The Last Song

Santos promised that they would be back. I believe him. I give thanks to Allah that you got away.”
    Mama began to cross herself, but then she let her hand drop. “Old habits die hard. I, too, thank the Lord for saving our lives.”
    “After Santos and the familiars were gone, Yussuf and I decided to find you and to warn you.”
    Yussuf looked at Yonah and shook his head. “It took a lot of convincing for Master Yonah to agree to us coming with him.” He smiled. “He is even more strong-minded than you, Don Enrique.”
    “But not more stubborn than you,” Yonah laughed.
    The rising sun was burning away the mist.
    “We must leave before we are discovered,” Papa said.
    Yonah handed the package he was cradling to my mother. “These are the clothes we have to wear. It’ll be safer for you to look like one of us.”
    “We
are
one of you,” Papa said.
    We waited outside while my parents changed into their new clothes. Don Enrique de Cardosa and his lady wife were transformed into a Jewish couple with red and white badges on the shoulders of their cloaks. Next it was my turn. I put on the boy’s clothes I had wornto the Juderia. Suddenly, I thought of the silver kiddush cup Yonah had given me. I knew that I was forbidden to take it with me because we were pretending to be Jews, but I couldn’t bear to part with it. The petticoat I had taken off was lying in a heap on the clay floor. I tore a long strip of lace from the hem and tied it tightly around the cup. Then I wound the lace around my waist, so that the cup hung from my waist.
    We followed Yonah through the sleeping streets. I tried to memorize everything that I saw. Here was Butchers’ Lane, where we always bought our meat. We passed the Church of Santo Tome, where Alberto had swung his sambenito high up into the air.
    At the edge of town, we came upon an incredible sight. A long, long line of people was trudging down the dirt road as far as the eye could see. We began to walk along the column of people, in search of Yonah’s father. I saw courtiers and scholars and silversmiths like Natan Abenatar. There were farmers and innkeepers. Most people walked on foot along the rutted path. The swollen-bellied pregnant women and infirm were in carts pulled by donkeys.
    Rabbis encouraged the people to sing hymns.
    I saw an old man fall to the ground. Despite his friends’ pleas, he could not get up. They had to leave him behind. Farther down the road, the crowd partedto walk around a girl bent over the body of a woman.
    “Mama, don’t die! Don’t die!” she wailed.
    A newborn baby’s tiny cries came from the back of a donkey cart.
One dead, one born
, I thought.
    Even though it was early in the morning, the air shimmered in the heat. But the heat did not stop priests and monks in long cassocks, who held crosses high, from running along the line of people.
    “Repent! Repent! Give yourself up to Christ!” they exhorted the marchers.
    Most of the exiles ignored them, but there were those who bent their knees to the cross to be baptized.
    We walked around a group of flagellants.
    “Repent! Repent!” they chanted.
    I was careful not to look at their bloodied bodies, but I could not shut out the sound of whips meeting flesh.
    “Where could my father be?” Yonah asked, scanning the faces of the people who walked by. “Ah! There he is.” Yonah pointed to our left.
    “I was getting worried,” Master Abenatar said when we approached.
    “Everything is fine. No one saw us leave,” Yonah said.
    “We are grateful to you,” Papa said.
    Yonah’s father inclined his head. “You and your family are a part of us now, Don Enrique.”
    “We most certainly are,” Papa said.
    “Is that you, Isabel?” a voice called out.
    Rabbi Abenbilla and Yehudit came up to us. I introduced them to my parents.
    “I am so happy that you are here!” Yehudit cried as we embraced each other.
    “We are honored that you are coming with us,” the rabbi said.
    Yehudit led me over to a group of girls dancing close to us. They were holding hands while they bowed and dipped and kicked, all the while moving at the same pace as the line of people surrounding them.
    Before I knew it, the world became a kaleidoscope of color and laughter.
    The line of people came to a sudden stop. I stumbled, lost my balance, and fell on the uneven ground, scraping my knee. As I struggled to get up, I lifted my head and locked eyes with Brianda’s father, my Tio Diego. He was mounted on a black