Torquemada by Howard Fast Read Free Book Online

Rafel saved my life. He has a vested interest in me, so to speak, and we are a people peculiar about such things.”
    Now Maria rose and turned to her daughter and asked her to leave the room. Something was happening in Catherine that Alvero could almost feel physically. She tried not to look at her mother, who said, “I asked you to leave, Catherine, please.”
    â€œI want to stay.”
    â€œI don’t care what you want. I asked you to leave, Catherine. Please leave.”
    Catherine shook her head, then suddenly her resistance collapsed. She got up and ran into the house. Maria was white and shaking with controlled anger, and now she turned to the rabbi and demanded of him,
    â€œWho saved your life? Are you trying to tell me that my husband saved your life? What do you mean?”
    â€œOnly that he saved my life,” the rabbi said.
    â€œI heard you before. I heard you say that before. Who sent you here? Why did you come here?”
    The rabbi shook his head and spread his hands. He was bewildered and amazed and unable to cope with the situation and he pleaded with her as he said, “If you came to my house, Doña Maria, I would welcome you but I would not ask you why you had come.”
    Maria took another step towards him. “That I should come to your house, Jew, is inconceivable, inconceivable. It is more likely, to my way of thinking, that the sun will not rise in the morning. Inconceivable, do you understand me?”
    Alvero could stand no more of this. He ran into the room, crying out, as in pain, “Maria!”
    Perhaps the agony in his cry brought Catherine back. She stood at the far end of the gallery, half in the room, half hiding. Julio too could not pull himself away and stood watching – as if the outcome of all this were so unpredictable that life and death might depend on his being there.
    Maria stared at her husband, then said to him with great calm, “This Jew asked to see you. He claims you saved his life. I told him that for him to have any reason to be here is inconceivable.”
    â€œThis Jew,” Alvero whispered. He went to Mendoza but could find no words for what he wanted to say. Then he walked over to his wife and whispered to her, “Maria – Maria – why don’t you put a knife into my heart? A man comes into our house. The man is the Devil. He comes into our house. Then I say he is a guest. He is under our roof. Do we whip him? Do we insult him? Do we make him a thing of contempt?”
    â€œYou were listening,” Maria said.
    â€œI heard you from outside.”
    â€œYou were listening,” Maria said. “How could you? How could you stand out there and listen?”
    â€œIs that all you can think about, that I listened to you?”
    For a long moment Maria stared at her husband. Then she turned and walked the length of the gallery to the door where her daughter stood, walked past her and out. Catherine came into the room. She was crying now. She came a few more paces into the room and stood there. The old servant, Julio, came over and touched Alvero’s velvet doublet.
    â€œI am an old man,” Julio said, “and I would rather die, Don Alvero, than to have you look at me the way you look at me.”
    â€œI trust you,” Alvero whispered hoarsely.
    â€œSay that in truth,” Julio said, “or I will walk out to the stable and put a knife in my belly.”
    â€œIn truth,” Alvero whispered.
    During this, Catherine had walked firmly to the table where a carafe of wine and glasses stood. She poured a glass of wine and, with great deliberation, her face set and intent, brought it to Mendoza and held out the glass to him. When, at first, he made no movement to accept it, Catherine said,
    â€œDrink the wine of our household, Don Mendoza.”
    Alvero watched them. Mendoza took the wine and Catherine drew a chair from the table, nodding for him to sit down.
    â€œShall I drink