Daughters of Spain (29 page)

Ximenes had been deeply affected by the death of Tomas de Torquemada. There was a man who had written his name large across a page of Spanish history. He had clearly in his heyday been the most important man in his country, for he had guided the King and Queen and in the days of his strength had had his will.

It was due to him that the Inquisition was now a power in the land and that there was not a man, woman or child who did not dread the knock on the door in the dead of night, the entry of the
alguazils
and the dungeons of torture.

That was well, thought Ximenes, for only through torture could man come to God. And for those who had denied God the greatest torture man could devise was not bad enough. If these people burned at the stake, it was but a foretaste of the punishment which God would give them. What were twenty minutes at the stake compared with an eternity in Hell?

Riding south towards Granada, Ximenes was conscious of a great desire: to do, for Spain and the Faith, work which could be compared with that of Torquemada.

He thought of those who were in this retinue, and it seemed to him that the conduct of so many left much to be desired.

Ferdinand was ever reaching for material gain; Isabella's weakness was her children. Even now she had Catalina beside her. The girl was nearly fifteen years old and still she remained in Spain. She was marriageable, and the King of England grew
impatient. But for her own gratification - and perhaps because the girl pleaded with her - Isabella kept her in Spain.

Ximenes thought grimly that her affection for the new heir, young Miguel, must approach almost idolatry. The Queen should keep a sharp curb on her affections. They overshadowed her devotion to God and duty.

Catalina had withdrawn herself as far as possible from the stern-faced Archbishop. She read his thoughts and they terrified her. She hoped he would not accompany them to Seville; she was sure that, if he did, he would do his utmost to persuade her mother to send her with all speed to England.

Granada, which some had called the most beautiful city in Spain, was before them. There it lay, a fairy-tale city against the background of the snow-tipped peaks of the Sierra Nevada. High above the town was the Alhambra, that Moorish Palace, touched by a rosy glow, a miracle of architecture, strong as a fortress, yet so daintily and so delicately fashioned and carved, as Catalina knew.

There was a saying that God gives His chosen people the means to live in Granada; and Catalina could believe that was so.

She hoped that Granada would bring happiness to them all, that the Queen would be so delighted with her little grandson that she would forget to mourn, that there would be no news from England; and that, for the sunny days ahead, her life and that of her family would be as peacefully serene as this scene of snowy mountains, of rippling streams, the water of which sparkled like diamonds and was as clear as crystals.

She caught the eye of the Archbishop fixed upon her and felt a tremor of alarm.

She need not have worried. He was not thinking of her.

He was saying to himself: It is indeed our most beautiful city. It is not surprising that the Moors clung to it until the last. But what a tragedy that so many of its inhabitants should be those who deny the true faith. What sin that we should allow these Moors to practise their pagan rites under that blue sky, in the most beautiful city in Spain.

It seemed to Ximenes that the ghost of Torquemada rode beside him. Torquemada could not rest while such blatant sin existed in this fair city of Spain.

Ximenes was certain, as he rode with the Court into Granada, that the mantle of Torquemada was being placed about his shoulders.

While Isabella was happy in the nursery of her grandson, Ximenes lost no time in examining the conditions which existed in Granada.

The two most influential men in the city were Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, the Count of Tendilla, and Fray Fernando de Talavera, Archbishop of Granada; and one of Ximenes's first acts was to summon these men to his presence.

He surveyed them with a little impatience. They were, he believed, inclined to be complacent. They were delighted at the peaceful conditions prevailing in this city, which, they congratulated themselves, was in itself near the miraculous. This was a conquered city; a great part of its population consisted of Moors who followed their own faith; yet these Moors lived side by side with Christians and there was no strife between them.

Who would have thought, Ximenes demanded of himself, that this could possibly be a conquered city!

'I confess,' he told his visitors, 'that the conditions here in Granada give me some concern.'

Tendilla showed his surprise. 'I am sure, my lord Archbishop,' he said, 'that when you have seen more of the affairs in this city you will change your mind.'

Tendilla, one of the illustrious Mendoza family, could not help but be conscious of the comparatively humble origins of the Archbishop of Toledo. Tendilla lived graciously and it disturbed him to have about him those who did not. Talavera, who had been a Hieronymite monk and whose piety was indisputable, was yet a man of impeccable manners. Tendilla considered Talavera something of a bigot but it seemed to him that such an attitude was essential in a man of the Church; and in his tolerance Tendilla had not found it difficult to overlook that in Talavera which did not fit in with his own views. They had worked well together since the conquest of Granada, and the city of Granada was a prosperous and happy city under their rule.

Both resented the tone of Ximenes, but they had to remember that as Archbishop of Toledo he held the highest post in Spain under the Sovereigns.

'I could not change my mind,' went on Ximenes coldly, 'while I see this city dominated by that which is heathen.'

Tendilla put in: 'We obey the rules of their Highnesses' agreement with Boabdil at the time of the reconquest. As Alcayde and Captain-General of the Kingdom of Granada it is my duty to see that this agreement is adhered to.'

Ximenes shook his head. 'I know well the terms of that agreement, and pity it is that it was ever made.'

'Yet,' said Talavera, 'these conditions
were
made and the
Sovereigns could not so dishonour themselves and Spain by not observing them.'

'What conditions!' cried Ximenes scornfully. 'The Moors to retain possession of their mosques with freedom to practise their heathen rites! What sort of a city is this over which to fly the flag of the Sovereigns?'

'Nevertheless these were the terms of surrender,' Tendilla reminded him.

'Unmolested in their style of dress, in their manners and ancient usages; to speak their own language, to have the right to dispose of their own property! A fine treaty.'

'Yet, my lord Archbishop, these were the terms Boabdil asked for surrender. Had we not accepted them there would have been months - perhaps years - of slaughter, and no doubt the destruction of much that is beautiful in Granada.'

Ximenes turned accusingly to these two men. 'You, Tendilla, are the Alcayde; you, Talavera, are the Archbishop. And you content yourselves with looking on at these practices which cannot but anger our God and are enough to make the saints weep. Are you surprised that we suffer the ill fortune we do? Our heir dead. His child stillborn. The Sovereigns' eldest daughter dead in childbirth. What next, I ask you? What next?'

'My lord Archbishop cannot suggest that these tragedies are the result of what happens here in Granada!' murmured Tendilla.

'I say,' thundered Ximenes, 'that we have witnessed the disfavour of God, and that it behoves us to look about and ask ourselves in what manner we are displeasing Him.'

Talavera spoke then. 'My lord, you do not realise what efforts we have made to convert these people to Christianity.'

Ximenes turned to the Archbishop. It was from a man of the
Church that he might expect good sense, rather than from a soldier. Talavera had at one time been Prior of the Monastery of Santa Maria del Prado, not far from Valladolid; he had also been confessor to the Queen. He was a man of courage. Ximenes had heard that when Isabella's confessor had listened to the Queen's confession he had insisted on her kneeling while he sat, and when Isabella had protested Talavera had remarked that the confessional was God's tribunal and that, as he acted as God's minister, it was fitting that he should remain seated while the Queen knelt. Isabella had approved of such courage; so did Ximenes.

It was known also that this man, who had previously been the Bishop of Avila, refused to accept a larger income when he became Archbishop of Granada; he lived simply and spent a great deal of his income on charity.

This was all very well, thought Ximenes; but what good was it to appease the hunger of the poor, to give them sensuous warmth, when their souls were in peril? What had this dreamer done to bring the heathen Moor into the Christian fold?

'Tell me of these efforts,' said Ximenes curtly.

'I have learned Arabic,' said Talavera, 'in order that I may understand these people and speak with them in their own tongue. I have commanded my clergy to do the same. Once we speak their language we can show them the great advantages of holding to the true Faith. I have had selections from the Gospels translated into Arabic.'

'And what conversions have you to report?' demanded Ximenes.

'Ah,' put in Tendilla, 'this is an ancient people. They have their own literature, their own professions. My lord Archbishop, look at our Alhambra itself. Is it not a marvel
of architecture? This is a symbol of the culture of these people.'

'Culture!' cried Ximenes, his eyes suddenly blazing. 'What culture could there be without Christianity? I see that in this Kingdom of Granada the Christian Faith is considered of little importance. That shall not continue, I tell you. That shall not continue.'

Talavera looked distressed. Tendilla raised his eyebrows. He was annoyed, but only slightly so. He understood the ardour of people such as Ximenes. Here was another Torquemada. Torquemada had set up the Inquisition, and men such as Ximenes would keep the fires burning. Tendilla was irritated. He hated unpleasantness. His beloved Granada delighted him with its beauty and prosperity. His Moors were the most industrious people in Spain now that they had rid themselves of the Jews. He wanted nothing to break the peaceful prosperity of his city.

He smiled. Let this fanatical monk rave. It was true he was Primate of Spain - what a pity that the office had not been given to a civilised nobleman - but Tendilla was very well aware of the agreement which Isabella and Ferdinand had made with Boabdil, and he believed that Isabella at least would honour her agreement.

Therefore he smiled without much concern while Ximenes ranted.

Granada was safe from the fury of the fanatic.

Isabella held the baby in her arms. The lightness of the little bundle worried her.

Some children are small, she comforted herself. I have had so much trouble that I look for it where it does not exist.

She questioned his nurses.

His little Highness was a good child, a contented child. He took his food and scarcely cried at all.

Isabella thought, Would it not be better if he kicked and cried lustily? Then she remembered her daughter Juana who had done these things.

I must not build up fears where they do not exist, she admonished herself.

There was his wet nurse - a lusty girl, her plump breasts bursting out of her bodice, smelling faintly of
olla podrida
in a manner which slightly offended the Queen's nostrils. But the girl was healthy and she had the affection which such girls did have for their foster children.