Page 44 of A Column of Fire
‘You don’t remember your grandfather, my husband.’
‘He died when I was a baby.’
‘Rest his soul. He was raised Muslim.’
All three men stared at her in astonishment. Carlos said incredulously: ‘Your husband was a Muslim?’
‘At first, yes.’
‘My grandfather, José Alano Cruz?’
‘His original name was Youssef al-Khalil.’
‘How could you marry a Muslim?’
‘When they were expelled from Spain he decided to convert to Christianity rather than leave. He took instruction in the religion and was baptized as an adult, just like Ebrima. José was his new name. To seal his conversion, he decided to marry a Christian girl. That was me. I was thirteen.’
Barney said: ‘Did many Muslims marry Christians?’
‘No. They married within their community, even after converting. My José was unusual.’
Carlos was more interested in the personal side. ‘Did you know he had been raised Muslim?’
‘Not at first, no. He had moved here from Madrid and told no one. But people come here from Madrid all the time, and eventually there was someone who had known him as a Muslim. After that it was never quite secret, though we tried to keep it quiet.’
Barney could not restrain his curiosity. ‘You were thirteen? Did you love him?’
‘I adored him. I was never a pretty girl, and he was handsome and charming. He was also affectionate and kind and caring. I was in heaven.’ Aunt Betsy was in a confiding mood.
Carlos said: ‘And then my grandfather died . . .’
‘I was inconsolable,’ said Betsy. ‘He was the love of my life. I never wanted another husband.’ She shrugged. ‘But I had my children to take care of, so I was too busy to die of grief. And then there was you, Carlos, motherless before you were a day old.’
Barney had an instinctive feeling that, although Betsy was speaking candidly, there was something she was holding back. She had not wanted another husband, but was that the whole story?
Carlos made a connection. ‘Is this why Francisco Villaverde won’t let me marry his daughter?’
‘It is. He doesn’t care about your English grandmother. It’s your Muslim grandfather he considers impure.’
‘Hell.’
‘That’s not the worst of your problems. Obviously Alonso, too, knows about Youssef al-Khalil. Today’s visit was just the beginning. Believe me, he will be back.’
*
AFTERALONSO’S VISITBarney went to the home of the Ruiz family to see what had happened to Jerónima.
The door was opened by a young woman who looked North African and was evidently a slave. She was probably beautiful, he thought, but now her face was swollen and her eyes were red with grief. ‘I must see Jerónima,’ he said in a loud voice. The woman put her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture, then beckoned him to follow her and led him into the back of the house.
He expected to see a cook and a couple of maids preparing dinner, but the kitchen was cold and silent. He recalled Alonso saying that the inquisition routinely confiscated a suspect’s goods, but Barney had not realized how fast it would happen. Now he saw that Pedro’s employees had already been dismissed. Presumably his slave was going to be sold, which would be why she was crying.
She said: ‘I am Farah.’
Barney said impatiently: ‘Why have you brought me here? Where is Jerónima?’
‘Speak quietly,’ she said. ‘Jerónima is upstairs, with Archdeacon Romero.’
‘I don’t care, I want to speak to her,’ said Barney, and he stepped to the door.
