The Last Song

to do. I was afraid of her anger, but I knew that she would forgive me eventually and give me good advice. Sofia appeared at my door.
    “It’s time for mass, mistress.”
    “I am not going today.”
    Her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing.
    “I don’t feel well. My head hurts. I must talk to my lady mother. Have you seen her?”
    “She is in the sitting room.”
    I got up. “Help me dress.”
    Mama was sitting by the window, at her needlework.Her kiss on my forehead felt like the wings of a butterfly.
    “You are pale, my love. Are you feeling well?”
    “I am fine, but I have to talk to you about something important. You will be angry …”
    Yussuf entered. He bowed and waited patiently until Mama took notice of him.
    “My lady, the cook requests your presence in the kitchen immediately.”
    Mama lifted her eyes to the heavens. “Am I never to have a moment of peace?” She rose from her seat, putting her needlework beside her. “We’ll talk later,” she said over her shoulder as she followed the Moor out of the room.
    I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed a peach from a fruit bowl to take to the garden. I carried Anusim’s cage to a stone bench and sat down. The scent of the roses and the pomegranates was overwhelming. Anusim burst into a song of unbearable sweetness. The sun warmed my face as I slurped my way through the peach and thought about everything that I had heard last night. I couldn’t alter a royal edict, but if I could warn Yonah, at least he and his father could prepare. I didn’t dare to wait any longer for Mama’s counsel before I spoke to him. It was too late for that. I would have to go to the Juderia myself. If I slipped out of the housewhile Mama was occupied in the kitchen, I might be able to return before she even realized that I was gone.
    I picked up Anusim’s cage and hurried to my room. I put it back on the windowsill and rang for Sofia to bring me the boy’s clothes I wore to Rabbi Abenbilla’s study group.
    I sat down on the edge of my bed to wait for her, forcing myself to breathe slowly to calm down. My eyes fell upon the armoire. Something seemed different about it. I could have sworn that the second drawer was half open when I had hidden the kiddush cup in it. With my heart hammering in my throat, I pulled out the drawer. The cup was still there, wrapped in the folds of a petticoat, exactly where I had left it.
I must have closed the drawer without realizing it
, I told myself. Still, I felt uneasy and decided to hide the cup somewhere else. The only other place I could think of was in my jewelry chest. I took the key out of the vase on top of the armoire and unlocked the chest. I put the cup into it and locked it again. Then I put the key back into its hiding place.
    The streets were so full of people that nobody paid attention to the Jewish boy who slipped out of our garden. Somebody jostled me and I bumped into theman in front of me. I could tell by his clothing that he was a member of the potters’ guild. He stumbled and dropped the clay urn he was carrying. It shattered.
    “A pox on you!” he cried. “But what else can I expect from a vile Jew?” He grabbed hold of my sleeve and spat in my face. “Somebody call the hermandad! The police!”
    “Oh no, you don’t!” I kicked him in the shin and he let go. I took off at full speed.
    “Stop him! Stop him!” he yelled.
    I didn’t slow down until I turned the corner. I leaned, panting, against a building and wiped my face with my sleeve and tried to catch my breath. The sound of trumpets and drums was loud. Suddenly, I was swept up in a crowd heading toward the Juderia.
    It seemed that all of Toledo was in that mob: women with their market baskets on their hips and nobles in rich velvets and hats with tall plumes surrounded me. There were priests and monks in sober vestments and even more sober faces. I could see members of every guild I could think of, from butchers with bloody aprons to bakers covered in flour from head to toe. I could hear the whips of the flagellants. Professional mourners dressed in white, crying and moaning, followed them. And there were Jews, hundreds of them, in their long cloaks with pointed hoods and circularbadges, like the one I was wearing. The Jewish men had long beards, and their wives were modestly clad.
    Four heralds stood in front of the gates of the Juderia. My heart began to race. Was I too late? There was another drum roll and the bleat of trumpets. One of the