The Last Song

heralds stepped forward and announced that he was the bearer of a proclamation from their royal highnesses, Queen Isabel of Castile and King Ferdinand of Aragon. He unrolled a parchment and began to read.
    It was as I had feared. I
was
too late. The Edict of Expulsion was being made public. It stated that Jews had to leave our country by the last day of July of the present year of 1492, never to return on pain of death.
    They were allowed to sell their businesses and property, but they were not allowed to take gold, silver, and money with them. Christian citizens were forbidden to aid or shelter any Jews on pain of confiscation by the crown of all of their property.
    The words fell on the Jews like arrows. The women wailed and tore at their clothes. An old man beat his chest with his fists. He cried, “What will happen to us? What will happen to us? Where shall we go?” Some people wept and others were struck dumb. Among the Christians, there were those who laughed, but there were also many who shook their heads, grim expressions on their faces.
    I caught sight of Yonah talking to a man. They were gesturing angrily. I pushed my way toward Yonah, but the crowd swallowed him up before I reached him.
    There was nothing for me to do. I set out for home. I would tell my father what I had heard and seen. He would think of a way to help Yonah and his father.
    Dozens of noisy, agitated people were milling in front of our villa. I hung back, afraid that they’d see me in my disguise.
    At first, I didn’t see my parents. When I finally caught sight of them, I saw that they were surrounded by the servants and a dozen of the Inquisition’s familiars, distinctive in their sinister black clothing. An alguazil, a constable of the Inquisition, was with them. I thought that I saw Luis, but his back was turned toward me so I couldn’t be certain. Two of the Inquisition’s men were holding Papa’s arms behind his back and kicking him. My father tried to fight back, but to no avail.
    “Let go of me, you fools!” he roared.
    Mama was sobbing. “Let my husband go!”
    “Don’t you know who you are dealing with? You’ll pay dearly for your actions!” Papa cried.
    The constable stepped forward. “We know what we’re doing, Don Enrique,” he said sheepishly.
    “I know you, Miguel Santos,” Papa said. “The last I saw you, you were serving drinks in a public house. I always thought that you were a sensible man. Why are you behaving so foolishly? Have I not paid enough for your inn’s ale?”
    Santos’s face turned crimson. He would not meet Papa’s eyes. “My lot in life has changed,” he growled. “I am a servant of the holy Inquisition now. I am following the orders of the Grand Inquisitor, Tomás de Torquemada.”
    “I’ve done nothing!” Papa said. “What am I accused of?”
    Santos adjusted the sash around his waist. A dagger peeked out of it. “You know that I can’t tell you that, Don Enrique. Their excellencies, the Inquisitors, will tell you all you need to know.”
    With a wave of his hand, Santos ordered his familiars to march off with my father in the direction of the walls of Toledo.
    “I’ll be back before you know it!” Papa called to Mama over his shoulder.
    Mama’s response was a tremulous smile. Only the compulsive curling and uncurling of her fingers showed her terror.
    The servants turned back to their work. I looked around for Luis, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.
I must have been mistaken
, I told myself. What would he have been doing here, watching as Papa was taken away?
    Nobody was around to see me climb the servants’ staircase, two steps at a time. I sat down on the edge of my bed to catch my breath and rang the bell for my slave.
    Sofia’s eyes were red.
    “Where were you, young mistress? They took the master. They banged on the door, bold as anything, while you were gone. May they be cursed!” She slapped her fist into her palm furiously. “How could I ever believe that the Inquisition was right?”
    “I saw it happen. I was at the back of the crowd. Where is my lady mother?”
    “She took to her bed, poor lady.”
    I stood up. “Help me, Sofia. Bring me my pink gown.”
    Mama was lying motionless on her bed, staring at the wall. I opened the shutters to let in some air. She turned her head toward me.
    “They took away your father.” Her voice was a mere whisper. “Where were you?”
    Now wasn’t the time to burden her with Yonah’s troubles. “I was having a