The Last Song by Eva Wiseman Read Free Book Online

hissed.
    “Know what? What must Fray Torquemada know?”
    Mama hushed me.
    “Let’s go inside,” Papa said, pulling the iron bell at the door of Tia Juana’s house.
    Papa left for the tavern to attend a cockfight, but he had promised to return for us in an hour. Yussuf was in the kitchen with the servants. Mama and I were chatting with Doña Juana and Brianda as we rested on the embroidered pillows strewn over the fine carpet. I felt drowsy and content, and thoughts of Yonah’s dark eyesfilled my head. I was planning to meet him under our tree after the sun had set.
    “What is troubling you, Catarina?” Doña Juana looked at Mama with her kind eyes.
    “It was awful. We saw Torquemada outside your door. A boy darted out and startled his horse. His familiars dragged the boy away. I don’t know what will become of him, but one thing is certain. That poor child won’t be heard of again.” She fanned herself.
    “But the boy deserved to be punished,” Tia Juana retorted. “He might have injured his holiness!”
    “Holiness?” Mama asked, incredulous.
    “Yes, holiness,” Tia Juana said brusquely. “That man is a saint. Did you know that he wears a hair shirt under his vestments? That he won’t eat any but the simplest of foods? He works so hard! If misfortune befell him, what would happen to the holy Inquisition? But I guess that with your background, neither you nor Enrique care.”
    Mama closed her fan with a snap. She tapped it against her chin. “What exactly do you mean, Juana?” she finally asked.
    Tia Juana shrugged her shoulders. “Never mind. I know that – ”
    The drapes over the doorway parted and Mara glided into the room, which silenced Tia Juana. I hadn’tseen Brianda’s slave since the day she told me my fortune. Her hair was covered by an embroidered scarf and her eyes were modestly lowered. She was carrying a large silver tray laden with almond cakes. She passed them around the room. I took two cakes. They were so sweet. I sighed contentedly as I washed them down with the juice of freshly squeezed oranges from Tia Juana’s orchards.
    “I must get the recipe for this cake from your cook, Juana,” Mama said. “It’s absolutely delicious. Much better than the ones my servants bake.”
    “That’s because you are too lax with them, Catarina,” Tia Juana said. “Be firm with them. Let them know that you won’t accept anything but the best from them.” She softened her words with a smile. “I am glad that you like the cakes. I’ll get the recipe for you before you leave.” She motioned to the slave girl hovering by the wall. “Mara, more cake for Doña Catarina.”
    The girl approached Mama with downcast eyes and offered the tray for her inspection. Mama took a second cake. I took my third. Brianda reached for a cake, too, but Tia Juana tapped her hand with her fan.
    “Put it down! You are too plump. Your father will never find you a husband.”
    Brianda’s face turned crimson. She glared at TiaJuana sulkily and threw the cake back at the tray. The cake missed its mark and fell to the carpet, where it crumbled into several pieces.
    “Look what you’ve done, Mara. You’re so clumsy!” she screamed.
    Mara cowered. Brianda leaned forward and pinched the slave’s arm. The girl’s eyes glistened with tears, but she remained silent. She crouched down to pick up the pieces from the carpet. Before she could finish, Brianda jumped up, trampling the crumbs under her velvet slippers.
    Tia Juana did not utter a single word. Mama’s lips were pressed together tightly. I knew that she would have plenty to say if I ever spoke to Sofia the way Brianda treated her slave.
    “Let’s go to my chamber,” Brianda suggested, pulling me up from the floor. “I want to show you the necklace Father gave me.”
    I picked up the necklace from the table and walked over to the window to dangle it from my fingers in the sunlight streaming into the room. I had never seen anything like it. It was made