Don Manuel's conviction that the only solution was to leave Spain as soon as possible. During one of the secret meetings which again took place in the underground synagogue, the Caballero informed the assembled congregation of his decision.

More than twenty feet below street level, in a hidden comer of the vast wine-cellar, was a secret room which could only be reached by a dark, narrow passage. The members of the congregation took great care not to arrive in groups of more than two in order to avoid any possible suspicion. A trapdoor opened from Don Manuel's private office to a spiral staircase which led directly to the cellar. A hidden side-door, known only to trusted members, connected the cellar with the narrow passage which led to the secret room serving as the synagogue of the Marranos. Here, the Marranos of Valencia conducted their secret Divine services since more than two centuries. How many tears of terror and despair were shed [page 20] here in times of brutal persecution! Marranic masons had been employed to construct this underground synagogue and they were under strict orders to work only at night and with great caution.

The room was fairly large. A thick curtain served to separate men and women during services. In front of the east wall was the Aron Hakodesh, the Holy Ark, containing three century-old Torah-scrolls. Across the room, near the door leading to the secret passage, was a large closet in which the Taleisim, Tefillin, Shoforoth and other ritual objects were stored. In the center of the north wall was a low door leading to a second underground passage which emerged in the midst of densely wooded land that was part of the estate of Don Manuel. During the entire service a trusted guard kept a dose lookout from the top floor of the villa. Whenever he would notice an unusual movement about the grounds, he quickly informed the underground congregation by pulling a specially placed cord that connected the entrance door with the synagogue. When the cord moved twice, the congregation knew that there was immediate danger of discovery by the Hermandad (Secret Police of the Inquisition). Then all would be able to escape through the second underground passage and disappear in the woods. A box filled with gold-pieces, to help the refugees on their flight, was always ready for this event. So far, the money had never been used.

It [page 21] was the Sabbath after Sukkoth. All the Marranos of Valencia were assembled in the synagogue. Don Manuel addressed them from the Almemor:

"My friends, brothers in suffering! Again we have begun the reading of the Torah. Torah, the immortal and Divine creation, has kept us alive until this very day. The sins of our ancestors and our own guilt have caused our expulsion from our beloved Eretz Yisrael. Here in Spain, our second homeland, our lives have become an unending series of tortures and persecution. Our existence is overshadowed by the constant fear and terror of the Inquisition. Many of our fathers and brothers have been consumed by the fire, many others have emigrated to foreign lands. My own brother-in-law, Don Pedro Texeiro and his family have safely arrived in Amsterdam. I have decided to follow their example."

A surprised murmur swept through the assembly. This meant the loss of their best and most active member! The faces of the worshippers reflected the confusion which Don Manuel's firm words had caused.

An old man with a long white beard rose slowly. He trembled visibly but his voice was young and strong. "You really want to leave us, brother Manuel? What is to become of us? We look to you as our leader and protector. You are wealthy and powerful. Your influence will protect us during these dangerous times. Oh, please, in the name of your [page 22] suffering brethren, do not leave us!"

Don Manuel smiled. He had expected this reaction. He had his answer ready. "Far be it from me," he said warmly, "to leave you who are as dear to me as my own family. I am rich enough to take you all with me to the new homeland. If you decide to go with me, I will acquire a ship that is large enough to accommodate you all. But think well, my brethren, before you come to a decision. When Ferdinand and Isabella, of cursed memory, exiled all Jews from Spain in 1492, many thousands who could not bear to live in strange lands returned later. The very thought of leaving my beautiful Spain also fills my heart with deep sorrow. But there is no other way. The danger grows daily. We have to act now!"

Silence followed his impulsive words. It was a gratified silence, for there seemed to be a chance for survival, after all. Finally the old man, tears welling up in his eyes, spoke again. "Our good and generous friend! Take our heartfelt thanks for your kind offer. We are most grateful to you. We will inform you of our decision on the following Sabbath. Then we will read the Sidra Noach. May G-d help us that we, as once Father Noach, will be able to board the ship that will save us from annihilation."

After the Mussaf prayer had been recited, the members began to leave, one by one, through the secret passage. Their faces mirrored hope and confidence. Once again, the future seemed bright and secure.

III. REVENGE

FRAY BALTHASAR WAS bent on revenge. "I will show this cunning Jew who is running the country," he thought furiously. Yet there was practically no evidence on which an accusation could be based. There was only the Marranic descent of the Caballero which might be used against him. And even this would be a difficult job, for the monk had spent more than three months in the house during which he noticed nothing that might give cause for suspicion. But Fray Balthasar was not the man to give up easily.

He began to study the old dossiers of the Inquisition, hoping to find similar cases from which he might learn how secret Jews were discovered in the old times and how one managed to indict them. His studies yielded the astonishing fact that the same method was employed in the vast majority of cases where convictions were obtained: The servants, cooks, nursemaids and valets of a suspected Marrano family were invited, under a pretext, to appear [page 24] before a special jury which was usually able to squeeze some valuable information out of them. This information mainly concerned the preparation of food (kosher, salting) and the manner of living and private customs of the suspected family. In these old documents Balthasar found the gruesome accounts of nightmarish tortures and strange confessions that were evidently obtained by force. He learned many new facts about Judaism and the Jewish way of life and thinking which he had never heard before. For at the time of our story the efficient machine of the Inquisition had almost succeeded in erasing the memory of Jews and Judaism from the minds of most Spaniards who, until the expulsion of the Jews in 1492, were in close contact with the numerous Jewish communities throughout Spain. Spaniards and Jews lived peacefully together and the latter contributed greatly to Spanish culture and influence 'in world politics. All this was changed with the advent of the "Glorious Inquisition."

The monk learned that a mere statement by the cook to the effect that the meat was watered and salted before the actual cooking could be taken as sufficient evidence to put a suspect into prison, where the inhuman tortures could be counted upon to pro- duce the desired confession. Rare was the case when a suspect showed enough physical strength and will- power to withstand these tortures. Most of them succumbed quickly to the insufferable pain and [page 25] confessed their secret adherence to the religion of their ancestors. In many cases these unfortunate people even betrayed their own fellow-Marranos, who were then burned with them at a public auto-da-fe.

If only a servant could be found who was willing to talk! Feverishly, Fray Balthasar prepared a list of their names and home towns. He let them pass before his inner eye-Raphaelo, the valet; Sancha, the old cook (she would never talk!); Benita, the personal maid of the Senora; Fernando, the handy- man-they all used to treat him politely, even respectfully, but in a strangely cold manner. If the Caballero was really a secret Jew, he had surely taken care to employ only trusted and, if possible, Marranic servants.

But wait, there was Juana, the nursemaid! She had blond hair and blue eyes and certainly did not look like a Jewess. She seemed to come from the north, probably from the Pyrenees region where there had hardly ever been any Jews. Juana! What a find! The monk smiled triumphantly. It is hard to find a nursemaid, he thought. Don Manuel had to take whomever he could find. He remembered now that the young nursemaid had treated him with real respect, even reverence. He also knew that she used to go to confession in the church of the Holy Franciscus. He decided to ask the Prior of the Church, with whom he was friendly, to let him take the Chair on the following Sunday.

[page 26] Juana entered the booth and, to her surprise, found Fray Balthasar there instead of a Franciscan monk.

"Reverend Father," said the girl, "I have committed a grave sin. I have lied. My Senora gave me permission to go to Church; instead I visited a girl friend."

What a stupid person, thought the monk. Nobody can get ahead in life without lying. But her confession gave him just the chance he was waiting for.

"You have lied, Juana," he said gravely. "Know you well that this is one of the seven deadly sins from which I cannot absolve you. You will bum in the purgatory for at least ten thousand years."

Juana turned pale. "Oh, Father," she stammered, "is this really so bad?"

"Lying is one of the deadly sins and you ask whether it is really so bad?" thundered the monk. What a wonderful comedy, he thought, amused.

Juana was terrified. "Absolve me, Reverend Father," she cried. "I beg of you, absolve me!"

"I may be able to help you," the monk said sternly, "but not before you answer truthfully all the questions that I shall ask you."

Oh, ask me, Reverend Father, and I will tell you everything that you desire to know."

"Do you swear to be honest and truthful?" "I swear!"

"Do you like to work for the Caballero?"

[page 27]

"Very much. The Senor is good to me and so is the Senora."

"Do you come often in the kitchen, juanaquita?"

"Very Often. I like to talk to old Sancha and I sometimes help her out."

"Have you ever noticed what she does with the meat before she cooks it?"

"She prepares it according to the custom of Valencia, Reverend Father."

Balthasar's heart beat faster. Here was an opening, a definite clue.

"And what is the custom in Valencia?" he asked eagerly-

Juana was surprised. "why, you ought to know the local customs better than I do. Were you not born in Valencia?"

"No, I am from Cordova."

"Really? I also come from that beautiful city. Ah, Cordova," Juana sighed dreamily. "And you tell me that only today?" She became very friendly now, almost intimate. "Don't you think it's a long way from Cordova to Valencia, Reverend Father? When the Caballero brought me here, I would have died of boredom on the journey had he not told me such wonderful stories."

"What did he tell you?" The monk's excitement mounted.

"Oh, he told me about those funny creatures, the Jews. He described how they look: they have hair [page 28] on their foreheads, hands instead of feet-imagine, Father, four hands and no feet! They have long tails and perform the cutest jumps and tricks. I was very amused by his description. I could hardly stop laughing."

The eyes of the monk flashed. After what he had heard he was almost certain that Don Manuel was a secret Jew, a Marrano. How clever to destroy any possible suspicion of Juana's by giving her wrong impressions of the nature of Jews! Fray Balthasar laughed softly. "Clever Jew," he thought, "but I am cleverer."

"Reverend Father," said Juana harmlessly, "the old Sancha does not like you."

"Ha, ha, ha," laughed the monk. "Well, I do not love her exactly, either. She is old and ugly. But Juanaquita, my child, tell me, why do you think she does not like me?"

"Because as long as you were in the house, she kept her kitchen carefully locked. Once I asked why she did this. But she refused to admit it and chased me out."

The monk remembered that he had once visited the kitchen but had found nothing unusual. Juana, however, seemed to have still more information.

"But I returned to the kitchen later on," she continued eagerly. "I found the large wooden board with the many holes hidden behind the closet."

"The large board with the holes? What is it for?"

[page 29]

"To prepare the meat in accordance with the custom in Valencia," was the quick answer.

"Now," thought the monk triumphantly, "Don Manuel, your doom is sealed."

"Tell me about this preparation of the meat," he said hoarsely.

"As soon as Benedito, the butcher, brings the meat, Sancha puts it in a big pot of water, where it remains for some time. Then she places it on the wooden board with the many holes and covers its entire surface with thick, reddish salt. The meat remains on the board for a certain length of time, after which it is rinsed carefully. Only after being prepared in this manner may it be cooked. That is the custom in Valencia."

Fray Balthasar absolved the girl. He knew enough.

THE GREY STONE PALACE of the Inquisition loomed high and forbidding above the quaint houses of Valencia. Here was the nerve- center, the headquarters, of the secret police which had caught tens of thousands of innocent men and women in its net. Its henchmen were the so-called "familiares," high officials who formed the "brain- trust" which organized the auto-da-fes and inaugurated the use of inhuman tortures to obtain forced confessions. Many of the "familiares" were members of Spain's wealthiest and most respected families, [page 30] who joined the secret police as the only means to protect themselves and their families. There were also many hooligans and common criminals among the chieftains of the "Holy Officium" who were attracted by the high salaries and the dark intrigues. This accounted for the fact that the Inquisition, despite the constant and highly profitable confiscations of private properties, was in dire need of finances.

Fray Balthasar knew this and proceeded to plan his revenge accordingly. Shortly after his interview with Juana he appeared at the Palace and demanded to be led directly to the suite of the High Inquisitor. Ordinarily, no such requests were granted. The visitor's determined attitude, however, and his guarded hints of an impending sensational "catch" impressed the officials sufficiently to make an exception in his case. After a few minutes wait, Fray Balthasar was brought before the Inquisitor.

"Your Reverence," he began, casting down his eyes in affected modesty, "I know that the money chests of the Inquisition are quite empty. I have come to fill them anew."

The Inquisitor, in his scarlet-red robe and high black cap, looked up, startled.

"What a fine undertaking, my son!" he said solemnly. "It is true, our holy work demands large finances. Whom do you accuse?"

"The Caballero Don Manuel y Aguilar!"

REVENGE 31 "Is he not the one who complained to the Archbishop about you?"

"The very same."

The Inquisitor understood. This was a plain case of revenge. But as long as the Inquisition profited by it, he was willing to investigate the case. He turned to the monk.

"'What is it that you accuse the Caballero of?" "He is a secret Jew. He is a descendant of a family of Marranos. His father-in-law was publicly burned at the stake in celebration of the wedding of King Carlos II."

The Inquisitor was slightly disappointed. "This is not sufficient reason to burn also his son-in-law," he said. "Moreover, the Cardinal-Bishop of Cordova, Don Alphonso Fernandez y Aguilar, is his great-uncle, who can be counted upon to intervene for his relative in case of an emergency."

The monk nodded. That was exactly what he was afraid of. Both men sat silently for a while, their minds working feverishly on an idea, a plan to trap the suspect. Theirs was a common motive: hate and greed. In the case of the monk there was an added flavor: revenge.

The silence was suddenly broken when the Inquisitor sprang and banged on his desk. "Since when does the Inquisition worry about trivialities?" he exclaimed. "Your task is to convert the heretics and [page 32] punish them while they are alive in order to save their souls from eternal curse."

He himself did not quite believe what he was say- ing. He, the Chief Inquisitor Of Valencia, knew Perfectly well how rotten and low was this whole business of "saving souls,- which served as a mere excuse forfilling the pockets of a few leading hench- men. He knew all this and there was a time when his conscience used to bother him; but, ah, money- money is such a beautiful and important thing in life-money is power and pleasure and life and death ... money. . . .

He turned abruptly to the monk. "Is the Caballero wealthy?"

"He is very rich," came the quick reply. "His estate is the largest and most beautiful in all Valen- cia. His orchards, fields, vineyards and orange groves are the most fruitful in the entire Huerta. Gold and jewels and invaluable silverware fill his chests. I have lived long enough in his house to be absolutely sure of my words."

"How much do you think the man is worth?" asked the Inquisitor.

"At least 500,000 ducats."

"You exaggerate, of course!"

The monk's pride was hurt. "Why should I exaggerate, my father? I would not be surprised to hear that he has much more than that."

The Inquisitor, who had paced up and down in [page 33] his roomy study, stopped short, bent low and whispered into the ear of Balthasar. "Hey, that's not bad. We have caught a goldfish."

A second later he returned to his desk, looking again official and aloof. "My son," he said sternly, "you spent many weeks in the house of the suspect. Have you noticed anything suspicious going on during the period of your stay?"

"Nothing at all."

'What's the matter with this fool, thought the Inquisitor angrily. Does he not know that we must have some shred of evidence before we can close in?

"Why do you waste my time?" he said curtly. "No evidence-no suspect."

"Oh, but there is evidence," said the monk proudly. "The nursemaid told me that the meat has to lie in salt before it is cooked or roasted."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Now it was the monk's turn to be surprised. "Your Reverence, you have surely studied the instructions given by Ferdinand, the Catholic, at the inauguration of the Inquisition? They contain a detailed description of the secret laws and ceremonies of the underground Jews. One of these laws concerns the salting of the meat before it is cooked."

The Inquisitor was amused. "My son, do you really think a man in my position finds the time to study old and dusty documents? We make our own laws, brought up to date. Nevertheless, what you [page 34] have said interests me. I shall read the particular rules on the Jewish custom of salting the meat. I will issue an immediate order to arrest the Caballero."

"Oh, no," said the monk quickly. "This would not be wise. After all, there is his family . . ."

"You are right," remarked the Inquisitor. "How stupid of me to forget his family. By the way, would it not be better to summon the nursemaid and hear her testimony before arresting the entire household?"

The monk had all the answers ready. "That would only cause trouble," he said slyly. "If you summon Juana, Don y Aguilar will become suspicious and may attempt to escape. Let her appear before you after the arrest of the family. She might even furnish other valuable information on the private and religious lives of these Marranos."

The Inquisitor rose. "You are clever, Fray Balthasar. I will follow your suggestion."

He rang a bell and ordered ink, pen and paper to be placed before the monk. "Set down on paper all that you have told me," he commanded. "A written accusation will entitle us to take action."

Balthasar went right to work. He triumphed. His revenge began to bear fruit. He drew up a lengthy document in which he accused Don Manuel y Aguilar, his family and servants (excepting, of course, the nursemaid Juana) of secretly practicing the Jewish religion, as evidenced by the custom of [page 35] preparing the meat in accordance with the Jewish law.

"Well done," said the Inquisitor. "I shall order the immediate arrest of all suspects on the y Aguilar estate."

That same afternoon, Don Antonio de Paula, the Alcalde of Valencia, received an urgent summons to appear at the Palace of the Inquisition. He was a dose friend of Don Manuel, who advised him on many business affairs. In the eyes of the Inquisition this fact made him the ideal man in matters concerning y Aguilar.

He was cordially received by the Inquisitor. "My dear Don Antonio," the latter said pleasantly, "I have a job for you."

Antonio paled. He knew the kind of jobs that were expected of him. Who was it this time? He hated the Inquisition, with its inhuman methods, but his fear was stronger than his hate. He felt the cool and piercing eyes of the Inquisitor on his face. He must not betray any emotion. A "familiares" was not supposed to show either pity or sympathy.

"I am at your service, Your Reverence," he said coldly.

"Fine," exclaimed the Inquisitor, "I knew you were the right man. Take twenty crack soldiers from the Hermandad (the Inquisition police), surround the villa of Don Manuel y Aguilar and arrest him, his family and the entire household."

[page 36]

Don Antonio was shocked. His good friend Manuel y Aguilar a suspect! What was he accused of ? Who had betrayed him? He knew that these questions would remain forever unanswered. They would never tell him. He could do nothing but obey.

"As you say, Your Reverence," he said, vainly attempting to hide his grief. The Inquisitor dismissed him graciously, a cruel smile on his lips. "Serves him right, snob," he thought, amused.

The unfortunate Marranos did not have the slightest fore-warning of the terrible catastrophe that was to engulf them shortly.

LITTLE DIEGO HAD COME down with the measles. Day and night, Donna Annunciata sat at his bedside, watching his every movement and breath. When the Sabath approached, she asked the nursemaid Juana to take her place for a short while, as she wanted to attend the last serv- ices that were to be held in the underground synagogue on this Shabbos Noach. Final steps for the mass flight of the entire congregation were to be discussed. No further services were scheduled to take place, in order to avoid any possible interference with their plans.

The last prayers were devotedly pronounced by the small congregation. The last Kaddish was recited with freely flowing tears. The gathering had [page 37] unanimously voted to accept the offer of Don Manuel and leave with him to seek asylum in the Netherlands.

Suddenly, the bell rang sharply, once, twice, indicating that the presence of Don Manuel was urgently needed upstairs. This was not a too unusual occurrence and Manuel went unsuspectingly to the front hall. Raphaelo rushed towards him.

"Senor Caballero," he whispered, "the Alcalde, Don Antonio, himself is here and wants to see you. He is waiting in the music room."

Don Manuel entered the room and warmly shook the hands of his friend, noting at once the latter's extreme nervousness.

"'What gives me this unexpected pleasure," he said innocently.

"Senor Caballero," replied the Alcalde gravely, "I come on a painful mission. I am to arrest you, your family and the entire household. The Holy Officium summons you before its bars."

Don Manuel paled. The dreaded moment had come. He grasped the back of a chair to keep from fainting. Wild plans were racing through his mind. Overpower the Alcalde and kill him? Nonsense, the house was surrounded, he was sure of that. Talk him out of it, appeal to their dose friendship? He realized that Don Antonio was not to blame for this; he was a mere messenger who had no choice but to obey.

[page 38]

Then everything became clear to him. His task was to save his family and the faithful servants, even if it meant his own doom. Quickly he seized the cord near the divan and pulled it twice, using all his strength.

"What do you do there?" asked the Alcalde, growing suspicious.

"I am calling my servants," replied Don Manuel calmly-

Presently Raphaelo appeared in the door. "Lech, maher, al taazov es ishti Ves hitti," his master cried. -Va'ani, kaasher avadti, avaXti. ("Go quickly, do not leave my wife and my daughter! As for myself if I am lost, I am lost.")

Silently, the faithful servant nodded and left the room. The Caballero turned to Don Antonio. "Please forgive my impoliteness," he said apologetically. "My man is a Basque and I have just told him in his language to call my family and the servants. And now, my friend, I am ready to join you."

Raphaelo found the assembled Marranos in utmost terror and confusion. They had received Don Manuel's signal, which meant immediate flight, but they were unable to comprehend the acute danger.

"Brothers and sisters," Raphaelo cried, "we have to flee at once. The Alcalde is about to arrest the Caballero and his entire household. The house is surrounded, all doors are guarded. Only the underground passage to the forest is left to us."

[page 39]

Terror was in all eyes. No one moved or spoke. The silence was broken by a wild shout "Manuel!" -and Donna Annunciato, the baby in her arms, rushed towards the door.

Raphaelo blocked her way. "Where do you intend to go, Senora?" he inquired.

"Leave me alone," the woman cried, beside herself. -I want to join my husband and my son Diego." Hysterically she tried to push the servant aside, kicking him wildly with her feet. Raphaelo did not move. Gently he took Inez on his arms.

"Senora," he said warmly, "be sensible. Your husband has already been taken away. Nothing will happen to your son. You will only make it worse for all of us if you walk into the jaws of the tiger."

"Manuel, my Manuel," Annunciata cried wildly. "Your husband will be set free," Raphaelo said firmly. "His great-uncle, the Archbishop of Cordova, is more powerful than Fray Balthasar: Let us flee now, before it is too late."

Donna Annunciata continued to weep loudly. "Have courage, Senora," said the faithful servant. "The G-d of our Fathers will be with us!"

He took her hand and led her to the underground passage. Bewildered, the little congregation followed them. There was terror in their hearts-but there was also hope. For even during their blackest history, hope has never left the Jewish people.

IV. THE INQUISITION

For a long while the Alcalde waited for the appearance of the family and the servants. When no one came, he grew very serious.

"Don Manuel," he said gravely, "you have warned your valet in a language that I could not understand. It seems that your accomplices are hiding somewhere in the house or may even have escaped through an underground passage. This does not exactly im- prove your situation," he added sarcastically.

He gave a sign to the guard at the door. Within a few seconds the house vibrated with the heavy steps of dozens of soldiers, armed to the teeth, who began to search every room, every nook and corner. They found no one except the sick boy Diego and his nursemaid Juana. They failed to discover the secret synagogue and the underground passage.

For the second time on this eventful day, Don Antonio was shocked. He had known Manuel and his family for many years without ever suspecting that [page 40] they were Marranos. Actually, he still could not understand it. The Caballero, his wife and even the children looked and acted like typical Spaniards, more so than most other "real" Spanish families of his acquaintance. Don Manuel a Marrano? He was the kindest, wisest, most charitable man he had ever been privileged to call his friend-and now-a Marrano? "This proves once again how petty and rotten this whole Inquisition swindle is," he thought bitterly. But he had no choice.

"Don Manuel y Aguilar," he said solemnly, "I arrest you in the name of the Holy Officium." At once Manuel was seized and whisked away to a dark forbidding building: the dreaded prison of the Inquisition.

He found himself in a dark and damp cell which was little more than a hole broken into a stone wall. He heard the squealing of the rats and felt the vermin crawling over his body. He knew that he was cut off from the outside world.

Confused thoughts raced through his mind. Who could have betrayed him? What was to be his fate? What happened to his wife and the little Inez? Would they succeed in leaving Spain? And what of his sick little boy?

He sighed deeply. "It is all my fault," he thought sadly. "I should have listened to my wife and left this barbaric country when there was still time. Now it is too late. The claws of the cursed Tribunal will never let me go."

[page 42]

A sudden streak of light Pierced the darkness like a sharp sword, interrupting his desperate thoughts. He looked up and saw the armed guard standing in the open door. He made no move to rise from the straw. "Get going, you scoundrel," shouted the guard, seizing him by his neck. He was roughly pushed out of the cell.

He was led through a bewildering number of hallways, long and crooked. Finally he was pushed through a narrow door and found himself face to face with His Reverence, the Inquisitor.

The latter appeared to be in an excellent mood. "Please be seated and relax," he said politely. His very politeness and suave manner frightened Don Manuel.

The Inquisitor looked at him sharply with half- closed eyes. "Tell me, my good friend, have you ever done, spoken or thought anything against the Holy Faith and its institutions or against the Holy Officium of the Inquisition? If you speak the whole truth and confess your sins freely we will treat you mildly and mercifully."

Manuel knew that this was a lie. He realized that they were after his money and that a confession on his part would change nothing. He was determined to preserve a calm attitude and to fight it out.

"What am I accused of, Reverend Father," he said coolly.

[page 43]

The Inquisitor evaded a direct answer. The interrogation of a suspect gave him immense enjoyment, much as a snake plays with its victim before devouring it. "We desire a frank and full confession," he repeated. "No one is arrested without sufficient proof of his guilt."

"I am willing to confess all my sins," said Don Manuel. "Yet my conscience is clear. I do not recall ever having committed a crime against the interests of the Church or the Inquisition Tribunal. Tell me what I am accused of and I will speak freely."

"Your ancestors were Marranos?" "For centuries my family belonged to the Catholic Church."

"Your father-in-law was publicly executed for the crime of adhering to secret Judaism."

"That is true. But it failed to cast the slightest shadow of a doubt on his family or my wife."

The Inquisitor grew impatient. "Will you freely confess your crimes?"

"I have committed no crime."

"What was it you told your valet when the Alcalde came to arrest you?"

"I ordered him to call my wife and the rest of the household."

"Why did they not come and where are they now?"

Don Manuel sighed a breath of relief. Good news at last! His family was safe! Now there was only [page 44] the uncertainty of little Diego's fate. Perhaps Raphaelo had managed to snatch him away in the last minute? As for his own fate, he was not worried. He was sure his great-uncle would find means and ways of effecting his release. All this gave him a feeling of security. It also caused him to make his first mistake.

"I do not know, Senor," he replied. "It is possible that they lost their heads during the confusion and ran away. Remember, the father of my wife suffered a horrible death at the hand of the Holy Officium. Small wonder that Donna Annunciata becomes frightened at the very mention of the Holy Inquisition."

No sooner had he spoken these words than he realized his mistake. The face of the Inquisitor mirrored wicked pleasure. "Senor Secretario," he said to the official at a nearby desk, "record this statement carefully: In the house of y Aguilar one fears the Holy Officium. Only guilty men fear their judges."

Don Manuel kept silent. There was nothing he could have said. He remembered, too late, the old warning, handed down from father to son, to speak as little as possible when called before the bars of the Inquisition. For it was a well known trick of the Inquisitors to ask seemingly harmless questions and forge new accusations from the innocent answers.

[page 45]

"Are there any secret passages in or below your house?"

"No, Senor."

"But your family and the servants have disappeared. My soldiers have searched every single room. Will you tell me how the other suspects escaped?"

"I do not know, Reverend Father."

"Speak the truth," thundered the Inquisitor, "or the tortures will make you talk."

At this moment Don Manuel made his second mistake. "Torture," he shouted, besides himself, "you want to torture me, the Caballero y Aguilar? Who do you think---"

The Inquisitor sprang up. "How dare you talk to me like that," he exclaimed furiously. "You fool, how dare you threaten the Holy Inquisition. The Tribunal has seen princes, dukes, bishops, and ministers before its bars and has found them guilty. And who are you? If you are guilty you shall not escape punishment!"

His tone became again friendly. "Confess your guilt before it is too late. It is the only way out, believe me."

Don Manuel was unable to answer. The mention of the torture affected him greatly. Not that he was actually afraid of them. But he was not sure whether he would have the strength to stand up under the ordeal. Would it not be better to confess now when [page 45] there was still time? But he remembered certain rumors that no suspect ever escaped the torture, whether he confessed or not. This was an iron rule in the procedure of the Holy Inquisition.

When no answer from the prisoner was forth- coming, the Inquisitor ordered the instruments of torture to be brought before the accused. They were terrifying tools, designed to frighten the victim into submission by merely looking at them. There were the infamous "Spanish Boots" which featured hundreds of tiny sharp knives on the inside. Screws on the outside enabled the henchman to tighten the boots until the knives cut into the flesh. If desired, these boots were able to crush the legs and feet of a man until they were a bloody mess of bones and flesh. Fiendishly efficient machines pulled the nails from the fingers or poured boiling wax on fingertips and toes. Other tools served to draw the limbs apart until they reached unnatural proportions. Hot irons were applied to the most sensitive parts of the body, causing unbearable pain.

Don Manuel saw these instruments and shuddered. He, the rich and respected citizen of Valencia, who had lived happily with his beloved wife and children -he was now to be tortured like any common criminal? Why? Why? Why did G-d punish him so? Was he not always faithful to the religion of his ancestors? Had he not brought sacrifice upon sacrifice over it-and now!

[page 47]

What the Inquisitor read in the eyes and the face of Don Manuel pleased him greatly. The demonstration had done its work. Experience taught him that the heated imagination of the victims, pitched to hysterical extremes by the terrifying sight, would cause an early and full confession, facilitated by the sad loneliness of a dark cell. He ordered the prisoner returned to the prison.

Back in his cell, Don Manuel became strangely calm. Now that he knew that his family was safe--- with the exception of Diego--he was able to find peace and refuge in prayer. "Eternal G-d! You are just in all Your ways, I am guilty. I should have left this country long ago. Whatever may happen, You are with me, my Shield and my Redeemer."

He ate the bread and drank the water that he found in the cell. He stretched out on the straw that served as a bed, recited the night prayer and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. No bad dreams disturbed his slumber.

It was midnight. Suddenly there was again the sharp-edged sword of light piercing through the thick darkness. Manuel felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He started up in the belief that his last hour had come. A dark figure loomed over him. He was unable to recognize the face. He felt a piece of paper pressed into his hands.

"Read this, Senor," whispered the stranger, "but [page 48] return it to me at once. Benedito the butcher sent me!"

Manuel rose from the straw and read by the thin light seeping through the half-open door: "Your wife and daughter are guided by Raphaelo. As soon as they are safe he will go to your great-uncle in Cordova. Only be firm and confess nothing."

He had hardly read the note, when the stranger snatched it from his hand and hurried out, locking the door behind him and leaving Manuel in a daze. Was he to be freed soon?

THE GRAY DAWN OF A new day filtered into the dreary and damp cell. With a start Don Manuel woke up and looked around. Where was everybody? Then it all came back to him, all that happened only a short while ago. Al- though the brief rest had somewhat refreshed him and the strange visitor at midnight had filled his heart with new hope, his mind was still confused and his knees shook as he thought of the dreaded moment when he would have to re-appear before the Inquisitor. For he was certain that he would be summoned again and again until his final breakdown and confession.

He proved to be right. The door opened abruptly. Two armed guards seized him by the shoulders and pushed him through a narrow, dimly lit hallway into [page 49] the audience chamber. The Inquisitor sat at his large desk, playing lightly with a shining, sharp-edged knife. He wore a flaming-red robe and the customary high black cap. He appeared not to notice the entrance of Don Manuel as he twisted and twirled the knife between his fingers, stabbing playfully at several documents on the desk. He continued this for some time. Manuel waited by the door, his heart pounding wildly. He realized that the silence was part of a careful scheme to weaken his resistance.

Suddenly the Inquisitor jumped up. "Will you make a full and frank confession, you stubborn fool!" he shouted angrily.

"I have nothing to confess," said Don Manuel calmly. "I have done nothing wrong. Tell me what you are accusing me of so that I can defend myself."

Manuel was astounded at his own calm. He knew perfectly well the nature of the accusation but he had yet to hear a dear statement from the lips of the Inquisitor.

"Recite the 'Credo'!"

Manuel smiled. He was prepared for this demand. The "Credo" was the Catholic article of faith which every believer was expected to know by heart. He began to recite it fluently and easily, fully conscious that a less perfect performance might be taken as a proof of his suspicious background.

The Inquisitor seemed satisfied. Upon hearing the accused reciting the "Paternoster" with the greatest [page 50] of ease, he evidently thought it unnecessary to demand the added recitation of the Decalogue-as was his usual strategy - probably taking it for granted that the suspect was surely acquainted with the Ten Commandments.

Now the real examination began. The Inquisitor was well prepared. He had closely studied the instructions on the treatment of suspects, mentioned by Fray Balthasar. To his surprise he found that there were more than fifty basic accusations, each of which would convict a suspect upon being found guilty. Y Aguilar was to be accused of secretly practicing Judaism. Proof: the salting of the meat. Yet it was one of the tricks of the Inquisition to hide the important accusation behind a flood of harmless questions designed to catch the suspect off guard.

"What is your full name?" began the Inquisitor.

"Piedro Henriquez Geronimo Juan Manuel de Valencia y Aguilar."

"Hm, what a lovely name," said the Inquisitor, somewhat taken aback by the impressive number of tides. "Have you any other surnames?"

"None." "Do you also call yourself Moses or Mordecai or Meir?"

"No, Reverend Father."

"What is the name of your son?"

"Ignazio Francesco Diego."

[page 51]

"Is he not occasionally called David or Daniel?"

"Never, Reverend Father."

The Inquisitor saw that he got nowhere. He decided to change his tactics. Looking straight into the prisoner's eyes, he said sternly:

"On the thirteenth of March you have refrained from all food, although there was no religious fast on that particular day. We have absolute proof. It is useless to deny your guilt."

Don Manuel understood at once the motive for this strange statement. Apparently the Inquisitor knew that there was a Jewish fast-day on the thirteenth of Adar (Taanith Esther) and that the month of Adar usually coincides with March. What he did not know was that the Jewish calendar is based on the rotation of the moon and varies greatly from the Christian calendar.

"The thirteenth of March?" he replied slowly. "There must be a mistake, Senor. Thirteenth of March? Ah, I remember. On that day we visited Donna Euphronia, the wife of the Alcalde, Don Antonio de Paula, whose birthday it was. She offered us refreshments and we accepted them. All you have to do is to call in Donna Euphronia."

The Inquisitor was greatly embarrassed. He had been assured by his aides that the thirteenth of March was a Jewish fastday. Moreover, he had read somewhere that the Jews attach great importance to their fastdays. If it was true that Don Manuel had eaten [page 52] at the house of the Alcalde on that day it was quite possible that he was not a Marrano after all. He decided to introduce at once the main point of the accusation, the salting of the meat, attested by two important witnesses, Fray Balthasar and Juana, the nursemaid. If the suspect persisted in his foolish denials, one could immediately begin with the tortures.

"How does your cook prepare the meat?"

"She roasts or cooks it, as she sees fit."

"Does she salt it?"

"Naturally, who would eat unsalted meat."

The Inquisitor grew impatient. "You do not understand. What I mean is whether the meat is salted before the cooking in order to suck out the blood."

"I am not familiar with the secrets of the kitchen," replied Manuel, cleverly evading the dangerous question. "I have never bothered with the preparation of the food."

"And your wife?"

"She never enters the kitchen. She entrusts the entire cooking to our old Sancha, whom she inherited from her mother."

The Inquisitor was satisfied. It was quite possible that the cook salted the meat without the knowledge of the master. For many years she had been in the service of a Marrano who had been caught and convicted.

It looked good for Manuel. He had the best prospect [page 53] for an early acquittal. Only the fact that his family and servants had disappeared without leaving a trace complicated the matter.

The prisoner was returned to his cell. The Inquisitor needed time to conduct further inquiries, especially concerning the thirteenth of March and the alleged visit with the Alcalde. If Don Manuel was able to withstand the ensuing tortures, he was safe and free to return home.

While Don Manuel languished in the prison of the Inquisition, an extensive search for his family and the servants began. It proved to be completely un- successful, as not the slightest trace of the fugitives could be found. Even old Sancha, in whom the Inquisition had a special interest and whom it would have burned with the same pleasure as the Caballero, had disappeared as if swallowed by the earth. The sick boy Diego had been transferred to a Dominican monastery, where he slowly regained his health.

LET US SEE WHAT HAPPENED to our friends during the eventful Sabbath. The fugitives had managed to escape through the secret passage never discovered by the Hermandad. After crawling for hours through mud and dirt, they emerged in a dark forest, where a hasty meeting was held.

The old man who usually served as a spokesman [page 54] for the congregation stepped before the assembled group.

"There is one danger," he said. "Don Manuel might betray us. Do you think he will?"

"No!" was the instant, unanimous reply.

"Good. If there is one person who can be trusted it is our Manuel y Aguilar. Therefore I suggest that we return to our homes, one after another and in long intervals."

The assembly voiced its approval and began to disperse. The old man approached Raphaelo, who was surrounded by a small group of men and women. They showed no intention of leaving.

"What are your plans, Raphaelo?" asked the old man. "You cannot remain in the forest forever."

The servants of the y Aguilar household, who made up the little group, crowded anxiously around the two men. Donna Annunciata, the baby in her arms, sat on the nearby trunk of a fallen tree, her clothes spattered with mud. A lonely figure, she sat there, lost in thought.

"You are right, old man," said Raphaelo gravely. "We cannot remain here. Neither can we return to Valencia. I heard the Alcalde tell the master that he had orders to arrest the entire household. There is only one way left to us. We will have to separate and find new homes elsewhere."

He distributed money among the faithful servants and sent them on their way, reminding each of them [page 55] to remain faithful to their religion. He then informed the spokesman that he intended to go to Cordova and solicit the help of his master's greatuncle. He begged the Jews of Valencia to do their utmost to contact Don Manuel and tell him the whereabouts of his family. Later on, Benedito, the butcher, actually succeeded in getting the message through.

Raphaelo approached Donna Annunciata. "Senora," he called softly. "Senora, we have to move on."

"My good Raphaelo, where do you intend to take us?" Her voice was tired and flat.

"I will take you to Madrid, Senora. It is easier to disappear in a crowded city than in a small town. Your aunt, Donna Catharina de Montalto, lives in Las Infantos, a suburb. She will he happy to shelter you and Inez until the day when you will be re- united with my gracious master."

Donna Annunciata sighed deeply. She was resigned to accept whatever fate had in store for her. She had little hope to see her husband again. Nothing else mattered to her. Pressing Inez closely to her breast, she rose and followed the faithful servant into an unknown future.

After a week of traveling and hiding, the hungry and mud-covered little group arrived in Madrid, where they were cordially received by Donna Catharina. The latter fully realized the danger of sheltering [page 56] a fugitive from justice but she did not hesitate for a moment to do her duty. The persecuted Marranos supported and helped each other and feared neither torture nor death when the life of a fellow Marrano was endangered. Donna Catharina comforted her desolate niece and convinced her that it was her duty as a mother to build her life anew. Moreover, she insisted upon a change of name as a protection against further unpleasant inquiries. From now on the guest from Valencia was Donna Gracia de Lima, a widow from the little-known village of Laon.

Raphaelo, satisfied that his mistress was well taken care of, took tearful leave and started on the long road to Cordova. He reached the city after a tedious and difficult journey of more than three weeks.

Cordova once used to be the greatest and most beautiful city in the world, with more than a million inhabitants, twenty thousand houses, six hundred churches, a university, eighty schools and five hundred public bathhouses. Under the Caliph Abd-Ur-Rahman I its industry and trade flourished until, by the early Middle Ages, the city had become the financial and cultural center of the world. The Alcazar, former residence of the Caliphs, is still the greatest and most impressive building in all Spain.

In 1236, Ferdinand II of Castile wrested Cordova from the Moors, who had possessed it for more than 500 years. That was the beginning of Cordova's decline. [page 57] The population began to decrease sharply as a result of the declining trade and industry. Soon the palatial houses were deserted and the rains became the uncontested property of rats and mice. Raphaelo had not seen the city in many years. He was shocked at its desolate appearance, although it had already been a city of ruins at the time of his youth. Sadly he thought of the great leaders of Israel who had lived and taught here during the period of the Caliphs. Two of the greatest personalities of Jewish history were born in this historic city: Rabbi Samuel Hanaggid, the famous scholar, poet and statesman who was the real founder of the Spanish-Jewish elite; and the greatest figure in Juda- ism since Mosbe Rabbenu, Rabbi Moses ben Maimon, the Rambam. With a heavy heart, Raphaelo approached the Alcazar, residence of the Cardinal Archbishop. Would the Cardinal be willing, would he be able to save his great-nephew from certain death?

V. RAPHAELO

RAPHAELO ENTERED the wide front yard of the towering stone palace. At the high iron door leading to the main hall he was stopped by two armed guards who demanded an identification.

"I am Raphaelo, an old friend of the Cardinal," he said impatiently.

One of the guards disappeared, leaving Raphaelo with the other armed guard. There was nothing to do but wait. He turned to look over the ancient city spreading at his feet. He watched the greenish waters of the Guadalquivir rolling lazily past purple olive groves and pink orange gardens towards the Sierra Morena. "How beautiful are the plains of Andalusia," he thought dreamily. "How beautiful are you, land of my fathers, and how you are humiliated by your own sons."

The guard reappeared and led the visitor to a comfortable sitting-room. He informed him that the Cardinal had graciously consented to see him. A [page 58] heavy burden fell from Raphaelo's heart. He had been fearful that the Cardinal might not recognize his name and refuse to receive him, spoiling the last chance for his master's liberation.

The door opened noiselessly. Raphaelo turned and saw the familiar face of the Cardinal. "Your Eminence," he said softly, bowing low.

The Cardinal took one quick look. "So it is you, my Raphaelo," he exclaimed joyfully, "friend and companion of my happy youth."

He stretched out his hands and Raphaelo, weeping loudly and unashamedly, rushed into the arms of his illustrious friend.

Don Alphonso Fernandez and Raphaelo had grown up together. The latter's father held the same position in the Cordova branch of the house of y Aguilar that his only son held many years later in Valencia. He headed the staff of servants and at the same time conducted Hebrew classes for children and adults in the underground synagogue. Young Raphaelo was the playmate and constant companion of Alphonso Fernandez, whose brother, the grandfather of Don Manuel, was several years older. The two boys found great satisfaction in the study of the Chumash and the Talmud. The day when he was told that he had to enter a monastery, in order to be able later to save as many Marranos as possible from the clutches of the Inquisition, belonged to the saddest memories of Don Alphonso, now Cardinal [page 60] of Cordova. He remembered how he had cried day and night, for he loved the religion of his ancestors above all else. In vain had Raphaelo attempted to console him. "Oh, I wish I could take your place," Alphonso had exclaimed bitterly. "I would much rather live the life of a subordinate who can remain true to his religion than become a disgrace to my own people."

But that, of course, was out of the question. The step was considered necessary, in the interest of the safety of the family. Young Alphonso, had to give in. He was sent to Salamanca to study theology. He advanced quickly, first becoming professor at the local university, then Bishop of Alameda and finally achieved the crowning position, Archbishop of Cordova and Cardinal of the Roman Chair.

Since Raphaelo had left Cordova to join the Valencia branch of the family, the two friends had not seen each other. Don Alphonso was kept busy in Cordova and he had become too old to undertake the weary journey to Valencia. As for Raphaelo, he hardly left the house which it was his inherited duty to protect. Now that the house was empty and the family tom apart, there was no further need for his services. But there was one service, the most important of all, that he hoped to be able to render.

"Welcome, Raphaelo, my friend and brother," exclaimed the Cardinal. "What brings the old fox who never wanted to leave his hide-out to Cordova?

[page 61]

How is Don Manuel, my great-nephew, and the lovely Donna Annunciata, and the sweet children?"

When no answer was forthcoming, he looked up and was startled to see tears streaming from the tired eyes of his old friend.

"What is it, old friend," he cried, "what happened? Is there an epidemic in Valencia that killed my relatives? Has lightning struck their house and burned them all? Friend, brother, speak!"

"Eminence -"

"Stop the nonsense. Call me Alphonso as you used to."

Raphaelo sighed deeply. "Oh, Alphonso, a great misfortune has befallen the house of y Aguilar. Don Manuel languishes in the prison of the Inquisition."

The Cardinal sat down. His knees were shaking. For a while he was unable to speak. Every Marrano in Spain knew that he might be caught at any minute, but this knowledge did not soften the shock when an arrest was actually made. The Cardinal was possessed of the same deep and constant fear that lived in the heart of every Marrano.

"And his wife?" he finally managed to ask.

"We were all supposed to be arrested but the rest of us were able to escape. Donna Annunciata and the little girl are safe in Madrid. Young Diego was dangerously ill at the time and could not be moved. I do not know what happened to him but I suppose [page 62] they have taken him to one of their cloister schools to recuperate."

The Cardinal got up and began to pace the floor rapidly, his hand on his forehead. "How could this have happened? Why?" he murmured over and over again.

Raphaelo shook his head sadly. "I wish I knew the answer. But I have a suspicion that the evil force behind all this was a Dominican monk, Fray Balthasar, who stayed in the house for some time and was eventually removed upon a complaint by Donna Annunciata."

"This is bad," murmured the Cardinal, who had experienced many similar cases where nothing could be done. Raphaelo grasped his friend's hand. "Do you think Don Manuel will remain firm and deny everything?" he asked anxiously. "I am so afraid for him. How will he be able to withstand the terrible tortures?" His voice broke and he trembled visibly.

The Cardinal did not answer. He was absorbed in his thoughts. If it was true that the entire household staff was also on the blacklist, then the monk must have noticed something unusual, something that resembled a Jewish custom. He looked at his old friend.

"During the presence of the monk were you always careful in the celebration of the Sabbath and the holidays?"

[page 63]

"Always." "Perhaps the boy talked too much."

"That is out of the question," said Raphaelo firmly. He quoted the boy's own words: "No one will hear anything from me that might arouse suspicion." Tears came again into his eyes as he thought of the poor sick boy condemned to a lonely life of pretending.

The Cardinal seemed satisfied with the information. Yet his experience taught him that a mere remark or voicing of an opinion, dangerous as it might be, did not as a rule result in arrest with ensuing tortures. He was convinced that there was more to it. If he only knew what! As matters stood now, there was little he could do. He spoke of his doubts to Raphaelo:

"You have made me very sad, Raphaelo," he said wearily. "If I could only help! The rules of the Inquisition are stricter than ever and I have no influence whatsoever with the Holy Officium.

Raphaelo jumped up. His face dose to that of the Cardinal, he said hoarsely:

"Alphonso, my brother, the moment has come for which your father destined you when he brought you to the Church. Now is the time to save your own flesh and blood."

He sank back into his chair. The physical and mental strain of the past weeks had exhausted his [page 64] strength. The Cardinal was deeply moved. "What can I do, what can I do?" he whispered to himself. "If you could only save him from the tortures," said Raphaelo weakly.

The Cardinal resumed his nervous pacing of the floor, attempting to formulate a plan that might have a chance of success. Finally he halted before Raphaelo's chair, grasped his friend's hands and said passionately, "I think I know a way. Ricoberti, the Grand Inquisitor, is a close friend of mine. Perhaps I can arrange for the files to be sent to Madrid before they apply the tortures in Valencia. This very afternoon I will send one of my trusted advisors to Valencia to talk to the local Inquisitor. In the meantime another of my friends will see Ricoberti in Madrid."

The Cardinal rubbed his hands excitedly. He was highly pleased with his idea. Manuel would be free in no time.

He turned again to Raphaelo. "Now, my good friend, you must rest. By the way," he added laughingly, "do you realize that the Alcazar is not only the residence of the Archbishop but also the headquarters of the Inquisition Tribunal of Cordova? You, a fugitive from the Inquisition, come for help and shelter to the Palace of the Inquisition." He laughed loudly. It was too amusing."

He was about to ring for a servant when he made a sudden outcry and returned quickly to the seated [page 65] Raphaelo, who was too weak to even thank his friend for the promised help.

"Oh, I almost forgot, there is another thing," he said hastily. "You must of course change your name. No one must know that you come from Valencia or that you are a friend of my youth. From now on your name shall be Stephano and you come from Saragossa. You have come here to pray in the Mesquita. Do you understand, my friend?"

"Yes, I do. I am very grateful," whispered Raphaelo.

With a smile the Cardinal went to the door and rang the bell. He stood with his back to the door and when he had made sure that the servant was in the room turned to the visitor and said distinctly:

"Is this all the Bishop of Saragossa has to tell me, Messer Stephano?"

"That is all, Your Eminence."

"Bernardo, show the gentleman to his room. He will remain in the Alcazar for some time. See to it that he is well supplied with food and drink.

"Very well, Your Eminence." The servant bowed and beckoned the guest to follow him. Raphaelo, looked imploringly at the Cardinal, who had returned to his desk as though he was completely disinterested. The latter understood at once.

"Oh, Bernardo, I almost forgot; Messer Stephano has made a vow not to eat any meat during his stay [page 66] in Cordova. Please serve him bread and fruit and whatever else he desires."

The servant bowed again. Raphaelo humbly kissed the cardinal's hand and turned to follow the servant out of the room. The Cardinal retired to his private chamber to work out further plans to save his relative from almost certain doom.

Once alone, he took off the flowing red robe which featured a large white cross on its back. He threw it disgustedly in a corner and repeated the process with a wooden figure that adorned his desk. He sat down and covered his eyes.

"Eternal G-d," he prayed, "forgive me the great lie that is my life. Only to save Your children have I pretended and lied. Now the time has come to save my own flesh and blood. Give me strength, 0 G-d, and wisdom to do the right thing."

A stream of tears followed this silent prayer. It was not the first time the Jewish Cardinal had retired to this private retreat to pray. Here he put on Tefillin every morning and recited the prayers of the afternoon and night. For, although his life was a continuous "treason" against Jewish tradition, he had remained faithful to G-d, His Torah and His people.

VI. NEW HOPE

DON ALPHONSO KEPT his promise. He sent a trusted friend to Valencia with an urgent message for the local Archbishop. The message, to be relayed to the Valencia Inquisitor, was a clever mixture of threats and promises which did not fail to impress the officials for whom they were intended. At least, for the time being, Don Manuel was spared. But a complete vindication and release could not be effected. The Inquisition was too independent to let outsiders interfere. It obeyed neither the King nor the Pope. Whenever the King attempted to impose his will, the Inquisition threatened with the retaliation of the Church, the greatest power in Spain. The Pope was faced with the same iron curtain, with the added reminder not to meddle in the internal affairs of a neutral nation. The Inquisition was unassailable.

The Inquisitor sent a message to Don Alphonso informing him that a pleasant and airy room in the Palace at Valencia was put at Don Manuel's disposal [page 67] and that he was permitted to read books and write letters. The message added that a final release could be granted only upon the detention and examination of the defendant's wife and servants, especially Sancha, the cook. If they could convince the jury that y Aguilar was innocent he would be completely vindicated, absolved from any crime. His estate and wealth would then be returned to him.

The Cardinal could not help smiling when he read this part of the message. How devilishly clever, he thought admiringly. Of course he knew that the Inquisition would never release a victim once he had been caught. This was just another trick to catch the rest of the suspects. Oh, but he was just as clever. He realized that an examination of Donna Annuciata and the servants would inevitably lead to final exposure, after which no power on earth could save them. He had to think of another solution.

There was a shy knock at the door. The Cardinal had given strict orders not to be disturbed at any time when he was in his private chamber. This rule had been relaxed for his friend. "Come in, Raphaelo," he called softly. Raphaelo entered the room and the two friends who had not seen each other all day shook hands warmly.

"Any news from Valencia?" asked Raphaelo eagerly."

"The news is both good and bad," said the Cardinal gravely, as he began to explain the contents of [page 69] the message received earlier in the day. When he had finished, the two men, driven by their common anxiety, discussed in low voices the slim chances for Manuel's release. It seemed hopeless. It was a vicious circle: One could not dare to deliver Donna Annunciata and the servants into the clutches of the Inquisition and yet this was precisely the condition upon which Manuel's release depended.

"With these methods we will never get him out," said Alphonso after a long silence. "We have to do something more drastic. The bloody Tribunal, which has ruined Spain in the course of two centuries, must be crushed and torn out by the roots. If I cannot save my relatives, the least I can do is to attempt the destruction of the Inquisition. Oh, yes, it sounds quite impossible. But perhaps it is easier than it looks. A whole nation will rise up in fury if only the beginning is made. Then I will not have lived in vain."

Raphaelo listened to his friend in growing amazement. Had he gone out of his mind? Crush the Inquisition?

The Cardinal smiled. "I know you think I am mad," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, you are forgiven: it does sound mad. But believe me, my friend, I know what I am talking about. This plan is not a fruit of momentary and wishful thinking. I have worked on it with the greatest care for many nights." [page 70]

Raphaelo was not convinced. "How will you be able to smash a fiendish machine that is utterly ruth- less in its revenge?" he inquired.

Again the Cardinal smiled. "I have good connections in Madrid," he said lightly, "and for a long time I have collected data proving the lawlessness and disastrous policy of the Inquisition. Do you really think there is one man or woman in the entire country who does not hate the Inquisition? Watch the Inquisitors when they drive through the streets. Watch the hateful looks they draw and the arrogant attitude with which they reply."

"Indeed, you are right," murmured Raphaelo.

"I could cite hundreds of cases," continued the Cardinal in growing fury, "demonstrating the petty and cruel ways of these dictators. Recently there was a woman in Granada who was to be arrested because she had a private argument with the local secretary of the Inquisition. The unfortunate woman knew the fate which awaited her and jumped out of the window rather than face the 'treatment' planned for her by the scoundrels. I could go on for days telling you of the cruelties and inhuman tortures invented and introduced by these criminals."

He took a thick file from the desk. "Here is the evidence," he cried. "I am going to send this memorandum to the Royal Minister of justice, the Duke of Motelli. I should have done it long ago," he added bitterly. [page 71]

Raphaelo was overwhelmed. He saw the plan actually taking shape. It looked wonderful-but were there not a number of obstacles? "What of the Grand Inquisitor Ricoberti?" he thought aloud.

"He does not worry me too much," replied Alphonso. "One of my agents, Fray Matthias, reported only yesterday from Madrid that Ricoberti is very ill and not in a position to offer much resistance."

The Cardinal fell silent. Raphaelo looked admiringly at his friend. "Alphonso," he said warmly, "if you would succeed in destroying this blood-thirsty beast that calls itself the Holy Officium, posterity will praise you as Spain's greatest benefactor of all time."

The ensuing silence was broken by an urgent knock at the door. "Who could that be at this time of night?" the Cardinal wondered. He fastened an iron chain on the inside of the door, opened it a few inches and peered through. "Oh, it is you," he exclaimed, relief in his voice. "Come in, come in."

An elderly man in a long black cloak entered quickly and put a small package on the table. "Your Eminence," he said reverently, "I have completed my mission. Here are the letters and reports from Fray Matthias in Madrid. I have left the Capital a week ago."

The Cardinal was pleased. "You did your job well. Hold yourself ready to return to Madrid in a few days." [page 72]

"At your service, Your Eminence." The man kissed the seam of his master's robe and left the room, walking backwards until the door closed behind him.

Eagerly the Cardinal broke the seal and began to read the reports. Raphaelo watched his face closely to determine whether the news was promising or disappointing. Several anxious minutes ticked away. Finally Alphonso looked up, a puzzled expression on his dark face. "The situation is not quite clear," he said slowly. "Ricoberti is worse and the doctors give him only a few days to live. My representative in Madrid has sounded out the most influential ministers at the Royal Court as to the chance for my succession. Most of them seem to favor it. Some voiced certain objections because I lack the sanguis purus, the pure blood, that is an essential condition for any candidate."

He was again interrupted by a soft, insistent banging on the door. "Is there no privacy in these quarters," the Cardinal murmured angrily. He loosened the iron chain and was about to receive the intruder when he was stopped short by the appalling sight of a pale youth who looked as if he were going to faint at any moment. Sweat running down his face in dirty streams, he stood beside the elderly messenger who had brought the reports a short while ago. There was blood on the youth's coat. Alphonso's heart began to pound heavily. Was there a sinister [page 73] meaning behind all this? "Speak up, boy, what is it?" he said hoarsely.

The youth breathed with difficulty. All his strength seemed spent. "I have an urgent message for you, Your Eminence," he whispered. The Cardinal leaned forward in order not to miss a single word. "I have rushed here from Madrid in less than forty-eight hours to tell you that the Grand Inquisitor Ricoberd has died two days ago."

The Cardinal was stunned. Then he broke into a wild, unearthly laughter. "Ha, ha, ha," he laughed, holding his sides, "this is too funny. Here I sit, racking my brain to find a solution to my problems and all the time our beloved Ricoberti ties dead in his palace!"

He went to his desk, still laughing, took a small bag from a drawer, filled it with gold pieces and gave it to the youth. "Here, my boy," he said kindly, "you have done me a great service. Let me present you with this small token of my appreciation."

The youth bowed, kissed the seam of the Cardinal's robe and left with his companion. Alphonso, returned to his chair, rubbing his hands in uncontrolled joy. "Raphaelo, my brother, a little more respect from now on, if you please. You stand face to face with the new Grand Inquisitor."

Raphaelo stared at him unbelievingly. "Have you gone mad," he finally managed to say. "What makes [page 74] you think that you will be chosen Ricoberti's successor ?"

The Cardinal laughed. "Of course you do not know how the Inquisition works," be retorted. "Money, my friend, everything is money. I shall send you to Matthias with a large sum to be distributed among the ministers according to his judgment. Once I am Grand Inquisitor, I will find ways and means to suppress the horrors and tortures and blackmail, and my good Manuel will be reunited with his family."

Again he rubbed his hands in obvious delight. "Will you bring the money to Fray Matthias and be of service to him?" he inquired. "You see, I need a trustworthy man for this job. On whom can I rely more than on you, friend of my youth?"

"I am ready," said Raphaelo simply.

"Good. You need not worry about your safety. I will furnish you with false papers which will protect you even in the event that someone should recognize you."

"I am not afraid." "Oh, Raphaelo, the day of salvation draws near. May G-d help us in this great undertaking." The two friends embraced and parted quickly. The Cardinal wrote two letters which he seated carefully. Then he filled a large bag with shiny gold pieces. He recited devotedly the evening and night prayers, [page 75] went to bed and fell at once into a sound and peaceful sleep.

The next morning Raphaelo left the town, accompanied by ten crack soldiers, armed to the teeth. In his breast-pocket were the two letters. The bag, containing 20,000 ducats in gold-pieces, was locked in an iron box which in turn was bound to the saddle of a horse by four heavy ropes and guarded by four soldiers.

Five days later the little caravan reached Madrid without mishap. At once, Raphaelo contacted Fray Matthias and delivered the letters and money to him. Upon completing his mission, he went to the suburb of Las Infantos to visit Donna Annunciata and the baby, whom he had not seen in months. It was a happy reunion, made doubly joyful by the good news which the faithful servant brought from Cordova.

Fray Matthias went to work. He knew most of the ministers and their weaknesses intimately and he managed skillfully to make the most of the money entrusted to him. Thus it came as no surprise to Raphaelo when an urgent message from Matthias reached him early one morning. This was what the message said:

"Take the best horse and rush back to Cordova as fast as you can. The State Council has just decided unanimously to appoint Alphonso Fernandez y Aguilar as the new Grand Inquisitor of Spain."

VII. DISASTER

LIKE ALL INFORMERS, Fray Balthasar derived little satisfaction from his carefully devised plan. Donna Annunciata, who was the actual cause of it all, had eluded the trap and vanished into thin air. Only the fact that her husband languished in the prison of the dreaded Tribunal soothed his lust for revenge. Strangely enough, the trial of the Caballero seemed to slow down in a mysterious way and finally came to a complete halt. The suspect had confessed nothing and yet there seemed to be no intention on the part of the Inquisition officials to apply the tortures.

The monk was furious. He began to conduct discreet inquiries as to the motive for the uncommonly human treatment of a prisoner. Although the methods and procedures of the Inquisition machine were usually covered with the veil of utmost secrecy, the monk's excellent connections and an inborn sense of reading between the lines soon revealed to him the role of the Archbishop of Cordova in matters [page 76] y Aguilar. He spent many a sleepless night thinking up new plans, only to put them aside as impractical or impossible to realize.

Then came the news of the sudden death of the Grand Inquisitor Ricoberti and the appointment of his successor, none other than the Cardinal-Archbishop of Cordova. Fray Balthasar was shocked. His thirst for revenge would have to remain unquenched. But Balthasar was not the man to let obstacles block his way. He went promptly into action.

Don Alphonso Fernandez received his appointment with outward calm. Two score years of pretending had taught him the wisdom of hiding one's true feelings at a time when justice and freedom were dreams of the past. Actually, he was tense with excitement over the good tidings and impatient to begin the great work. He settled his affairs as quickly as possible, selected a Bishop of the Diocese as substitute until his return and set out on the long journey to Madrid.

He traveled with a large entourage and with great pomp, as befitting the head of the Inquisition. Raphaelo never left his side, as this was the only protection against any possible interference from the Hermandad. The two men shared the same tent every night, where they recited devotedly the daily prayers and indulged in extensive and learned discussions of Judaism and its teachings. During the [page 78] entire journey the name Manuel y Aguilar was never mentioned. Raphaelo had decided to wait until the Cardinal was officially inaugurated.

On the eighth day the group reached the gates of Madrid. There began a festive procession through the narrow streets of the old city, whose population, overwhelmingly Catholic, gave the new Grand Inquisitor a tremendous ovation. He appeared to differ greatly from his predecessors who, on similar occasions, raced through the city in fast carriages, hidden behind heavily veiled windows. The new overlord appeared perfectly at ease and actually seemed to enjoy the enthusiasm of the crowd. He waved graciously in all directions while two black slaves on white horses threw hundreds of glittering gold and silver pieces high into the air. Raphaelo, following in an open stagecoach directly behind Don Alphonso's carriage, watched with disgust the noisy spectacle of wildly fighting men, women and children trying madly to catch the precious coins raining down on them. "And these people call themselves the proud descendants of the supposedly most cultured nation in the world," thought Raphaelo contemptuously.

The next day was declared a holiday for the capital. The new Grand Inquisitor was to be inaugurated in a solemn ceremony. The act took place in one of the oldest churches of Madrid, which was crowded to the last inch. Thousands of devoted and [page 70] expectant worshippers impatiently awaited the main event of the day, the inaugural speech of the new head of the Inquisition. This used to be a spicy and witty tirade against the Jews and the Moors and all unbelievers and was usually highly entertaining in its biting sarcasm and wild attacks against all enemies of the Church. This time, however, the devoted followers, among them many officials of the Inquisition, were treated to a strange spectacle. The new Grand Inquisitor preached love and kindness instead of hate and revenge, tolerance and charity instead of passion and greed. He spoke of the brotherhood of man-whoever heard of such an idea!--and, stranger yet, he failed completely to mention the hateful Jews, the pet topic of his predecessors. Disappointed and bewildered, the crowd surged out of the church. And there was more to come.

Raphaelo was waiting impatiently in the gold and white reception hall of the Inquisition Palace. Thus far he had carefully refrained from mentioning the case of Manuel y Aguilar to his illustrious friend. There was no more time to lose. He had to act at once.

There was a commotion in the front hall. After a few moments Alphonso entered quickly, still wearing the scarlet and gold robe with the cross of glittering diamonds hanging from a golden chain.

"Ah, here you are, my friend," he sighed wearily as he sank exhaustedly into a deep plush chair. [page 80] Presently he began to chuckle to himself. Turning to Raphaelo he said laughingly:

"You should have seen the faces of my audience when I spoke of tolerance and love. Such words have seldom been heard here before. How they flinched and winced and twisted, these honorable officials! Ha, they had to remain in their seats and listen to a Jew's passionate plea for humanity. And more blows will be struck tomorrow."

His eyes flashed and he showed a determination that seemed fierce enough to overcome all obstacles.

For a minute or two Raphaelo remained silent. he Cardinal needed rest. Yet he had to disturb him. He got up and approached the chair in which Alphonso, lay slumped, his eyes closed.

"Alphonso," he called softly. "What is it, my friend?" murmured the Cardinal sleepily. "I am terribly tired, is it very important?"

"It is," said Raphaelo simply, grasping the Cardinal's shoulders. "Listen, my brother," he whispered passionately, "and listen carefully. I have refrained from mentioning the case of Don Manuel during the past weeks because we both waited for this day. Now that it is over I wish to remind you of your great-nephew, who is still languishing in the prison of the Inquisition whose new head you are."

The Cardinal sat up. He was wide awake now. "Did you think for a moment I had forgotten Manuel?" he retorted. "Oh, it sounds very simple. [page 81] I just sign an order for the release of the suspect y Aguilar. It is not as easy as that. My name also happens to be y Aguilar. Nothing would please my enemies more than a faux pas, a wrong step on my part. It would not be the first time that a Grand Inquisitor has been forced to resign from his post. No, Raphaelo, the time for action has not yet come. First the head of the Hydra must be smashed. Then its limbs will be rendered harmless."

"And what are you going to do?" asked Raphaelo anxiously.

"Wait and see!" replied Alphonso smilingly. The very next morning the new Grand Inquisitor struck his first blow. He presented to the State Council a carefully prepared document, containing a detailed description of the ruthless methods of the Inquisition and of the countless atrocities committed against innocent citizens. There was also included a highly confidential list of the leading henchmen and their individual crimes.

The Council was deeply impressed. A special Junta (commission) was set up to investigate the situation. Its report went far beyond the facts attested to by Don Alphonso. For the first time, the Council, whose members had privately known the facts all along, was in a position to act upon the official complaint of the Grand Inquisitor. The prisons of the Inquisition filled rapidly with the henchmen and underlings who were responsible for the cruel death of [page 82] thousands of innocent victims. Terror swept through the ranks of the organization. The blood-thirsty tigers trembled in their hideouts. A new era seemed to dawn over tortured Spain.

THE DOMINICANS WERE furious. They considered themselves the real rulers of the Inquisition machine and they had come to look upon the Grand Inquisitor as a mere figure-head. And now this puppet, with one stroke, jeopardized their plans and their positions. This must not be allowed to continue.

A secret meeting was called. It was unanimously decided to remove the Grand Inquisitor at all costs. There was, however, sharp disagreement on the question whether the hated man should be assassinated or put out of office by other methods. The argument lasted all night. Finally Fray Balthasar, the delegate from Valencia, sprang up, jumped on a chair and raised his hands.

"Friends, comrades in arms!" he cried. "There is no other way but to kill the scoundrel. There is one man who can do it: I. Give me your permission to- night and I promise to accomplish the feat within the month."

The gathering was impressed. Silence followed his bold words. When the vote was taken on the monk's proposal, there was not a single disagreeing [page 83] voice. Fray Balthasar expressed his appreciation in a fanatical speech which aroused great enthusiasm among the assembled delegates.

The monk began his preparations without delay. He surrounded himself with a select band of gangsters, who were afraid of nothing. He bribed several court attendants of the Inquisition Palace to get information about the activities of Don Alphonso, his habits and daily routine. But all his feverish activities led nowhere. Soon he came to the conclusion that it was impossible to assassinate the Grand Inquisitor by direct assault. Neither could it be accomplished by poisoning the food or the drinks. For it was the avowed policy of all Inquisitors, introduced by Torquemada (of cursed memory) to let no one come into their presence without having been searched for hidden weapons. They did not touch food or drinks that were not tasted by trusted underlings. Whenever they appeared in public they were surrounded by fifty horsemen and two hundred soldiers on foot, all armed to the teeth. They took no chances. Don Alphonso Fernandez was no exception.

Then came the day when the monk found the answer. He had been told that it was the Grand Inquisitor's custom to keep two burning wax candles in his bedroom during the night. He had a skilled druggist make a dozen or more strongly poisoned wax candles, which he then sold cheaply to the merchant who supplied the palace with all the necessary [page 84] goods. The odor of the poisoned candles was strong enough to kill five oxen.

IT WAS A WARM SUMMER evening. Accompanied by Raphaelo, Don Alphonso walked rapidly along the Via Andalucia. He was disguised as a Spanish nobleman in order to avoid being recognized. The friends were engrossed in a lively conversation.

"Are you sure that she is at home?" inquired the Cardinal.

"Quite sure. She is expecting you."

"Good. Raphaelo, where did you put the files on Manuel's case which arrived this afternoon?"

"I put them on your desk so that you can find them at once when you return home."

The Cardinal was pleased. "I shall study them tomorrow and I am sure that I will find enough evidence to effect Manuel's release."

Raphaelo looked at his friend with eyes expressing a silent and fervent plea. "I beg of you, Alphonso, do not postpone this all-important matter until tomorrow. Let us study the case tonight upon our return. Tomorrow the junta has scheduled another meeting. You can then put the case before it and demand poor Don Manuel's immediate release."

The Cardinal laughed. "You really love your master, my friend," he said pleasantly. "Believe me, [page 85] I love him also. But I do not see why one night makes such a tremendous difference. I am tired. I will study the files tomorrow. And now, let us not talk about it anymore."

Raphaelo sighed. He knew how good-natured and kind the Cardinal was but he feared that the pressure of work might delay the release of Don Manuel.

Alphonso interrupted his thoughts. "I think this is the house," he whispered. "It looks like the one you described to me."

Raphaelo looked up. They were standing in front of a large white villa, the walls of which were entirely covered with vines and ivy. "Yes, this is the house," he whispered back. He knocked at the door. It was opened immediately, as if their arrival had been observed from the inside. A maid led the visitors to a small luxuriously furnished room, the private boudoir of Donna Catharina de Montalto. Two ladies rose and walked towards them. The Cardinal knew one of them. She was his second cousin, Catharina. The other lady would be Donna Annunciata y Aguilar, whom he had never met before.

Annunciata rushed towards her great-uncle and kissed his hand. At the sight of the faithful Raphaelo she broke into bitter tears. "What will happen to my poor Manuel?" she cried.

"Calm yourself, my dear," said the Cardinal softly. "In a few days you will be reunited with your beloved husband. You will never have to fear the [page 86] Inquisition again. The Holy Tribunal will soon be dissolved."

Tears streamed again from the eyes of Annunciata. But they were tears of happiness and joy. Alphonso, turned to Donna Catharina. "My cordial thanks to you, honored lady, for granting refuge to my great- niece."

"Your Eminence," replied the lady, "it is-"

"Shsh," interrupted the Cardinal sharply, "forget the title. The walls have ears. No one must know that I am here. May I see the little Inez of whom I heard so much?" he added warmly.

Annunciata smiled beneath her tears. "Oh, she is a lovely child," she exclaimed, "and she is all that is left to me, my only hope."

She led the way upstairs to the child's bedroom. The little girl slumbered peacefully in her bed. Don Alphonso kissed and blessed her. Then he said solemnly:

"As soon as the Inquisition is dissolved, I will pay you a visit in Valencia and pray in a synagogue that need not be hidden underground. I hope I win be able to come soon and also make the acquaintance of your son Diego."

At the mention of her son, whom she had given up as lost, a shadow of grief crossed Annunciata's face. Alphonso noticed it and tried his best to comfort the bereaved mother. For a long time they talked about their mutual family and the situation of the [page 87] Jews in Spain. It was long after midnight when the two friends returned to the palace. No one noticed them. Raphaelo had already walked up the stairs to his own bedroom when Alphonso called him back. He found the Cardinal in his bedroom, sitting half undressed on a couch. "Raphaelo, do you notice something strange in the room?" he inquired.

Raphaelo looked around. Everything seemed unchanged. "The candles are burning low tonight," said the Cardinal angrily. "Tell my valet to get a new supply of candles from another merchant. And now, good night."

Raphaelo remained standing by the couch, showing no intention of leaving. He looked pleadingly at his friend. The Cardinal understood. "Oh, you are thinking of Manuel's files," he yawned. "Really, I am too tired. I promise to attend to them tomorrow."

Tomorrow! The next morning the Grand Inquisitor, Cardinal Archbishop Don Alphonso Fernandez y Aguilar de Cordova, was found dead in his bed!

VIII. TORTURE

THE NEWS OF THE sudden and mysterious death of the popular Grand Inquisitor swept like a tidal wave throughout Spain. It struck the champions of justice and freedom like a bolt of lightning from a blue sky. Overnight all their plans and hopes had turned into shabby illusions. The dreaded Inquisition Tribunal loomed more terrifying than ever before.

The broad Via Gandolfo was crowded with thousands of curious spectators who were attracted by the pomp and ceremony of the state funeral parade which surpassed even the impressive spectacle of the inauguration parade. Two giant white crosses mounted on silver-lined carriages drawn by fiery Arabian horses formed the head of the long funeral procession, which moved slowly past the silent crowds while the bells of the churches tolled monotonously. Behind the black-draped hearse walked the highest dignitaries of the Catholic Church and the representatives of the royal family. They were [page 89] followed by officials of the Inquisition, many of whom had just been released from prison by a hastily granted amnesty. Their stony faces betrayed no sign of emotion but their thoughts could easily be guessed. They considered the sudden death of the Grand Inquisitor as a heavenly sign (who would think of murder!) of the necessity and justification for a continued Inquisition. They had great plans for Spain and the future.

Raphaelo was too shocked and bewildered by the unexpected passing of his dearest friend and protector to be able to think clearly. One thing he realized at once: The cause of Manuel y Aguilar was lost! Now nothing stood in the way of the monk to go ahead with his devilish plans to extinguish the entire family. For a while Raphaelo toyed with the idea of going back to Valencia to give himself up in order to save Don Manuel. But he knew only too well that the Inquisition never let go of a victim once he was in its power. He decided finally to spend the next few weeks in the house of Donna Catharina until the wave of renewed persecution- which could be expected shortly - would abate. Then he planned to return secretly to Valencia to see what could be done.

The henchmen of the Inquisition made sure this time that no traitors would sneak into their ranks and undo all they had built up in long years of hard work. The Bishop of Segovia, Don Balthasar [page 90] de Mendoza-who was known to be an ardent admirer and blind follower of the Inquisition-was elected as successor to the late Don Alphonso. He was so impressed with the magnitude of his new position that he threw caution overboard and indicted the Bishop of Avila, the personal Father Confessor of the King, who was his arch enemy, before the Grand jury of the Holy Tribunal. This hasty action almost cost him his job, but he held on to it stubbornly and eventually forced his adversary to leave Spain and seek protection with the Pope in Rome.

This victory considerably strengthened Mendoza's position. His next move was to dissolve the Royal junta which was set up under his predecessor to investigate the numerous scandals and crimes of the local Inquisitors. The criminals were re-instated in their offices, where they continued as before to suck out the life blood of the Spanish nation.

During an investigation of the unfinished cases against suspected Marranos, the files of Don Manuel y Aguilar came to light. The new Grand Inquisitor was delighted. This suspect appeared to be a relative of his hated predecessor. Naturally he had been spared the tortures and he even lived comfortably in a private room within the prison walls. This was going to be different from now on. He would show these sly Marranos that a new and stormy wind was blowing. He sent a special courier with the dossier to Valencia together with an angry letter reprimanding [page 91] the local Inquisitors for their negligence and ordered the immediate reopening of the case against Manuel y Aguilar.

More than four months had passed since the arrest of Don Manuel. The once handsome and tall an was now a sorrow sight. The constant worries and anxieties over the fate of his family and his own future, and the lack of fresh air and physical activity, had paled his cheeks, bent his stature and bleached his hair. He had lost much of his former weight, for he touched nothing but water, bread and some fruit. During the entire period of his detention he was kept strictly isolated and thus had no knowledge of Raphaelo's efforts to save him and of his great-uncle's heroic attempt and unhappy failure. His transfer to a private room, better and more polite treatment, and above all the absence of the threatened tortures, had given him some indication of secret strings pulling for him. But he had, of course, no clear idea of what was going on.

The uncertainty ended abruptly early one morning. The prisoner was still fast asleep on his modest bed. Gray dawn filtered into the sparsely furnished room. The fateful silence was broken by the cruel swishing of a leather whip upon the sleeping form. With a frightened outcry Manuel sat up-to find the grinning face of the Inquisitor above him. Another vicious blow. Manuel felt blood trickle from his bare arm. [page 92]

"Take the dog outside!" shouted the Inquisitor. Still half asleep, Manuel was dragged by two guards into a large bare room. Suddenly he was wide awake. He realized that he was in the dreaded torture chamber, which he had never seen before but often heard about in frightened whispers. He looked around. The room was empty except for a large desk in a dark corner across from the door. He looked closer and there was his arch enemy.

"I am glad you have finally discovered me," said the Inquisitor with unexpected politeness. "You look disturbed. Forgive me for having bothered you so early."

He yawned and playfully fingered a long thin object which Manuel painfully recognized as the vicious whip that had drawn his blood. He made no reply. There was nothing he could have said. He was wondering what had caused the sudden change of attitude. Had they discovered the rest of the family? Was Raphaelo caught? He had no answers to these burning questions but he was certain that he would find out soon. He did not have to wait long.

"Don Manuel y Aguilar," said the Inquisitor, "I ask you once more to make a frank and full confession."

"Why do you keep me in this prison," replied Don Manuel. "Why has my trial not yet begun?"

The Inquisitor got up and walked slowly around [page 93] the desk. "You refuse to answer my question? Well, I refuse to answer yours." He smiled cynically and continued his menacing walk around the desk. Suddenly he wheeled about, faced Manuel squarely and announced dramatically:

"Your great-uncle upon whom you have relied is dead!"

He looked sharply and curiously at the prisoner. If he had expected a violent reaction, he was due for a rude disappointment. Manuel moved no muscle. But his mind worked feverishly. Now he knew the reason for the changed treatment. His only hope had dissolved into thin air. Tortures and the final burning at the stake were to be his certain lot. He grew strangely calm, even confident. He had nothing to lose.

"I have never relied upon human beings alone," he replied quietly. "Theirs is but a limited vision. I set my whole confidence in the Eternal G-d.-

The Inquisitor was somewhat taken aback. His carefully prepared strategy had failed in its essential purpose. The prisoner appeared not to be visibly impressed. "Do you then refuse to confess," he hissed furiously.

"I have nothing to confess," was the calm retort. The prisoner's strange calm in the face of a hopeless situation was more than the Inquisitor could comprehend. In his fury he grabbed his whip and struck the prisoner several vicious blows. His fury [page 94] still raging, he seized Manuel by the neck and dragged him towards a low door, which Manuel had failed to notice before. He opened the door and pushed the prisoner inside.

"Take a good look around," he shouted. "It will be the first and last time that you see this room consciously!"

Manuel saw all the torture instruments that they had shown him during the first interrogation. But he was given no time for reflection. Two husky men, the upper part of their bodies bare, seized him brutally, tore off his clothes and pressed him upon a long wooden bench. Another man in a white robe --obviously a doctor or a medical student-watched indifferently. Ile henchmen raised his body slightly, one pulling his head and the other the feet, while a d-iird tormenter, using a sharp-tongued leather whip, lashed the outstretched body with a series of hard, merciless blows. Despite the inhuman pain, the unfortunate prisoner made no sound.

"Will you confess?" shouted the Inquisitor.

There was no answer.

The henchmen seized their victim and bound him to a low chair. The thumbs of both hands were put into an iron vise, which was then screwed together until the bones snapped out of their joints. The torture distorted Don Manuel's features and a deep groan broke from his lips. But no words came.

"Will you confess?"

There was no answer. [page 95]

Now the second degree of the tortures was slated to begin. A guard brought in the Spanish boots and was about to put them on the prisoner's feet when the latter suddenly indicated with a weak movement of his head that he wanted to speak. The Inquisitor smiled contentedly. The sight of the infamous boots usually loosened the tongues of the suspects. He bent forward to catch every word.

"Kill me," cried Don Manuel with his last strength. "I will make it easy for you! Listen then: I am a Jew! I hate and despise you! Burn me at the stake! I will gladly die to atone for my sins against the Only G-d."

The Inquisitor and the doctor exchanged knowing glances. It always started this way. It did not matter much whether they shouted insults at the Inquisitor. The main thing was that they confessed their guilt. Usually they lost all self-control and blabbered their heads off about everything one cared to know. Poor devils. It did not help them much. The stake had to be fed!

The confession of the suspect was duly recorded. Nevertheless, the Inquisitor continued the cross- examination.

"Does your wife also adhere to Judaism?" Don Manuel had spoken enough. He said no more.

"Answer me! Is your wife a Jewess?"

The defendant looked at him silently. [page 96]

"We know how to make you talk," screamed the Inquisitor, his face crimson. He waved his hand. The Spanish boots were brought in again. Their outside was covered with screws while small sharp knives protruded from the inside. They were put on the feet of the victim, almost reaching up to his knees. The screws were tightened. The boots did their gruesome work. Manuel's feet and legs were a bloody mass of bones and flesh.

"Is your wife a Jewess?" No answer.

The Spanish boots were taken away. Now the thumb of the right hand was bound to the big toe or what was left of it---of the left foot and put into the iron vise. The same was done with the thumb of the left hand and the big toe of the right foot. Then the vise was tightened. The whole body seemed to break apart. But Don Manuel answered not a single question.

More dead than alive, Don Manuel was dragged back to his cell. His wounds were cleansed and treated with a special oil. Strong wine was admin- istered, which soon revived him. Strangely enough, he received the best medical care and as much food as he wanted. Manuel did not know that the Inqui- sition wanted its victims to be healthy and strong when they mounted the stake. Had he known, it would not have made much difference to him. Pain [page 97] racked his tortured and broken body and he prayed to G-d for a quick and merciful death.

After long weeks, the day came when the doctor declared him fully recovered. He was at once ordered to appear for another cross-examination. Don Manuel did not retract an inch from his original confession. Yes, he was a Jew and he despised the Inquisition. No, he would not say anything about his wife or his family. Again the henchmen came with their torture instruments. Manuel trembled as he recalled the unbearable pain. But he uttered no sound.

"Defendant!" announced the Inquisitor sternly. "Today we shall begin at once with the third degree. They will hang you up by the arms and weight your feet with heavy stones. Then your head will be caught in a machine that will crush it as the boots crushed your feet and legs. Burning wax will be poured on your nails-"

"And if you will tear off one limb after another, I will add nothing to my confession!" interrupted Manuel defiantly.

"Do your duty, guards!"

The henchmen seized the accused and undressed him. Once more the Inquisitor implored him to come to his senses and confess. Manuel refused. The Inquisitor calculated quickly. If he were again to go through with the tortures, the Jew would not be strong enough to live till the auto-da-fe which was [page 98] scheduled to take place in the near future. "As you wish," he said coldly. "You have just pronounced your own death sentence."

When Manuel was alone in his cell, he prayed fervently to G-d, thankful for having been spared a repetition of the terrible tortures. How lovely was death compared to what he had gone through!

Toward evening the sentence was read to him: Death at the public stake! "0 G-d, Your Will is Almighty," was all he uttered as he heard the sentence.

He spent the night sleeping peacefully and quietly. The magic of dreams took him from the gloomy surroundings and brought him once again to his house and into the arms of his beloved family. And he heard a Heavenly voice, dear and strong:

"Do not fear, do not tremble, for I am with you -My help will come soon!"

Such were the dreams of a man condemned to death. A smile played on his lips. Manuel slept peacefully and quietly. He did not tremble. He did not fear. "My help will come soon!"

IX. AUTO-DA-FE

IT WAS A STORMY DAY, TWO weeks later. At daybreak, the gloomy pealing of the bells announced to the people of Valencia the first auto-da-fe in more than a year. From all sides, festive crowds streamed into the wide public square, which was soon filled to capacity. Special stands were provided for high dignitaries of the crown, the Arch-bishop and the Conclave, for the Grandes and their families and the civil authorities.

A great holiday it was! The honorable citizens of Valencia believed quite sincerely that it was a holy duty to track down and eliminate all unbelievers. That was what they had been taught from early childhood and no one had ever told them differently. It was one of the basic policies of the medieval Church to keep its followers in complete ignorance of its real aims and purposes. It was so much easier to rule people who did not know too much.

This time one hundred and eighteen victims - in person or represented by their pictures - were to be [page 99] burned at the public stake. Among them was Don Manuel, who was to burn alive as a punishment for his stubborn refusal to repent his "crimes." There were also twenty-two fugitive Marranos, among them the family y Aguilar and their entire staff, whose pictures were to be burned along with the real-life victims.

The tragic procession set out from the Palace of the Inquisition. Dominican monks, clad in blood- red robes and carrying the flags of the Holy Order, began the parade. They were followed by the remorseful suspects who wore a simple "San Benito," a shabby, sleeveless blouse of yellow wool, adorned with a purple cross. The convicted Marranos and the pictures of the fugitives formed the rear of the ghastly procession. Far behind followed a colorful and cheering crowd, composed mainly of priests and monks.

The procession wound its way slowly through the main avenues of Valencia until it came to a halt in front of the great Cathedral. A Dominican monk mounted an outdoor' pulpit and preached a fanatical sermon on the greatness and glory of the Holy Inquisition and on the importance of repentance. During the sermon, all victims were forced to hold an extinguished torch in their hands, with the exception of the remorseful suspects, who were given a green lighted wax candle with which they knelt after the sermon, confessed their guilt once again and were [page 100] then solemnly absolved. They were permitted to return home but the mark of disgrace never left them nor their descendants. The Dominican monk appealed once more to the Marranos to repent their crimes and join the ranks of the believers. When no answer was forthcoming, he approached each condemned man and struck him a light blow on the chest as a symbol that the Inquisition now delivered them to the jurisdiction of the civil authorities. For the Holy Tribunal never executed a man. It was clever enough to leave the actual execution to the local courts, thus making the citizens co-partners in crime.

The stands were filled to capacity. The Senoras were dressed in their very best, children played their timeless, innocent games and army officers in elegant uniforms exchanged ceremonious greetings. It was a holiday, to all intents and purposes, complete with harlequins, trained monkeys and rope-dancers. There was not a single person lucky enough to have obtained a ticket of admission who would have preferred to stay away from the ghastly spectacle. There even was a large influx of out-of-town visitors, as this was the first public auto-da-fe in many a month. Sensation-hungry spectators filled every inch of the wide square and the windows and balconies of the old houses almost burst under the weight of curious onlookers. It was a great day in Valencia.

The flames crackled and shot high into the air. [page 102] Tension swept through the crowd as the victims were assembled directly in front of the stake, their faces garishly illuminated by the blazing fire. The sky was covered with dark, low-hanging clouds and a sharp breeze blew in from the sea, stabbing furiously at the flames and lashing the endless sea of faces around the stake. An air of foreboding and doom could be clearly felt and the festive gaiety of the spectators gave way to a solemn and serious mood as the full realization of the gigantic crime to be enacted before their very eyes dawned upon them.

Shudders ran through everyone's spines as the crudely-painted pictures of Donna Annunciata and the other fugitives were delivered to the greedy flames, accompanied by the dull rolling of the drums. They were followed by black coffins containing the remains of heretics who had died without showing repentance for their crimes.

Don Manuel, the worst ... criminal" of them all, was slated to be the last victim. The judges decided on this delay as a special kind of torture. They were right. With wide-open, shocked eyes, Manuel witnessed scenes of such fiendish horror and perversity as he had never imagined them in his most oppressive nightmares. He was longing for the moment when the merciful flames would end his agony.

Among the spectators were many of the secret Jews of Valencia. They could not afford to stay away from the auto-da-fe, doubly horrible for them, [page 103] without causing suspicion. Benedito, the butcher, was also there, pressed in by the crowd and unable to move. His eyes filled with hot tears when he saw the familiar figure of Don Manuel standing erect and aloof by the stake. His fists clenched in helpless rage as he watched one victim after another climb the high stake and disappear behind the red and purple flames. There was nothing he or anyone else could do. Don Manuel was doomed and with him the Marranos of Valencia. For he realized that a revival of the congregation was out of the question. There was only one thing left to do: emigrate. But who would be there to assist and advise them now that Don Manuel y Aguilar was about to enter a better world!

He looked around in despair, hoping to find a fellow-sufferer with whom he might share his worries and anxieties. All he saw were Spanish men and women, indifferent expressions on their smooth, dark faces.

But there - less than ten feet away - where had he seen this profile before, the dark flashing eyes, wrinkled forehead and curved lips? He looked closer and suddenly recognized the stranger. It hit him like a thunderbolt: It was Raphaelo. "The fool," thought Benedito, when he had recovered from the shock. "Has he come to attend the burning of his picture? If somebody recognizes him, he is lost!" [page 104]

Indeed, it was difficult to recognize Raphaelo. He wore a black false beard which made him appear much younger than he really was. He had dyed his hair and eyebrows and exhibited a black cross painted on his forehead, the symbol of priestly devotion. His eyes were fixed fanatically on Don Manuel as his hand fingered a hidden object under his wide black garb.

"Is he planning to rescue his master by force?" thought Benedito, terror-stricken. It was too late for further speculations. The events of the next few minutes moved too fast.

The fury of the storm increased. The sky was almost black, although it was still early in the day. The blasts of the wind punctured the eerie silence as if nature herself were holding her breath. The auto-da-fe was almost over. Only Manuel y Aguilar was still alive. He held the main interest of the crowd as he was one of the wealthiest and most influential citizens and one who had enjoyed great popularity.

The henchman seized Manuel and bent down to tie his feet together. "Take your hands off me," cried the condemned. His eyes flashed like fiery coals and his arms were raised high in a majestic gesture. He stood there in proud defiance, a picture of almost invincible strength. The crowd was stunned. This was drama of the first magnitude. The henchman stepped back, uncertain as to the next move. A [page 105] black-garbed priest stepped up, holding a white cross high above his head and exhorting the stubborn prisoner to use the last moments of his life to repent his sins.

Then the unbelievable happened. Don Manuel grabbed the cross, held it high for a moment in a gesture of wild triumph and then sent it crashing on the head of the priest bursting it into a thousand pieces.

Panic seized the crowd. A thousand voices took up the cry: "Tear him apart!" The infuriated spectators threatened to storm the barriers, to throw themselves upon the defenseless Jew. At this dramatic moment, nature herself came to the aid of the victim. A tremendous earthquake shook the vicinity of Valencia. Houses tottered, overcrowded balconies crashed to the ground. Flames licked at the wooden stands, tearing them apart like thin paper and scattering the panicky people all over the square. Great sheaves of lightning illuminated the horrible scene as a roaring tornado descended upon the city, whipping the flames sky high in a whirl of destruction that threatened to engulf the entire city. The air was filled with the cries of thousands of women and children who were thrown to the ground and trampled under the merciless feet of the fleeing crowd.

In the midst of the confusion disaster struck again. The earth shook for the second time, causing the [page 106] stone-tower of the ancient university to crash with a thunderous roar. Screaming, the crowd dispersed in all directions, but its flight was barred by burning debris which filled the streets leading to the square. The mob turned around in despair, just in time to witness a strange spectacle: A black-garbed figure pushed its way through the hysterical crowd until it reached the spot where Don Manuel stood, still alive, calm and erect.

"Quick, Senor," whispered the stranger, "follow me! I have come to save you!"

Don Manuel stood silent. Only his eyes widened. He was like one who has returned from another world. Then a cry, a wild, hoarse cry broke from his lips: "Raphaelo!"

Only one man heard and understood the outcry: it was Fray Balthasar, who was standing dose by. Frustrated in his revenge, he had but one burning desire: Kill the cursed Jew who had cheated death. He grabbed a burning log and rushed up to the object of his hate. "Stop!" he shouted as he saw the strange man in black dragging Manuel away.

Raphaelo turned quickly and recognized the monk who was the cause of all this. In a tremendous leap he reached the monk's side, tore the burning log from his hand and hit him twice over the head with a strength that only hate could create. The monk staggered and fell in a faint.

Raphaelo threw his black robe over his master [page 107] to hide the latter's prison garments. This precaution proved to be unnecessary. Wherever they went, the people fled in panic. "It is the devil," they whispered to each other in awe.

"He takes the Jew alive because he has profaned the cross. He has struck a priest with his flaming sword. I saw the sparks fly all about."

For more than an hour the two fugitives ran on without once turning around. The horror far behind, they finally reached Grao, where a Dutch ship lay in port ready to sail for the West Indies. Raphaelo had planned to leave on it for Holland after witnessing the execution of his unfortunate master. He had never dared to hope that he would be accompanied by the same man who had faced certain death only a little while ago. "The ways of G-d are just," he thought gratefully. "Blessed be His Name forever!"

X. DIEGO Y AGUILAR

THE HEAD OF THE FAMILY y Aguilar had left Spain. Donna Annunciata and her daughter remained behind. In spite of tireless efforts and investigations, no information as to the whereabouts and fate of Don Manuel could be obtained. Months passed by without word, and the poor, lonely woman came to the bitter conclusion that her husband was dead. All she had left in the world was her little Inez-and Diego, her little boy. While she was convinced that he was still alive, she realized that he was in the clutches of the Dominican monks, who would never let him go but would probably send him to a convent to make a fine priest out of him.

She was right. When disaster had struck the family on that fateful Sabbath Noach, little Diego, as you will remember, lay ill in his bed and had to be left behind. Fray Balthasar gleefully assumed the guardianship of the boy, effecting his immediate [page 108] transfer to the Dominican monastery in Valencia, where he was treated kindly and received the best medical care. But the new environment, the strange faces, and above all the absence of mother and father and the faithful teacher Raphaelo, caused a violent fever and high temperature that brought the poor boy to the brink of death. During his delirium he cried for his parents, Inez, Raphaelo, and even Sancha, the old cook. Balthasar tried desperately to calm the excited child. He wanted him to live and forget all about his past. Diego was to be the crowning symbol of his revenge. He must not die!

One night, as he was sitting by the bedside of Diego, who was moving restlessly under the sheets, murmuring feverishly the names of his loved ones, the monk suddenly got an idea.

"Diego, my boy," he whispered, "I have good news for you. Your parents and all the servants have escaped."

The boy slowly opened his eyes and stared at the monk. "Ibey have escaped," repeated Balthasar. "Go to sleep now and get well!"

A faint smile appeared on the chapped lips of the sick child as he sank back onto the pillows like one who has fought a strenuous battle and won. From that night on a remarkable change came over him. His eyes shone clearly, his hands were steady, and in less than a week the doctors were able to pronounce him completely recovered. [page 110]

Diego was lonely but content. During the last few weeks at home he had heard much talk about the projected departure for the Netherlands and he found it only natural that he was left behind, being sick in bed and difficult to transport. He could not know, of course, that his father languished in the Inquisition prison only a few miles away, awaiting his death sentence. Fray Balthasar attempted several times to question him concerning the customs and manner of life at home in order to assemble material to be used against Manuel y Aguilar. He could get nothing out of the boy. Diego locked in his mind all that he knew about Jews and Judaism. He even trained himself to utter no sound while he slept. He took great care not to appear in any way different from the other boys in the monastery. Soon he knew all the Latin prayers by heart and was able to participate in the ecclesiastical ceremonies as if he had never known otherwise.

But at night, when he lay alone and awake, he whispered the words Raphaelo had taught him and which were his silent cry of resistance against the life he was forced to lead: "Hear, 0 Israel, G-d, our Lord, G-d is One!"

And he did not go to sleep until he had added all the prayers that he knew by heart. Sometimes, when he was not alone, he lay awake for hours until he found a moment when he could recite the prayers unobserved. [page 111]

Summer came and it was decided to transfer the "foundling" to a convent in the country, mainly to improve his still weakened health and also to prevent any news of the imminent execution of his father to leak out. Thus Diego knew nothing of the miraculous events on the stormy day of the auto-da-fe in Valencia. But his thoughts were constantly with his loved ones and he was firmly resolved to use the first chance he had to escape and join them in Holland. The chance never came.

As time went by, the events of the past and the memories of his early youth gradually slipped from Diego's mind, eventually to disappear completely. This inevitable process was hastened by the fact that at the age of fourteen he was again transferred to another convent, where the rules and the treatment were much stricter. There was no more privacy, as he slept with twenty boys in one room. He was unable to recite the Sh'ma and the other prayers. In the beginning he tried to review them in his mind, but this practice ceased gradually until he had forgotten the words completely. The daily impressions in school and church and the continuous contact with Catholic practices proved stronger than the ties that bound him to the past.

Soon Diego became the outstanding student of the school. He advanced so rapidly that a special teacher had to be provided, as he was far ahead of the rest of the class. At the age of eighteen, the cross of the [page 112] Dominican church was bestowed upon him, making him an official member of the clergy. He obtained a position in the Chancellory of the Archbishop of Barcelona, who soon appointed him as his private secretary.

MEANWHILE THE SPANISH monarchy had undergone fundamental changes. Carlos II had died without leaving heirs. The royal houses of both France and Austria were related to the Spanish dynasty and claimed the succession for their respective princes. England, Portugal and the Netherlands took the side of Austria, not because they loved the Austrians, but to strike France and her powerful ruler Louis XIV a telling blow. This situation resulted in the Spanish War of Succession (1701-15), which ravaged Europe for more than fourteen years. In 1706, Philip of Anjou, the French contender for the throne, claimed victory and ascended to the Spanish throne as Philip V. At once, Carl of Austria hurried to Spain, where the provinces of Valencia, Aragonia and Catalonia proclaimed him ruler of Spain, as Carl III. The Archdiocese of Barcelona, among them Diego y Aguilar, loyally supported the Austrian contender.

The two opponents fought with changing luck and without being able to effect a decision. In this period occurred the conquest of Gibraltar, the giant rock which controls the straits between Africa and the [page 113] European mainland. The English, as allies of Carl 111, took possession of the Rock, which they have never since relinquished.

Carl III held court in Barcelona, the Capital of Catalonia, when the fortunes of war turned against him. Philip V marched towards the city at the head of a powerful army, poised to strike the death blow against his enemy. He attacked the strategic fort of Montjui, hoping to conquer it in one day. But the outnumbered British soldiers who manned the fort defended their positions heroically and surrendered only after a month of stubborn resistance. Now the delayed siege of Barcelona began in earnest. Nothing seemed to prevent the French from storming the city, whose garrison was pitifully outnumbered. A hasty Council of War was called in the royal castle high above the city. Count Peterborough, the British general, and Cifuentes, the Spanish partisan leader, attended the meeting. The Archbishop of Barcelona and his private secretary, Fray Diego y Aguilar, were also present.

"We must surrender," began Cifuentes, "we have no other choice."

"I am afraid you are right," said Carl sadly. "Resistance seems hopeless. It would only result in use- less bloodshed."

Fray Diego rose and bowed respectfully. "Permit me, Your Majesty, to voice my humble opinion," he said modestly.

[page 114]

The King was annoyed. What could a young man, inexperienced in military strategy, contribute to an apparently hopeless situation. But there could be no harm in listening to him. "Speak," he ordered gloomily.

"Your Majesty, Gentlemen! Do not give up until everything is lost," Diego began eagerly.

Peterborough looked at him coldly. "I do not know who you are," he said indifferently, "and it matters little. Know you well: All is lost!"

"No, Senor," cried Diego. "You seem to forget that in back of the French Army there are thousands upon thousands of loyal peasants who are ready at any moment to fight the hated French, if they are told what to do."

Cifuentes, who was best acquainted with the Spanish common man, was impressed. "You are right. A revolt of the peasants would occupy the enemy for a considerable time. But it would not prevent the final fall of Barcelona."

"But it would be postponed and we would gain valuable time," cried Diego emphatically.

"And what would that help?" asked the King.

"We would win time, Your Majesty. G-d will help us," he added simply.

The Archbishop had kept silent throughout the debate. The King turned to him. "Your Eminence, "he said pleadingly, "time is getting short. Tell us what to do." [page 115]

The Archbishop looked proudly at his young companion. "Follow the advice of my secretary," he said quietly. "Fray Diego may be a young man but his mind is clear and his decisions wise. I have come to rely upon his advice in all important matters."

His stand decided the issue. Diego was formally charged with the execution of the plan, his plan. He was to leave Barcelona in strict secrecy, slip through the French lines and whip the peasants into action. They were to be organized in small but effective guerilla bands to harrass the enemy day and night. The two military leaders offered to accompany the young priest on his dangerous mission. The offer was gratefully accepted.

The night was windy and moonless. The noise of battle had ceased and an unreal silence engulfed both besiegers and defenders. The royal castle loomed black and still over the empty streets. Suddenly a light blinked from the harbor. It was a waving lantern held by one of Diego's spies sent to reconnoiter the port. He knew that Philip lacked a good fighting fleet and that there were only a few French schooners ready to blockade the harbor. His Plan was built on this lack of naval strength. To slip through the close ranks of the besieging army would have been too dangerous. The plan was to escape by boat.

The signal had been noticed in the castle. It was shortly after midnight. Silently, the three [page 116] commanders crossed the bridge that led to the harbor. They were accompanied by a battalion of heavily armed soldiers and horse-drawn wagons piled high with all sorts of weapons. The barge was ready. In less than half an hour all were on board, including the horses and the wagons. Slowly and silently the barge sailed past the French schooners. One could distinctly see the enemy guards pace the decks in unceasing yet futile vigil. For they noticed nothing. The barge was just another patch in the darkness of the night.

Early next morning the battalion landed safely in the vicinity of Valencia. Diego was the first man to disembark. As each soldier stepped down the gangway, he received detailed orders as to further movements. It was a strange sight-the black-garbed young man in the priestly garments issuing commands and directing military strategy. But medieval Spain was used to strange sights.

The venture was a smashing success. Numerous small bands formed all over the hinterland. They attacked the harried Frenchmen in accordance with the rules of guerilla warfare: Attack suddenly in unexpected places, withdraw as quickly as you came, never be seen!

Diego directed the entire undertaking. He was everywhere, stirring the national pride of the peasants in fiery speeches and arousing them to united action. The roads were blocked to cut off the stream [page 117] of supplies for the enemy. Philip was forced to divide his army and lift the siege of Barcelona.

Philip hurried back to Madrid to recruit fresh troops and save what could be saved. But it was too late. Upon receiving the happy news of the lifting of the siege, the united English and Portuguese armies, which were stationed near the Spanish- Portuguese border, rushed towards the capital and forced Philip to retire to Burgos.

Diego and the two commanders returned in triumph to Barcelona. Never before was a priest accorded a more tumultous; reception. He was at once received by Carl in a private audience. The monarch was overwhelmed. "Fray Diego," he exclaimed, "Spain owes you eternal gratitude. You have saved my life and secured the conquest of the kingdom. Spain will never forget what you have done for her!"

But history had different plans for Carl. Through the victories of Prince Eugen, Count Starhemberg and the Duke of Marlborough over the powerful French armies, the Austrian Empire became the most influential member of the European family of nations. Carl's presence in Vienna was urgently needed. Shortly before his return, his father and predecessor, Emperor Joseph L died suddenly. Thus, as Carl V1, his son became Emperor of the Germanic nation and head of the all-powerful Austrian monarchy. This final development ended the bloody Spanish war of succession. Philip V became the uncontested [page 118] ruler of Spain and his descendants remained in power until the abdication of Queen Isabella II.

When Carl was about to leave Spain, he insisted on taking Diego along to Vienna. He had ambitious plans for his clever advisor, who enjoyed his confidence more than anyone else in the land. But Diego, as once his father before him, refused to leave his beloved fatherland to which he was attached with all the strings of his soul.

DURING THIS EXCITING period in his life, the memories of his youth never crossed Diego's mind. His family, as well as the fact of his Jewish descent, were lost in the past.

He returned to his theological studies. His thirst for knowledge was insatiable, although the pious teachings of the Church left him strangely cold. There was a wondrous longing in his soul that he was unable to explain. He was suddenly seized by a deep melancholy and he began to curse the coming of the night with its mystic shadows, its menacing and lonely darkness. He did -not know that it was his Jewish soul which irresistibly moved the strings of his subconscious.

With renewed zeal he threw himself into his work. His profound knowledge and wisdom and a great talent for preaching soon spread his name throughout the kingdom. Despite his youth, the famous scholar was commissioned to lecture at the [page 119] University of Salamanca. After two years of that, he received a call from the Archbishop of Toledo to become the administrative head of the Archdiocese for the entire district. Diego y Aguilar seemed des- tined for a brilliant career.

Toledo (originally "Toledoth," Hebrew for "generations"), Spain's oldest city, is said to have been founded by Jews who settled in the vicinity during the period of the First Temple. It is one of the strangest and most beautiful cities in all Spain. Built entirely on rocky ground, it has the shape of a tremendous stone heap. Its streets and suburbs climb to more than 3,000 feet above sea level. It is completely encircled by the broad Tajo River, which falls in roaring cascades over the ravine. A narrow bridge over the Tajo forms the only entrance to the city.

Toledo features many ancient and strange buildings. One of the largest and most impressive is El Transito, the great synagogue of Toledo, which was transformed into a church after the expulsion of the Jews in 1492. It was built by one of the great leaders in Israel, Rabbenu Samuel Hanaggid, royal minister, poet and famous commentator on the Chumash and Talmud, founder of the great Spanish-Jewish Talmudical and poetic literature. His name still shines in gold letters over the front portal of the synagogue.

Fray Diego strolled through the old city, marveling [page 120] at the beauty of its ruins. As he rounded a corner, he suddenly found himself face to face with the strange inscription above the portal of El Transito. Somehow, the curved letters struck him as once loved but long-forgotten friends. He knew, of course, that it was Hebrew, but Fray Balthasar had carefully removed every Jewish book from Diego's reach. He stood there, lost in confused memories, trying hard to remember. For a long time he studied the sign without being able to decipher its mystery.

Disappointed, he turned to go when a strange sight caught his eye. Through the open door of the front hall, he saw a silver washbasin on a low stone base. There was nothing unusual about it except for two hands of stone rising above the basin, spread apart in a peculiar manner. It struck Diego like a flash. All at once he remembered where he had seen these hands before. Somewhere in the city of his birth-deep in a cellar-a synagogue-Almemor-Aron Hakodesh - the words suddenly streamed from his lips.

In mounting excitement he entered the church. The architect who remodeled the building had not bothered to remove the various objects which characterize a synagogue. Diego stumbled upon a hidden closet which yielded a number of books that he remembered having studied in his youth: Siddurim, Chumashim, Talmud folio. With trembling fingers he leafed through the torn and yellow pages, and [page 121] a flood of long-lost memories raced through his confused mind.

He sank down on a bench, exhausted, happy. He had found the motive for the strange longing in his soul. The pictures of the past flooded his inner eye - his tall father who held him on his lap during the reciting of the Tefilloth-the beautiful mother who sat day and night by his bedside when the fever raged through his body-and Raphaelo, his good and kindly friend who taught him so many beautiful things-and Inez, the little baby sister-

Diego rose as in a dream. A multitude of questions raced through his tortured mind: Where was his family? What happened to Inez and his mother? Did his father really escape to the Netherlands or had he fallen victim to the murderers? Was he still alive? And where was Raphaelo?

With a start he realized that he himself, a Marrano, was now a member of the Holy Inquisition. If he could only find out what happened to his loved ones! Perhaps he could use his influential position to save them from poverty and possible death and restore their wealth and former position.

Diego's heart was torn between bitter facts and happy memories. He left El Transito in a daze. Did the streets and the people look different or was he imagining things? He passed many people who reminded him of his parents and the members of the underground congregation. Perhaps they were also [page 122] Marranos, secret Jews, brothers, condemned, as he was, to a life of unreality and pretense.

Diego walked on. The longing in his soul had ceased. The melancholy in his heart had given way to a deep and wonderful happiness which he could not explain. Diego did not fully realize it yet: He was no longer alone. He had found home again!

XI. A FATEFUL BULLFIGHT

THE BULLFIGHT IS SPAIN'S favorite sport and the toreador her national hero. Throughout the centuries, thousands of fanatical young men have risked their lives before the horns of a wild bull for a fleeting moment of glory. Many perished in the arena, others were maimed for life. Bullfighting is a costly game.

All Madrid was up. The foremost matador of Spain was scheduled to perform against the most vicious bull of the royal stable. Madrid's main avenue, the Prado, and the Aleala Boulevard were filled with noisy, laughing crowds, surging towards the Plaza de los Torros, the scene of the epic fight. The Senors and Senoras wore their best clothes and their faces mirrored the carefree mood which seemed to culminate in the motto: "Enjoy life while you can." Carriages drove by, filled with beautiful ladies and their handsome cavaliers. It was Monday and it was May. The sky was blue and the sun shone brilliantly. [page 124] The world was full of gay laughter. Life was beautiful.

The great gates of the arena swung open wide and admitted a mixed and colorful audience. The King and his cabinet, judges and lawyers, grandes; and shopkeepers, monks and gamblers, millionaires and beggars, natives and foreigners-all who could walk on two legs tried to enter the circus. Those who came too late or had no admission ticket circled the stadium restlessly to hear the da capo of the crowd, the applause and the wild stamping of 60,000 feet, the rolling of the drums and the blowing of the silver trumpets.

Indeed, it was an impressive sight. Twenty thou- sand spectators sat comfortably on the lower steps of the amphitheatre, while another ten thousand eager Spaniards crowded the upper terraces and broad balconies. The Royal box was decorated with the banners of Spain and France, which fluttered festively in the sunshine.

Just now the King and his entourage entered the stadium. The entire audience rose and applauded wildly for several minutes. The young King bowed graciously in all directions while the Queen, a former Princess of Savoy, gaily waved her white and gold fan. Philip V had conquered the hearts of the Spanish people by his mild and efficient rule. He showed none of the French conceit and intolerance and seemed to adhere to the motto: "Il se faut [page 125] accomoder au genie des peuples," "One must assimilate oneself to the character of the nations." Yet he categorically refused to attend a gala auto-da-fe which was planned in his honor. It was against the nature of a French prince to enjoy the spectacle of human beings being burned alive at the stake. He preferred instead to go to bullfights, which were harmless compared to auto-da-fes and which he at- tended regularly.

Directly above the Royal box, in the first row of the covered gallery, sat a gay group of young people who seemed to enjoy themselves immensely. The center of attraction was a young Senorita of great beauty, whose dark eyes sparkled like glowing coals as she waited impatiently for the matador to appear. She was in the company of another young lady and a handsome Senor who explained the rules of the sport to the eagerly listening girls.

A few yards away sat a lonely spectator, a Dominican monk, who could not avert his eyes from the beautiful Senorita. It was none other than Fray Balthasar, whom fate once more brought in contact with the family y Aguilar. He swore softly in a most unpriestly manner.

"By the love of the holy Dominicus," he murmured, "if nineteen years had not passed since the days of Valencia, I could have sworn that this girl is Donna Annunciata y Aguilar. It probably is her [page 126] daughter, who was only a baby at that time. I must make sure."

The ensuing fight no longer held any interest for the monk. His mind worked feverishly. Don Manuel's unfortunate escape cried for revenge.

Poor, gay young people! They did not feel the evil eye of the monk upon them. Had they known of his presence, their gaiety and carefree happiness would have tamed into terror and despair. For Fray Balthasar was not the man to let go of a victim once he was on his track.

DONNA ANNUNCIATA, OR Donna Gracia de Lima, had passed the long years in virtual seclusion in the house of her aunt, Donna Catharina de Montalto. She never quite recovered from the shock of the sudden separation from her husband, who she believed had perished at the stake. Neither had she ceased mourning for her little boy, who had disappeared without a trace. She never went out. No visitor ever entered the house in the suburb of Las Infantos. She devoted all her time and energy to the upbringing and education of Inez, who had grown to become a beautiful and intelligent young lady.

Then another orphan came to live in the villa. She was Francesca, a granddaughter of Donna Catharina, who had neither father nor mother and had [page 127] spent her childhood in an orphan asylum. She and Inez became fast friends and soon were inseparable. They were of the same age, had the same interests and attended the same school. When Donna Catharina died, Francesca found in Donna Annunciata a second mother, who cared for the orphan with the same devoted love she gave her own daughter. She supervised the education of the girls and, lacking a trustworthy Hebrew teacher, taught them herself all she knew about Judaism and Jewish life.

When the great day of the bullfight approached, the girls became restless. They had never appeared in public, had always shunned the limelight and it seemed to them that they missed all the normal joys of young people. They implored the mother to let them attend the fight. They promised to remain in the background and return immediately after the show. Donna Annunciata did not share their confidence. She had seen too much evil in her lifetime. But she realized that she could not shut off the girls forever from the pulsing stream of life. With a heavy heart she finally gave her permission. Don Jose de Riaz Montalto, a fine young man who was related to the late Donna Catharina, offered to accompany the girls and act as their chaperon. Off they went in a flurry of excitement. Little did they know that they were to walk straight into the long arms of the dreaded Inquisition. [page 128]

THE CROWD BECAME RESTLESS. Loud cries of "los toros, los toros" resounded through the wide arena. It was past noon and the fight had not yet begun. The men stamped their feet while the ladies clicked their feet, all of which sounded like the roar of a raging tornado. Finally the King threw the key to the bull-cage into the ring. It was caught by a stiffly kneeling matador, who then admitted the first bull into the arena, to the wild applause of the crowd. Now the spectacle began in earnest and an awed silence settled over the stadium. A matador, riding a beautiful white horse, and dressed in shiny black silk and waving a red kerchief over his head, charged towards the enraged bull. He circled the bull, shouting hoarse insults and poking his short spear right onto his nose. Thick dust whirled up and hid the opponents temporarily from the view of the spectators, who stamped their feet impatiently.

Suddenly, without warning, the bull rammed his pointed horns, his most dangerous weapon, into the flank of the horse, which reared up crazily, throwing the matador clear over its head and into the sand. Quickly he picked himself up and tried to re- turn to his horse, which lay mortally wounded, its legs stretched wide apart. But the way was blocked by the bull, which began to drive the unfortunate man slowly back towards the edge of the stands. It seemed that nothing could save him, unless he were [page 129] to jump over the barriers into the crowded stands. This was the one thing a matador did not dare to do, could not afford to do. He would never cover himself with undying shame, something which Spanish pride would never survive.

For a breathless moment the beast and the man faced each other in unspeakable hate. The crowd was on its toes, its nerves on edge. Then, in a flash, the tension broke. In a split second, as the bull lowered his head for the final attack, the matador performed an unbelievable jump over his opponent's head, landing directly between the dangerous but now harmless horns. The bull circled madly around the arena, vainly attempting to shake off the unwelcome visitor. A cry of admiration and tremendous applause rewarded the daring feat. The matador bowed gracefully in all directions and turned to go, to make room for the next hero-or victim.

Unfortunately, however, the King somehow had failed to witness the feat. He inquired as to the cause of the unusually prolonged applause. Told of the incident, he jumped from his seat and shouted to the leaving matador, "Da Capo! Da Capo! Do it over again!"

The King acted in good faith. He wanted to honor the hero as one honors an actor by calling him from the wings to repeat his performance. The matador trembled but a royal wish is a command. His second attempt became a dismal and fatal failure. Instead [page 130] of lowering his head, the bull suddenly swung his horns upward and ran them straight through the belly of the unfortunate matador. The whole stadium rose in a single outburst of anguish as the bull proudly circled the ring, displaying the dying hero like a trophy.

The little group in the first row of the covered gallery had watched the proceedings with intense interest. But Inez was frankly disappointed. When the shocking accident occurred, she rose hastily, determined to leave this ghastly spectacle, never to attend it again.

"What a dreadful thing," she exclaimed loudly and indignantly. "Let us go home. Mother was right when she advised us to stay away from this horrible amusement."

Fray Balthasar moved closer. What he heard interested him greatly.

"I agree with you," said Francesca with a shudder. "Come, let us go quickly."

Don Jose prepared to leave with the girls. But a strange priest, a Dominican monk, blocked their way.

"What, you want to leave already, Senorita?" he said slyly. "Is it perhaps because you pity the animal? Or do you feel sorry for the clumsy matador who had to pay with his life for his stupidity? I beg of you, my ladies, no real, full-blooded Spaniard bothers [page 131] with such trivialities. Only Jews and Moors are soft-hearted."

Greedily, his half-closed eyes watched the faces of the young people for their reaction.

Without a word of reply the party returned to their seats. There was nothing that could be said. How careless to talk so loudly when one was surrounded by enemies! Inez was furious at herself. But it was too late. The damage was done. All they could do now was to act like the rest of the crowd and then disappear as quickly as possible.

The spectacle began anew. It was a strict rule that no new bull could be admitted to the arena before his predecessor was killed. The picadores now began to bombard the exhausted bull with fiery banderillas, small iron nails whose crooked hooks carried a burning sponge which ended in a rocket- like contraption that exploded upon contact, like firecrackers. Soon the banderillas covered the neck, back and flanks of the tortured beast. The fire-crackers exploded and a stream of fire poured over the numerous wounds the bull had sustained from the matador's spear. Mortally wounded, the bull rolled on his back in a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames. At this moment an espada appeared on the scene and thrust his sword straight into the animal's heart. Without a sound the bull collapsed at the "hero's" feet.

Inez and Francesca could stand no more. They [page 132] looked carefully around but the sinister monk had disappeared. The little party slowly made its way towards the exit.

But Fray Balthasar had not gone. He was hidden behind a pillar where he was able to observe every move the young people made. He was well trained in the art of pursuit and thus had little difficulty in following the unsuspecting girls without losing them along the thronged boulevards. He carefully memorized the names of the streets through which they passed until they arrived in front of a large white villa in the suburb of Las Infantos. He watched them as they quickly entered the house. A few moments later the curtains were drawn. Balthasar rubbed his hands in gleeful joy. He had made a most important discovery.

Donna Annunciata anxiously awaited the return of the girls. When they finally entered her boudoir, she embraced them as if they had returned from the dead. She was not far from the truth.

Inez threw herself in a low chair and crossed her legs. "Oh, mother, you were right," she said disgustedly. "I have never seen a more stupid and cruel performance. Thank G-d that we are different from this blood-thirsty mob which cannot have enough of torture and killing."

"The Dominican monk certainly knew what he was talking about when he accused us of not being full-blooded Spaniards," added Jose laughingly. [page 133]

"What did you say?" shouted Annunciata. All color had gone from her face. She appeared terror- stricken.

"But my dear aunt," the latter said and there was reproach in his voice, "you excite yourself too easily. It is a common habit in Spain to suspect everyone else of Jewish or foreign descent."

"Oh, stop that discussion," exclaimed Francesca indifferently. "I am terribly hungry. Jose, you will stay for lunch, won't you?"

The young people gaily repaired to the dining room where the luncheon table was already set. Donna Annunciata remained behind. Jose's innocent remark had frightened her beyond words. Did some- one suspect them? Who could it be? She had met no one in years. She was certain the children never spoke to anyone about their Jewish descent. Tears welled up in her eyes. Memories of the past drifted through her mind. Was she to follow her poor husband into prison and ultimate death? What would become of her beloved child and of Francesca, whom she had come to love like her own daughter?

She sat there for hours, alone and frightened. There was no one to whom she could possibly turn. Gray twilight flooded through the drawn curtains. Her heart was heavy. She sensed disaster. It was as if she knew that the sinister monk had once again entered her life to deliver the surviving members of the family y Aguilar into the merciless claws of the Inquisition!

XII. INTRIGUES

DONNA GRACIA DE LIMA, alias Annunciata y Aguilar, paced nervously up and down the living room of her suburban home. All shades in the house were drawn but not for the purpose of keeping the heat out. Since the frightening incident at the bullfight, the small family had noticed unusual movements in the vicinity of their house. Once a maid had come upon a sinister looking man who stood on his toes in the garden trying to peek through a window while the family was at dinner. Another time, Don Jose de Montalto actually caught a man attempting to enter a back window. Unfortunately, the intruder managed to escape. Only this afternoon Donna Annunciata had seen a strangely familiar figure lurking in the bushes across the street. That was the immediate reason for her nervousness.

Of course, she knew perfectly well what was going on. That devil of a priest, the cunning Fray Balthasar, had again got onto their track, striving [page 135] desperately to catch the elusive prey. She reproached herself bitterly for having permitted the girls to attend the fights. She had found it difficult to convince them of the necessity to observe utmost caution in their social contacts. The young people had all but forgotten about the sinister priest.

Donna Annunciata's fears and apprehensions were fully justified. It was Fray Balthasar himself who was lurking in the dark shadows directly across the street. He was certain of the validity of his discovery but he needed proof. Thas was the reason why the family lately had noticed so many strangers around the house. They were desperados, employed by Balthasar to watch every movement of the family. So far he had been unsuccessful. His spies came back empty- handed. This only served to strengthen the monk's conviction that the fugitives continued the secret practice of Jewish laws and customs. Repeatedly he tried to gain access to the Senora by the simple device of knocking at the front door. Each time he was rebuffed by a maid who informed him through the dosed door that the Senora was ill and could see no one.

He began to collect bits of information from the neighbors. No, there was hardly anyone who had ever met the mysterious Senora in the white villa. She never ventured on the street. From several old spinsters; the monk gathered that the Senora had arrived in Madrid about twenty years ago, [page 136] accompanied by her small daughter and an elderly man. Shortly afterwards the latter had left the house, never to return. The gossip had it that the Senora was a wealthy widow who, for some reason, was hiding from robbers or perhaps the police. The young Senorita was supposed to be as beautiful as her mother had been twenty years ago. All these facts pointed in one direction: the mysterious lady was none other than Donna Annunciata y Aguilar.

Balthasar soon noticed that his persistent attempts to implicate the small family attracted considerable attention throughout the neighborhood. He withdrew cautiously rather than jeopardize the whole plan. Instead he fell back upon the usual methods employed in cases of this sort. He contacted a coscon whom he knew from times long past.

Coscons were fortune hunters, gentlemen of the underworld. They were mostly former soldiers who deserted their regiments for various reasons but managed to impress their "customers" by bragging about their imaginary military adventures. They were ready to commit any crime-even murder-provided the price met their demands. Needless to add that they always found plenty of customers who used these unscrupulous Senors for their dark purposes. As a rule, they did their most profitable business with the officials of the Inquisition, who were always in need of information for which they paid generously from their apparently unlimited funds. [page 137]

Messer Lopez was a very experienced coscon. He had served in the Spanish army as an enlisted man, but the daily drill proved too much for his sensitive nature. One moonless night he disappeared into the darkness, after having conferred upon himself the proud title of "Capitano."

It was this humorous gentleman whom Fray Balthasar contacted after his futile attempts to break the deadlock in matters y Aguilar. The two men met at a deserted comer during a steady downpour. Both were wet to the bones.

"My father," said Lopez, "you must be very much concerned about my health, since you insist upon holding a conference in the middle of the ocean." He sneezed heavily and pulled out a bright-red handkerchief.

Fray Balthasar laughed nervously. "Lopez, listen carefully and stop being funny. I have a very important job for you-listen to me--where are you going?" he cried as Lopez turned to go.

The coscon. looked at him in disgust. "Look, friend, I have better things to do than to stand at street corners and run the risk of drowning," he said with a sneer on his lips.

The monk understood instantly. He pulled a pack of bills from his vest and showed it to the coscon. "This will be the first installment if you will do exactly as I tell you," he whispered urgently.

Still sneering, Messer Lopez grabbed the pack [page 138] and stuffed it under his overcoat. Then he bowed ceremoniously from the waist. "Can I do something for His Reverence?" he asked sarcastically.

The pair stood there in the rain, whispering for several minutes. Then they parted quickly but not before another handsome sum had changed hands.

THE LITTLE WHITE VILLA in Las Infantos teemed with happy excitement. Don Jose de Montalto, faithful friend of the family for a good many years, had asked for the hand of Senorita Inez. Don Jose was a fine and upright young man and a passionate fighter for Judaism. He was well off as the owner of Madrid's largest silk-spinning mill. Both his parents were dead. He had neither sisters nor brothers and was the sole heir to a considerable estate. His intentions had been anticipated by Donna Annunciata for some time. Yet she could not hide her happy surprise when the young suitor strode into her boudoir and, without much ado, asked for the hand of her daughter.

"Donna Gracia," he said urgently, "please do not refuse my request. I love Inez and it is my fondest desire to make her happy."

Annunciata remembered vividly the pleasant shock his words caused. Oh, if only her beloved unfortunate Manuel could have lived to see his only daughter a bride! The memory of her dead husband [page 139] filled her with deep sorrow and caused her to insist upon a certain condition.

"I welcome you as my son-in-law," she had replied, "but I cannot give you my daughter unconditionally."

Jose jumped up impatiently. "Please tell me the condition. Whatever it is, I shall fulfill it to the letter."

Annunciata smiled bitterly. The young man reminded her of Manuel in his younger years. He used to be just as impatient and full of nervous energy.

"I know I am demanding a great deal of you," she said warmly, "but there is no other way: I refuse to stand idly by while my grandchildren will live in constant fear of the cursed Inquisition, as I have ever since I can remember. I must insist that the future husband of my daughter leave Spain as soon as possible and make himself a new home in another country, preferably the Netherlands."

Jose did not hesitate for a single moment. "I accept the condition wholeheartedly," he declared emphatically. "Of course, you have to give me time to settle my affairs and sell my business. And what are your plans for the future, dear aunt?" he added as an afterthought.

Donna Annunciata sighed deeply. "Together with Francesca I shall accompany you when you are ready to leave. But I implore you, my Jose, do not delay until it is too late." She broke into tears. "My Manuel made the same mistake," she sobbed. [page 140]

Jose tried to comfort his aunt. "Do not cry," he said soothingly. "Everything will be alright. In a few weeks we will be sailing on the high sea. And now, with your kind permission, I will have a little talk with my future wife. I hope she does not reject me," he added laughingly. He was of course certain of the outcome, having obtained her secret consent several weeks before.

The engagement was celebrated quietly. No guests were invited, in order to avoid any unnecessary commotion. This did not diminish the joy and happiness of the small family. Even Donna Annunciata looked more hopefully to the future, which now promised to bring peace and rest after the terrible years of loneliness and despair.

Don Jose tried to live up to his promise. But it was almost impossible to sell house and business without a considerable loss. Madrid was still suffering from the destitution wrought by the long War of Succession. Trade and commerce were hard hit, although many businessmen had managed to reopen their shops or factories.

A few days after the engagement party a stranger entered Don Jose's office. He was well-dressed and looked prosperous. Perhaps a prospective buyer, thought Jose hopefully.

"Do I have the honor of talking to Don Jose de Montalto?" inquired the stranger.

"The honor is mine," replied Jose. "What can I [page 141] do for you, Senor?"

The stranger seated himself on the offered chair and examined the office with sharp, gray eyes.

"You have a nice place here, Senor."

"All this is for sale," said Jose eagerly. "Are you interested in making an offer-?"

The stranger smiled. - "Oh, no, no," he said quickly.

"I am here on a personal matter. Forgive me. Senor, for not having introduced myself earlier. I am Capitano Antonio Lopez from Burgos. Tired of playing soldier, I have decided to leave the Army. Like you, my father was in the silk business. I just come from his deathbed."

At this point the Capitano produced a silken handkerchief from his breastpocket and wiped his eyes in a carefully studied gesture. Jose was duly impressed

Lopez continued his story, which he had rehearsed many times with Fray Balthasar. "Before he died, my father called me to his bedside and implored me to go to Madrid and visit his old friend, Donna Catharina de Montalto. So far I have not been able to locate her, but by sheer luck I stumbled upon your name over the entrance of this office. Surely you are the son of the lady."

Jose was touched by the apparent desire of the stranger to fulfill the last wish of his father. "I am sorry to disappoint you," he said regretfully. "Donna Catharina is dead. She was the wife of my late [page 142] father's brother." "Strange," he thought, "my aunt never mentioned the name Lopez."

"What was the full name of your late father?" he inquired.

"Don Fernando Lopez."

Lopez glanced at the young man and noticed that he hesitated. He decided that the moment had come to play his trump card. "There is something I must tell you but it must remain confidential," he said slyly, moving closer. "As a sign of recognition I am supposed to mention a certain word to Donna Catharina." He leaned over the table and whispered hoarsely: "The word is Echod"

It was difficult to observe whether the significant word had made any impression upon Jose. No muscle moved in his face and at least outwardly he remained perfectly calm. The fact that the visitor knew the word did not necessarily mean that he was a Jew.

"I have never heard my aunt mention your name," he said cautiously.

"Well, now that she is dead she will certainly not remember my father," said the Capitano. "But tell me, Senor, I remember distinctly my father telling me that Donna Catharina had a son who lived in Burgos. He was also a friend of my family. He and his wife have died a long time ago. If I recall correctly a little girl, Francesca, survived. Would you be able to tell me what has become of the girl?"

Jose breathed easier. Apparently the visitor was genuinely interested in the members of his family. His confidence was restored.

"Donna Francesca is alive and well," he replied. "She has become a very pretty girl," he added laughingly."

"'Where does she reside?"

"With my aunt."

Lopez knew that he was on the right track. "I would be very much obliged," he persisted, "if you would introduce me to your aunt. It is the last honor I can render my father," he added piously.

"I shall ask my aunt to permit you to be introduced to her," replied Jose cautiously. He was angry at himself for having been so suspicious.

The Capitano was overjoyed. "Thank you, Senor," he exclaimed gratefully. "May I come again to see you?"

"Certainly," was the friendly reply. "Tomorrow, if your schedule permits."

"Good-bye then and many thanks."

"God-bye, Capitano."

"A fine and cultured gentleman," thought Jose as be turned to more pressing business matters. "I wonder whether he is really a Marrano," he pondered as an after-thought.

The coscon was highly satisfied with his performance. He went directly to Fray Balthasar to report the success of his initial step. "And I always thought [page 144] these Marranos were so clever," he thought contemptuously.

WHEN DON JOSE TOLD his future mother-in-law of the Capitano's visit she showed no surprise at all, finding his story quite plausible. She knew that Donna Catharina had always been in contact with Marranic families in Burgos and the name of the stranger, Lopez (Wolf), seemed to indicate that he was a member of such a family. After a lengthy discussion it was decided to invite him to the house. Nevertheless, he was to be received with the utmost caution and reserve. The topics of Marranos and secret Judaism were to be strictly avoided. Fate, however, had planned a different course.

The very next morning the coscon reappeared at the office of the silk merchant and reminded Don Jose of his promise to introduce him to the family. He was promptly driven to the white villa in Las Infantos and, after a few minutes wait, was led into the modest sitting-room where the lady of the house awaited him.

The self-styled Capitano bowed ceremoniously and kissed the hand of his hostess. Annunciata was immediately repelled by the sly manner of the stranger and she received him with even greater reserve than she had planned.

"This is Don Antonio Lopez, retired Captain of [page 145] the Spanish Army," said Jose, formally introducing the visitor.

Donna Annunciata smiled graciously, although she had difficulty doing so. "I am very glad to meet you, Senor," she replied politely. "My nephew has told me many nice things about you."

The Capitano bowed from the waist. "I am flattered, Madam," he said. "I only regret not to find the old friend of my late father alive. I really wished I could have met her personally. It would have meant so much to my dear father."

He clasped his hands and cast his eyes piously to the ground. Again a feeling of mistrust swept over Donna Annunciata. She was angry at herself. Here was a perfectly harmless man trying to fulfill the last wish of his father, and she acted like a brute.

"I am very sorry for you, Senor," she said warmly. "Perhaps it will comfort you to know that Donna Catharina died peacefully and without pain. Unfortunately, she never mentioned your late father to me."

"I am very happy at least to have met you, Madam," said Lopez, ignoring the embarrassing remark of the Senora. "I am sure you can help me as much as the late Donna Catharina would have been able to.

"Are you in trouble, Senor?" asked the Senora. "If you are in need of money I would be happy to assist you with my modest means." [page 146]

"Oh no, it is not that," replied Lopez indignantly - Here was a chance for some innocent bragging and he could not resist the opportunity. '

"His Majesty, the King, treated me very kindly and rewarded me generously for my services to the fatherland. Don Philip owed much to my bravery. For it was really I who decided the battle of Almanca.

He noticed the contemptuous smile of the Senora and it was not difficult to guess her thoughts. But nothing could stop him now.

"I was the youngest lieutenant in my regiment," he went on brazenly, "when His Majesty took an immediate liking to me and often invited me to play chess with him. You know, I am pretty good at chess," he added blithely. He turned to Jose. "You see, my friend, money is no problem to me. There is something else which makes me regret the death of Donna Catharina."

-I wish he would tell us what he really wants," thought Annunciata impatiently. Aloud she said: "We are ready to help if you will tell us what is troubling you."

"No, not yet, not today," replied the coscon. He was satisfied to have won the confidence of the lady. "Some other time. I do hope you will permit me to come again?"

From this day on, the false Capitano became an almost daily guest in the house. He had most of [page 147] his meals there and soon was accepted as an intimate friend of the family. Especially the two girls found him amusing and gay and they were glad that he helped to dispel the gloom which ordinarily filled the house.

One sunny Sunday afternoon Lopez found the Senora alone at home. The Senoritas visited a park in Fuente de la Teja, accompanied by Jose. As was his custom, the coscon helped himself generously to wine and fruit and then approached Donna Annunciata, who sat by the open window, lost in thought.

"Senora," he began, "for a long time I have wanted to be alone with you. I must tell you a secret: My parents were Marranos."

He paused and waited for her reaction. Fray Balthasar had said that this was very important. But Annunciata kept silent and did not change her expression. She was not at all surprised at his disclosure.

Lopez proceeded according to plan. "Early in my youth," he continued, -I had to leave my parents' house. I was pressed into the armed services and thus never was in touch with my parents until I re- turned from the war. All I found was my old, sick father who lay near death. 'Antonio!' he said to me, I am glad you came back in time, for now I can tell you that your ancestors were Jews. I want you to become one yourself. Go to Donna Catharina de [page 148] Montalto or her relatives in Madrid and ask them to help you return to Judaism.' "

Again he paused for the Senora's reaction to his strange request, but she sat motionless.

"Now you know, Senora, why I regretted the death of the old lady so deeply. May I express the hope that you, Donna Gracia, will help me fulfill my father's last wish?"

For many weeks Donna Annunciata had wanted to take the Capitano into her confidence and ask his advice. For some strange reason she still hesitated.

"I am sorry, Senor," she replied guardedly, "but I cannot advise you in this matter."

Lopez was surprised. His surprise was genuine for he had expected, after these many weeks of careful preparation, to find her more cooperative and willing to talk freely. He threw all caution overboard.

"Are you not Marranos, you and your family?" he asked bluntly.

"Senor, what do you think of us!" The coscon was disappointed. "She is cleverer than I believed her to be," he thought. But he persisted in his attempts to trap her.

"I was sure Donna Catharina was a secret Jewess," he said slyly.

"That is possible," came the quick retort, "but she never told me about it."

Lopez tried a different way to win the lady's [page 149] confidence. "I hope you will not give me away, Senora," he said urgently.

She looked at him, for the first time, with a mingled expression of astonishment and contempt.

"I am sorry to have hurt your feelings," exclaimed the imposter, -but---'

"You may rest assured that your secret is safe, Messer Capitano."

The scoundrel who was used to men and women of low birth and common upbringing, could not but admire her composed attitude. He realized that any further attempt to trap her was futile and he left shortly afterwards without returning to the delicate subject. He went straight to the secret head- quarters of Fray Balthasar to report on the failure of his mission and obtain detailed instruction for a renewed assault.

LATE THAT EVENING, WHEN the young people had returned from their excursion, they found the mother waiting in the library, a worried expression on her face. Inez had had a glorious day with her betrothed and Francesca and she wanted to tell her mother all about it. She changed her mind when she saw her sitting in the chair by the fireplace, slightly bent forward, a forlorn figure.

"What is the matter? Is anything wrong?" she inquired anxiously. [page 150]

At first Donna Annunciata did not want to talk. She saw the happiness of the children and felt that she had no right to trouble them with her problems. But when Jose and Francesca joined in the demand to tell them of her worries, she gave in quickly and reported the strange conversation with Lopez earlier in the day.

"There is something about the man which I can- not explain," she concluded her report. "As little as I believe his brave deeds and colossal adventures in the war, as doubtful I am of the sincerity of his desire to become a Jew. Moreover, he does not look Jewish at all. His whole attitude is that of a an one cannot trust."

What she said seemed justified and sounded convincing. Yet young people have short memories; the girls and Jose were no exception and they reacted lightly to Annunciata's anxious words.

"Dear mother," said Inez laughingly, "you are doing an injustice to the good Capitano. Don't forget that he grew up practically on the battlefield. Where is the soldier who would not exaggerate in his tall tales of war."

Jose agreed with his fiancee. "I think the man deserves a chance," he said passionately. "After all, if we Marranos do not stand up for each other, how can we expect others to understand us. Lopez has turned to us as the only people who may be able [page 151] to help him. We must not shatter his hopes even at the risk of our own lives."

Well spoken and nobly thought! Poor reward awaited this young man who so earnestly advocated the brotherhood of man and the right of the op- pressed to help and understanding. His noble words were wasted on a low scoundrel and unscrupulous impostor who had come to destroy their chance of happiness and a secure future.

Donna Annunciata sighed. She was proud of her children and of their loyalty to a friend. Jose's words had awakened bitter memories of her own sad past, of the sudden and terrible flight and her arrival in Madrid, where Donna Catharina sheltered her and Inez without the slightest hesitation or fear of the possible consequences. Who was she to reject a fellow-Marrano who wanted nothing but acceptance into the faith of his ancestors. "If I could only believe in his sincerity," she sighed.

"Alright then," said Jose firmly. As the lone man in the house he felt responsible for the family. "Lopez will continue to be a friend of the house but we will be somewhat more cautious than usual. I will try to obtain more information about him and when we are absolutely sure of his integrity we will grant his request."

The women nodded approval and the matter was dosed.

But not for Fray Balthasar. He was furious. The [page 152] newly appointed Inquisitor was slated to arrive in Madrid shortly and material for an auto-da-fe in his honor was urgently needed. The coscon received new and detailed instructions on how to trap the stubborn Jews.

XIII. TRAPPED

HIS MAJESTY'S "FAVORITE soldier" continued to frequent the white villa in Las Infantos. He was well aware that his hosts treated him with reserve. It disturbed him little. it had been decided to abandon the old strategy of slow and careful approach. Instead, Lopez was to demonstrate his familiarity with Jewish customs at every occasion and liberally inject Hebrew expressions into the dinner conversation. He felt mistrust and suspicion slowly disappearing. The time was ripe for a major blow.

One evening, the small group sat together after an opulent dinner, discussing the day's events. Earlier in the day Don Jose had met a business friend from Valencia and he casually repeated some of the idle gossip that was currently making the rounds in Valencia. Lopez noticed that Donna Gracia sat silent and white-faced during her nephew's report and apparently was ill at ease. The moment had come for quick action. [page 153]

"Oh, I know Valencia well," he said to Jose. "It is a lovely old city whose very mention brings sad memories to my mind."

"Why, what happened?" asked Jose eagerly, al- ways ready to hear a new interesting tale.

Lopez looked sharply at the Senora, who sat motionless. Only her fingers moved nervously across the snowy tablecloth. The candles flickered, casting a pale light on her stony face. Suddenly it occurred to Lopez that she was still a beautiful woman. He glanced quickly at the girls but their faces betrayed only a normal interest in his story. They sat comfortably in easy chairs, busily fingering their needle-work.

He turned again to Jose and replied gravely: "I shall never forget that stormy morning when the bells of Valencia called the population to the auto-da-fe. I was one of the soldiers guarding the center square where the stake had been erected and, believe me, you never saw a ghastlier sight in your life. The cursed Inquisition certainly knows how to stage impressive spectacles."

He watched for the effect of his words but his glance met only innocent eyes turned towards him. The central figure in this slowly unfolding drama remained motionless in her chair.

"One hundred and eighteen men and women were to be burned in public," he continued brazenly, 11 some of them alive, others represented by their [page 155] pictures. I remember especially well one name which was whispered regretfully by many women surrounding me. It was that of a gentle-lady, Donna Annunciata Cazalla y Aguilar, daughter of a Don Pedro Cazalla, who was also burned at the stake; only he was there in person and died many years before, while his daughter was represented by a picture."

The first blow had fallen and, as he could ascertain from a quick glance, with considerable effectiveness. While the girls and Don Jose showed no special emotion, Donna Gracia trembled visibly and the eyes in her white face stared fixedly at the speaker.

"Are you unwell, Senora?" the latter asked sympathetically.

Annunciata awoke as from a trance. Quickly and with apparent effort she pulled herself together. "Oh no, it is nothing," she said weakly. "Do continue your story, Messer Capitano." But the wild look in her eyes contradicted her calm words.

Lopez continued his well-rehearsed story. "At that time I did not know that my own parents were Marranos. Still I was tempted to break rank and save the unfortunate victims. One tall man attracted my special attention and sympathy. He was a handsome Caballero in his best years, whose noble birth and natural dignity could not be hidden by his degrading clothes and the terrible wounds that disfigured his face. He died like a true hero. I inquired [page 156] of his name and I still remember it vividly. He was a native of Valencia and the husband of the Senora whose picture was burned. His name was Don Manuel y Aguilar."

A desperate cry broke from the lips of Donna Annunciata. Without realizing what she did, she had risen during the last part of the tragic account. Now she sank to the floor in a dead faint.

Inez and Francesca hurried to her side and carried her gently to the couch. Don Jose brought water and strong perfume, which he sprinkled upon the still, white face on the cushions. After a few minutes the mother opened her eyes slowly and uncomprehendingly. Then, as she saw Lopez bending over her, she sat up with a start and stared at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. "You saw my husband die!" she cried wildly.

-You are-"

"Yes, yes, I am his wife," was the impatient answer.

"Donna Annunciata Cazalla y Aguilar whose picture was burned?"

"The very same. Oh, Senor, can you tell me what became of my beloved Diego?"

She grasped his shoulders in a gesture of such despair that Lopez found it exceedingly hard to continue his rehearsed plan. But if there actually was pity moving his heart, it was too late to stop now. [page 157]

"The boy Diego died of typhus," he replied without hesitation.

The desolate mother broke into bitter tears.

"And I was certain that he was still alive," she sobbed, "my only, beloved son! Oh, I wish I had died instead of him."

Inez gently stroked her mother's shoulders. "You are all I have in this world," Annunciata said bitterly. "Once I was the envy of all women, rich, happy, the wife of the noblest, kindest husband, mother of two lovely children - and now, your father is dead, and your brother - you are all I have left."

Her tears flowed again and the two girls wept with her.

Lopez felt ill at ease. His mission accomplished, he desired to get out of this house as quickly as he could. He had caused enough unhappiness. His nerves were on edge. All he wanted now was to get stone-drunk and forget all this! But he needed still more evidence.

"I am sorry, Senora, to have been the cause of your sorrow." There was genuine regret in his voice. "But it gives me joy to know that I am among fellow-Marranos." The game had to be played to the bitter end. "I pray you to accept me as member in your community."

Don Jose turned to him impatiently. "I told you before, Senor, we have no congregation in Madrid. As soon as I will have sold my house and business [page 158] we will go to Holland, where a new life will begin for us. You are welcome to accompany us. Once there you will have no difficulty becoming a Jew."

"You are very kind, Senor," replied Lopez. He knew enough. The time had come to withdraw. "How happy I am to have accomplished my aim," he added slyly.

They were the first truthful words that came from his lips. He was glad and relieved that it was all over. The fate of his "friends" was of little concern to him. Business was business. Tonight he would collect the final installment of his reward.

With profuse apologies to the unhappy Senora he left quickly and went straight to Fray Balthasar. The latter was overjoyed at the good news and readily paid the promised reward, after receiving the coscon's assurance never to mention the affair to an outsider.

Balthasar drew up a lengthy document. He formally accused Donna Gracia, known as Senora de Lima, to be in reality Donna Annunciata de Valencia y Aguilar, whom the local Inquisition had condemned to death in absentia some twenty years ago. The monk declared his willingness to swear a holy oath, if necessary, supporting the truth of his accusation. He also named the daughter of the accused, Inez, her fiance, Don Jose de Montalto, and the latter's cousin, Senorita Francesca, as co-defendants, all guilty of the crime of secretly practicing Judaism. [page 159]

The document concluded with the statement that the suspects were about to sell their belongings and flee the country, presumably to the Netherlands, where they would openly confess their adherence to Judaism.

These were cold facts, cleverly presented. The Inquisition Tribunal acted promptly.

Meanwhile, Don Jose had found a prospective customer who showed interest in his property. He was to sign the final papers on the following day, in the presence of two legal aides. Overjoyed, Jose hurried home to tell his fiancee that nothing stood in the way of their early departure.

"Why have you not concluded the transaction today?" asked his aunt anxiously. "We are wasting time."

"Well, dear mother, things do not go as fast as you want them to. The buyer was not ready to sign today. What else can I do but wait."

Donna Annunciata sighed. "I wish we could leave tonight. The Spanish soil burns under my feet." She was strangely reminded of the similarity between her present situation and the day, twenty years ago, when she and Manuel had returned from their forced visit to the Church and she had pleaded with her husband to leave Spain at once, even at the risk of losing all their earthly belongings. Her nephew's reaction to her demand only served to increase [page 160] her uneasiness and the dark feeling of impending disaster.

"And what, dear aunt, shall become of the house, furniture, business and the rest of our belongings?" Jose retorted.

"Let us dose the house tonight and put it at the disposal of the Dutch ambassador. Once we are citizens of the Netherlands, the Inquisitor has no more power to interfere."

There was a sudden and violent knock at the door. The women looked questioningly at Jose. "It is probably a messenger from my customer," he said lightly, but he did not sound very convincing.

Again came the pounding at the door, increasingly impatient. Jose recalled that the servants had the day off. He left the room and slowly opened the door of the front hall. Before he was able to make a move, the door was pushed wide open and a Captain in the uniform of the dreaded Hermandad stood in the dimly lit hallway. He was followed by a dozen or more soldiers, all armed to the teeth. Behind them, in the street, Jose could see a rapidly increasing crowd of curious onlookers.

Without a word, the Captain took him by the arm and pushed him through the open French doors leading to the sitting room where the women stood motionless, unable to move or speak.

The fact that the Captain removed his hat and bowed politely to the ladies did not at all diminish [page 161] their terror. His uniform spoke louder than words.

The Captain bowed again. "Senora, and you, Senoritas, I am sure you will forgive my intrusion. I have the most disagreeable order to arrest you. The holy Inquisition summons you before its bars."

It was strange. Donna Annunciata could think of nothing but her late husband. She felt numb inside and empty. He must have felt that way when they arrested him. She felt strangely calm. Nothing mat- tered much. Then she looked at Inez and Francesca and the full realization of the tragic fate that awaited them dawned upon her. The girls were pale and speechless. Only their eyes spoke in helpless terror.

"I have brought a coach for the ladies," continued the Captain. "Follow me, please."

He turned to leave when his eye fell on Jose, who stood passively in a dark comer. "You must be the fiance of the Senorita, the silk merchant Jose de Montalto. You can save me a trip, for I have orders to arrest you along with the ladies."

Jose thought quickly. It was of utmost importance that one of the family remain at large to work for the liberation of the others.

"You are mistaken, Senor," he replied calmly. -I am Dominico Bores and arrived only yesterday from Saragossa."

The Captain looked at him sharply and decided that he was speaking the truth. "I apologize, Don [page 162] Dominico," he said politely. "Will the ladies be good enough to follow me?"

Donna Annunciata and the girls understood Jose's quick action. They passed him without a word as if he were a stranger. But as she was about to leave the house, Inez turned her head quickly and cast a furtive look at her betrothed, a look of such love, hope and despair, that it caused Jose to make a decisive and tragic mistake. Without realizing what he did, he pushed his way past the soldiers and ran to the street in order to have a last glimpse of Inez. He ran straight into the arms of a man whom he had never seen before--at least knowingly,-a man who knew him only too well. It was none other than Fray Balthasar, who would not have missed this spectacle for the world. He seized Don Jose by the arm and shouted with all his might:

"Captain, why do you let this precious bird fly away: he is the man you are looking for, Jose de Montalto."

Too late Jose realized his mistake. He fought wildly to escape but the soldiers easily overpowered him. The women could not help witnessing the scene and suddenly, to her tremendous surprise, Donna Annunciata recognized her old enemy. Fury and a hate of such intensity as she had never before experienced beclouded her vision.

"You devil! You beast!" she cried in a choking [page 163] voice. "0 G-d, I knew it! May Your anger destroy this evil man!" A large crowd listened to this brave and furious outburst in awed silence. It had been a long time since such words were heard in the streets of Madrid.

No one paid the slightest attention to a tall, middle-aged man, dressed in outlandish clothes, who tried desperately to break through the crowd. He never reached the prisoners.

XIV. DON MANUEL

NINETEEN YEARS HAD passed since the great auto-da-fe at Valencia, which had reached its unexpected climax with the sudden and terrible earthquake. The memory of the devil with his black cloak and fiery sword who snatched away the Jew y Aguilar at the height of nature's revolt, still lived vividly in the minds of the people of Valencia. Parents told their children about it and desperate teachers threatened their small charges with a sudden re-appearance of the black ghost to keep them under control.

All went off much simpler than the devil, alias Raphaelo, had expected. The fugitives hurried through the narrow streets of the panic-stricken city, which lay in complete darkness, although it was high noon. The earth trembled again and again but the two men managed to reach the little harbor of Grao where they boarded a Dutch sailboat scheduled to lift anchor that afternoon. The "Cornelius" was bound for Valparaiso, the second city of the [page 164] modem Republic of Chile which, at the time of our story, was one of the most valuable Spanish possessions in South America. From there the ship was to proceed to the Netherlands by way of The Cape of Good Hope.

As they could not possibly flee on a Spanish ship, the fugitives had no choice but to accept the prospect of a long and arduous journey. However, the trip across the ocean was quiet and uneventful and Don Manuel already looked forward to the reunion with his relatives and friends in far-off Holland. Then their good luck ran out. just when the "Cornelius" was ready to leave the South American port, news reached the city that war had broken out between Spain and the Netherlands. Being Dutch property, the ship was seized by the Spanish authorities and the two fugitives were forced to remain in Valparaiso. Few Jews lived in the beautiful city, thus adding to the hardships of the Spanish Marranos.

For fourteen long years, Don Manuel and Raphaelo were cut off from the world they knew and loved. No news of the fate of their dear ones reached them, as they were completely out of contact with the latest Jewish developments in the world of politics, literature and learning. Fortunately, Raphaelo had brought with him several tiny folios which served as their only means of study. Many times during a discussion of Talmudical and other learned subjects, the two men had to fall back on [page 166] their memories. Yet their love of learning and deep trust in G-d never left them for a moment.

Raphaelo had also managed to take along a small sum, a far cry from the vast fortune Don Manuel once controlled. When Manuel saw that they would have to remain in South America indefinitely, he bought an extensive, entirely uncultivated piece of land. He hired a few cheap laborers and, with the active help of the aging Raphaelo, soon found him- self the owner of a productive and steadily growing plantation. Yet without Raphaelo and the hope to see his family again, he could have never survived these terrible years of loneliness and mental anguish.

Finally, peace came like a gust of fresh sea-wind after a hot and sticky day. Without hesitation, Manuel sold his plantation and made the necessary preparations for an immediate return to the Continent. The "Comelius" had been repaired and over- hauled and one blue spring morning it sailed down the bay, the Dutch flag fluttering in the free air. Don Manuel and his old but still active and vigorous servant stood at the railing. Not once did they look back. All the loveliness of Valparaiso was wasted on these two. They stared hard ahead at Europe, a Jewish life and a happy reunion.

The sea was calm and silent as if to soothe the nervous excitement that befell the two friends as the small ship neared the flat Dutch coast one sunlit afternoon many days later. Again the Marranos [page 167] stood at the railing, as they had done so often before, and they gazed longingly at the dim outline of the shore as it grew rapidly more distinct.

"Do you think I will find my beloved wife and children in Amsterdam?" Don Manuel sighed deeply. He was ashamed to show his deep emotions but there was no hiding before the dear, old eyes of his faith- ful servant. The latter hesitated for a brief moment. He was not sure whether he should say what he really thought or hide his apprehension. He decided finally to speak freely. Truth hurts but it also heals.

"I hardly think so," he replied slowly. "Donna Annunciata would have found it exceedingly difficult to travel in wartime, quite aside from the fact that she was still wanted by the holy Officium. Remember that Diego had been kidnapped by the Dominicans. You may rest assured that the Senora would never think of leaving Spain without her only son!"

Manuel was silent. One could see that his mind worked feverishly. Great drops of perspiration appeared on his forehead. After a long pause he turned to Raphaelo, who had watched him closely. Apparently he had arrived at a decision.

"My Raphaelo," the master said gravely, "if I do not find my family in Holland I shall go to Spain to look for them."

"What? You, a fugitive from justice who narrowly escaped certain death, want to return to the lion's den? You must be mad!" [page 168]

Manuel smiled bitterly. "I am not mad, my friend. What do I have to live for if I am not to see my wife and children again!"

"Let me go, Senor! I will know where to find them."

Don Manuel was deeply touched. This man had devoted his entire life to the services of his family and now he offered the supreme sacrifice, his own life. For he was aware of the fact that Raphaelo was also on the black list of the Inquisition and would scarcely be able to escape again once he set foot again on the peninsula for a second time. How- ever, the faithful servant was old and weak and in no condition to continue such travels. With kind and soothing words, careful not to offend the old man, Manuel explained his viewpoint to his companion.

Raphaelo made no reply. It was true. He was too old to fight on. He was grateful to Don Manuel for his tact and consideration.

Shortly after this conversation, the ship landed safely at a Dutch port and the two passengers - they were the only ones aboard besides the crew - stepped again on the Continent, for the first time in fifteen years. They wasted no time on sentimentalities, however, but immediately hired a fast coach which brought them at top speed to Amsterdam.

It is impossible to describe the joy and happiness of Don Perez Texeira when his long-lost brother-in- law walked into his life, a relative whom he had [page 169] given up for dead. The news of his arrival spread like wildfire through the Spanish-Portuguese Kehilla and many members hurried to Mynheer Texeira's house to meet the man who had returned from an- other world. Great was their disappointment when they learned that he had left Spain more than fourteen years ago and could give no information on the welfare and whereabouts of their friends and relatives in the old country. For during the war the secret contact between the Marranos of Spain and their happier brethren in the free Netherlands was completely interrupted and all these good people were anxious to hear again from their Spanish friends.

For despite the sufferings and persecutions they or their ancestors had to endure, they loved their former homeland with an almost fanatical love. They continued to speak the Spanish tongue, which has not been forgotten even by their descendants in our own time. Wherever these Marranos or their descendants found refuge and a new home, they formed their own community, where they preserved their old customs and melodies and even the Sephardic pronunciation of the prayers.

Now came Manuel's turn to ask questions. Had anybody by chance heard from his family or the whereabouts of his son? He met with sympathy but no results. Yet he refused to give up. He questioned everyone he came across, followed the most [page 170] insignificant lead and spent hours at the seashore, inter- viewing sailors of incoming ships from Spain.

When he realized that it was impossible to gather information about fugitives who lived in hiding and probably under an adopted name, he made up his mind to leave at once for Spain. He brushed all warnings aside. Nothing could shake his determination to find his family. Don Perez admitted his inability to hold his brother-in-law back and proceeded promptly to assist him in his desperate plan. He procured a Dutch passport bearing the name of Andreas van Swieten and a recommendation from the president of the Amsterdam City Council to the Dutch Ambassador in Madrid.

Provided with these important papers and a considerable amount of money, Don Manuel left the friendly shores of Holland, accompanied by the good wishes of his relatives and friends and the tears of old Raphaelo, who stayed behind.

Without mishap he arrived in his old, beloved homeland, but he had neither the time nor the peace of mind to give himself over to sentimental emotions and faded memories. His passport opened all doors for him and no one would have recognized a one- time Spanish Marrano in the tall, distinguished gentleman, dressed in tasteful, outlandish clothes.

Manuel wasted no time. Raphaelo had described to the last detail the location of the white villa in [page 171] Las Infantos and he headed directly toward the suburb.

HE HAD CHOSEN A MOST unfortunate moment for his arrival at the villa. From a distance he already saw a great and silent crowd but he failed at first to connect its presence with the thought of his family.

As he came closer and heard the people whispering, a sharp pain cut through his body like a knife. He was now surrounded by a solid mass of people and could see nothing at all. But a great and terrible apprehension came upon him.

In desperation, he pushed his way through the dense crowd until he was able to recognize the faces of the arrested persons. When he saw-for the first time in more than fifteen years-the aged but still beautiful face of his wife and the tall, dark-haired girl at her side, whom he knew at once to be his daughter, Don Manuel experienced a strange sensation of wild joy coupled with black despair. He was unable to move, dimly realizing that there was nothing he could do. Through a veil of tears he witnessed the tragic mistake of the young man-he had no idea who he could be --- which resulted in his subsequent arrest. However, he failed to see his arch enemy, Fray Balthasar, who stood with his back to the crowd, eagerly watching the proceedings, the fruit of his long labors. [page 172]

The heavily guarded coach, actually a dressed-up prison van, rolled down the street and disappeared around a comer. The crowd quickly dispersed. The scene it had witnessed was an almost daily occurrence and failed to stir more than momentary sympathy and passing interest.

Despite his confusion and inner struggles, Manuel managed to keep his presence of mind. Timidly, he approached the soldier who guarded the entrance to the villa.

"You cannot enter the house," snapped the guard. "The Hermandad is searching it to seize the property of these heretics."

His attitude became friendlier when he felt a gold coin slip into his hand.

"Who owns this house?" asked the stranger.

The guard looked carefully around. There was no movement on the tree-lined street and, except for the noise of the searching party inside the house, there was no sound.

The guard leaned forward. "I shouldn't be seen talking to anybody," he whispered, "but I can tell you confidentially that in my opinion the police made a big mistake in this case. I have patrolled this section for years and I could swear by all the Saints of the holy Church that the nice lady is no Jewess."

"Oh, you know the mistress of the house?" "Well, not exactly. She rarely left the apartment. [page 173]

But she bears a good old Spanish name," he added naively. "Donna Gracia de Lima, that's what they called the widow, Sir."

Don Manuel nodded sadly. That was the name Raphaelo had mentioned to him. The designation widow" affected him particularly.

"Did the Senora live alone?" he inquired.

"Oh, no Sir, there was her daughter, a very pretty girl. They say the lad whom they arrested last was her fiance, a fair lad he was. And there was yet another girl living with them but for the love of Franciscus I can't remember who she is."

Manuel knew enough. To make doubly sure of the present whereabouts of his family, he asked the guard indifferently:

"And where have they been taken to?" "Oh, to the prison of the Inquisition. You know, Sir, they say that no one ever left that place alive." Manuel fled in disgust.

When he finally found a quiet bench, he sank on it in exhaustion. A dull pain hammered in his temples, but his mind worked feverishly. 'Whom was he to turn to? Where to begin? One thing was sure: He must not contact any of his former friends or associates. He would only endanger their lives and what could they do to help him! There was only one way and it offered doubtful possibilities: Appeal to the Dutch Ambassador on the strength of his passport and excellent recommendations. But why [page 174] should the diplomat intervene in an internal Spanish affair? He probably would flatly refuse to act!

"0, G-d, help me," thought the unfortunate husband and father. "Have I narrowly escaped certain death and worked incessantly for fifteen years to find my family in the dungeons of the Inquisition, facing the same tortures I underwent?" He could not bear finishing this thought. He sat there for long hours, his face buried in his hands, a sad, lonely figure.

Presently he regained enough energy to make his way, slowly and painfully, to a boarding house that he remembered from his previous travels. He had little fear of being recognized. Even if his appearance had not changed considerably during the long years of exile, the experiences of the last few hours sufficed to transform him into a different, aged man.

Incessantly, he continued his desperate efforts in behalf of his family. They were to no avail. All he was able to find out was that the Hermandad knew the real identity of his wife. By what fiendish means they had gained this knowledge was a mystery to Manuel.

EARLY ONE AFTERNOON, as he conducted his daily tour through the vicinity, hungrily gathering up every bit of information, Manuel noticed a loudly dressed man standing in front of the white villa. He had a vulgar face and Manuel felt an immediate dislike towards him. [page 175] (it was the same reaction his wife had experienced when she met Messer Lopez for the first time.)

He asked a woman about the stranger. "This man ought to be able to tell you what you are looking for," she said to Manuel. "He was a frequent guest in the house of the Senora."

Manuel did not even stop to thank her. He hurried across the street towards the loudly dressed man.

"Pardon me, Senor," he addressed the stranger, "do you happen to know the family who used to live in this house?"

The coscon turned lazily to look at the inquirer. His attitude changed quickly when he saw the gentleman's fine clothes and the golden chain adorning his vest. "Must be a Caballero or something," he muttered to himself. And when he felt a gold piece slip into his hand, he was completely won over.

"Do I know them!" he exclaimed boastfully. "Why, I know them better than my own mother, who never cared much for me, anyway. Sir, for a good dinner and a bottle of Burgundos I will tell you the whole funny story."

Manuel tried to conceal his excitement. Perhaps this man with the vulgar face had valuable information. But he must not appear too interested.

"Well, if you insist I shall be listening," he replied indifferently, "but be brief and to the point. My time is limited." If the coscon had only known that the foreign [page 176] looking gentleman would have listened to him all day and night, he certainly would have raised his price!

After an opulent dinner, over a bottle of wine, the coscon told his story in all its ghastly details.

XV. A NEW STAR

THE DESOLATE PLAIN AT the foot of the Sierra Nevada baked in the piercing sun of the Spanish noon. The primitive highway was bare of vehicles except for a lonely stage-coach, drawn by four tired mules. Luggage was piled high on the roof, indicating that the lone passenger had come a long way.

"How much longer do I have to endure this heat!" muttered the passenger indignantly. He was dressed in the black garb of the Dominican sect; a precious diamond sparkled at his finger and a small golden cross adorned his black, flowing cape. To all appearances he was a high official of the Church, traveling to assume a new post, as indicated by the large amount of trunks and bags on the roof of the coach. Actually, it was Diego, who had been appointed Bishop of Avila and was on his way to that city.

He leaned forward. "Juan," he called to the driver who sat erect and silent on his high seat. "When will we arrive?" [page 177/178]

The driver raised his whip and pointed to the horizon. "Look carefully, Senor, and you will see golden sparks flying over the horizon. They are the sun's rays reflected from Spain's most beautiful creation, the Royal Palace of Aranjuez."

Aranjuez! Scene of Don Carlo's revolt and the "Innocent Isabella's" intrigues. Aranjuez! Pearl of Castile, whose peaceful beauty has been the subject of lyric praise by the poets of all continents. It is an oasis in the midst of the wild steppes of the Castilian desert, where the air is moist and the nights cool. Here, Philip V constructed a "little Versailles," a faithful imitation of the famous French palace. The gardens were carefully shaped, featuring artificial lakes, stiff lawns, cut trees and charming little garden houses-all in the true French tradition.

It was unfortunate that all this beauty and grace lacked but one ingredient, the most important of all: - fresh, young, pulsing life. In this carious lack the palace and the grounds reflected closely the Royal Court-spending the summer at this cool spot- whose whole existence was one of stiffness, complacency and boredom.

The absence of stimulating life formed the topic of conversation between two elegant and distinguished ladies who walked slowly through the lovely, stiff park. They were none other than Her Majesty, the Queen of Spain, and her lady-in-waiting [page 179] and close friend and advisor, the Duchess Ursini. The Duchess was speaking.

"Your Majesty! I am dying of boredom. Even nature herself has lost her charm and fresh beauty. These trees, these lawns and gardens-everything looks faded to me and artificial. The scissors of men are in evidence everywhere. Oh, Your Majesty, let me return to my Savoyan mountains, where life streams in abundance and beauty and nature are real and fresh."

The Queen listened quietly to this temperametal outburst. It was not the first time that she heard her best friend talk of leaving her. She could not bear the very thought of it. For the truth was that she, too, was bored.

"And what is to become of me," she replied, with real anxiety in her voice. "Do you want to let me suffocate in the stiff Grandezza of these bored Spaniards!" The Queen was foreign-born and unaccustomed to the rigid formalities of the Spanish nobility.

Absorbed in their conversation, the ladies failed to notice that they had reached the open road where they were almost run over by a fast-driving, mule- drawn stage-coach. Before they had time to cry out or faint, the door of the coach flew open, a young, severely dressed gentleman jumped to the ground, hurried towards the disheveled ladies, bowed ceremoniously and kissed their hands. [page 179]

The distinguished ladies were so taken aback by this instantaneous and polite action, that they forgot the incident completely and turned expectantly to the young man, delighted with this pleasant change in events.

"Ah," exclaimed the Queen, "it is the new Bishop of Avila. Fray Diego! Welcome to Aranjuez."

The Duchess was barely able to hide her delight at the sudden arrival of Diego, who had been expected much later in the season.

"Welcome, Senor," she repeated after the Queen. "I hope you remember me."

The young priest bowed with a charming smile.

"You are just in time to save my young life," added the Duchess mockingly.

"Is the life of Your Highness in danger?"

"Certainly. I am slowly dying of boredom."

"Who am I to cure such a charming lady?" was the smiling retort. Diego knew that it was the Duchess' influence that got him the appointment as Bishop of Avila. He wanted to hear it confirmed from her own lips. She did not disappoint him.

"We hope you are a good doctor," said Madame Ursini, "for that is why we appointed you Bishop of Avila and Inquisitor of Madrid."

Her casual remark struck Diego like a bullet. Inquisitor of Madrid! He bad not been previously informed of this added "bonor," which he would surely have rejected immediately. He wanted, with [page 181] all his might, to advance as high as possible to use his influence for the benefit of his family and his people-but to be Inquisitor! To be a member of the dreaded organization which had the blood of his father on its conscience! He got so confused in his thoughts that even the Queen became curious and inquired why he behaved so strangely when all they had intended was to surprise their charming guest with the good news.

"You do not seem to appreciate our efforts in your behalf," she said reproachingly.

Diego realized that the ladies had only desired to please him.

"I am too overwhelmed for words," he said quickly. "How can I ever thank you, illustrious ladies," and he bowed deeply.

The ladies smiled happily. The good news had finally produced the desired effect.

Politely, the Queen inquired of Diego's family. "Are your parents still alive?" she inquired. "Have you any sisters or brothers?"

Diego's clear eyes filled with tears as he answered slowly: "0h, Your Majesty, you are touching upon a painful subject. Whether my parents are still alive I may never know."

"You do not know whether they are alive or not?" asked the two ladies in amazement.

"It is a long story," replied Diego dreamily. "When I think of the days of my early youth, I recall [page 182] a lovely, carefully tended garden. There were olive groves, vineyards and extensive plantations. 'All this will once be yours,' they told me. Believe me, I do not regret the loss of my inheritance."

He hesitated. The women listened in silence.

"I had a good father and a dear mother, a beautiful sister and an old teacher, all of whom I loved very much. One day I became dangerously ill. For long weeks I lay unconscious. 'When I finally awoke" - his voice broke - "everything that I knew and loved had disappeared: The house, garden, olive groves, woods, vineyards, father, mother, sister and teacher."

"What happened?" asked the ladies breathlessly.

"I found myself among the monks of the Order of the holy Dominicus."

"And did you not conduct inquiries as to the whereabouts of your family?"

"Time and again I implored my superiors to tell me about them. I never received a direct answer."

"What do you think happened to your parents?"

Diego sighed. He had been through this often enough before. But now, for the first time, he voiced his fears and anxieties aloud. "I fear that my parents and my old teacher were publicly burned," he said sadly. "My sister has probably become a nun, just as they made a priest out of me."

The ladies were shocked and confused. What did the expression "burned" mean? Did they perish [page 183] in an accidental fire? What else could it mean! The sad truth was that the distinguished women, the first ladies of Spain, were kept completely in the dark as to the true conditions in the prisons and torture chambers of the Inquisition. Oh yes, they knew of the existence of the Hermandad, but to them it was just another word for "police," while to untold thousands it was the incarnation of evil and death. Curiously enough, the ladies had never been permitted to attend a public auto-da-fe.

"Burned!" they cried in disbelief.

"Yes, my ladies, burned. Burned at the stake during a public auto-da-fe,"

Diego replied quietly. "Burned by the Tribunal of the Holy Inquisition whose member I have become today by the graces of Her Majesty and the gracious Duchess."

"Have you any proof that they are dead?" asked the Duchess.

"No, I have no certain proof."

"Then why do you suppose they perished in this terrible way?"

"Because my parents were Marranos!"

The ladies looked at each other, puzzled. Now it was Diego's turn to be startled. Evidently they had never heard of an expression which had become a household-word in the Spanish language.

Diego motioned the ladies to a nearby bench. It would be better for them to sit during his story.

"Many years ago there lived in this beautiful land [page 184] thousands of rich, cultured and respected Jews who contributed greatly to the growth of Spain and her dominating position in the world of today. These Jews adhered strictly to their religion, whose laws and literature they studied with loving intensity. They produced great minds, poets, thinkers, political leaders. Then came a great change in their lives. They were faced with a terrible and insoluble dilemma: be baptized-or be extinguished. Some chose death. Many others left the country and settled in distant, friendlier lands. But the majority preferred to remain behind, as they could not bear to leave their beloved homeland. To the outside world they presented the picture of devoted Christians. But never for a moment did they give up the religion of their ancestors, which they continued to practice in underground synagogues and secret schools. Believe me, my ladies," Diego concluded, breathing heavily, "there are many unsung heroes in this country."

The Queen and the Duchess were deeply moved. A new world had opened to them, and it was not a pleasant place to live in. They felt sincere sympathy for the unfortunate priest who, despite his youth, had gone through more suffering than they imagined existed in the world. And this strange, mystery- shrouded word: Marrano! "What does this expression actually mean?" Madame Ursini thought aloud.

Diego was only too glad to supply the answer. If [page 185] he succeeded in arousing the sympathy and interest of Her Majesty, and perhaps through her that of the King himself, he would render a great and invaluable service to his suffering people.

"Some say the name should really be 'Marianos,' baptized in honor of Maria. But there is another, more plausible version: In agony, one victim of the tortures is said to have cried out: Maran assa,' which is Hebrew for 'Our Master will come' to avenge us. Popular use has turned it into 'Marrano.'"

"This is the most tragic thing I have ever heard," said the Queen. "And you say your parents were such Marranos?"

"I cannot tell you that with absolute certainty, as I was very young when we were separated. But I am certain that they were of Marranic descent."

"And you have never heard of them since?" Diego nodded sadly: "Never!"

"And what of your sister? No trace at all?"

"Nothing. The long war period has wiped out all possible clues and connections."

The Duchess grasped Diego's hand in a silent gesture of sympathy and understanding. "Fray Diego," she said warmly, "the Queen and I feel with you in your sad bereavement. It must be terrible to lose your loved ones. We want to be of some help to you in your loneliness. Let us be your friends, your sisters."

Diego took the hand which was offered to him [page 186] and kissed it respectfully. Tears of happiness welled up in his eyes. He deeply appreciated the sincerity of the offer.

"A thousand thanks, Your Highness," he exclaimed. "Your friendship is the most precious gift any man could receive. I shall try to prove myself worthy of it."

The group left the quiet garden bench and walked slowly towards the Portico. Before she ascended the steps, the Queen turned to Diego and addressed him in the most gracious manner.

"Fray Diego, retire to your suite and dress for dinner. Tonight I shall present you to the King."

His Majesty received Diego-whom he remembered very well indeed-most graciously. The ladies and officials at the Court crowded around the new Inquisitor, eager to make his acquaintance and gain the important man's favor. By next morning the news spread throughout the country that a new star had risen at the Court of Philip V.

XVI. REUNION

M ANUEL WAS HEARTBROKEN. His conversation with the -coscon had given him all the information he needed. He now knew how his beloved family-or what was left of it-had been drawn into disaster. He also realized, more by intuition than by cold facts, that it was his arch-enemy, Fray Balthasar, who was responsible for his plight. He knew all this-yet there was nothing he could do.

How he hated Madrid, the city he once loved and knew so well. He had become a stranger in his homeland, a man without a country, a husband with- out wife, a father without children. He dared not establish contact with other Marranos, some of whom he used to know well. His audience with the Dutch Ambassador, whom he hoped to impress with his various letters of recommendation, was a complete failure. Baron van Ripperda categorically refused to intervene in the internal affairs of the Spanish monarchy. The case seemed hopeless. [page 186]

Shortly after Don Manuel's interview with the Dutch diplomat, it was announced officially that the Court was about to return from Aranjuez. Madrid talked of nothing but the new protegee of the powerful Duchess Ursini, who was said to wield more influence with the royal couple than any other individual in Spain. His name was on all lips: Fray Diego y Aguilar, Bishop of Avila, Inquisitor of Madrid.

The news-and the name-reached Manuel as he was once again roaming the streets in the vicinity of the white villa in Las Infantos. It struck him like a bolt of lightning. Could it really be true? His son? Inquisitor? Perhaps it was all a tragic mistake, an accidental similarity of names which happened frequently among Spanish families. But his heart, the heart of a desperate and longing father told him that this was more than a mere likeness of names. With a trembling heart he investigated the background and past of the new Inquisitor. He found out that he was in his early twenties, which corresponded with the age his own Diego would have reached if he were still alive. He also learned that the young Bishop was born and raised in Valencia- there could be no doubt: it was Diego, his long-lost son! The father was delirious with joy. All his troubles seemed to be over. He had found his son. Nothing else mattered. His first impulse was to rush into [page 189] the arms of his son and never let him go again. Yet after calm reflection, troubled thoughts and anxious doubts began to assail him. Was it not quite possible that Diego had become a fanatical monk, who might even deliver his own father to the Inquisition? Were there not enough examples of similar occurrences? And even if he were ready and willing to help, would he be in a position to do so? Don Alphonso Fernandez had failed in his efforts and he had been Grand Inquisitor. Was it not perhaps better to leave things as they were and spare Diego the ordeal of having to decide between his conscience and his duty ?

Manuel pondered these questions for more than a week. He came to the conclusion that he had no right to spare Diego and that he had to take the risk of finding a son who might have ceased to be his son. The lives of his wife and daughter and two fine young people were at stake-and so was the life, the Jewish life, of his son. He had to act and act promptly. His mind was made up.

He requested a private audience with the Inquisitor of Madrid. The request was promptly granted. The decision was near!

THE YOUNG BISHOP SAT in his white and gold study, which was completely bare except for a huge desk, several easy chairs and a low couch. Crosses and other emblems of the Church [page 190] were nowhere to be seen. This was in sharp contrast with his predecessor's custom, who had crowded the palace with the symbols of his faith. Fray Diego wore the customary flaming red robe, held together by a narrow black belt. The huge black cross on the back was missing. No explanation for this curious lack was given and many eyebrows were raised in disapproval. Yet no one dared to speak up or even suspect the young Bishop of disobedience to the Church.

"Meneer Andreas van Swieten!" announced the guard at the door. Manuel hesitated. The next few steps were to decide the future of his family, his own future and-he prayed-that of his son. For he cherished the fervent hope that his son might still be the old one, changed in body and position, but firm in mind and soul. The next few minutes would decide whether his hopes and dreams were to turn into certainty and jubilation.

His heart heavy and his steps slow, he approached the open door. For a short and breathless moment he paused. The guard hurried to his side, for the elderly visitor trembled visibly and appeared on the verge of fainting. Nothing of the sort happened. It was supreme joy and happiness, an ecstatic feeling of triumph that filled the father's whole being: for through a veil of tears he saw-Diego, his long lost son, the very image of his father at the height of his mature life: an image of manly strength and [page 191] forcefulness, before the tortures and the sufferings of his soul turned him into an aged man, whose body was broken and old but whose mind and soul had survived all trials and ordeals.

The Bishop sat in his chair and wondered. He was sure he had never seen the Dutchman before, but something seemed vaguely familiar about him. Was it the way he stroked his small, grayish beard or wiped his eyes?

"What can I do for you?" he said politely, motioning the stranger to sit down.

"Most gracious Father," replied Don Manuel, gathering all his strength, "I wish to speak with you alone."

He was convinced that it was the old Diego who faced him across the desk. His trained eye had immediately noticed the unusual and significant absence of a cross or crucifix in the study. This could not be an accident.

Upon a sign from the Bishop the guard left the room. Inquisitor and visitor, father and son, were alone.

"I am Andreas van Swieten," began the visitor. "I am a merchant from Amsterdam."

Diego's curiosity was aroused. He knew that many Marranos had settled there and he cherished the hope that they included one or more members of his family. This was the first time he talked to some [page 192] one who came directly from the Dutch capital. "From Amsterdam?" he asked eagerly.

"Yes," said the stranger, "from Amsterdam. But for many years I lived in Valparaiso. I bear a message for you from there."

It was quite evident that the Inquisitor was disappointed. He did not even attempt to conceal his feelings. He sank back into his chair and stared absent-mindedly at the ceiling. He seemed to have completely forgotten that he had a visitor. Manuel waited quietly. He understood Diego's reaction as much as he rejoiced at his son's eager interest at the mention of Amsterdam.

The Bishop's eyes wandered slowly down the ceiling until they came to rest on Manuel's face. Again something stirred in him when he saw this face. But the emotion was not strong enough to keep him interested. He decided to conclude the uneventful audience with a few polite remarks.

"Oh yes, Valparaiso," he said indifferently. -you have probably met my former fellow-student, Fray Sebastiano, who is now Vicar at the Cathedral of Valparaiso."

"It is not that, gracious Father." Manuel was amused at the fact that a father addressed his own son as "father." "It was an old man whom I befriended while I lived in South America. 'I shall not see my fatherland again,' he told me, 'and if you should ever visit Spain, Meneer van Swieten, I would [page 193] appreciate it if you would be kind enough to go to Don Diego y Aguilar and convey to him regards and best wishes from his old teacher."

"This audience will be over in exactly one minute," thought Diego angrily. Obviously the old man had no explicit request. There were more important things he had to attend to.

"My old teacher?" he said impatiently. "I think you are mistaken. To my knowledge none of my former professors from Valencia or Salamanca is now stationed in the West Indies."

He rose and was about to ring the bell to indicate the end of the audience, when the visitor made a brief remark that made him rush around the desk and grasp the man's shoulders in unbelief.

"Was not old Raphaelo the teacher of your youth?" he had heard the man say.

After making sure that no eavesdroppers were about, Diego turned to his visitor, whom he now regarded with new and intense interest. "My old Raphaelo! I am happy to hear that at least he escaped. You saw him in Valparaiso? How is he?"

And then, almost casually, he added the vital question he had been longing to ask for almost twenty years: "Did he tell you what became of my parents and my poor sister?"

Manuel could not help smiling. Diego must have realized that he endangered his position by revealing his inner thoughts and anxieties to a perfect [page 194] stranger. Yet so strong and intense was his longing for his family that he appeared to be unable to suppress his curiosity.

"He told me a great deal about your father," he said cautiously.

"My poor, unfortunate father was burned at the auto-da-fe in Valencia," Diego said sadly. "I was sick in bed at that time and when I recovered I was alone."

The young Bishop threw himself in his chair and wiped his eyes with a finely embroidered silken handkerchief. The memory of his late father and the happy news of Raphaelo's survival affected him greatly. Yet another shock, a pleasant one, awaited him.

"Your father is still alive," said the visitor quietly.

The young man jumped up. "That is impossible, utterly impossible. He was burned in Valencia."

"He was to be burned," was the calm retort. "At the very moment when he was to ascend the stake, the earth shook and in the resulting confusion he was saved by a friend."

"A friend? Who?" "Your old teacher, Raphaelo.-

"And my father is still alive?"

"He is still alive!"

There was a moment of intense silence. Then Diego spread his arms wide and exclaimed in a voice full of jubilation and deep emotion. [page 195]

"Oh man, tell me where he is that I may take him in my arms and cover him with kisses. Only hurry, Messer Andreas, hurry and tell me where he is."

Manuel was on the point of revealing his identity. He was overwhelmed by the unspoiled and eager excitement of his son. But he needed one last proof of Diego's sincerity and inner conviction.

"Calm yourself, Bishop," he said, finding it strangely difficult to talk.

"It is certain that your father is alive. But the Inquisition will never renounce its rights upon him as a fugitive from justice and he will surely be executed as soon as he is discovered in this country. Moreover, your father has not changed in his conviction and in his adherence to the faith of his ancestors. He is still a loyal Jew, true to his Torah, and proud of it."

Diego's eyes flashed. "What do I care," he cried.

"He is my father whom I believed to be dead. Messer Andreas," he continued, calming down, "before I became Bishop of Avila, I was with the clergy in Toledo. Once I visited the Church of El Transito, a former synagogue. And there it came over me, with sweeping force-"

He paused. Manuel dared not interrupt. Diego continued: "It was an intense longing for the joys of my youth and the peace of my parent's house. I vividly recalled my father and mother, sister and teacher, the underground synagogue and the [page196] weekly services. An inner voice told me: If only once more you could pray in a synagogue, once more to feel the firm hand of your beloved father on your head as he pronounces the ancient blessing-"

--Yessimcho Elokim k'Ehraim uch'Menashe (May G-d make you become like Ephraim and Menashe)," concluded Don Manuel, as Diego paused for a moment, trying to remember the words.

The Bishop looked straight at the visitor and his eyes darkened.

"What is this?" he said slowly. "Your voice- what memories from my youth-" He raised his hand to his forehead in a gesture of deep reflection. "Senor, Senor, you are no Dutchman-you are-"

Manuel could not contain himself any longer. He opened his arms wide and cried, his voice choking: "Diego, my son, my beloved, long lost son!"

Without a word, his face pale and eyes shining, Diego rushed into his father's arms and held him tight. His whole being expressed the silent cry: "Never leave me again!"

For a long time father and son sat together, dose to each other. Words could not describe their feelings and emotions-and there were no words. Only an occasional sob, "My father, my father," and a soothing quiet "My son, my son!" Dusk fell as Manuel finished the story of his tortures, the miraculous rescue and his subsequent adventures in strange lands. Diego cried when his [page 197] father -told him of the inhuman methods of the Inquisition, of which he was now a leading member and which he represented in the capital of Spain. But he suffered the strongest shock when his father mentioned almost casually- for he did not want to upset his son too much-that his mother and sister were among the recent batch of victims and at present languished in the prison of the Tribunal.

"My beautiful mother and my sweet sister," exclaimed Diego. He had difficulty grasping this new and terrifying fact at a time when his soul was in such a turmoil-the sudden re-appearance of his father, whom be thought dead, and now the inner conflict between the duties of his high office and the dictates of his heart.

Manuel nodded sadly. "Oh Diego, my son, a difficult task awaits you. You must save your mother and sister from disaster. In the whole wide world, you are the only one who can accomplish this feat."

Diego realized only too well that his father was right. He had no idea how to go about this task.

"I need time to think of a Plan," he replied. "Tell me, my father, how did this terrible thing happen?"

Don Manuel told his son the sad story, exactly as the coscon had reported it to him. When he spoke of the sinister role which Fray Balthasar played in this mosaic of crime and intrigue, the young Bishop's fist crashed angrily on the desk.

"This rascal is the evil spirit of our family," he [page 198] cried, his eyes flashing. "This time he will be fought with his own weapons. I will teach him a lesson! We will be revenged, father, for all the sadness and sorrow this man has caused us during all these years.

"I am not thirsting for revenge, my son," said Manuel quietly. "All I want is to see my wife and daughter saved and to be reunited with my family. Then we will go to the Netherlands and live there in peace and freedom."

"Do not worry, father," Diego said quickly. "Nothing is going to happen to our family, nor to my sister's fiance and his cousin."

Don Manuel looked at his son and his heart swelled with pride. Here was a true example of "Kiddush Hashem," a demonstration of the tremendous power of Jewish tradition in molding the character of Jewish youth. Here was a young man who grew up among fanatical monks, who had only a faint recollection of his Jewish past, who grew up to become a Bishop in the Catholic Church-and yet found the road back, to a Jewish father and a Jewish mother!

"May G-d bless you, my son," he said solemnly, tears of joy streaming from his old eyes. "May He continue to lead you on the right way. You have made me very happy. Yet my happiness cannot be complete without my beloved wife and daughter."

Diego sat close to his father. "Be patient, father," [page 199] he murmured softly. "The time will come soon when we will all be reunited."

Don Manuel smiled despite his tears. Drying his eyes resolutely, he said in a strong voice: "I have no right to despair after the miraculous chain of events that led me to you again. I am grateful to the Almighty for sending rays of hope after a long night of despair. I will never be able to thank Him enough for having found you-the same, old Diego, whose trust in G-d has never wavered."

Diego saw that his father trembled. He led him gently to the door and rang the bell. A servant promptly appeared and was ordered by the young Bishop to guide the visitor to his quarters in the city, to remain with him there and see to all his needs. He did not dare to have his father stay in his own palace-suite. Such unusual action would have been certain to cause endless comment and speculation. Diego wanted discretion more than anything else.

Father and son parted quietly. Diego found it difficult to suppress his strong desire to embrace his father once more. The latter seemed to sense this for he left the room very quickly. Diego hurried after him. "I shall not lose a second," he whispered. "Come back tomorrow at the same time. I hope to have good news for you."

Don Manuel descended the sweeping stairway. A happy smile played on his lips as he turned and waved to his son. [page 200]

XVII. CRIME DOES NOT PAY

DIVINE PROVIDENCE MOVED again. The very next morning saw a new and startling development in the dramatic chain of events. The druggist who had manufactured the poisoned candles used in the murder of the former Grand- Inquisitor, Don Alphonso y Aguilar, made a full confession on his deathbed. In the presence of the Alcalde of Madrid, he signed a statement accusing the Dominican monk, Fray Balthasar, of plotting the murder and of smuggling the poisoned candles into the victim's bedroom. The document was deposited with the Hermandad; a copy was rushed to the office of the Inquisitor of Madrid.

In mounting excitement, Diego read the statement. He realized at once that here was the weapon which would finally destroy his arch-enemy. He was about to ring for his secretary when another and even more startling coincidence took place: the guard announced a visitor, Fray Balthasar, the Dominican monk. [page 201]

"Oh, G-d, Master of the Universe," prayed Diego. "You have given this man into my hand. Help me to face him without losing my dear judgment."

The monk had changed greatly since that fateful day in Valencia more than nineteen years ago. He had lost much weight and appeared even taller than before. His long eagle-nose protruded sharply from his narrow, fanatic face and his lips were pressed closely together, giving him the appearance of a bird of prey. Diego was especially impressed by the wild fire in the monk's steel-gray eyes, which seemed to express jubilation upon achieving the impossible: the own son, the own brother, would now, as Inquisitor, have to pronounce the death sentence over mother and sister.

Balthasar bowed with affected modesty, a courtesy which the Bishop did not seem to notice. The monk waited to be addressed by His Eminence - as was the custom - but nothing happened. The Bishop sat silently at his desk, staring hard at his opponent, trying equally hard to conceal the storm which raged in his breast.

After several minutes of embarrassed silence, the monk decided to speak. Still standing - as the Bishop had not deemed it necessary to offer him a chair - he began solemnly:

"Your Highness, I have come to congratulate you upon attaining this exalted office. I wish you success in all your endeavors." [page 202]

He paused momentarily and uneasily regarded the still figure at the huge desk. Had the Bishop heard him? What was the matter with this fellow, anyway? Was not he, Balthasar, directly responsible for his quick ascent to greatness and fame? And now this reception? The youth was even smiling: Was he laughing at him? He had no way of knowing that Diego smiled at the double meaning of Balthasar's words: "success in all your endeavors-"

"You will be the first one to feel the full impact of my 'successful endeavors,"' thought Diego grimly. It was this thought that had caused him to smile.

"I hope Your Grace remembers me," continued Balthasar uneasily, "or have you forgotten the friend of your youth?"

Another long pause. Diego stared coldly at the hated visitor. "You are Fray Balthasar di Valencia," he stated grimly. Balthasar was grateful that the Bishop-Inquisitor had at last graciously consented to address him. "The very same," he replied eagerly. "Of course, Your Grace remembers the happy time when you were a little boy and I took loving care of you."

What he really meant was to remind this ungrateful youth of the debt he owed him. Yet all he got was an indifferent reply.

"What do you want? Perhaps you desire an Archdiocese or a lucrative post in memory of the years which I spent under your protection?" [page 203]

Balthasar was well aware of the sharp sarcasm which Diego heaped upon him. He pretended not to notice it.

"A thousand thanks, Your Grace. However, I did not come to ask for favors. All I desired was to see you and wish you luck. It gives me joy and satisfaction to see my former student embark on such a brilliant career. You are Bishop of Avila, Inquisitor of Madrid, the new star at the Court. I predict that you will become Cardinal and the uncontested ruler of Spain."

"I certainly appreciate your kind interest and good wishes."

A strange spectacle! Two men, locked in a deadly fight, sparring with polite words which only served to emphasize their bitter hatred.

The monk proceeded to reveal the actual purpose of his visit. "Have you studied the latest cases in the files of the Inquisition?"

Diego was evasive. "Not yet. Perhaps you can enlighten me. Are there any interesting trials in progress? Any fascinating prisoners?" His heart beat faster. He was playing with fire and he knew it.

The reply was prompt and to the point. "There is a rather interesting case. We discovered a woman who originally comes from Valencia, where her picture was burned at a public auto-da-fe almost twenty years ago. She managed to escape in time and went underground, until we drove her and her relatives [page 204] out of her hiding place, which she maintained under our very noses right here in Madrid."

Diego's heart pounded furiously. But he managed to control himself and remained silent.

"It is a whole group which we have discovered, continued the monk, "mother, daughter, niece and the daughter's fiance. They were ready to flee to the Netherlands when the Holy Officiurn swooped down on them just in time."

He paused, waiting for the Bishop's reaction. As none was forthcoming, he resumed his carefully rehearsed speech.

"The trial will be quite complicated. Important documents proving their guilt are in Valencia and, for the time being, unavailable. But we have certain ways and means to produce proof if we so desire. As far as Your Grace is concerned, you will have a golden opportunity to win the favor of the capital's population by presenting to them the interesting spectacle of an auto-da-fe, a spectacle which, unfortunately, grows rarer and rarer as so many of these Jews are leaving Spain."

A shudder ran down Diego's spine as he heard the devilishly cunning words of the monk.

"Fray Balthasar," he said sternly, "you have known me when I was a child. Have you also known my parents?"

The monk hesitated for a moment, groping for an answer. Even before he spoke, Diego knew that [page 205] he was going to lie. He was determined to make this the last lie he would have to listen to.

"Your parents?" replied Balthasar casually. "No, Your Grace, I never met them. You came as an orphan to our monastery. It was said that your parents died of the cholera."

Diego grew purple as he heard the shameless lie. "I heard a different story," he thundered. "During my recent stay in Valencia I met a butcher who told me that my parents were Marranos, that my father was burned at the stake in Valencia while my mother and little sister escaped. Is it not possible that it is my mother and my sister whom my decision would deliver to the executioner?"

The monk paled visibly during these furious words. But he recovered quickly and repeated in a firm voice: "You are mistaken, Your Grace, this is utterly impossible. Your mother died of the cholera as did your father. You never had a sister."

Enough of these shameless lies. Diego could no longer contain himself-and he did not care. He jumped up and struck the unsuspecting monk a telling blow. "You dog, you miserable, low creature," he cried at the top of his voice, "you foul criminal! You want to have your full revenge! Have the son murder his own mother and sister! Know then, monk: Your days are numbered. You will die on the gallows as did so many of your victims."

In a rage the monk rose to his feet and, forgetting [page 206] all his suave diplomacy, shouted in a high-pitched voice: "You want war!! Well, you shall have war! I shall tear you down from your exalted position. I shall tell the whole world that the Inquisitor of Madrid is a dirty Mariano, a heretic, the son of Jewish parents."

"No one will believe you," said Diego calmly. The monk shook a threatening finger at the Bishop. "They will believe me," he cried. "The Inquisition is still powerful. I am a priest like you and better than you, for in my veins flows no blood of Jews or Moors."

Diego smiled. The time had come to throw his trump card on the table. "And I tell you no one will believe you," he repeated. "Your testimony has not the slightest value, for you are a murderer, a common criminal. You murdered the Grand Inquisitor Don Alphonso Fernandez y Aguilar and his death has not yet been avenged."

Balthasar was visibly shaken. He had never expected this murder to be brought to light again. "What would you know of the death of the Cardinal," he said contemptuously.

"The druggist who manufactured the poisoned candles which you smuggled into Don Alphonso's bedroom confessed just before he died."

"You dare to violate the secret of confession," replied the monk, his voice trembling.

Diego turned to the badly shaken monk and struck [page 207] his final blow: "The druggist repeated his confession in the presence of the Alcalde of Madrid. The latter has drawn up a detailed document, signed by the druggist, which is already in the hands of the Hermandad. If I am not mistaken, the gentlemen of the police are, at the moment, looking for you, my friend."

This was the end. "All is lost!" cried Balthasar and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

Diego rang the bell. His valet appeared.

"Henriquez," commanded the Bishop, "have this man brought at once to the royal prison. He is a murderer and a fugitive from justice. You can win a reward, Henriquez, by delivering Fray Balthasar di Valencia to the Royal Prosecutor."

And thus it happened that, when Fray Balthasar came to, he found himself in chains on the floor of a dungeon cell in the royal prison of Madrid!

XVIII. TOGETHER AGAIN

IT WAS THE LONGEST AND at the same time the shortest day Diego ever lived through. It was as though all the anxieties and doubts and cares of the past had merged into one glorious vision of hope and happiness. And the day was not over yet.

Two important things had happened: He had found his father whom he had given up as dead. And he finally had caught the arch-enemy of his family, the murderer of the late Don Alphonso, and delivered him to justice and a fate he well deserved. Yet these two joyous events were accompanied by the sad news of his mother and sister languishing in the dungeons of the Inquisition. It had been Diego's first impulse to go to them at once, open wide the gates of freedom and lead them out in triumph. But in the course of calm reflection he came to the conclusion that this would have been a very unwise step at this time. He was not yet in the fall possession of his powers and a false move on his [page 208} part - such as the sudden and totally unjustified release of two suspected Marranos - could spoil everything.

Diego impatiently paced the floor of his study. He argued with himself: What was to be the next step? The desire to see his mother became over- powering. What would happen tomorrow mattered little. Today was important. Diego made a quick decision: He would visit his mother secretly at mid- night. He would put on the uniform of a prison warden and take his faithful servant Juan along. Highly pleased with his idea, he rang the bell and waited impatiently for Juan. The servant appeared in the door and bowed respectfully. "You rang for me, Sir?"

Diego looked at him sharply. Could he be trusted with this mission? He decided to be careful and not to tell him too much.

"I have a job for you, Juan," he said abruptly. "I must see a prisoner in a very urgent matter. Tonight. At midnight. I do not want him to know who I am. Be at this office shortly before midnight and bring the uniform of a prison warden with you."

Juan nodded silently and left the room. He had served many masters and was accustomed to strange orders.

Diego started to dress for dinner. Actually he had told Juan the truth. He did not want the prisoner - his mother-to know just yet that he had become [page 210] Inquisitor of Madrid and Bishop of Avila. He wanted to come to her as a son, nothing more.

WHILE DIEGO SUFFERED mental anguish, his mother lay on the straw mat in the damp cell of the Inquisition prison. Her soul was filled with despair. Almost twenty years had passed since the happy days in Valencia and her enforced separation from her beloved Manuel. She had suffered more than she could bear. After her husband and son had been torn from her in the most cruel and sadistic manner, she had hoped to find comfort in the upbringing of her lovely daughter, whose recent engagement to the fine and upright Jose gave her the first great joy in many years. And then-suddenly-darkness! Like lightning from a blue sky. She remembered her dear father, who went calmly to his death with the Sh'ma on his lips, turning his last hour into a shining Kiddush Hashem. And she thought of Manuel, her dearly beloved husband, who most probably had hallowed his life in a similar manner.

"O Eternal," she whispered fervently, "let me have strength and courage like them. Take my soul to You and reunite me with my father and with my Manuel."

She thought of Inez and bitter tears welled up and streamed over her face. "O Heavenly Father, [page 211] what is to become of her?" she moaned. "She will never be able to withstand the cruel tortures. She will make a false confession and be set free and then, what will become of her then?"

Her fervent prayer was interrupted by the sharp click of a key inserted in the iron lock. The stone floor resounded dully to heavy footsteps which gradually were lost in the distance. Donna Annunciata sat up, frightened, her heart pounding heavily, as she watched the massive door turning slowly on its hinges and finally open wide. Was this the beginning of the end? Were the tortures about to start?

A dark figure slipped quietly into the cell, holding a dimly lit lantern. Annunciata was unable to recognize the intruder and her fright increased. She slid down from the mat and raised her hands to the dark figure.

"Do with me as you please," she cried, "but let me see my child before you kill me."

"Calm yourself, Senora," replied the intruder and there was an unexpected kindness in his voice. "I have not come to harm you. On the contrary. I have come to bring a ray of hope into the darkness of your prison cell."

He put down the lamp and revealed the brown and black uniform of a prison warden. "There is always hope, Senora," he added quietly.

"Hope? There is no hope for me. Not any more!"

Diego shivered. It was cold in the cell and damp [page 212] but that was not the cause of his trembling. Seeing again, after twenty years, the haggard face of the woman who was his mother and whom he had hardly known - beholding a face which mirrored suffering, hunger and despair - could he help shivering? He had a sudden strong urge to put his arms around this brave and wonderful woman - his mother-and hug her and never let her go. But he must not do that. The shock might kill her. He must be gentle and firm, slowly breaking the great and wonderful news.

"Never be without hope, Senora," he murmured softly. "'Have faith in the Lord,' says the Psalmist. The G-d of your ancestors will not forsake you."

Annunciata looked at the stranger, whose face was hidden behind a screen of darkness. She was startled. What strange words came from his lips? Before she could think of a reply, he continued:

"I know that yours was a hard life. I knew you well, Senora, when you were the honored and respected Donna y Aguilar in Valencia. Your sufferings have left their traces on your face."

Now Annunciata was convinced that the mysterious visitor was a spy, an informer. Who else could have known her in the happy days of Valencia!

"You are wasting your time, Senor," she replied scornfully. "I know you have come to spy me out and perhaps trick me into a false confession. Your educated language belies the coarse uniform you [page 213] wear. You can save your efforts. I shall not hide anything from you. Openly and proudly I will confess my faith in the G-d of my ancestors, and for the sanctification of His sacred Name I will gladly offer my life!"

Diego's nerves were on edge. He had to tell her, quickly, before she grew too excited.

"I have told you before that I have come to you with perfectly good intentions," he said slowly, "and to show you that I mean well, I will give you some advice: Do not confess anything! When they question you, deny everything. The situation is more favorable than you think. You have friends who are eager to save you and your family. Promise me, Senora, not to make a premature confession."

Annunciata racked her tortured mind to find a solution to the mystery of a stranger who had come to offer his advice. Who was he? How did he get past the sentries?

"I promise," she said guardedly, "but who are the friends you mentioned?"

"You once had a son." A shadow darkened her face. "He is dead. He died in his childhood." "Who told you that?"

"Antonio Lopez." For the first time the rays of the lamp fell on the face of the visitor. Before Annunciata could study [page 214] his features, however, it became dark again. But those eyes-

The lamp trembled in Diego's hand. "Lopez lied to you," he said hoarsely. "Your son Diego di Valencia y Aguilar did not die in his childhood. He recovered soon after your escape. He is still alive."

Strangely enough, Annunciata believed the stranger. The blood raced through her veins. Diego alive! Oh, she had always known it, felt it, prayed for it! Diego alive! Her eyes dosed in painfully suppressed emotion. She did not want to make a spectacle of herself in front of the intruder. Her lips unconsciously formed words of silent prayers and Diego somehow knew exactly what his mother prayed: "O merciful G-d, how will I ever be able to thank You! Oh, let me see him once more before I die. Only once more!"

He had difficulty restraining himself. Yet the time for the supreme moment of reunion had still not come. She was too weak for too much joy.

Annunciata grasped his hands. "Oh Sir, you know my son? Tell me about him! Where is he? How does he look? Does he know I am here? Is he still a good Jew?"

The questions tumbled from her lips. Diego was deeply touched, especially by the reference to his faithfulness to his religion. "Mother," he thought silently, "I am still a good Jew, regardless of what I am today." [page 215]

He simply could not tell her the whole truth.

"Your son, Senora, became the apprentice of a carpenter. But he does not work at his trade. He occupies a minor position in the government service, right here in Madrid. He is a good friend of mine. Through his position he might be able to effect your release."

"Does he know that I am in the clutches of the Inquisition?"

"He knows and he swore to do everything in his power to save you and the rest of the family."

The mother only thought of her son. She had forgotten her own plight. -0h, I hope he will not endanger his position." She turned anxiously to the stranger. "You are his friend," she said imploringly. "You must go to him at once and ask him in my name to be very careful."

"What a wonderful, wonderful woman," thought Diego. "She is in deadly danger - yet all she thinks about is the safety of her son."

"Tell me more about him," continued Annunciata eagerly. "Is he married?"

"Not yet." "Does he know that his parents were Jews?"

"He does." "And what does he think of it?"

How she pried the truth from him! "Until a short time ago he was a faithful Christian. Since a few months he has changed. He told me that old memories of the days of his childhood stirred in him. His [page 216] longing now is to return to the religion of his forefathers."

Annunciata looked doubtfully at the stranger. She still could not see his face but she had a vivid impression of his eyes. How did he know so much about her son? Even for a friend he knew him extremely well. And those eyes-

"Who are you?" she demanded. "You seem to know my son intimately."

"I am his closest friend," was the quick reply. "He trusts me implicitly."

Annunciata remembered the stranger's statement earlier in the interview. "You said you had known me In Valencia. That was a long time ago and you are still a young man."

"Do you remember Benedito, the butcher?"

"I remember him well. Oh, now I understand: You are his son and one of us."

Diego nodded slowly. "Yes, I am one of you. Is there any message you want me to deliver to your son?"

"Bring him my warmest blessings and all my good wishes. Tell him to take care of himself and not to worry about me. And one more thing," she added sadly. "Tell him that I have but one wish before I die: I want to see him once more, hold him close to me-" She stopped abruptly, overcome with deep emotion.

Diego knew the moment, the supreme moment [page 217] had come. His mother wanted it so. He had no right to draw this out any longer. He raised the lamp slowly, very slowly, until the full light illuminated his pale face.

The minutes trickled away in deep silence while Annunciata looked at the face--of her husband-or so she thought at first. And then, among a mist of tears, the full revelation came to her in a flash: "It is my son! It is Diego!"

With a broken cry she sank back on her poor bed. "My son, my son!" Her lips moved. "I have seen you again. Now I will gladly die!"

Gentle arms held her tight, a warm face was dose to hers, and a soft voice, the voice of her son, whispered in her ear:

"No, mother, you will not die! You will live! The night will be followed by the dawn, a dawn of peace and happiness which will never end. Mother, let us begin life again."

TWO NIGHTS LATER, DRESSED in the same uniform of a prison warden, Diego entered the cell of his sister who lay asleep on a dirty straw mat, fully clothed. The light of the lantern shone upon her face and Diego was taken aback at the close resemblance between himself and his sister. Gently he caressed her cheek.

With a frightened outcry, Inez sat up. At first she was unable to focus her eyes in the strong light [page 218] which fell directly upon her. Then she recognized the uniform of her enemies in the black darkness behind the beam of light.

"Go away. Do not touch me. Have I not suffered enough?" she wept.

"Inez," whispered Diego. He changed the position of the lantern and his face became visible. "Inez, be strong and have courage. I have good news for you. You will be free and so will your mother."

Inez looked at the strangely familiar face of the intruder but the thought of her brother was too far away, too absurd to even cross her mind.

"And my fiance?" she asked in sudden suspicion. "Don Jose de Montalto? Will he be set free also?"

"Yes, and so will Francesca," came the whispered reply-

"And who are you? Is all this really true? Or is this part of your fiendish tortures?"

Diego trembled. "Have you forgotten that you once had a brother by the name of Diego?"

A shadow crossed the girl's pale face. "Mother has moumed him for more than twenty years."

Just then a wild thought flashed her mind. It could not be! How did the intruder know about her brother? Once more she looked at the strangely familiar features above her-no-yes, there could be no doubt-and-

"Diego!" Inez cried and flung her arms around her brother. "Diego, my sweet, only brother!" She [page 219] buried her head in his shoulder, permitting her tears to flow freely. "Why did you wait so long? Oh, Diego, you have come back You are home!"

For long minutes they sat together, holding each other's hands, talking in low voices. Briefly Diego described the events that led to his meteoric rise in the world of power and politics. He concluded his hasty report with an impatient plea to his sister to hold out until the day of liberation.

"My sweet, beautiful sister," he said softly, "you have gone through so much! You have kept your faith in G-d and His Torah, despite all threats of punishment and torture. Hold out a little longer. Confess nothing, absolutely nothing. Do not let them trick you into mentioning any other name but de Lima. To all other questions reply: J do not know.' Good-bye sweet Inez, be strong. I shall see you soon again."

He was gone before Inez could embrace him once more. She sank back on her cot, happy beyond words, full of hope and confidence. Nothing could go wrong now!

Nothing?

Time was running short. Diego hurried to the cell of Don Jose, to whom he revealed his real identity without delay. He gave him last minute instructions as to his general attitude before the Grand jury. Then he hurried on.

Faint gray shadows filtering through the narrow [page 220] window panes announced the approaching dawn. Quickly Diego inserted the master key into the lock of the last prison cell on the long, dark corridor, little suspecting that the slowly turning key was to open a new and beautiful chapter in his life. For when he entered the dingy room and let the light of the lantern play on the white-skinned face of the girl on the mat, he was struck by her beauty, which shone radiantly through the rags and the filth as pure gold shines through mud and dust. As Francesca slowly raised her head, Diego beheld the noble profile of a young Spanish Jewess, the ageless features of Jewish womanhood. Although the two had never seen each other before, it was nevertheless a sort of reunion, for, as Francesca exclaimed: "Your mother has talked about you so often, it seems to me I always knew you."

Soon Diego had all but forgotten the purpose of his coming. He was engaged in deep conversation with Francesca, who wanted to hear every detail of his adventures.

"Have you already seen your mother?" she asked. "Was she happy to see you again?"

Diego looked hurt. "Could you imagine a mother who would not rejoice when she finds her son whom she has given up as lost?" Actually he had suspected from the beginning what her question really implied.

Francesca hesitated. "That is true," she replied [page 221] slowly, "but Donna Gracia is a firm believer in Judaism and our Jewish traditions, and you-"

"I know, I know," interrupted Diego. "I have been brought up in the Christian way. That is what you mean, is it not?"

The girl blushed deeply. She looked Diego straight into his eyes. "Yes, that is what I meant. And will you return to Judaism?"

Smilingly Diego looked at the young woman with the fanatical eyes who attempted, in the prison of the Inquisition, to win her liberator over to Judaism. And then he had a glorious idea.

"Would you marry a confused man, a lost sheep, in order to bring him back to the right road?" Was he too bold?

The surprise of his life awaited him. "At once," replied Francesca without hesitation and unsmiling. "Donna Gracia was always like a mother to me. In order that she may truly rejoice at the return of her long lost son, I am ready to do everything within the limits of the Divine Law."

Dawn was flooding through the cell. Another minute might spell discovery and doom. Hastily Diego took leave, promising to be back and with good news.

Little did he suspect that the following day would bring decisive news, events that were to shake Spain to its very foundations. There would be news, Yes, but not happy news.

XIX. BAD NEWS

WHEN DIEGO RETURNED to his private apartment it was too late in the morning to catch some sleep. The antechamber was crowded with petitioners from all parts of the country. The influence and power of the popular young Bishop proved to be a strong attraction for a great many people.

Diego had just finished his morning prayers and taken off his T'fillin when a messenger brought a sealed letter from the Alcalde of Madrid. He formally informed the Bishop of Avila that the prisoner, Fray Balthasar, had been sentenced to death by hanging. The execution was to take place the very next day in the public square in the center of the city.

Diego experienced a curious emotion. Instead of feeling elation over the final and now inevitable doom of his arch-enemy, he felt strangely empty and numb. It had been a long wait.

He called Juan, his trusted servant, and ordered [page 223] him to call the members of the Tribunal to an urgent meeting.

"With your ante-chamber full of people?" wondered Juan.

"Oh, send them home, all of them," was the angry reply. "They do not care for me but seek only their own advantage. I am tired of seeing their greedy faces and false smiles."

Half an hour later he addressed the members of the Holy Tribunal, who sat solemnly around the conference table.

"Senores, an urgent matter: upon the testimony of one man an entire family has been arrested and accused of the secret practice of Jewish customs. Meanwhile it has been established that the man is a common criminal and murderer who has poisoned the late Grand Inquisitor. In view of these circum- stances, I propose to liberate the prisoners at once and return their property."

Judicial eyebrows were raised in astonishment. Was this such an important issue to warrant an emergency meeting? Don Juan de Mirales, the presiding juror, rose solemnly:

"Senor, allow me to disagree with you. You are in office but a short time and not familiar with the procedures of the Holy Tribunal. Firstly, the testimony of the murderer has to be reexamined before the execution takes place. Secondly, the defendants [page 224] can only be released after the tortures have been applied without success."

He looked around in triumph. His dignified colleagues nodded silent approval. Don Juan sat down, smiling broadly.

Diego raged. He had anticipated this reaction. Every child in Spain knew of the cursed regulations of the Tribunal. But he had hoped to impress these underlings with the scope of his power and influence. He was quite unwilling to give up just yet.

"Senores," he cried and his fist crashed on the table. "Do it for my sake. I am interested in the prisoners and want to see them freed. I shall return the favor in due time."

This was the height of carelessness and Diego knew it. His nerves had been under too great a strain. The power of self-control had left him momentarily. Moreover, he had become used to have his every wish and order carried out to the letter and he hoped that the jurors would prove no exception. He was wrong. As wicked as their cause was - although none but a few fully realized it - the members of the Tribunal clung to the established rules and no bribe or promise could change their minds. Again it was Don de Mirales who spoke for his colleagues, who nodded their strong approval.

"What do you think of us, Senor," he said in a tone of bitter reproach. "We follow the letter of [page 225] the law to the inch. Our conscience is the measure of our judgment," he added piously.

In vain Diego attempted to bribe or threaten the jurors into submission. They remained firm and insisted upon the speedy application of the tortures before passing final judgment.

The execution of Fray Balthasar took place on the following day. The arch-enemy of the family y Aguilar had paid for his crimes. But his death did not serve to free the unfortunate prisoners.

THE DAYS PASSED SLOWLY. Diego was restless. Nervously he paced the floor of his study. He was unable to explain to himself the cause of his uneasiness. He was in the grip of a vague premonition, a dark foreboding of imminent disaster. Yet things seemed to work out, despite all difficulties. At this very minute his father was re- united with his wife and daughter, after Diego had decided that he could tell his mother the happy news without fearing for her damaged health. Diego smiled at the thought of the overwhelming happiness that must be sweeping through the hearts of his loved ones at this very moment. The smile on his lips soon faded, however, as he thought of the difficulties that faced him in his continued efforts to effect the release of his family. He pinned his last hopes on his friendship with the Duchess Ursini, [page 226] whose influence even extended to the secret chamber of the Inquisition Tribunal. "She must help me," he muttered. "I will go to her at once."

Without stopping to ring for his valet, Diego rushed down the staircase and hurried on foot to the Royal Palace, which was only a few hundred yards from his residence. From afar he saw silent crowds in front of the main gate. He associated their presence with the executions earlier in the day. He went directly to the private apartment of the Duchess in the left wing of the Royal Palace. To his surprise he found her in tears.

He took her hands. "What has happened, my lady? Is something wrong?"

The Duchess looked at Diego in amazement. "Have you not heard?" she sobbed. "An hour ago the Queen suffered a stroke. She is desperately ill. They will not even permit me, her closest friend, to sit by her bedside."

Diego was deeply shocked. He saw his carefully built cardhouse crumble. If the Queen should die--! He did not dare finish the thought. He tried to com- fort the weeping Duchess, but his heart was not in it. "She is not weeping for the Queen," he thought, repelled by the unashamed nakedness of human selfishness. "She is weeping for herself, for her own position and future which are at stake." He realized with sudden and terrifying clarity that in the event of the Queen's death he too would be doomed and [page 227} gone would be the last chance to save his family. For he knew that the King, despite his alleged friendliness, hated him, had always hated him for his superior intelligence, his brilliant talents and his popularity with the masses. It was the Duchess, and through her the Queen, who kept him in his position. With the Queen gone, the Duchess would have to go - and Diego y Aguilar would be at the mercy of his enemies. For popularity creates envy and envy creates hate.

Diego left the weeping Duchess and returned home. There was nothing for him to do but hope and pray. Wearily he sank in his armchair. Silence settled over the room as dusk filtered softly through the wide open windows.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Diego jumped up and waited expectantly. News at last. News came, but not the sort he had hoped for. The Queen's condition was unchanged, reported his secretary - and there was another piece of news: Fray Piedro Salute had just been appointed Grand Inquisitor, a post that had not been filled since the dismissal of Mendoza. Salute was the King's Father Confessor, a fanatical monk and declared enemy of Diego, in whom he saw his closest rival for the real power behind the throne.

Now Diego was faced with another, more immediate danger: The jurors, and above all Don Juan de Mirales, had long become suspicious of his integrity [page 228] as Inquisitor of Madrid, a suspicion that was confirmed by his strange and almost criminal attitude in the case of the imprisoned Marranos. In all probability, Fray Piedro was already in possession of the facts and was going to accuse him publicly of attempted perjury and bribe. Bad news indeed!

Everything depended now on the recovery of the Queen, who would restore the position and influence of the Duchess Ursini. Then he would still triumph over his enemies and rescue his loved ones from the clutches of the Inquisition.

Shortly before midnight the news spread like wildfire that the Queen was dead. [page 229]

XX. ESCAPE

DIEGO RECEIVED THE NEWS calmly. He was remarkably composed. His mind was made up. Early the following morning he dispatched a carriage for his father. When Don Manuel arrived, Diego rushed towards him and embraced him. Then he locked the door.

"Be seated, father, and be prepared for bad news."

Manuel nodded sadly. "I know my son, everybody knows. The Queen is dead. All is over."

"Perhaps all is not over yet," said Diego quietly. "It is true, the situation is desperate. I am surrounded by enemies. The Duchess Ursini has lost her position and influence. Moreover, my new superior official is Fray Piedro Salute, who has always hated me. I have given up the hope to free the prisoners by legal means."

Manuel wiped his forehead. Although a refreshing breeze cooled the early morning air, he felt hot and uncomfortable. "What are you planning to do?" he asked uneasily. {page 229]

Diego looked straight at his father. He said firmly and quietly: "They will have to escape."

Manuel gasped. "Escape? But how-when-the guards?"

Diego smiled. "There is still some power at my command. No one will dare to touch me until the burial of the Queen, which will take place tomorrow. I shall have to use all my resources to make the escape a success.

Don Manuel remained silent but his mind worked feverishly. Escape! And what was to happen to Diego? He had not mentioned any plans for his own escape. Oh, how he longed for him to say: "I will join you." Yet he was determined not to interfere with his son's plans or persuade him to escape with the others. This was Diego's affair and his affair only. But he decided to warn him.

"Are you sure the plan will work?" he asked anxiously. "What will happen if they come for the prisoners and do not find them? Will they not hold you responsible and punish you?"

"Most probably," said Diego calmly. "They will strip me of my office and privileges. I will be imprisoned, perhaps tortured-"

"Oh, no!" cried the anguished father. "Not that! You cannot-"

"Hush, father," Diego whispered. "I will tell you a secret." He moved closer. "I have made up my mind. I am going to escape with you."

[page 231] So he had said it, after all! Not since the miraculous reunion with his son did Manuel experience such elation. "Oh, Diego, my son," was all he could stammer. Now everything would surely be alright. Once again they would be one family, happily united under one roof, living in the Jewish tradition in a land free of fear and persecution. "May the Al- mighty bless and keep you, my beloved son. Now I have really found you, now I know that you are one of us."

Diego grew serious. "Father, I have always been one of you, a true son of my Jewish people. When I planned this escape I did not only think of you and mother and the others. I also thought of myself, of the glittering emptiness and the shallow deception that are my life. I want to belong wholly to you, to my family, my Torah, my people--my Jewish future. Oh, father, I want to be a Jew again!"

Tears of joy and gratitude streamed over Manuel's face. "This is no time for tears," said Diego softly, patting his father's back.

"You are right, my son," replied Manuel, drying his eyes resolutely, "let us go to work. What is your plan?"

Diego drew a small map from his pocket. "I thought it all out carefully," he said. "You see this road. It leads straight to the Portuguese border. Once safely across, we will proceed to Porto and embark for the Netherlands. It will be your task to provide [page 232] for a strong, solid coach and four fast horses. Tomorrow at noon you will wait at the roadside just outside the city. I refer to this spot here on the map, on the road leading to Salamanca."

"But our prisoners? How-?"

"Leave that part to me, father. The prisoners will meet you in disguise at the appointed time and place. They will be accompanied by my faithful servant Juan. Do you need a coachman?"

"No, thank you, I think I can manage myself. I used to drive often in the past."

"Very well, then. Listen carefully, father: As soon as mother and the others join you in the carriage, drive as fast as possible to Salamanca. Rest there for about an hour. Then proceed directly to the border. I will provide you with false papers which will get you safely across. Proceed to Porto, hire a Dutch vessel and wait for my arrival or until you hear from me. Do you have enough money?"

"I have my entire fortune on my person, partly bonds, the rest in cash."

"Have you weapons?" " I have a pair of excellent pistols."

"Buy another pair for Don Jose."

Manuel marveled at his son's foresight, his cool determination and sense of timing and strategy. "G-d be with you, my son!" After a firm handshake and the traditional blessing, they parted quickly. There was work to do. [page 233]

IT WAS LATE FORENOON on the following day. As the heat waves began to envelop the streets of Madrid, Diego went to the gloomy gray prison, accompanied by Juan, who carried a large bundle of clothes. Without delay they proceeded to Jose's cell and informed him in brief words of the plan. "Take this Manolo outfit. It will make a perfect disguise."

Jose was too overjoyed for words. He put on velvet breeches, long silk stockings, light black pumps, a short tight vest and a broad black belt of silk. He drew the colorful neckdoth around his neck, fastened the seams through a golden ring on his chest and connected them with the silver buttons on the belt. A guitar on a green and red ribon completed the outfit which, in a matter of minutes, changed an honorable silk merchant into an easy- going, carefree Manolo (Spanish dandy).

"Follow me, my friend," said Diego, looking admiringly at the feat his faithful servant had accomplished. Together they went to the cell of Inez.

The engaged couple had not seen each other since the fateful day of their arrest. Diego had counted on this when he took Jose with him. He wanted to observe the effect upon Inez. It was a complete success. Inez failed to recognize her fiance.

Diego laughed. "Look, my little sister, what an elegant fellow your Jose has become."

Only then did Inez recognize him and she threw [page 234] herself into his arms. With a regretful smile, Diego stepped between them.

"I am sorry to have to be so cruel. But we have no time to lose. The hour of liberation has come. Inez, my dear, here is the costume of a Manola. Put it on quickly while we visit mother."

He gave his surprised sister a package containing a short frock, silken shoes, a white blouse with large silver buttons, an amber comb and the traditional mantilla and fan, which comprise the costume of the Spanish Senorita.

Diego turned back again. "Please hurry, Inez. Time is running short."

For his mother he had chosen the costume of a simple Spanish housewife, while Francesca was to appear as the family maid. He went to see her first and insisted upon the greatest speed as noon was approaching rapidly. He was somewhat slowed up by Donna Annunciata, who could not believe that they were free to go-not as free men and women but as fugitives from justice. There was also the strange fact that her son did not plan to escape with them but promised to join them later.

"Believe me, mother, I am in no danger here," said Diego impatiently, "but I most surely will be and so will all of you if you do not hurry."

"Please, come with us now," the mother begged.

"I cannot. My absence would immediately betray your escape. Go, mother, and have faith in the G-d [page 235] of Israel. He has helped us in the past and He will not forsake us in the time to come."

The bells of the Cathedral struck twelve. They were already late. Diego could not remain a second longer. He held a hurried, whispered conference with Juan, after which he left the prison without saying a final good-bye.

Five minutes later a small group emerged from the back door of the Inquisition palace. It was headed by a well-dressed young couple, obviously a Manolo with his Manola, dressed in the typical Spanish fashion, bent on spending the hot summer afternoon at some cool spot, perhaps at Fuente de la Teja, a favorite resort just outside the capital. The Afanola was accompanied by her mother, in accordance with the strict rules of Spanish etiquette. They were followed by a servant and a maid, carrying a number of packages and bundles, probably containing blankets and supplies for the excursion. A pleasant little group, indeed, and so harmless and ordinary looking that no one who passed them would have paid the slightest attention to them. Yet no one saw them, for Diego had wisely selected the noon-hour for the escape, during which no Spaniard leaves his house in the unbearable heat of the sun.

Just outside the city-gate, on the road to Salamanca, Don Manuel waited with his carriage. His heart pounded as he recognized from afar the slowly walking group approaching the appointed spot. They [page 236] were almost half an hour late, the longest thirty minutes Manuel had ever gone through. Now that his wife and daughter and the rest of the family were actually in sight, the tension, instead of lessening, increased. Twenty years! A lifetime gone by! And now - together again!

Through a veil of tears he saw his wife Annunciata, whom he had met briefly a few days before. Her disguise could not fool him. He would have recognized her anywhere, at any time, in any disguise. There was traffic on the road, people walking by. They had to be careful. But their eyes sparkled with an inner joyfulness so intense that even Juan was touched by the dramatic quality of this family re- union. He helped the ladies into the carriage, tears running over his old and wrinkled face. "Dio Gracia," he murmured over and over again as he shook the hands of each of his charges. He was under strict orders to remain behind and report at once to his master on the success of the initial step of the escape. "I will bring good news to my master," he thought happily.

A final handshake and the carriage drove off in a cloud of dust. The horses steamed in the boiling heat of the Spanish noon.

Juan returned to the Bishop's residence but did not find his master there. Diego had gone to the Royal Palace, to attend the funeral of the Queen. He found the Duchess Ursini dissolved in tears, for she [page 237] mourned not only the passing of a dear friend but more so the loss of her position and influence, which had made her the real power behind the throne. The King was unmoved by the death of his unloved wife. He treated the Duchess with icy contempt.

Juan knew his master's anxiety and he decided to inform him at once. Diego made a silent and fervent prayer to G-d, deeply gratified by the good news. He became calm and composed. The danger of his own position did not frighten him. His loved ones were safe, or almost so. That was all that mattered.

He decided to remain on his post until he was sure that the fugitives had safely crossed into Portugal. He waited impatiently for the message, reminding himself that it could not possibly arrive before three or four days. He hoped to be able to keep the escape secret, at least until the arrival of the message, if possible longer. For that purpose he had arranged for several of his trusted maids to be smuggled into the cells formerly occupied by the members of the y Aguilar family and there pose as the real prisoners. Diego knew that the guards hardly ever looked at the inmates, with whom they had no real contact except for the delivery of the daily single meal. Moreover, it was dark and damp in the cells and the faces hardly recognizable. If only they would not be called for questioning within the next few days, Diego felt sure that he would be able [page 238] to keep the escape secret for some time.

The day of the funeral passed. So did the following day and the day after. Finally, a week had gone by. No message.

THE CARRIAGE BEARING the fugitives towards Salamanca thundered through the moonlit night. The road was deserted now and there was no sound except the clattering of the hoofs on the hard ground. Silence also reigned in the coach. Francesca and Inez had fallen asleep, guarded by Jose, while Donna Annunciata sat stiffly beside her husband, always on the alert should Don Manuel be overcome by sleep. Without letup, he had been driving for fourteen hours, not sparing the horses. But Manuel did not fall asleep. He was wide awake. It was the trembling excitement of the reunion that still burned in his soul and gave him strength and endurance such as he had not known during the last few years.

He was so engrossed in his joyful thoughts that he failed to notice a group of horsemen who were following the coach. They had emerged from the woods which lined the road and were slowly over- taking the fast-rolling carriage. Whether it was the noise of the turning wheels or perhaps the rhythmic clatter of the hoofs-whatever it was that distracted Manuel's attention-he suddenly drove straight into a blinding light and, without the slightest warning, [page 239] felt the reins glide from his hands. Another moment and the coach came to a sudden and terrifying halt. The girls awoke with a start and Don Jose instinctively reached for his pistol, only to be stopped by a hoarse voice: "Everybody out and hands up!"

Wearily the travelers climbed out onto the road and put their hands up. They all had gone through so much in the past months that the final stumbling block on their road to freedom left them almost indifferent. It was useless to offer resistance as the robbers began to search their pockets. If they would only permit them to continue on their way after taking all their earthly belongings!

"I hope they are just bandoleros," whispered Manuel to Jose, "common street robbers who are only interested in our money. I hope "

He was interrupted by the same hoarse voice that had ordered them to put up their hands.

"In the woods. All of you. Get going!"

The little group huddled together, too weary to negotiate with the robbers. They could not see the face of the speaker, for the strong light of the lantern shone fully upon them, making it impossible to see beyond its narrow arch.

"Let us do as they please," whispered Jose. "There is nothing we can do. Perhaps they just want to question us."

And so the little group of hunted Jews embarked upon a new adventure, an adventure that was to end [page 240] far more pleasantly than they had hoped in their boldest dreams.

They were led to a hidden cave cleverly hewn in a giant rock not far from the roadside. To their surprise they found a well-heated, well-lighted room, equipped with comfortable chairs and sofas. Rich carpets covered the floor and precious paintings- evidently the loot from previous robberies-hung on the walls.

This luxurious hideout proved to be the fugitives' domicile for the next four days, during which they were completely cut off from the outside world. Ample food was provided, most of which they did not touch.

It was a strange situation, which none of the Marranos was able to comprehend. They were fugitives from justice and, at the same time, prisoners of outlawed bandits. Their money had been taken away from them and they were held in strict custody. Yet no bodily harm had been inflicted upon anyone. During the four days they saw no one. The door was heavily bolted from the outside and there was but a narrow slit to permit food to be passed through.

On the afternoon of the fourth day-it happened to be a Sabbath which the fugitives observed as much as possible-as the tension became unbearable, the door of the luxurious prison suddenly opened and admitted a tall, well-built man, dressed in the fashion of a Spanish nobleman. His dominating manner [page 241] indicated beyond doubt that he was the chief of the robber gang. All rose except Donna Annunciata, who suffered from acute pain in her legs.

"Welcome, Senores and Madamitas," said the man politely and bowed. He looked every inch the gentle- man, which evidently he was not.

Manuel drew himself up. "I demand an explanation," he said haughtily. "You took our money. Is that not enough? Why do you keep us here? Who are you?"

"I shall answer your last question first," answered the robber smiling. "I am Francisco Estevan."

At the mention of this name a visible shudder swept through the room. All faces paled.

"Why are you frightened?" Estevan asked lightly. "Do you know me?"

"Not actually," stammered Don Jose, his voice shaking, "but your namesake -

"Oh you mean the famous robber chieftain whom one calls King Solomon's nephew? Ladies, Senores, you are looking at him."

The effect was startling. Estevan was an almost mystical figure, whose very name spelled terror to all travelers. He claimed to be a direct descendant of King Solomon and was known and feared throughout Spain as "Solomon's nephew." Yet it was common knowledge that he was a staunch friend of the poor and underprivileged and used a large part of his loot to support charitable organizations [page 242] and needy families. To the Marranos he was an almost legendary figure, as a result of widespread rumors that he had managed to snatch countless victims from the clutches of the Inquisition and smuggled them across the border into Portugal.

For a moment Jose stood transfixed. Then he turned to the family and exclaimed happily: "Blessed be G-d Who has sent us a protector!"

Neither the women nor Manuel had the faintest idea what all this meant. Was this a time for blessings and elation?

Manuel approached Jose. "Are you feeling well, my son?" he inquired anxiously.

"I never felt better in my life," laughed Jose.

During this entire scene Estevan had looked on in silence. Now he stepped closer.

"May I join the gentleman in inquring after the reason of your elation?" he asked politely. "Oh, Don Francisco, nephew of Solomon and friend of the Jewish people," cried Jose. "We are Marranos, hunted Jews who are fleeing from the dreaded Inquisition. These are the parents of the famous Bishop Don Diego y Aguilar and I am the fiance of his sister. We hoped to cross the border three days ago but your underlings interfered with our plans. Don Diego is in great danger, for he is awaiting the news of our safe arrival before fleeing himself. Estevan, you must help us, brothers and sisters of your own people."

All eyes were upon the chieftain, whose perpetual [page 243] smile had given way to grim brooding. For a long moment he remained silent. Finally he spoke: "Please accept my humble and sincere apologies for the rough treatment you received at the hand of my men. I thought you were a prosperous Spanish family, Alanolos, a class that I despise thoroughly, for it is greedy and lazy. I gave orders to keep you here until my arrival, to make sure that there was nothing more to get from you. I deeply regret my mistake."

He clasped his hands lightly. A servant appeared. "Bring in the loot," was the curt order.

"Here is your money," he said pleasantly, surveying the belts and wallets on the table before him.

Manuel shook his hand warmly. "We shall never forget your generosity," he said fervently.

The robber smiled again. "Do not be absurd," he said mockingly. "You know I do not deserve your gratitude. I am nothing but a scoundrel, a criminal feared by the public and respected by the under- world. But when I am in a good mood, I feel like doing good deeds. Today is one of my good days. You shall be my good deed."

The Marranos looked at each other, their eyes shining. It was almost too good to be true.

"I shall escort you to the border," continued Estevan. "There are many roving robbers on the road, ready to pounce upon their prey. They will not dare touch you if I provide the escort. And neither will the Hermandad!" [page 244]

He turned abruptly on his heels and left the room. The little family group began busily to prepare for the second part of the adventurous journey. 1hey were strangely touched. Here was a truly lost son of his people who seemed to try desperately to regain his lost honor.

Presently Don Francisco reappeared, accompanied by a dozen men, armed to the teeth.

"I have heard of the family y Aguilar," he said, a truly distinguished name in Israel. It is not my custom to lead the escorting troop personally. I shall make an exception in your case. We are leaving at once.

It still seemed like a dream to the fugitives. But as they were led outside into the broad daylight - the sun had just set in red glory behind the mountains - and saw their coach on the road with four perfectly fresh horses, they knew that this was reality!

The ladies seated themselves in the carriage while the men walked on both sides, followed by the armed troop. Estevan walked with them. "This is the safest way to travel," he had told them, "and the most inconspicuous."

They travelled all night and most of the next day. The sun set as they reached the border. Estevan turned to Jose.

"Here my mission ends," he said. "You will have no trouble with your papers at the border. I shall [page 245] remain here for another two hours in the event something goes wrong."

The Marranos tried to thank him for his invaluable service.

"Do not thank me," Estevan replied modestly. "It is I who has to thank you for having provided the occasion for my good deed. Oh, by the way," he turned to Manuel, "I remember having met your son Diego not long ago at a royal ball which I attended incognito. He has heard of me and I would like to meet him again- Send the message of your arrival as soon as you step on Portuguese soil. I shall be waiting for your son."

Off rolled the carriage towards the border. Half an hour later they crossed safely into Portugal. A messenger was dispatched at once, under orders to transmit the message only to Diego. The family proceeded to Porto, where Don Manuel chartered a Dutch vessel.

Freedom finally dawned upon the harrassed family. Now began the wait for Diego.

MORE THAN A WEEK HAD passed since the successful escape of the Marranos from the Inquisition prison. The constant worries and anxiety brought Diego to the brink of a nervous breakdown. He should have had news four days ago. Surely something must have gone wrong. He [page 246] imagined all kinds of wild happenings. Perhaps their escape had been discovered--despite the "substitute" prisoners-and the borders were dosed? Perhaps the Hermandad had caught the fugitives and returned them right back to their cells?

He had no way of checking these possibilities. Gone were the days where he could enter the prison at will, cause important documents to disappear and facilitate the escape or postpone the execution of condemned Marranos. True, he was still Inquisitor of Madrid and Bishop of Avila. But he held these posts in name only. He had not been in Avila in a long time and his affairs there were completely un- settled. In the capital, things had gone from bad to worse. To the surprise and disgust of the people, the King had publicly announced his engagement to the Princess Elizabeth of Parma, little more than a week after his wife's funeral. He did so at the behest of his closest advisor and collaborator, Prime Minister Alberoni, who wanted to demonstrate be- fore all the world that the King was the absolute ruler of Spain, free to do as he pleased, even if it violated the basic concepts of human decency. The Duchess had been expelled from Spain and had returned to her native Italy. Diego, her favorite and protege, was slated to be the next victim, but Alberoni was undecided as to the course of action he was to take. Y Aguilar was still popular with the masses and one had to be careful not to arouse [page 247] their wrath by causing a public scandal. Alberoni had a secret conference with the Grand Inquisitor, Don Piedro Salute, during which a plan of action was set up.

On the afternoon of the following day Diego received a sealed letter by special messenger. It was from the Grand Inquisitor. It read as follows:

"My dear Bishop: There are several Marranos at present in the Inquisition prison at Madrid which come under your jurisdiction. Owing to the necessity of arranging a public auto-da-fe at the earliest possible date, the trials must commence at once and be brought to an early conclusion. Remember, dear colleague, we need. convictions!" Don Piedro Salute Grand Inquisitor

Diego at once realized the implications of this order. For the letter was an order, there could be no doubt about that, although it was clothed in polite and evasive words. His insistence upon the immediate release of the Marranos without the customary trial, and his futile attempts to persuade the jurors to grant the release, undoubtedly had made a bad impression on the Tribunal and had swelled the hopes of his enemies for his early removal. They knew there must be some connection between him [page 248] and the prisoners and that he was most unwilling to permit them to stand trial. Obviously, this order was designed to effect a quick showdown in which Diego was certainly going to be the loser!

Curiously enough, the fateful letter left Diego cool. He had expected and feared its arrival for the past few days and now that it lay on his desk he felt a strange feeling of relief. The decision was near. Everything had gone according to plan. Even this letter fitted into the fast changing mosaic of events. But the most important Piece was missing: The news from Portugal.

Ten minutes later the long-delayed message was in his hands. It was delivered by a special courier who had just arrived from the Portuguese border. Diego paid him a princely reward but did not question him. His loved ones were safe. That was all he cared to know. Once again, Divine Providence had intervened at the crucial moment. Fervent prayers of gratitude welled up in Diego's heart and poured in the ancient "hatov vehametiv- from his lips.

His happiness increased with the realization that the Tribunal had not yet discovered the escape of some of its most spectacular victims. There was a good chance that Diego would have a few more days at his disposal during which he could settle his affairs and prepare his own flight.

Just then a second letter from the Grand-Inquisitor arrived, informing him that the Tribunal had decided [page 249] in a special session to open the trials at once. The accused were slated to appear promptly at eleven o'clock on the following day. Would the Bishop be good enough to attend!

Every minute counted. The escape was complicated by the fact that Diego had sent his papers and private documents to his residence in Avila, including the false passport which would get him safely across the border. Unfortunately, Avila lay in the opposite direction from the Portuguese border, which meant the loss of precious time. Diego was convinced that his absence from the trial would result in an immediate hunt to catch the valuable prey. But he had to take the risk.

Within the hour, he was on his way to Avila, accompanied by the faithful Juan. He had nothing more to lose, everything to gain. Behind him lay torture and certain death. Ahead waited freedom, security and a life in the spirit of the Torah.

TENSE SILENCE PREVAILED in the crowded courtroom. The Prosecutor had just completed the case against a woman who was accused of practicing sorcery. The names of Donna Gracia de Lima, her daughter Inez, Don Jose de Montalto and Francesca, had been called by the clerk and all eyes were on the door to watch the entrance of the Marrano-suspects. Lately, few [page 250] Marranos had been caught and today's trial was eagerly awaited.

The minutes ticked away. The door closed. Don Juan de Mirales, the Chief justice, grew impatient. "Bring the defendants at once!" he ordered the attendant sharply.

The official returned quickly, his face flushed. "Your honor," he stammered, "a terrible thing has happened. The cells are empty. All four suspects have disappeared." (The "substitute" prisoners had all managed to escape the night before!)

The announcement threw the courtroom into an uproar. There was a mad scramble for the exits to spread the fantastic news: The Inquisition was not almighty. Escape was possible. An unheard-of event!

The trial was immediately adjourned and the members of the Tribunal retired to the adjoining conference room to discuss the situation.

"I knew it," cried Don de Mirales, "this is the work of the Bishop of Avila. It is he who has organized the escape. We were struck with shameful blind- ness. I have definite proof of his guilt."

He paused dramatically. Then he pulled a paper from his pocket. He waved it in the air. "Here is the proof," he exclaimed triumphantly. "The real name of the suspect Gracia de Lima is Annunciata y Aguilar. Presumably she is a dose relative of Diego y Aguilar. I received the information Just before the trial opened. Its disclosure was to have [page 251] been the weapon that would have destroyed our fine bird."

The jurors were duly impressed. This meant that the Inquisitor of Madrid and Bishop of Avila was of Jewish descent, perhaps a Marrano himself, secretly practicing the forbidden religion.

Don Juan struck his forehead angrily. "What fools we are! Did none of you notice y Aguilar's absence in the courtroom? He knew of course that he would be implicated as soon as the escape of his relatives was discovered. He has promptly escaped himself."

All available forces of the Hermandad were immediately put on the alert. The search extended over the whole country. Overnight, the nation-wide hunt became the main topic of conversation all over Spain. One question was in everyone's mind: Would the celebrated fugitive be able to slip through the net of the Inquisition machine?

Diego's fast coach arrived in Avila. The news of his flight had not yet reached the sleepy town whose main distinction was the presence of a Bishop. Diego drove directly to his residence-which he had rarely visited-after Juan had made sure that no servants or curious onlookers were in the vicinity. Diego found everything in good order and it took him less than an hour to collect his papers, empty his desk and pack a few of his personal belongings. As he descended the broad carpeted staircase to [page 252] join Juan, who was waiting in the coach, he heard the sound of fast approaching horses. In a flash he knew-it was an intuition which proved to be correct -that this was the Hermandad, which had been dispatched to the palace. Without so much as a glance through the window to verify his fears, Diego rushed down the stairs, jumped in the waiting coach and disappeared in a cloud of dust just as the advance guard of the armed troop entered the deserted front-yard. A narrow escape, indeed!

Knowing intimately the smoothly functioning organization, Diego had no doubt that every highway was patrolled, every inn and forest searched. It was a desperate situation, a veritable mousetrap, and the chances for escape exceedingly dim. But Diego had no choice. To remain meant certain death. Escape at all costs was the only alternative.

The road to Salamanca and to freedom was hilly and beset with curves. Juan spared neither horses nor his own energy. The coach thundered along at top speed, but unfortunately not fast enough. For as Diego turned once again to peek through the small window above the backseat, he spotted tiny black figures on horseback far below in the valley. It was not difficult to guess who they were and what they were after.

Juan had also seen the pursuers. He lashed the steaming horses furiously, but there was a limit to their endurance. Moreover, as he rounded another [page 253] curve he was confronted with an unusually steep hill which slowed down the coach considerably. The armed soldiers were fast approaching.

Juan peered behind him and saw his master fumbling with the pistol.

"'What are you doing, Senor?" he shouted above the din of the moving wheels.

"I intend to kill myself rather than fall into the hands of the enemy."

"What will become of me if they catch me," thought Juan in sudden terror. It was the first time he was thinking of his own safety.

"We are not yet lost, Senor," he shouted. "We can jump from the carriage and hide in the mountains until the danger is past."

Just then they reached the top of the hill and the coach moved faster as it sped downhill. Juan lashed the horses and Diego became hopeful. His lips moved silently as he sent fervent prayers to G-d, asking to be spared, not for his own sake only, but for the sake of his parents, who must not lose their son a second time!

A thunderous "Halt!" tore him from his meditations. Instinctively he reached for his pistol, but it was too late. A firm hand wrested the weapon from his clenched fist. Resignedly Diego looked up.

To his utter surprise he did not face the Chief of the Hermandad, as he had expected. The troop was still far behind, as he ascertained by a quick glance [page 253] through the window. Then this was not-he looked loser-and-

"Estevan!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "Don Franisco Estevan, the nephew of Solomon."

"The very same," was the smiling reply. "We have net before, Senor."

"So we have," cried Diego, remembering well the bold, deeply tanned face of the famous robber chief whom he had met some time ago in disguise at a royal ball. Estevan had here revealed his true identity to him after he had sworn not to betray him.

Yet another pleasant surprise awaited him. "I have been waiting for you," said Estevan simply.

"What? You have been waiting for me? How did you know I was going to pass this spot? Are you a sorcerer?"

"Come, Don Diego, and I will tell you all about

Diego left the coach and walked with the robber the bushes by the roadside, while Juan unsaddled the horses with the help of the other men.

Diego turned anxiously to Estevan. "They are after me," he whispered urgently, "I mean the Hermandad. I think they are coming now."

A sharp command-and the robbers threw themselves behind the bushes, ready for the pursuers. Juan, who was old and could not move so fast, crept under the coach, where he hoped to be out of sight.

The horses approached the curve in a cloud of [page 255] dust. "Hurray," cried the soldiers jubilantly as they approached the deserted carriage in the middle of the road. Now they were certain to catch their prey and collect the rich reward.

But the "Hurray" choked in their throats as they rode straight into a hail of bullets. Many were killed instantly and the others turned with lightning speed to run for their lives. The leader of the troop cast a frightened glance in the direction of the bushes. "This must be the devil," he shouted in despair.

"Not the devil," came the thunderous reply, "but Francisco Estevan."

"The nephew of Solomon," wailed the surviving soldiers as they made their frenzied getaway. Evidently their terror of Estevan was greater than their desire to catch the fugitive.

Diego could hardly speak. "I have heard many stories of your courageous deeds to save our brethren," he said in a choking voice. "Now I have witnessed it with my own eyes. Estevan, I cannot believe that you are really a criminal. Come with me to Portugal and become a true son of your people."

There was a long pause. "I cannot go back any more," replied the robber chief, sadness in his voice. "It is too late. However, I will escort you to the border and we can talk on the way."

Thus Diego reached the border in the very same manner in which his family escaped only a few days [page 256] before. Repeatedly he implored Estevan to leave his career of crime and return to Judaism. He made it clear to him that all the good deeds in the world did not justify his well-known crimes, his robberies and abductions.

"If you want to return to Judaism with a true heart, G-d will make it easy for you and you will become a respected member of the Jewish community."

The robber shook his head. "It is too late," he repeated over and over again. They rode on in silence until they reached the border.

Two days later Diego rushed into the arms of his overjoyed family. The Bishop-Inquisitor was dead. Diego y Aguilar had just begun to live.

XXI. FROM AMSTERDAM TO VIENNA

THE SPANISH-PORTUGUESE Kehilla at Amsterdam, one of the greatest Jewish centers of medieval and even modem Europe, was in a state of great excitement. The synagogue, one of the largest in the world, was buzzing with rumors that flew from one bench to the other, thick and fast. The Spanish King has abdicated-no, he had fled the country, for he is a secret Jew, a Marrano-, no, the Inquisition machine was dissolved and a new government formed-!

The head-Shamosh, in his long velvet coat and blue headgear, was outraged. Never before in his memory had there been so much talking during the service. He clapped his hands audibly and, when this did not help, because of the great distance from one part of the synagogue to the other, he posted himself majestically on the Almemor and cast fierce looks in the general direction of the culprits. The effect was negligible. For most of the whispering [page 257] came from the front rows close to the Aron Ha- kodesh, which was separated from the Almemor by a giant carpet. Even the fierce lightnings from the head-Shamosh's eyes were not able to stop the noise.

The center of attraction was an old man with a snow-white beard. His back was bent but his eyes still sparkled with the fire of inner youth. He had been coming to services regularly for the past years and had never attracted much attention. All this was changed. For the old man was none other than Raphaelo, the y Aguilar's oldest and most faithful servant, whom Manuel had left behind when he returned to Spain.

It was Raphaelo who had spread the news of impending sensational events which led to the wild and completely baseless rumors. He had received a message, sent through secret channels, informing him of the early arrival of the family. Raphaelo, in his enthusiasm and happy excitement, was incapable of keeping the astounding information to himself. "Why should I?- he reasoned. "Let the whole world know how miraculous G-d's ways are!" And so, within a few hours, Amsterdam, the Jewish capital of Western Europe, was ablaze with wild rumors.

When the ship anchored in the harbor four days later, the entire Jewish community assembled to receive the illustrious guests. Diego and his family were greatly surprised. They had looked forward to a quiet entry into the old Dutch city. Diego in [page 259] particular, for he had certain plans and, besides, he needed a long rest. Yet when the old, honest, long- remembered and long-forgotten face of Raphaelo, the teacher of his early youth, appeared from the crowd, when still powerful arms embraced him and held him tight for long minutes, anger and embarrassment vanished and gave way to happiness and joy at the sight of the faithful servant whom Diego had not seen in twenty years. The old man cried tears of joy when he heard the first hasty accounts of the incredible events that led to the happy reunion and successful escape.

"Now, I gladly die," he repeated over and over again.

Hardly had the initial excitement subsided-every appearance of the former Bishop-Inquisitor in the synagogue still caused a great commotion-than invitations were issued to the Kehilta to attend the wedding on Lag b'Omer of Inez y Aguilar and Don Jose de Montalto. Together with his father-in-law, Jose had begun to lay the foundation for a new silk- importing firm. Although the business developed very slowly and the funds which be had brought from Spain dwindled rapidly, Jose felt that he no longer should delay the long-planned wedding.

All Amsterdam took part in the joyous event. The guests in their colorful garments sat at long tables heavily laden with rich and mouth-watering food. For the hundredth time, people were telling [page 260} each other the miraculous story of the Marrano family y Aguilar, and of Diego, who could have become the mighty ruler of the world's most powerful kingdom and who chose instead to become a simple Jew, a brother among brethren, a son of his people.

In the course of the wedding meal, while gay music played and red wine flowed, Donna Annunciata sent a note to Diego asking him to meet her in the garden behind the house.

For a long time mother and son walked slowly and silently under the blooming trees. They had hardly found enough time for each other and the mother felt that Diego now needed her more than ever before.

Abruptly she broke the silence. "My beloved son, what I have to tell you needs no long introduction: Oh, Diego, there is a girl waiting for you, a girl who seeks her equal in beauty, charm, noble simplicity and piety. You know whom I mean, my son: Francesca de Montalto loves you and I believe - my heart tells me - you love her also. After all, it is time for you to get married," she added with a smile.

Diego blushed. He had never mentioned the episode in the prison cell to anyone and he was sure that Francesca had done likewise. Yet his mother, with the probing eye of a loving mother, had sensed his feelings. He was grateful for being able to talk freely, for there was something on his mind about which he had wanted to talk to her for some time. [page 261]

"Oh, mother, you know everything," he said laughingly. "You are right. I had planned this step -to marry Francesca-for a long time. However, there is something that prevents me from doing so for some time to come."

"Is there anything the matter," asked Annunciata anxiously. "A rest, perhaps-?"

"No, mother, it is nothing of the kind. I feel fine. It is just that I plan to leave Amsterdam shortly. When I return we shall celebrate the wedding."

The mother was shocked. "You plan to leave us?" she exclaimed. "But why?"

"Shshsh, not so loud, mother," warned Diego. "Let us go back."

Aanunciata blocked his way. "Not before you have told me why you want to leave us now that we are just beginning to lead a normal family life."

Diego smiled wearily. "Airight, mother, you win. You see, Holland is not the country where I could feel at home. I also know that father is not happy here. The silk business is far from promising. He longs for his estate and he misses the land."

"What is your plan?"

"Somewhere - I cannot at present tell you where - I have a rich and powerful friend. I shall visit him shortly. If he remembers me and is willing to help me, I plan to settle down in his country. Then I will come back here for Francesca, for you, father and the others, and we will start life anew." [page 262]

Annunciata looked at her son through a veil of tears. "Must I loose you once again, my son?" she sobbed.

Diego had expected this reaction and it had been the reason for his postponing this personal talk until the last minute. "Come, come, mother," he said soothingly, "I am still here with you. Believe me, the temporary separation from home is harder for me than for you. But I hope to be able to help my suffering people through my powerful friend. When the Hermandad pursued me on the road to Salamanca, I vowed that if G-d would save me from disaster, I would devote the rest of my life to the welfare and security of my people."

"May G-d bless you, my son," said Annunciata quietly. Resolutely she dried her tears. Diego was right. This was no time for tears. There was work ahead.

Mother and son returned to the banquet hall, where they had already been missed. All eyes were on Diego, whose fabulous career and subsequent flight was still the talk of the town. Deep respect was felt for the former Bishop and Inquisitor who did not hesitate for a single moment to return to G-d and His Torah at the first possible chance. This was a true Kiddusb Hashem, a glorification of the Divine Name. Amsterdam and the Jewish world were proud of Diego y Aguilar.

On the morning after the wedding, Diego took quiet leave of his family, after having informed his [page 263] father and the others of his decision.

"It may turn out to be a blessing not only for me but also for you," he had added and thus stopped any possible argument.

The faithful Juan was with his master as the coach slowly rolled through the gate. Diego walked behind it, his arms around the shoulders of his parents, accompanied by the young couple, Inez and Jose, and old Raphaelo. Francesca had remained at home. Diego had talked with her far into the night and had obtained her complete approval of his plans for the future.

Diego forced a smile to his lips. "I shall be back before long," he exclaimed gaily, but his voice sounded strangely hoarse. "Smile, everybody This is no funeral. I will be back in six months!"

"If at least he would tell me where he is going", murmured Raphaelo bitterly.

One more embrace, a hasty kiss and off rolled the carriage, accompanied by the blessing of the Ko hanim with which Raphaelo took leave of his be- loved Diego. Silently the family returned to the city. The streets and the house looked differently now. Six months is a long time.

Journeys in the seventeenth century were a doubtful pleasure. The roads were rough and often dangerous. The wheels of the carriages broke with maddening regularity, horses dropped in exhaustion and so did the passengers-in short, it must have been a matter of great importance which caused [page 264] Diego y Aguilar to leave the circle of his family and his many friends and admirers and set about a long journey whose goal was-Vienna.

On a lovely summer morning, after almost six weeks of constant traveling, the two companions neared the gate of the old and famous city -of emperors, wine and intrigues. Diego drove directly to the Jewish quarter in the heart of the city where, after a short search, he found room and board with a Hungarian Jewish family. He did not disclose his real name, as he abhorred any kind of publicity. Besides, few people in Vienna would have associated any memories with the name y Aguilar.

Yet there were several people in Vienna who remembered this name only too well. One of them was the Field marshal, Count of Starhemberg, who had played an active role during the siege of Barcelona. On the afternoon of the day of Diego's arrival in Vienna, the Count was having a little party in his sumptuous city apartment, celebrating the successful conclusion of another exciting fox hunt. He sat in a comfortable armchair, an ample supply of fiery Tokay wine within easy reach. Intimate friends surrounded him, who were eagerly following an account of Starhemberg's war adventures. He was just describing the bloody siege of Barcelona.

"Yes, those were great times," he said jovially, sipping the sparkling red wine. "In Barcelona we were on the brink of being captured by the French. [page 265] We had given up and were ready to surrender. Curiously, it was a young Spanish priest who revived our courage, tore us from apathy and worked out a strategy which helped to prolong the battle until the Dutch came to our rescue."

"A priest?" asked Count Kirstein, one of the guests, in astonishment.

As the host started to explain, he was interrupted by a valet who presented a note on a silver tray.

"A strange gentleman asks your Excellency to read this note," he announced.

"Have you seen him before?" "No, Sir, I have never seen him. He is waiting in the green room." "Permit me, gentlemen," Count Starhemberg apologized to his guests as he broke the red seal on the note.

As he read slowly, his pink, healthy face reflected great surprise and amazement. He jumped up excitedly.

"What a coincidence," he exclaimed, waving the note at his guests. "Here we sit talking about the courageous Spanish priest and who, gentlemen, is waiting in the green room? Our good priest. I shall see him at once. Please continue with your festivities."

He hurried to the room, where Diego waited by the window.

"Welcome to Vienna," cried the count, shaking Diego's hand vigorously. "I thought I'd never see you again. Sit down and tell me all about yourself."

XXII. IMPERIAL FRIEND

EMPEROR CARL VI OF Austria sat in his splendidly furnished study which resembled a ballroom in size and elegance. On his knees he held his only daughter and heir, the Arch- Duchess Maria Theresa, who was destined to become the most famous Empress of all times. Whenever the Emperor found time to play with his daughter he was in a pleasant mood and forgot the heavy pressure of work which confronted him daily. For he loved his only child and often kept her by his side during important cabinet meetings in order to give her an early sense of duty and responsibility.

A courtier, standing stiffly at attention, announced Count Starhemberg, one of the Emperor's closest advisors and his former comrade-in-arms.

"Bring him in," ordered Carl jovially. He was not always pleased to see the loud and talkative count, but today he did not mind.

"Welcome, old friend," he called to the count, who stood respectfully by the door. "Come on in, [page 266] drop the etiquette and make yourself at home. Sit right here, next to me, as befits two old comrades- in-arms. Maria, you know the count, do you not?"

The girl nodded eagerly, her large, expressive eyes upon the visitor. She spoke little but observed and absorbed everything around her. This, in no little measure, contributed to her astounding knowledge of facts and people which she later used to great advantage in ruling her empire.

"Your majesty," said the count, "I bring you a reminiscence from the Spanish campaign. Surely you remember a certain Dominican priest by the name of Fray Diego?"

"Do I remember!" exclaimed Carl. "It is to him alone that we owe our liberty. A wonderful man and a great mind. Marshal, do you recall-" and His Majesty went into a lengthy discussion of the Spanish campaign. Starhemberg dared not interrupt the Emperor, although he found it difficult to listen. Diego was waiting in the carriage outside and he had planned to present him to the Emperor. The account of the common adventures would take hours!

He was mistaken. Carl suddenly slapped his forehead and paused in his flow of words.

"Here I am blabbering and you have come to tell me something about our good priest. How is he? Where is he now? Have you heard of him lately?"

"He is here, Your Majesty," was the calm reply. The Emperor was pleasantly surprised. "This is [page 268] good news, indeed," he exclaimed. "Bring him in this very minute."

The count had not expected such quick results. "He is waiting outside in my carriage," he said eagerly. "With Your Majesty's kind permission I shall present him at once."

"Go ahead and hurry," replied Carl, rubbing his hands impatiently.

"A truly great man, this Fray Diego," he said to his daughter. The child listened quietly. -I wish I could persuade him to stay in Vienna. He would serve me well."

He put Maria Theresa on her little feet and kissed her tenderly. "Remember this, my child," he said slowly. "The day will come when you will be the exalted ruler of a great empire. You will never be able to rule unless you know how to train faithful associates whom you can trust implicitly. Such a faithful servant I hope to win in the man whom Count Starhemberg will present."

The door opened and the courier announced the Count and Senor Diego y Aguilar. Carl stretched out both hands, which Diego grasped and kissed reverently. Then the Emperor embraced the former Bishop and kissed him on both cheeks. It was a simple gesture of friendship, as eloquent as it was unusual.

The Emperor led Diego to the little girl standing by the huge armchair, her large, expressive eyes on [page 269] the stranger. "This is my only child, the heir presumptive of the Hapsburg Dynasty, the Arch-Duchess Maria Theresa."

"'Who is this strange man," said the child in a high, clear voice.

"He is one of my oldest friends," her father said quietly. "He is as wise as he is courageous. He once saved me from falling into the hand of the enemy and thus he saved my life. This is Don Diego y Aguilar, my child. Remember his name well. Should he once come to ask you for a favor, grant his wish. For whatever he will ask of you, it will be for the benefit of the empire."

Diego bowed deeply in silent appreciation.

"And now, Senor." The Emperor turned to him. "What brought you to Vienna?"

"Would Your Majesty be so gracious as to grant me a private audience?"

"Why, certainly, my friend. Count?" He clapped his hands and a lady-in-waiting appeared and took the princess away.

"Now that we are alone, speak."

"When Your Majesty left Spain-- began Diego. "Oh, you do not have to start from the beginning," interrupted the Emperor. "I am well informed. You are Bishop of Avila and Inquisitor of Madrid."

"I was, Your Majesty!" -I am sorry to hear that. Have you been made to resign your office?" [page 270]

"No, Your Majesty. I escaped."

The Emperor was puzzled. To his knowledge only criminals had reason to escape and the man in front of him was certainly no criminal.

"Have I told Your Majesty that my parents were Marranos?" asked Diego.

"You have."

Diego reported to the intently listening monarch the whole exciting chain of events which led to his ultimate escape. "I cannot remain in the cold Netherlands and I have come to Vienna to begin a new life," he concluded.

The Emperor reflected. "You have done the right thing," he said after a long pause. "I would not have acted differently had I been in your place." He slapped Diego jovially on the back. "I am glad you came to me. I shall persuade the Pope to grant you absolution and the first Diocese which becomes vacant in my Empire will be yours."

In vain Diego tried to protest. The mighty monarch liked to see himself in the role of benefactor and Diego's modesty or personal motives could not stop him. He was already thinking of advancing this valuable subject to an even higher office. He needed subordinates whom he could trust blindly.

Diego realized that the Emperor was determined to make him a Bishop again. This must not be allowed to happen. He had to act quickly.

"Your Majesty," he said quietly, "my story is not [page 271] yet finished. I have a confession to make: I have returned to the faith of my ancestors."

At first the Emperor did not understand the meaning of these words. Then, when he grasped the impact of the disclosure, he jumped up in a rage.

"You fool, what have you done! Do you not know that the Austrian law punishes apostasy with death?"

Diego also rose. He was deadly pale but determined to fight it out. He had expected this crisis.

"I know it," he replied calmly. "But I also know that my most gracious monarch and my old comrade-in-arms, Count Starhemberg, will not give me away."

Carl stared at him coldly. Then he broke into loud laughter. "I must compliment you," he exclaimed. "You are clever. I will certainly not give you away. But your confession makes it impossible for me to give you an important post in the administration. And I was so looking forward to your advice."

Diego smiled. "Even as a Jew I can be useful to Your Majesty," he said modestly. "I will give you an example: It is Your Majesty's warmest desire to strengthen the Empire and secure its position and power. To that end a well-trained and well-equipped army is needed. This requires three basic things: money, money, money. Through my well-established connections with fellow-Jews in Amsterdam, [page 272] London and Paris I could be of help in procuring the necessary funds."

Diego was clever. He knew that the treasury of the Empire was usually rather empty. The Emperor would not be able to resist such a tempting offer. He was right. Carl VI was most favorably impressed but he made a last attempt-perhaps to save his prestige -to get this stubborn Jew over to his camp.

"I will make you the head of the Government, the Prime Minister of the Austrian Empire, if you return to the Christian faith." It was a last grand gesture but it was quite futile and Carl knew it. For Diego replied with simple eloquence:

"Your Majesty, thousands of my unfortunate brethren have given up their lives for their Judaism. They have done so to hallow G-d's Name before the eyes of a great and uncomprehending world. We Jews call this Kiddash Hashem,' the sanctification of the Divine Name. I want my people to be proud of me.

"You are a fine and upright man, Diego," said the Emperor. "Come back tomorrow and we will discuss your future."

In deep gratitude Diego kissed the Emperor's hand and left the palace. He had reached another milestone in a life of exciting adventure!

XXIII. A NEW LIFE

ON THE NEXT AIETERNOON Diego returned to the Imperial Palace. He was well prepared for the interview with His Majesty, which was to decide his and his family's future. Knowing the Emperor's taste for new and daring projects, he had worked out a detailed plan by which Austria's finances, trade and commerce and his own business position would benefit. The plan was as simple as it was revolutionary:

Smoking of tobacco was an almost unknown habit on the continent, while it had spread rapidly across the British Isles. The tobacco import had to be organized and supervised. Branch offices had to be opened all over the continent and be staffed with business- men who would have to pay a heavy tax for the privilege of manufacturing and selling the tobacco. These taxes would contribute materially to the nation's treasury and would open new fields for the Empire's world-wide trade and commerce. [page 273]

It was this novel idea which Diego took to the Emperor, who received it enthusiastically.

"You are not only a brave soldier but also a clever businessman," exclaimed Carl. "I assume, of course, that this plan entails your and your family's active participation."

Diego bowed modestly. "Your Majesty is right as usual," he replied smilingly. "In this briefcase I have a complete outline of the business details of import and sale. I would humbly suggest myself for the post of general manager and supervisor. My father is an expert on agricultural matters and could organize the establishment of tobacco plantations wherever possible. Business and financial matters could best be taken care of by my brother-in-law, Don Jose de Montalto, who has had vast experience in this field and whose new business in Amsterdam, so I am told, does not go too well."

The Emperor patted Diego's back affectionately. As long as this plan promised to fill the empty vaults of the Imperial treasury, the project would find his whole-hearted approval.

"Very clever, my friend, very clever," he muttered. "Your family will settle here, I assume."

Diego grew very serious. "Your Majesty, the future of my family is at stake. I fully realize that my Plan will create the impression that all I desire is to find positions for my family and grow rich in a hurry. Believe me, Your Majesty," he added urgently, 11 all my life I had but one guiding principle: To [page 275] help my people, to help my country. To this principle I have added another one: to help my family."

He rose and presented to the Emperor the documents which contained the details of the new project. His Majesty promised to forward them at once to the Imperial Council, which was in session that afternoon.

Two days later Diego received the Imperial permit to introduce the tobacco trade to Austria and the countries of her Empire. The Council had given its unanimous approval.

Diego had been sure of himself, of his ability to persuade the Emperor to adopt his project. But he had not expected such immediate and overwhelming success. The favorable circumstances enabled him to wind up his affairs in Vienna much quicker than he had thought possible. Leaving the faithful Juan in charge, Diego left the city on a hot July morning, only a few days after his arrival in Vienna. His faithful service to the monarch during the Spanish war, his wise counsel and cool judgment, had borne rich fruit.

BACK IN AMSTERDAM THNGS were going rather badly. The business which Jose had founded in collaboration with his father-in-law showed little signs of development and the two men had already lost large sums. Everything was strange to them: country, people, language and customs. [page 276]

Moreover, Don Manuel had neither training nor liking for business. He was used to administer large estates, of which there were few to be found in the Netherlands. There was also the cool, unfriendly climate, the constant rain and fog, which made life in Holland uncomfortable for the family y Aguilar.

To them, the unexpected return of Diego was like a sign from Heaven. When they heard of his plans and projects, their happiness knew no limits. The very word "Vienna" spelled warmth, prosperity and peace.

A few weeks after his return, Diego married Francesca de Montalto, whom he had chosen as his future wife when he met her for the first time in a dreary cell 'in the Madrid prison. The entire Jewish population of Amsterdam and many friends from abroad attended the brilliant wedding. For the former Bishop-Inquisitor who had returned to his people was still a marvel in the eyes of his brethren.

Of all the complimentary letters and notes of congratulation which descended upon him from all parts of the continent, Diego treasured most a brief note from Italy. It was from the Duchess Ursini. "Your unselfish work for your people, your ceaseless fight for the welfare of mankind, have restored my faith in human progress," she wrote.

The happiest person during the festivities lasting the customary seven days was undoubtedly the old Raphaelo, who had to be carried to the ceremony [page 277] in an armchair, as he was too weak to walk. All the hopes which he cherished for the family he loved and to whom he had devoted his entire life had come true. The joy proved to be too much for him. He died shortly after the "sheva brochoth" were over, deeply mourned by the family who had loved him like a father.

Don Diego moved with his young bride to Vienna, where he began to lay the foundation for the new tobacco industry. Soon the rest of the family followed. In Jose, Diego found an experienced and energetic manager. Don Manuel was overjoyed to be again in contact with the administration of estates and plantations.

The project became a great success and made Diego - and with him the family y Aguilar - nationally famous. Rich taxes streamed into the Imperial treasury, just as Diego had predicted. The State Council honored Diego by conferring on him the title of Baron. The former Dominican monk, Bishop and Inquisitor, advanced to become the Baron y Aguilar. A colorful career, indeed.

Don Manuel and Donna Annunciata lived peacefully and happily in the circle of their ever-growing family. At the blessed age of ninety-two, Don Manuel passed away shortly after his life-companion had entered eternity, surrounded by their children and grandchildren. [page 278]

MORE THAN A QUARTER of a century passed since the family settled in Vienna. Emperor Carl VI had died. His only daughter, Maria Theresa, upon becoming Empress, was faced by a world in arms. Her arch enemy was King Frederic II of Prussia, against whom she fought the bitter Silesian wars.

During the course of these wars, the Jews of Bohemia and Moravia were accused of aiding the enemy and siding with the Prussian invaders. In cold fury Maria Theresa ordered the unfortunate Jews-- completely innocent of the crime of treason-to leave the two provinces within eight days. According to law, the approval of the State Council was required for the edict, but no one expected the Council to disagree with the Empress. Urgent appeals for mercy were ignored. The Queen was unyielding in her inhuman and totally unjustified demand. Even the ambassadors of the neutral countries of Holland, Sweden and Denmark were unsuccessful in their friendly efforts on behalf of the Jews. The Empress flatly refused to see them. Disaster seemed imminent.

At the moment of greatest crisis, on the eve of the eighth day, the Jewish delegation, which for seven days had tried in vain to gain an audience with the Empress, resorted to a last chance. They went to the famous Baron y Aguilar and asked him to intervene for his brethren. They had hesitated to the last before undertaking this step, for Diego [page 279] was ailing and his ill health did not permit undue excitement. But this was urgent, desperate. There was no other way.

Diego received the delegation in his simply furnished study. He sat in a large, comfortable armchair attended by his eldest son, whom he had named Raphaelo, in honor and fond memory of the faithful teacher of his youth.

The head of the delegation finished his impatient plea for Baron y Aguilar's help with the simple words: "You are our last hope." As all eyes were on his face, anxiously awaiting his reaction, Diego said in a low, dear voice: -G-d has 'preserved me until this very day so that I can help my suffering people. I shall go to the Empress tonight."

The men in the delegation exchanged quick and joyful glances. Their leader thanked the Baron in simple, moving words. Then they left quietly, their hope rekindled.

MARIA THERESA SAT ALONE in her father's huge, gloomy study, which even the red glow from the fireplace failed to warm. A cold, depressing atmosphere surrounded the young and beautiful Empress. The most celebrated monarch in all Europe, combining more power in her hand than all the petty potentates on the continent, she was lonely in the midst of splendor and pomp. Whenever great decisions were expected of her, whenever [page 280] her conscience troubled her, she retired to this room which reminded her so vividly of her father and his wise counsel. How she missed him! How she needed him!

A subdued knock at the door shook her from her gloomy meditations.

"Who is it?" she exclaimed angrily. She did not want to be disturbed. In the morning she was to preside over a special session of the State Council, which would take the final decision on the expulsion of the Jews on that very day. Her vote would be decisive. She wanted to be left alone to work out the problems of Prussia, the war, and the Jews, in her own way.

A red-coated court attendant opened the door a few inches. Her Majesty in an ungracious mood was a most disagreeable prospect.

"Your Majesty," the poor creature said in a trembling voice, "a gentleman is here, Baron Diego y Aguilar. He insists that he must see you at once."

The Empress waved her hand impatiently. "This is no time for receptions. Tell the man to . . ."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, for taking things in my own hand," said a low, dear voice. Maria Theresa looked up in surprise. Who was this frivolous intruder?

"Look at me closely," said the deep voice, as a tall figure emerged slowly from the gloomy shadows. An old but still handsome face became visible in the [page 281] red glow of the fireplace.

The Empress' first impulse was to call her servants to have this impertinent visitor removed. Yet, as she looked closer at his face and studied his noble features, memories began to come back to her, memories of her father and a great friend of his.

"Now I remember," she said suddenly. Her interest was aroused. "You were a comrade-in-arms of my late father, may he rest in peace. You once saved his life, a long time ago, in Spain, I believe. I remember: My father told me to grant every wish of yours. What do you want?"

The Baron did not reply immediately. He was thinking feverishly. How was he to begin, what was the best approach?

Maria Theresa grew impatient. What did this man want of her at this late hour? Why did he not speak? He was a friend of her late father. What of it! He was a Jew. A Jew! Ah, he probably came to plead for his brethren in Bohemia and Moravia. A sneer crossed her lips. Her father had asked her to grant his every wish. Alright. But she would make it difficult for him, very difficult.

"Ah, my friend," she said mockingly, "you seem to have lost the power of speech. Well, I shall not trouble you much longer. Tell me what you want in just one word. Another word and the answer will be: NO."

Diego y Aguilar racked his brains. The lives of [page 282] hundreds of thousands of his brothers and sisters lay in his skill to think of one word. One word! He knew of tomorrow's session. He knew of the supreme importance of the Imperial vote. The Empress was certain to vote for the expulsion of the Bohemian and Moravian Jews, for the order had originated from her. If he could only impress her sufficiently to change her mind. But how? One word! He needed hundreds of words, brilliantly flowing speeches to persuade the Empress. One word?

It hit him like a bolt of lightning. This was it. The solution.

He stepped forward, bowed deeply, and said in a dear, calm voice: "SI1LENCE!"

For a moment Maria Theresa was stunned. Then, as she grasped the meaning of the word, the implied plea for her silence at tomorrow's conference, she broke into hearty laughter.

"Very good, Baron," she exclaimed. "Very good, indeed. We shall see what we can do for you."

Baron y Aguilar slowly left the Palace, shaking his head in amazement. "How wonderful are G-d's ways," he thought. One word changed night into day!

Back at his apartment, he assured the anxiously waiting delegates that the outlook was good and that happy news could be expected on the following day. He proved to be right. [page 283]

For, as the State Council convened early next morning in the Imperial Cabinet room to take the final decision in the question of the expulsion of the Jews, and the Prime Minister opened the conference by asking formally for the Imperial vote, Maria Theresa remained silent. The word had been "SILENCE" and she followed it to the letter.

The Ministers accepted the sudden change philosophically. They were used to it and did not give it much thought. Secretly, the majority rejoiced at this turn of events, as they considered the presence of the Jews an extremely valuable contribution to the country's financial stability.

Returning to her Palace, the Empress promptly sent a note to the Baron y Aguilar, informing him of the outcome of the session and congratulating him on the success of his mission.

The happy tidings spread like wildfire through the Jewish masses. Everywhere there was joyous excitement and tremendous relief. The danger had passed.

DIEGO Y AGUILAR - WHOSE fame had already spread throughout the Jewish world-was praised and revered as the great Jewish benefactor of his time. His very name became an inspiration to Jewish youth who strove to live as he had lived: ceaselessly fighting for Torah, for Judaism, and for the welfare of all men. [page 284]

This ends the story of a proud family which sacrificed its position and influence to its supreme ideal: The rulership of G-d's Torah and the strict adherence to the Divine laws. The story of this family is the story of a shining Kiddush Hashem, the sanctification of the Divine Name in the world, a story that will live as long as persecution and hatred still infest mankind.

May Jewry in these turbulent and troubled times derive comfort and pride from the heroic story of THE FAMILY Y AGUILAR.

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