Spain for the Sovereigns - Plaidy Jean - Страница 34
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Her expression did not change as she went on moving the fan.
She adored Diego, but her emotions were too strong to be
controlled. She hated herself because she had deceived him, and because she hated herself she hated him.
It is his fault, all his fault, she told herself. He has no one to blame but himself.
Soon, she thought, I shall be unable to hide the fact from him that I am pregnant. What then?
She had been well guarded, but, with the help of her sympathetic maid, it had not been impossible to have her lover smuggled into the house. He was young and handsome, a member of a noble Castilian family, and she had been unable to repress her desire for him. She had not thought of the consequences. She had never thought of the consequences of her actions. She had been impulsive. Thus must her mother have been.
Now she sat on the balcony, only vaguely hearing the shouts in the streets, unaware of the new tension which was creeping over the city. She was thinking of her father, who had loved her so tenderly during the years of her childhood, who was so proud of the daughter known throughout Seville as la hermosa hembra. Oh, yes, she was indeed beautiful, but she was no longer a child; now she was a woman who must live her life as she wished to, who must escape from the rule of a father who, out of his very love for her, treated her with a strictness which, to one of her wild nature, was intolerable.
And what will he say, she asked herself again and again, when I present myself to him and say, ‘Father, I am with child’?
And where was her lover? She did not know. She had tired of him, and he had no longer been smuggled into her room. There was only the child within her to remind herself how much she had loved him.
A procession was now coming through the street, and the sight of it sent a shiver through the most thoughtless of the spectators. It was as though a warning cloud hung over the sunny streets.
On it came, headed by the Dominican monk who carried the white cross. There were the Inquisitors in their white robes and black hoods. With them walked their familiars, the alguazils, who would assist them in their work, and the Dominican friars, in their coarse habits, their feet bare.
It was a mournful procession, funereal and depressing. On it went to the Convent of St Paul, where the Prior, Alonso de Ojeda, was ready to instruct these men in the duties which lay before them, to whip them to fierce enthusiasm by his fiery denunciation of those who did not accept the rigid tenets of his own faith.
Even La Susanna, her mind full of her own impending tragedy, sensed the foreboding inspired by that grim band of men. She looked at her father and saw that he was sitting tense, watching.
Crowds of gipsies, beggars and children followed the procession to the convent, but they, who previously had been chattering, shouting and dancing as they went, had fallen silent.
A visitor had stepped onto the balcony. It was a fellow merchant and friend of Diego de Susan.
He was looking grave. He said: ‘I do not like the look of that, my friend.’
Diego de Susan seemed to rouse himself and throw off his depression. ‘Why, they are trying to bring the Inquisition to Seville. They will not succeed.’
‘Who will prevent them?’
Diego had risen and laid his hand on the shoulder of his friend. ‘Men like you and myself. Seville prospers. Why? Because we have brought trade to it. Men such as ourselves rule Seville. We have only to stand together, and we shall soon make it clear that we will have no Inquisitors inquiring into our private lives.’
‘You think this possible?’
‘I am sure of it.’
Diego de Susan spoke in strong ringing tones; and one of the musicians on the balcony began to strum his lute.
La Susanna forgot the procession. She was saying to herself: How shall I tell him? How shall I dare?
In a back room of Diego de Susan’s house many of the most important citizens of Seville were gathered together. Among them were Juan Abolafio, who was the Captain of Justice and Farmer of the Royal Customs, and his brother Fernandez Abolafio, the licentiate. There were other wealthy men, such as Manuel Sauli and Bartolome Torralba.
Diego had all the doors closed and had posted servants whom he could trust outside, that none might overhear what was said.
Then he addressed the gathering. ‘My friends,’ he said soberly, ‘you know why I have asked you to assemble here this day. We have seen the procession on its way to the Convent of St Paul, and we know what this means. Hitherto we have lived happily in this town. We have enjoyed prosperity and security. If we allow the Inquisitors to achieve the power for which they are clearly aiming that will be the end of our security, the end of our prosperity.
‘At any hour of the night we may hear the knock on the door. We may be hurried away from our families before we even have time to dress. Who can say what will happen to us in the dark dungeons of the Inquisition? It may be that, once taken, we should never see our friends and families again. My friends, it need not be. I am convinced it need not be.’
‘Pray tell us, friend Diego, how you propose to foil these plots against us?’ asked Juan Abolafio.
‘Are they plots against us?’ interrupted his brother.
Diego shook his head sadly. ‘I fear they may well be directed against us. We are the New Christians; we have wealth. It will be easy to bring a charge against us. Yes, my friends, I am certain that these plots are directed against ourselves. The Inquisitors have been shown great respect by the people of Seville; but their invitation to come forward and expose those whom they call heretic has not been taken up. Therefore they themselves will begin to look for victims.’
‘It has been announced that it is a sin for the people not to pass on any information that comes their way . . . in other words, the citizens are being subtly threatened that they must become spies, or themselves be suspected,’ said Bartolome Torralba.
‘You are right, Bartolome,’ Diego replied. ‘We must consider the fate of those New Christians who fled from Seville and took refuge with the Marquis of Cadiz, the Duke of Medina Sidonia and the Count of Arcos.’
‘It is because you are considering these people,’ put in Sauli, ‘that you have asked us to come here this day, is it not, Diego?’
Diego nodded sadly. ‘You know, my friends, that these noblemen, who gave the fugitives refuge on their estates, have been ordered to hand them over to the Inquisitors of our town.’
All the men looked grave.
He went on: ‘They have been threatened with ecclesiastical displeasure if they do not obey. More than that . . . they themselves will incur the displeasure of the Queen, and we know what this could mean. But do not let us be downhearted. Seville is our town. We will fight to preserve our rights and dignities.’
‘Can we do this?’
‘I think we can. Once we show our determination to be strong, the people of Seville will be with us. We have their high regard. They know that we have brought prosperity to the town, and they ask that they may go on in that prosperity. Yes, if we show that we are strong and ready to fight for our liberty – and the liberty of conscience for all – they will be on our side. We are not poor men. I have brought you here to ask you how much money, how many men and arms you can put into this enterprise.’
Diego drew papers towards him, and the conspirators watched him tensely.
From then on the conspirators met in the house of Diego de Susan.
There was great need, Diego impressed upon them, to preserve secrecy. Since the Inquisitors were continually reminding the people that it was their duty to spy, how could they be sure who, even among those servants whom they considered loyal, might not be on the alert?
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