The Debt of Tamar by Nicole Dweck Read Free Book Online Page A

old country, others the children of Inquisition refugees born on Ottoman soil. José did not know them well but they had all suffered from the same fate. There was camaraderie among these men.
    The congregants partook in the spirited liturgy with fervent enthusiasm. Anyone passing by could have easily mistaken the service for that of a Catholic church gathering. Having been forced to attend mass for the better part of their lives, the congregants adopted much of the chorus-like tempo of the churches they’d left behind. Of prayer, it was all they knew.
    At the end of the service, José spotted Doctor Hamon in conversation with a few of the community’s elders. He was standing tall with hands locked, nodding in his measured, gentle way as they spoke to him. They bid the doctor farewell and wished him good Sabbath just as he was approaching.
    “José. So good to see you.” Doctor Hamon’s smile was warm and welcoming. “Is everything all right? You look unwell.”
    “No, I’m all right. There is a matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
    “Is it La Señora? Has she fallen ill?”
    “No, she’s fine. It’s just that, well…”
    “José! Have you met my son?” The doctor turned to a tall boy that was approaching the two of them.
    The young man bowed slightly. “My father has told me much about you. I am glad you and your family have made it safely to Istanbul.”
    “Yes.” José tried to keep his voice steady. “Well, thank you.”
    “Tell me,” the doctor cut in. “What’s troubling you, José? Was there something you wanted to discuss?”
    José looked over the doctor’s son. He was extremely tall, a head taller than José, with powerful shoulders and sparkling hazel eyes set off by the dim glow of his Arabian complexion. This then, was the man that Reyna was betrothed to.
    “I’d prefer to discuss the matter with you in private.” His voice was low.
    “Of course, José.”
    “Can you come by tomorrow?”
    “I’ll be by after sundown.”
     
    The next evening, Doctor Hamon arrived at their villa and came in gently, with quiet footsteps and a tinge of sadness in his eyes. José, in a bronze caftan and low turban, made his way down a few shallow stone steps, through the airy corridor towards the low divan on which Doctor Hamon was seated.
    “Doctor Hamon, thank you so much for coming by on such short notice. You must be wondering why I’ve asked you here.”
    “I’m not wondering, José.”
    “You’re not?”
    “I know why I’m here. You are going to ply me with cheese and dates and cakes, maybe offer me a handsome sum of money, then ask that I release Reyna from the betrothal.”
    Stunned, José said nothing.
    “Does that sound right?”
    “Well—”
    At that moment, a servant appeared carrying a tray of cheese and a bowl of olives.
    Doctor Hamon took one look at the tray then laughed, low and hard.
    “How did you know? How could you possibly?” José’s voice trailed off.
    He waved his hands and smiled. “Let me save you the time. I don’t want your cheese and I don’t want your money.” He leaned back.
    José felt a knot tighten in his chest. If the doctor would not release Reyna, he’d take his chances and marry her anyway. But at what cost? To break a promise made to the Sultan’s most trusted physician would have dire consequences for the entire family. “Is there something you would like, then?” José asked lamely.
    “Maybe some wine?”
    “Wine?”
    “Sure. We are men. We are brothers. Let us drink wine together. It is, after all, the only worldly pleasure in all the empire that we, as Jews, are permitted, while our Muslim neighbors are banned from even the smallest drop.”
    “All right. But what about—”
    “Do not worry, José. I release her, of course.” He waved his bony hand as he spoke. “I saw it in your eyes when you arrived. You are very much in love.”
    “Thank you, Doctor!” José leapt up from his place.
    “Marry her. You have my