Torquemada by Howard Fast Read Free Book Online Page A

alone?” Mendoza asked.
    â€œPour me a glass,” Alvero told his daughter and then he said to Julio, “Bring us bread, Julio.”
    â€œThe wine is enough,” Mendoza said.
    â€œIt is my house,” Alvero said almost bitterly. “If you drink wine here, you will break bread with me.” Alvero went over to his daughter, kissed her and whispered for her to leave. She nodded and went out of the room. Like two men in a tableau, Mendoza and Alvero stood silently, holding their wine glasses until Julio returned with the bread. Then Alvero broke the bread and offered some to the Jew, who chewed it thoughtfully as if he savoured the taste of it.
    â€œPlease sit down,” Alvero said to the rabbi.
    Mendoza seated himself at the table and Alvero sat down facing him. Mendoza then spoke of Alvero’s daughter. It seemed to Alvero that he quoted or paraphrased some words from the Bible but Alvero was not sure. He did not know the Bible very well. “You are blessed,” Mendoza said, “you have a remarkable daughter.”
    â€œI suppose that is true, but remember that a blessing can be a curse. I love my daughter more than anything on earth.”
    â€œLove is never a curse.”
    Julio, who had stood there until now, suddenly turned and walked out of the room, and Mendoza said to Alvero,
    â€œThe man loves you. Why are you afraid of him, Don Alvero?”
    â€œWe are in Spain, Rabbi. Therefore we must learn to live with fear.”
    â€œThere you have a curious proposition indeed, Don Alvero, for all Spaniards are not Jews.”
    â€œI don’t understand you.”
    â€œI mean that the art of living with fear is a peculiarly Jewish art. Nevertheless, one must not be afraid. If you live with fear and you are afraid, then you are right, Don Alvero – love will become a curse, but you can live with fear and be without fear, and then any love is a blessing. Why am I talking like this? I did not come here to discuss philosophy with you. In fact, I am sorry that I came here. It was the thoughtlessness and the greed of desperation that drove me here.”
    â€œI have nothing to forgive you for,” Alvero said.
    â€œNot even for saving my life?” Mendoza asked.
    â€œMust I forgive you for that? I don’t understand you. You were in danger and I did for you what I would do for any human being. It is not deserving of gratitude, nor is it worthy of discussion. It is a small thing.”
    â€œNot for me,” Mendoza said softly.
    â€œNo, I did not mean that, no. Now you must forgive me.”
    â€œYou are a strange man, Don Alvero, but it may be that all Spanish dons are very strange men. You, all of you, share a courtliness and a grace which is like a benediction. I think that is why it hurts so much when I see you afraid.”
    â€œThen I tell you that I am not afraid. God help me, I cringe in fear because a Jew enters my house! Are you a man of God, Rabbi?”
    â€œYou have your own men of God, Don Alvero.”
    â€œThen you offer me no comfort.”
    â€œI guess not,” Mendoza agreed. “I came here to find comfort and not to bring comfort and I think for that I am sorry – and, if I have your leave, I will go and ask no further favours from you.”
    â€œWhat favours, Rabbi? What can I do for you?”
    â€œYou have done enough for me. Does it makes you forever my debtor because you helped me once?”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    â€œThen I have endangered you enough, simply by coming here, and thus all debts are paid,” Mendoza said.
    â€œWhy did you come here?”
    â€œMust I tell you?”
    â€œI think so.” Alvero nodded. “I sleep poorly as it is. Shall I sleep less poorly?”
    â€œVery well,” the Jew said, “you are a friend of Torquemada.”
    â€œHow do you know that?” Alvero asked. “Because I was with him?”
    â€œAll of Segovia has known it for