The Apprentice's Masterpiece by Melanie Little Read Free Book Online Page B

felt
like it’s waiting.
    And now comes the letter.
Señor Ortiz has the dreaded Smallpox!
He may die.
He dances already
on Death’s ashen palm.
All the Reaper must do, now, is choose.
Should he, should he not, close
his strong, bony fingers and squeeze?
    We’re astonished:
if señor dies, says the letter,
the house will be ours.
As well as the shop.
    There’s a condition.
We must show loyalty
to our Queen and King.
    We must, says the letter, cast the Moor out.
If we’re to go on having a home
Amir must once more have none.

Too Long!
    Papa goes up
to reason
with him.
    Mama says it takes reason to reason,
and Señor Ortiz, sadly, has none.
    Papa’s not daunted.
    â€œI’m every bit as unreasonable
as he is,” Papa says.
    That’s a good thing?
    And is it reason
to spend hours in a room
with a man who has Pox?
    One more bell
has just sounded.
Time marches on.
    Will my ox-stubborn papa
never come down?

Señor’s Answer
    is no.
Papa says
we must think
about where we might go.
    He mentions Granada.
Amir’s eyes light up.
    I, too, feel a pang.
Haven’t I dreamed
of seeing the world?
    But this is our home.
And travel takes strength.
Does Mama have it?
And Papa?
    Señor Ortiz is changing his will.
This whole house—the house, might I add,
that used to be ours—will go to the Church!
You know what that means.
The Inquisitors.
    If he dies, Papa says,
they’ll be here to lay claim
before señor’s body
is put in the ground.
    They’ve arrested so many New Christians
of late. Even I, who love numbers,
would not want to count them.
    The Queen’s alcazar
can’t hold them all.
Some people wait years
before their trials start.
Waiting takes space!
    Once, when I wasn’t permitted
to do what I pleased,
I said my own room
was a prison cell.
Had I glimpsed, without knowing,
the dark final fate of our home?

Question
    Mama and Papa talk half the night.
Amir’s awake too.
    I have a new question
to ask Amir.
How does it feel
to throw your kind master
out of his home?

Front Door
    Most people who call
on Señor Ortiz
know to use the back door.
The front one is ours.
(In my grandfather’s day,
it belonged to the servants.)
    This doctor is not from our quarter,
and he doesn’t know.
Or maybe he’s not all that keen
to be seen.
    He wears no strange hat
like the ones in old books.
But his beard is as long
as his arms.
Nearly hidden beneath it,
just right of his heart:
a yellow patch.
    He’s a Jew.
    If they learn he has been here,
Smallpox will be
the least of our woes.

Penitent
    I still meet with Bea.
My world may be ending,
but that only leads me
to think of her more.
    I even remember to compliment her.
I look for silk, for gold thread—
any small thing that I might have missed.
But the skirt is the old one!
This sack , she had said.
    Girls are confusing.
    â€œDon’t look at my clothes!”
She’s noticed my gaze. “I’m ashamed!”
    It takes much kissing and coaxing
(not that I mind)
before she’ll explain.
    â€œMama confessed for the Edict of Grace.
She told them she once bought some meat
from a wandering Jew.
They fined her three hundred maravedis,
and Papa won’t pay. He says
we must sell off our new clothes instead!
Oh, Ramon—I wish I were dead.”
    But couldn’t he stop it? He’s a familiari!
    She looks at me like I am simple.
“My father’s the one who said,
‘Turn yourself in.’”
    She dabs at her eyes for a minute.
But when she looks up, they are slits.
“You know, Ramon,
maybe he was right.
If ever again there’s an Edict of Grace—
Better to tell on yourself
than be told on.
I’m sure you’ve done something .
No, don’t tell me.
Tell them. ”

Waiting
    We wait for señor to die
or to live.
    Papa once claimed that waiting
is food for the soul.
Think of a pen, he told me.
When a new one is made,
we must stand it in sand
to