A Divided Inheritance

by Deborah Swift

‘No, I’ll go alone,’ he yelled over his shoulder.

  Nobody had touched the place since they were last there. The stairs still smelt of dry dust and masonry. He raced up to the top floor, calling out, ‘Luisa? Hello?’

  But there was no answer. At the top he looked out through the gap where the balcony jutted over the streets beneath. The sharp northerly wind barely disturbed the view, the scene below was laid out like an illustration. He drew his hands over his eyes to clear them, and looked down, unable to take it in.

  My God, the whole river was a mass of boats. He could hardly see a thumb’s width of water. All the galleons he had seen out at the point and more. Hundreds of smaller craft bobbing alongside. The loop of the Guadalquivir reminded him of a black noose, the rope writhing through the city and out towards the coast.

  He looked to his left. Flanking the river, battalions of men were preparing arms, and on the road a cavalcade of armed men trotted downstream on horseback. As the sun passed momentarily between the clouds it struck needles of light from their helmets. It came to him, with dread certainty, that this was a well-planned operation, not just a notion. He had thought the rumours to be scaremongering. He could not see how the King could move a whole population, yet here was the evidence right before his eyes. A chill rippled up his spine.

  He turned his head to stare back into the room; there was the one chair casting its faint shadow on the bare boards. Its presence seemed to point to the emptiness of the house. There was no sign of Luisa.

  He had been so sure he would find her here. Bitter disappointment filled his heart, not just because she was not there, but because he thought she might come to him if she was in trouble. That the place would be as special to her as it was to him.

  He could not conceive of her and her family being put on to those boats. The idea was unreal; from up here the boats looked like toys. But he had heard the gunfire last night, heard the talk in the streets of the death penalty for Moriscos who remained. Panic seized him. He must try to find Luisa, wherever she was. Nicolao’s words, that people had been killed at the church, repeated in his mind.

  Perhaps if he could find the priest, he might see if he could find out anything more. He grabbed the handrail and plunged down the stairs, thrusting open the broken door. It bounced back and he heard a sharp cry.

  Just behind the door Luisa struggled to her feet holding her nose.

  ‘You fool!’ she shouted at him.

  ‘Oh, God, I’m sorry.’ He tried to take her arm to help her up.

  ‘You’ve broken my nose. Mentecato!’ She shrugged away from him, holding her face. Her nose was dripping blood.

  ‘I didn’t know you were there!’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Come in then, before someone sees us, pull the door behind you.’

  ‘Everyone’s looking for you. Your parents are out searching for you.’

  ‘You’ve broken my nose.’

  ‘Everyone’s searching for you.’

  ‘More fool them. I told them I’m not going.’ She dabbed at her nose with her sleeve.

  ‘Here.’ He handed her a kerchief.

  ‘Does it look bad?’ she asked.

  He went up close and put his hand on her cheek to tilt it to the light. ‘I don’t think it’s broken.’

  ‘No thanks to you.’

  He stroked her cheek, and her hairline. ‘Oh, Luisa. I was worried.’

  ‘I think it’s stopped bleeding.’ She tucked the kerchief into her waistband, and looked up at him. Her voice cracked with tears. ‘They expect me to go with them, the fat-witted fools.’

  ‘Hush, hush,’ he said, folding his arms around her. In the brief time before she pushed him away he could feel her trembling. ‘Luisa, where’ve you been? Everyone’s half-crazed with worry.’

  ‘I went to the Santa Dominica. I got caught up in some trouble there.’

  ‘I know. Someone saw you. But what happened?’

  She folded her arms. ‘Please, don’t make me talk of it. It was horrible.’

  ‘Luisa, we need to let your parents know you’re safe. Shall we walk back together?’

  ‘No. I’m not going with them. I’m Spanish. I believe in the Holy Mother Church. I’ve spoken my catechism since I was four years old. What happened this morning just made me realize it even more. I’m not like them. They were smashing up the altar like wild animals. Why should I leave? I don’t want to go to Africa, to their primitive life with all its outlandish prohibitions. But Mama and Papa don’t understand that. They didn’t take the instruction. If they had, they would know their faith is just superstition, Papa doesn’t realize, you see. But my mind’s made up, I’d rather stay here in a Christian country – whatever the risks – than go with them to Africa.’

  ‘They’re not going to Africa.’

  ‘That is what it says on the notices, and Maymona says that’s where the ships are bound.’

  ‘No, Señor Alvarez is going to help you get to France and from there onwards to Fez or Tunis, at least that’s what he said.’

  ‘Tunis, Africa, what’s the difference? Are you saying you want me to go?’

  ‘Of course I’m not. But I want you to be safe. They’re killing anyone left behind.’

  She shook her head sadly and pulled away from him. ‘You are, aren’t you? You’re telling me you want me to go. I thought . . . I thought that it meant something. That we had . . . Oh, never mind.’ She turned away from him and went to the window.

  ‘Don’t look out there!’ he called, but too late.

  She was silent a long time staring out of the window. He wound his arms around her from behind.

  Finally, she turned, and her eyes were glazed with unshed tears. ‘Please, go back to my father. Tell him I will not come. I will take my chances here with you. I would rather live a short life in the Spain I love. If I die, then so be it.’

  He caught hold of her. She tried to pull away, but he did not let go. He pressed his lips to hers and felt her answering response. Losing her had suddenly become all too real. He pushed her away to look at her. ‘If you are thinking of staying for me then please don’t. It is too dangerous. Please, Luisa, come back with me. Just speak to your family. They say they won’t go without you and if they don’t go today, it might be too late. And if they end up having to go to the embarkation points they will have to leave Husain behind.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Children under the age of seven who have been brought up Christian will be re-housed. They are to go to holding camps until they can be assigned new families.’

  ‘No.’ She pulled away, shaking her head in disbelief.

  ‘It’s true. Señor Alvarez is trying to help your family stay together. He risks his own skin to do this, I know.’

  ‘Nobody asked him to. He shouldn’t interfere.’

  ‘He is only trying to help,’ he sighed in frustration. ‘Like all of us.’

  ‘It’s my life,’ she said quietly, jutting out her chin in defiance. ‘Mine, to do with as I please. I had thought I had found someone who would understand me, someone who would let me be free to choose my way of being in the world. To live in Spain and dance and be free, that’s all I want.’

  ‘I know. But if you stay, you will be looking over your shoulder the whole time for the neighbour who will betray you or slip a knife into your back. Do you want that? Because I don’t. I don’t want you to live in fear like that.’

  ‘But at least I will be alive! Not cut off from my land and my people and my God.’

  ‘What about your family?’ He walked away from her in frustration, and shouted, ‘You have a family who loves you. That is more important than land or religion. For pity’s sake, Luisa, you don’t know how lucky you are!’

  He didn’t know how to make her understand.

  He paced the floor a moment, then turned to her. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’ve had no family to love me since I was twelve years old and, what’s more, I am such a pathetic man that I had to worm my way into someone el
se’s, just so that I could feel I belonged somewhere. If I die tomorrow, who’ll care? No family will mourn me, not a one.’ He tasted his own bitterness. ‘And if I was lost, nobody would come looking.’

  Luisa reached out to touch him. ‘I care,’ she said.

  The touch was like a flame that made him pull her to him. When he could bear to release her he shook her gently. ‘Luisa, your whole family are out risking their necks searching for you. Please, I beg you, come back with me. Even if it’s just to say goodbye. Think of your mother traipsing Husain round the streets asking everyone if they’ve seen you. They deserve your love and respect. I heard your father say they won’t go without you, and you know what that means – the risk they take.’

  A single tear trickled down her cheek.

  He carried on, ‘Risk your own life if you must, but don’t risk theirs. They did nothing wrong except love you. You would condemn them to death for that?’

  She reached out her arms and they held each other tight.

  ‘I’m scared of losing you, Mr Deane,’ she said.

  ‘And I’m scared of losing you.’

  ‘Come with me.’ Her voice was a whisper. He did not know if she meant home, or to a new land, but it did not matter. For suddenly he was certain. He would go with her to the ends of the earth if need be.

  Chapter 45

  Elspet prepared food, though she had scant idea what to do with the ingredients in Señor Alvarez’s kitchen. The men arrived for training, all with tales to tell of insurrections and rioting. The señor warned her not to go into the city lest she become caught up in the unrest provoked by the King’s declaration.

  Alexander said the señor had sent a message to his friends in a small fishing village near Tavira who were prepared to help the Ortega family get away to France. He asked if Elspet could make provisions for the family for the journey, because poor Ayamena was out with Husain searching for Luisa, who had gone missing. Elspet did her best. She had found spelt to make flatbread, and corked up a pot with olive oil and goat’s cheese. From all accounts Moriscos were particular about their meat, so she had used only vegetables and cheese.

  The talk between the men was of how the city would manage with the loss of so many of its Muslim population. Pedro Gutierrez said it would be like draining the city, that Seville would struggle to subsist without the Morisco artisans, without their farming skills and their craftsmanship. She remembered that Luisa worked at the pottery, and asked him if the people who worked there were all Moriscos.

  ‘It’s already empty, the kiln’s blowing ash, and cold, like in all the other workshops,’ he said sadly.

  Señor Alvarez appeared to see how she was faring. She looked down apologetically at her floury skirts. ‘There is no bread today, the bread man has not been.’

  ‘I expect he’s left, like most of the traders in this barrio. He will have more important things to worry about than feeding us.’

  ‘How will the city manage without the bakers?’

  ‘I expect it will adapt. People find new habits, like always.’ He was staring at her, it made her nervous.

  ‘Your cheek looks a little better,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, that. I hardly notice it. And it seems a small injury in comparison to what is going on in the city. Such a shock, everywhere in chaos. It’s so sad. I don’t understand why this exile is necessary.’ She went back to mixing dough.

  ‘It was always a threat. Spain has been gradually scrubbing Islam out, but it’s folly to try to erase history.’ His voice was frustratingly calm.

  ‘That wasn’t what I meant. I mean it seems so cruel. People were living together side by side well enough, weren’t they?’

  ‘Not well enough, I suppose. It is complicated. The Ottoman Turks have seized our trade routes, and the King fears Moriscos might give them aid. He knows Spain was not always his; that it belonged to the Arab world before him, and the people still remember, the stories are passed from generation to generation.’

  ‘Will he expel them all?’

  ‘It looks that way. He can’t risk a rebellion. And he won’t forget the story – the last sigh of Boabdil as he surrendered the precious keys of the city to Ferdinand and Isabella. He fights in case it comes full circle.’

  ‘I feel for Ayamena and Nicolao. Do you know, my father said the new king was a holy man, a man of the Church, one of toleration.’

  He picked up one of the leathery apples taken from the winter stores and weighed it in his hand. ‘Ah yes, the Church.’

  It felt like a chastisement. She stopped mixing and went to wash her hands in the bowl by the door to cover her confusion.

  ‘I wish that they could stay, that is all,’ she said. ‘They could try harder to convert them to our faith. Exile seems so unnecessary.’

  ‘Does a person’s religion matter so much to you?’

  ‘Of course it does. The Church has given me so much . . .’ She hesitated, something in his reaction made her bite her lip.

  He turned his back. There was an awkward pause. ‘Mistress Leviston, thank you for your help in the kitchen, I know the Ortegas appreciate it.’ He tapped his foot. ‘I know it to be selfish, given the circumstances,’ he said returning to face her, ‘but I am glad you cannot sail for England and I will have the pleasure of your company for a little longer. And Mr Deane too, of course.’

  She cast him a shy glance and his eyes looked into hers briefly before they dropped away. She could not help it, she still desired him. The tension was palpable and to cover it she wrapped the food in cotton cloths ready for packing in the baskets. He passed the apple from hand to hand before taking a bite from it.

  He stood next to her again. ‘Shall I help pack these things?’ Awkwardly, he put the apple back down on the table. She sensed he was uncomfortable with small conversation. The silence in the room was broken only by the noise of the fire crackling in the wood-fired oven in the corner. She was intensely aware of his slim brown hands folding the cloth, of his presence beside her.

  He pointed to the oven. ‘I asked Pedro to light it, so you can bake your bread. Best to make plenty, for there will probably be shortages. Everyone needs to eat, whatever goes on in the city.’

  ‘With your appetites I will be baking all day.’

  He laughed, and it lightened the atmosphere, like a lick of flame on a dark night. But then his voice became serious again. ‘Mistress Leviston, I have to ask. If I can manage to arrange it, would you be willing to accompany me on the journey to Tavira? I would not think it, but now Martha has gone, it would make for less suspicion if Luisa was the maid of an English lady.’

  She wanted to please him so she heard herself say, ‘If it will help, then of course I will. But I’m not sure I won’t be more of a hindrance. And you will have to tell me what to do.’

  ‘Thank you. The Moriscos have twenty days to leave, so I understand. When Zachary returns with Luisa, then we will make plans to leave early next week,’ he said, giving her a warm smile and touching her on the shoulder with a brush of his fingers as he left.

  The sensation of his touch made her yearn for more. The apple lay on the table where he had left it. She scooped it up and pressed it to her lips where his had been only moments earlier. It was only then she realized she was shaking from head to foot, from passion or terror she could not say. A low moan escaped her. No one must know how she felt about the señor, she could not bear the humiliation if he were to reject her again. What was more, she did not know what frightened her the most, a journey across bandit-ridden Spain, with the King’s militia snapping at their heels, or the thought of spending more time alone with Señor Alvarez.

  Zachary and Luisa dodged their way through the narrow thoroughfares away from the main streets. Through the intermittent gaps in the houses they saw a throng of people jostling past, shouting slogans. Their hoarse shouts caused Luisa to duck and put her hands over her head to protect herself. Occasionally they pressed themselves under the eaves at the crash of breaking glass or the
dull thud of shot. Zachary wrung Luisa’s hand in his as they ran, pulled her back against the wall when a group of soldiers ran past the entrance to their alleyway.

  At the sign of the Spreadeagled Man they threw the gate open and burst inside. There was not even time to catch their breath before Ayamena was upon them, yelling, ‘You selfish girl! What do you think you are doing, worrying your father half to death?’ She beat at Luisa with her fists, but Luisa put up her elbows to shield herself from Ayamena’s rain of blows. ‘You think we’ve nothing better to do than run after you?’ Finally, she stopped, and they looked into one another’s faces.

  ‘Oh, Mama,’ Luisa choked out.

  Ayamena clasped her tight and patted her back. ‘Foolish, foolish girl.’ She pushed her to arm’s length. ‘You will come?’

  Luisa just nodded.

  Zachary repressed the urge to run and embrace her. A great wave of relief coursed through him.

  Chapter 46

  The men were supposed to be training, but the confusion in the city meant they were reluctant to start, and everyone knew that the Ortega family were even now preparing to pack and sell all their possessions.

  ‘What will Señor Alvarez do after this for help? First Alma and Daria, now Ayamena and Nicolao.’ Zachary turned the handle of the grinder. He was using the whetstone kept in the tack room for sharpening their blades.

  Alexander said, ‘And Luisa. I am not blind, you know.’

  ‘You know, she wasn’t going to leave. But I think I persuaded her it would be safer to go with her family.’ He said nothing of his own plans to leave with her.

  ‘It will be difficult. Heaven alone knows if there’s a way out of Seville for them, except by the King’s ships.’

  Etienne passed through with a bucket of water for the señor’s horses, but stopped to say, ‘I’ll be glad when it’s over. Once it’s done there will be less of the trouble, and the people will soon forget, heh?’

  Zachary thought of Luisa. ‘I don’t think so. Moriscos have been part of the fabric of this city for so long, it will be like amputating an arm.’