Converso: A page-turning historical adventure thriller of medieval Spain by Colin Falconer

Author:Colin Falconer [Falconer, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyview Publishing
Published: 2024-07-19T00:00:00+00:00

Alonso found the queen’s confessor particularly ripe today. God help us all in summer, he thought, especially the queen. I do not know how she stands it. For myself, I should prefer a hair shirt and self-flagellation to spending a moment longer with this creature than is required.

‘How is our prisoner?’ he said.

‘Our prisoner?’ Torquemada said. ‘You are referring to Diego Vasquez?’

A nod.

‘He suffers. It is how he is learning to be closer to God.’

‘You have assisted him with his suffering?’

Torquemada spread his hands. ‘He brings suffering upon himself. In the Holy Office, we are concerned only with the truth. All else is beyond our remit.’

‘I almost feel sorry for him. I am sure he is just misguided. After all, he has beautified many of the city’s churches with his art.’

‘Within the next few months, everything he has ever touched will be expunged. Why are you taking such interest in his spiritual education?’

‘Do you not think he has paid for his sins by now?’

‘A man can only pay for his sins with repentance and suffering.’

‘There must be other ways.’ Alonso reached into his tunic and removed a small leather purse. He placed it on the table between them. Torquemada tested its weight. It was suitably heavy. Curious, he untied the drawstring and peered inside at the nest of golden ducats.

Alonso watched him. Every Jew and every converso in all Spain knew the price of suffering, and it was a rich one. There was a cathedral to build, after all, and the architects, masons and innumerable laborers needed to build it did not come cheap. And then there were the artists, of course, like Diego Vasquez. Everyone knew they were paid far too much. Men like Alonso made generous donations, and the poor dropped a few coins in the plate every week, but it was never enough.

Torture a Jew and it rained money.

‘I am curious,’ Torquemada said. ‘Your own son was the one who denounced this man. Why would you now pay to have him released?’

‘You may ask, but even an inquisitor may not know everything.’

Torquemada put the purse back onto the table.

‘It is sufficient?’

‘It is sufficient.’

‘Good,’ Alonso said. He got up and went out before the man’s body odour choked him.

Diego heard rats scuttling across the straw in the dark. They were quite unafraid of him. He was numb with cold and there was no light. He had not touched the gruel they had given him. The pain in his hand was unrelenting. Had they left a bone unbroken? He doubted it.

Heavy boots echoed on the steps outside. They were coming for him. Please, no more torture, he thought. Leave me one good hand. Hadn’t he already confessed to everything they wanted?

The jailer kicked the door open. A torch was thrust into Diego’s face, and he threw up his hands to shield his eyes. He braced himself for the coming ordeal.

The jailer unshackled him roughly and hauled him to his feet. Diego gasped in pain. He had been chained there on the cold stone for days, and there was no feeling in his legs.

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