The Last Song

there is no need to burden you with our problems.”
    “What’s wrong?” Brianda asked.
    “The Inquisition came for Papa and …”
    “Silence, Isabel!” Papa yelled.
    “Why can’t I tell Brianda about your arrest? Everybody knows about it.”
    “There is no harm in Brianda knowing,” Mama said to Papa. “She will realize how important it is that we find her parents.”
    “This is not the place to talk,” Papa said.
    He led us through an alley to a lane behind the shops. It was quieter than the main thoroughfare. He stopped in front of an inn with a thatched roof. We tied our horses to a hitching post in front of it.
    “Yussuf, stay with the animals,” Papa said. “Don’t take your eyes off them, not even for a moment. There are plenty of horse thieves about.”
    We went into the inn. We found ourselves in a low-ceilinged room with clay walls covered by soot.We sat on benches beside a rough-hewn table. The proprietor, a surly man with a dirty doublet and even dirtier fingernails, brought us ale. I couldn’t bear to touch the tankard he slammed down on the table in front of me.
    I told Brianda about everything – about Papa’s arrest, about my interview with the Grand Inquisitor, about Torquemada’s treachery. She was horrified.
    “We have to find a hiding place …” I couldn’t find the words to say anything more.
    Mama said them for me. “If the Grand Inquisitor finds us, he will arrest us. So we must disappear. Where are your parents, my dear? As you can see, we must speak to them. We have little time.”
    Brianda hung her head. “They’re home,” she admitted. “My mother told my father not to open the door when you called. You know how he always does what she tells him … it’s easier. Mother says that you are New Christians – heretics! She says that the Inquisition will punish us if we are your friends, that it is forbidden to help you.”
    “Are you scared, Brianda? To be my friend?”
    “Of course not!” she cried. “How can I help you?”
    Mama was wringing her hands. “I would never have believed that Juana was so disloyal.”
    I knew what was coming next.
    Softly, as if to herself, Mama said, “We grew up together, close as sisters.”
    “Don’t judge her harshly,” Papa said. “Fear does strange things to people.”
    “My mother is afraid of the Inquisition,” Brianda muttered under her breath.
    Mama looked unconvinced. “When times are this hard, you quickly discover who your friends are.”
    “What can I do for you?” Brianda asked.
    Papa threw a few coins on the table and stood up. “Unless you are able to hide a whole family for a few days, there is nothing much you can do for us.”
    “Wait a minute, Tio Enrique!” Brianda cried. “I have the solution.”
    Brianda began to drum her fingers on the table, deep in thought. I had the feeling that she had even forgotten that we were with her. Papa sat down again.
    “Yes,” Brianda said, “I can help you.”
    “How?” I asked.
    She leaned closer. “There is an old shed in the back of our garden. It’s overgrown with weeds. Nobody ever goes in there. It’s dirty and uncomfortable, but you will be safe there. Nobody will think of looking for you in it. My parents will never know that you are there.”
    “Do you realize, child, the danger you will be putting yourself in? The Inquisition is merciless. If it everfound out that you helped us … well, you know what that would mean.”
    “Your aunt is right,” Papa said. “Think over carefully whether you want to help us. We won’t think any less of you if you decide against it.”
    “I love the mother church, but I must help you. You are my friends,” said Brianda firmly. “Come to our house tomorrow, after the moon rises to the top of the sky. The garden wall has a rear gate. Only the servants use it. It opens into the alley behind the house. Somebody will be waiting for you there.”
    “If we can hide in that shed until we can leave for Morocco, we have a chance of surviving,” Papa said as we were nearing the front of our villa. “I just hope that Brianda’s courage won’t desert her.”
    “Never! Not in a million years. Brianda has been my best friend forever. I know her better than anyone. She is brave as a lion. She is also loyal and generous.” Suddenly, I remembered her treatment of the slave Mara. “Her only fault is that she is sometimes careless of the feelings of others. We can trust her completely, though.”
    “I am