A Divided Inheritance (53 page)

Zachary took a deep breath to try to order his thoughts. ‘Did you go to the church?’

‘Yes,’ said Señor Alvarez, ‘I did. The King’s militia have been and boarded it up. You can tell something has gone on – broken glass from the windows is all
over the street.’

‘I can’t think where she would go,’ said Nicolao, his voice rising. ‘Why hasn’t she come home? We went to the hospital where they take people like us. One of the
women was in there with a gash to the head. She said Luisa had been with them, but then she just disappeared. Ayamena’s taken Husain. They’re going door to door asking at all our
friends’ houses, but so many people are moving we’re worried we won’t find her or . . .’ He couldn’t finish, but none of them wanted to contemplate the other
possibility, that she had been arrested by the King’s men.

‘Let us keep busy until Ayamena returns.’ Señor Alvarez placed a comforting hand on Nicolao’s shoulder. ‘Come, we’ll prepare. We will need to move your
family today if you are to leave Seville. It will be harder once they start to round people up from the villages to take them to the embarkation points.’

Zachary took this in. They were going to round people up. A shiver ran through him. He must find Luisa.

‘You know we can’t go without her.’ Nicolao sounded desperate.

The old building. It was worth a try. Zachary spoke loud, to get their attention: ‘I know a place she might have gone.’

They looked at him doubtfully.

‘Where?’ Señor Alvarez asked.

‘It’ll be quicker if I go,’ he said. ‘Please, just wait here in case she comes back.’ He set off at a run.

‘Let me come with you,’ said Nicolao.

‘No, I’ll go alone,’ he yelled over his shoulder.

Nobody had touched the place since they were last there. The stairs still smelt of dry dust and masonry. He raced up to the top floor, calling out, ‘Luisa?
Hello?’

But there was no answer. At the top he looked out through the gap where the balcony jutted over the streets beneath. The sharp northerly wind barely disturbed the view, the scene below was laid
out like an illustration. He drew his hands over his eyes to clear them, and looked down, unable to take it in.

My God, the whole river was a mass of boats. He could hardly see a thumb’s width of water. All the galleons he had seen out at the point and more. Hundreds of smaller craft bobbing
alongside. The loop of the Guadalquivir reminded him of a black noose, the rope writhing through the city and out towards the coast.

He looked to his left. Flanking the river, battalions of men were preparing arms, and on the road a cavalcade of armed men trotted downstream on horseback. As the sun passed momentarily between
the clouds it struck needles of light from their helmets. It came to him, with dread certainty, that this was a well-planned operation, not just a notion. He had thought the rumours to be
scaremongering. He could not see how the King could move a whole population, yet here was the evidence right before his eyes. A chill rippled up his spine.

He turned his head to stare back into the room; there was the one chair casting its faint shadow on the bare boards. Its presence seemed to point to the emptiness of the house. There was no sign
of Luisa.

He had been so sure he would find her here. Bitter disappointment filled his heart, not just because she was not there, but because he thought she might come to him if she was in trouble. That
the place would be as special to her as it was to him.

He could not conceive of her and her family being put on to those boats. The idea was unreal; from up here the boats looked like toys. But he had heard the gunfire last night, heard the talk in
the streets of the death penalty for Moriscos who remained. Panic seized him. He must try to find Luisa, wherever she was. Nicolao’s words, that people had been killed at the church, repeated
in his mind.

Perhaps if he could find the priest, he might see if he could find out anything more. He grabbed the handrail and plunged down the stairs, thrusting open the broken door. It bounced back and he
heard a sharp cry.

Just behind the door Luisa struggled to her feet holding her nose.

‘You fool!’ she shouted at him.

‘Oh, God, I’m sorry.’ He tried to take her arm to help her up.

‘You’ve broken my nose.
Mentecato!
’ She shrugged away from him, holding her face. Her nose was dripping blood.

‘I didn’t know you were there!’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Come in then, before someone sees us, pull the door behind you.’

‘Everyone’s looking for you. Your parents are out searching for you.’

‘You’ve broken my nose.’

‘Everyone’s searching for you.’

‘More fool them. I told them I’m not going.’ She dabbed at her nose with her sleeve.

‘Here.’ He handed her a kerchief.

‘Does it look bad?’ she asked.

He went up close and put his hand on her cheek to tilt it to the light. ‘I don’t think it’s broken.’

‘No thanks to you.’

He stroked her cheek, and her hairline. ‘Oh, Luisa. I was worried.’

‘I think it’s stopped bleeding.’ She tucked the kerchief into her waistband, and looked up at him. Her voice cracked with tears. ‘They expect me to go with them, the
fat-witted fools.’

‘Hush, hush,’ he said, folding his arms around her. In the brief time before she pushed him away he could feel her trembling. ‘Luisa, where’ve you been? Everyone’s
half-crazed with worry.’

‘I went to the Santa Dominica. I got caught up in some trouble there.’

‘I know. Someone saw you. But what happened?’

She folded her arms. ‘Please, don’t make me talk of it. It was horrible.’

‘Luisa, we need to let your parents know you’re safe. Shall we walk back together?’

‘No. I’m not going with them. I’m Spanish. I believe in the Holy Mother Church. I’ve spoken my catechism since I was four years old. What happened this morning just made
me realize it even more. I’m not like them. They were smashing up the altar like wild animals. Why should I leave? I don’t want to go to Africa, to their primitive life with all its
outlandish prohibitions. But Mama and Papa don’t understand that. They didn’t take the instruction. If they had, they would know their faith is just superstition, Papa doesn’t
realize, you see. But my mind’s made up, I’d rather stay here in a Christian country – whatever the risks – than go with them to Africa.’

‘They’re not going to Africa.’

‘That is what it says on the notices, and Maymona says that’s where the ships are bound.’

‘No, Señor Alvarez is going to help you get to France and from there onwards to Fez or Tunis, at least that’s what he said.’

‘Tunis, Africa, what’s the difference? Are you saying you want me to go?’

‘Of course I’m not. But I want you to be safe. They’re killing anyone left behind.’

She shook her head sadly and pulled away from him. ‘You are, aren’t you? You’re telling me you want me to go. I thought . . . I thought that it meant something. That we had . .
. Oh, never mind.’ She turned away from him and went to the window.

‘Don’t look out there!’ he called, but too late.

She was silent a long time staring out of the window. He wound his arms around her from behind.

Finally, she turned, and her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. ‘Please, go back to my father. Tell him I will not come. I will take my chances here with you. I would rather live a short
life in the Spain I love. If I die, then so be it.’

He caught hold of her. She tried to pull away, but he did not let go. He pressed his lips to hers and felt her answering response. Losing her had suddenly become all too real. He pushed her away
to look at her. ‘If you are thinking of staying for me then please don’t. It is too dangerous. Please, Luisa, come back with me. Just speak to your family. They say they won’t go
without you and if they don’t go today, it might be too late. And if they end up having to go to the embarkation points they will have to leave Husain behind.’

‘What?’

‘Children under the age of seven who have been brought up Christian will be re-housed. They are to go to holding camps until they can be assigned new families.’

‘No.’ She pulled away, shaking her head in disbelief.

‘It’s true. Señor Alvarez is trying to help your family stay together. He risks his own skin to do this, I know.’

‘Nobody asked him to. He shouldn’t interfere.’

‘He is only trying to help,’ he sighed in frustration. ‘Like all of us.’

‘It’s my life,’ she said quietly, jutting out her chin in defiance. ‘Mine, to do with as I please. I had thought I had found someone who would understand me, someone who
would let me be free to choose my way of being in the world. To live in Spain and dance and be free, that’s all I want.’

‘I know. But if you stay, you will be looking over your shoulder the whole time for the neighbour who will betray you or slip a knife into your back. Do you want that? Because I
don’t. I don’t want you to live in fear like that.’

‘But at least I will be alive! Not cut off from my land and my people and my God.’

‘What about your family?’ He walked away from her in frustration, and shouted, ‘You have a family who loves you. That is more important than land or religion. For pity’s
sake, Luisa, you don’t know how lucky you are!’

He didn’t know how to make her understand.

He paced the floor a moment, then turned to her. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’ve had no family to love me since I was twelve years old and, what’s more, I am such a
pathetic man that I had to worm my way into someone else’s, just so that I could feel I belonged somewhere. If I die tomorrow, who’ll care? No family will mourn me, not a one.’ He
tasted his own bitterness. ‘And if I was lost, nobody would come looking.’

Luisa reached out to touch him. ‘I care,’ she said.

The touch was like a flame that made him pull her to him. When he could bear to release her he shook her gently. ‘Luisa, your whole family are out risking their necks searching for you.
Please, I beg you, come back with me. Even if it’s just to say goodbye. Think of your mother traipsing Husain round the streets asking everyone if they’ve seen you. They deserve your
love and respect. I heard your father say they won’t go without you, and you know what that means – the risk they take.’

A single tear trickled down her cheek.

He carried on, ‘Risk your own life if you must, but don’t risk theirs. They did nothing wrong except love you. You would condemn them to death for that?’

She reached out her arms and they held each other tight.

‘I’m scared of losing you, Mr Deane,’ she said.

‘And I’m scared of losing you.’

‘Come with me.’ Her voice was a whisper. He did not know if she meant home, or to a new land, but it did not matter. For suddenly he was certain. He would go with her to the ends of
the earth if need be.

Elspet prepared food, though she had scant idea what to do with the ingredients in Señor Alvarez’s kitchen. The men arrived for training, all with tales to tell of
insurrections and rioting. The señor warned her not to go into the city lest she become caught up in the unrest provoked by the King’s declaration.

Alexander said the señor had sent a message to his friends in a small fishing village near Tavira who were prepared to help the Ortega family get away to France. He asked if Elspet could
make provisions for the family for the journey, because poor Ayamena was out with Husain searching for Luisa, who had gone missing. Elspet did her best. She had found spelt to make flatbread, and
corked up a pot with olive oil and goat’s cheese. From all accounts Moriscos were particular about their meat, so she had used only vegetables and cheese.

The talk between the men was of how the city would manage with the loss of so many of its Muslim population. Pedro Gutierrez said it would be like draining the city, that Seville would struggle
to subsist without the Morisco artisans, without their farming skills and their craftsmanship. She remembered that Luisa worked at the pottery, and asked him if the people who worked there were all
Moriscos.

‘It’s already empty, the kiln’s blowing ash, and cold, like in all the other workshops,’ he said sadly.

Señor Alvarez appeared to see how she was faring. She looked down apologetically at her floury skirts. ‘There is no bread today, the bread man has not been.’

‘I expect he’s left, like most of the traders in this barrio. He will have more important things to worry about than feeding us.’

‘How will the city manage without the bakers?’

‘I expect it will adapt. People find new habits, like always.’ He was staring at her, it made her nervous.

‘Your cheek looks a little better,’ he said.

‘Oh, that. I hardly notice it. And it seems a small injury in comparison to what is going on in the city. Such a shock, everywhere in chaos. It’s so sad. I don’t understand why
this exile is necessary.’ She went back to mixing dough.

‘It was always a threat. Spain has been gradually scrubbing Islam out, but it’s folly to try to erase history.’ His voice was frustratingly calm.

‘That wasn’t what I meant. I mean it seems so cruel. People were living together side by side well enough, weren’t they?’