The Debt of Tamar

by Dweck, Nicole

  THE DEBT OF TAMAR

  Nicole Dweck

  Copyright © 2013 Nicole Dweck

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 061558361X

  ISBN-13: 978-0615583617

  For my parents

  who gave me strength

  For my husband

  who gave me courage

  The Debt of Tamar is a work of fiction, inspired by

  historical events.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Nissim Dynasty

  Osman Imperial Dynasty

  PART I

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  PART II

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  PART III

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  PART IV REDEMPTION

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  About the Author

  PART I

  1

  Lisbon, Portugal

  1542 A.D

  José

  He may well have been the happiest orphan in the world. He closed his eyes for a moment, lifted his chin towards the sun, and for the very last time in his lit, basked in the warmth and radiance of his innocence.

  José observed his aunt Doña Antonia, an aging aristocrat who’d taken him in as her own. She’d raised him alongside her daughter Reyna since infancy. In his eighteen years of life, she was the only mother he’d ever known.

  Doña Antonia the Widow was looking out at Lisbon from the hilltop pavilion of the royal compound. Her expression was drawn as the Queen spoke, with eyes narrowed and lips stitched into a neat line.

  “Your daughter would make a fine wife to my cousin, Alfonso of Aragon. I thought we would discuss the matter.”

  Doña Antonia swallowed a knot rising in her throat. “I am honored.” She turned towards José. Her blue eyes flashed like a bucket of ice water flung in his direction.

  “Yes. The match was thought up by my brother-in-law, the Emperor. It’s an honor that he should have involved himself in such a trivial matter.”

  “Reyna is very young for marriage,” Doña Antonia replied. “I know my nephew agrees.” She swept a long grey curl away from her eyes.

  José nodded, although he knew very well that his opinion was meaningless. He was brought along on this day for a show of male guardianship. His brilliant, widowed aunt would make her own decisions. He was simply there to lend a degree of finality, a touch of masculine determination her husband would have provided had he been alive.

  José turned and let his eyes fall on Reyna in the distance. She was standing by a tall hedge, her fingers grazing the trim bushes in the garden. His cousin had just turned seventeen, old enough to marry by anyone’s standards.

  “I’m afraid she is too young.” Doña Antonia reached for the diamond filigree cross hanging around her neck. “Just a skinny little thing, hardly a woman. You may want to consider someone older…”

  “She will be older,” the Queen said. “Next year she’ll be turning eighteen, then nineteen. I’d wager the year after that twenty. I’ve yet to meet anyone who grew younger by the year.”

  Doña Antonia said nothing.

  A moment passed with only the sound of the Queen’s quiet, steady breaths swaying like a pendulum in a clock. The Queen grappled with a strand of carnelian prayer beads and said, “The Emperor has made up his mind about this. He hasn’t been known to accept no for an answer.” She pursed her lips and bore her gaze into Doña Antonia. “With that in mind, do take some time to consider it. I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision on your own and there will be no more unpleasantness.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “You’ll go ahead and sort out any financial considerations, such as your late husband’s fortune, your daughter’s inheritance, and what other trifling matters might need be sorted. At the end of a month’s time, we expect to officially receive word of your acceptance of the match.”

  José was not at all surprised that the royal family saw it within their interests to align themselves with the widow and her fortune. It was rumored that expensive wars and overseas expeditions were not nearly as lucrative as the Emperor had hoped. The royal family now had to contend with an embarrassingly tenuous financial situation. By marrying Reyna to a distant cousin under their command, they could easily come to control her vast inheritance. Some measure of control over the estate could greatly alleviate much of their burden. For this reason, the royal family’s interest in a marriage of convenience did not surprise him. What did surprise him was his aunt’s reluctance to such a mutually advantageous union. Any other mother would be thrilled.

  “Then it’s settled,” José spoke up. “In a month’s time we’ll send word with our decision. I should go find Reyna.” He stood and kissed the Queen’s outstretched hand, then looked up and held his boyish stare a little too long so that her wrinkled countenance turned noticeably red. He turned to his aunt and met her scowl with the same devilish grin he had offered up to the Queen before heading along a pebbled path to the royal gardens.

  “Reyna!” he called out from the maze of shrubbery that concealed him. “Cousin, where are you?” He walked through a tunnel of pink and white roses in the cool air of lean shadows. Suddenly he was jolted by two hands fastened tight upon his shoulders. He turned about quickly and wrestled his assailant to the ground.

  “I frightened you!” Reyna’s eyes sparkled with mischief. She struggled to get up as he pinned her shoulders down.

  “Frightened me?” His heart was pounding in his chest. “That would be like a lamb frightening a lion.”

  Her long hair fell away from her tilted face like a stream of spilt wine against the green moss. She laughed fiendishly.

  “Your mother’s right!” he continued as he tossed back a few wisps of his long, dark hair. “You’re not ready to marry. I pity the fool they’ve chosen for you!”

  “What are you talking about?” she said, her body suddenly still.

  “The Prince can barely mount his horse! I’ve no idea how he’ll be able to tame the likes of you.”

  “Cousin, tell me?” She struggled once more to free herself from his hold.

  “Get up.” He grabbed her by the wrist and lifted her from the ground. “Before they see you and change their minds completely.”

  She suddenly turned serious. “What’s happened?”

  He smiled mischievously then dropped his voice. “Just moments ago, the Queen proposed a match.”

  “And?” Reyna suddenly became very alert.

  “Naturally, your mother is being difficult.”

  With hands clapped toward the sky she mumbled under her breath. “Heavenly Father, give me the strength to overcome the seven-headed beast whose womb you chose to send me out—”

  “Reyna!” He glared down at her.

  “I’m not really surprised.” She shrugged casually. “She doesn’t want me to marry. Not now, not ever. She’d prefer I grow old alone and die bitter. That’s the route she’s heading for.”

  “No.” José took his cousin by the arms and quieted her with hi
s eyes. “That won’t happen to you.”

  “Will you be arranging my marriage then? You’re worse than she is.”

  “Cousin, stop.”

  “Well you did turn her against my last two suitors, did you not?”

  “Antonio Agostinho Lopez De Susa? He was practically a midget with wings for ears! He could have taken flight at any given moment. I should think you would have thanked me for intervening.”

  “I quite liked him.”

  “If he were standing just so, and the winds picked up to just the right speed…”

  “He was a perfect gentleman.”

  “Perfectly dimwitted.”

  “I thought he was handsome.”

  “Uglier than a monkey’s rear!”

  “Lower your voice.”

  “Personally, I don’t see why any of us must marry at all. I think we’re doing just fine how things stand.”

  “The Bachelor, The Widow, and the Spinster. What a fine household we three make!”

  “Stop these theatrics, Reyna. If you want to marry, you’ll marry. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “And how will you make sure of it? You’ll be spending the winter entertaining Prince William in the Netherlands, or have you forgotten?”

  “Don’t remind me. The boy is duller than dirt. I don’t know how I got through it last year.”

  “Apparently you got through it quite splendidly!”

  “Is that what they say?”

  “Enjoyed yourself like a dancing dwarf, so they say.”

  “They say a lot, don’t they?”

  “Your reputation precedes you, dear Cousin.”

  “Reyna, you know how it is. I wish I could stay here with you and Tia.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course I do. But that’s not really an option, is it?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Now about this wedding talk.” He clapped his hands together. “I’ll speak to your mother. I know I can talk some sense into her.”

  “You’re so ugly when you lie.” She turned then walked away through the tall hedges.

  He watched as she strutted away then called after her, “And you’re lovely when you’re angry!” He stood in the garden and for the first time, seriously questioned why his aunt had not yet accepted one of a number of proposals. There was no shortage of fine young men pursuing Reyna. They came to the villa often to request her hand in marriage. Some came from Lisbon, others from the fringes of the countryside. There were Spanish dukes and city aristocrats. Germanic counts and French noblemen would boast of vast palaces and fortunes abroad. They persisted until Doña Antonia’s tone turned nasty and she’d send them away with a tongue-lashing. A dozen men with wounded egos would recount to their peers that the Widow Doña Antonia Mendez had simply gone mad.

  The road downhill was steep and the carriage threatened to give way as it maneuvered down the winding trail home. Beyond the small window, a picturesque scene of tall leafy palms and jumbled city dwellings grew nearer. “The Emperor has proposed a match.” Doña Antonia did not bother to look at her daughter as she spoke.

  José and Reyna’s eyes met momentarily before she leaned forward and addressed her mother. “What was your response?”

  “I said nothing.” The widow patted down the moisture on her neck. It was a hot afternoon in August and the scent of musk filled the dark carriage. “But I am disinclined to accept the proposal.” She kept her eyes at the window as Reyna fell back into the plush, burgundy bench cushion.

  Reyna turned to José and shot him a pleading look with her big brown eyes.

  “Tia,” he said sternly. “You should be very pleased. A royal prince will make a fine husband for Reyna.”

  Doña Antonia rolled her eyes at this.

  “Tia! She wants to marry, and in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve not much choice in the matter. You’re to give your approval in a month’s time.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It seems to be the case.”

  “It was merely a request.”

  “It was merely a direct order handed down to you by your Queen.”

  “Suddenly so serious?”

  “Only idiots and jesters wouldn’t take this seriously.”

  “I think I’d prefer the jester. Sounds like more fun.”

  “I’m sure it won’t make a difference, dear Aunt. Fools of all sorts have been known to end up with heads rolling. And what a large head it is too.”

  “Stop it. Both of you.” Reyna interrupted. “I can’t put up with one more minute of this incessant barking.”

  José failed to hold back an inverted grin. A moment passed before it infected both Reyna and his aunt with a kind of contagious laughter that simmered quietly for a moment before boiling over. They all three laughed until the heat of exhaustion overtook them.

  The afternoon was quiet, with only the sound of trotting hooves and the occasional whinny of the stallions as they made their way home beneath the scorching sun. A low rumbling sounded from the town square. The noise grew louder until the carriage, having just turned a corner, was sucked into the folds of a drunken mob. The carriage came to an abrupt stop. José pushed aside the curtains to see what was happening. The charioteer had dismounted from his place and was elbowing his way through the crowd towards the carriage door. “Señora!” He removed his hat and tilted his head. “We must wait for the crowd to disperse. It’s impossible to move on.”

  “José, What do you see?” Reyna sat forward and looked out the window. When her gaze caught the horrific scene beyond, she gasped, then backed away slowly.

  There in the town square, hordes had gathered to witness a public execution.

  “Swine! Heretics,” a filthy man raged. He turned and faced José directly. His eyes shone with a glint of madness. “Kill the pigs!” The vein in his neck bulged as he spat out the words.

  In the courtyard, a public execution of the city’s unrepentant Jews was taking place. Tied to wooden beams, six condemned heretics wriggled obscenely while the flames of the Inquisition danced about their roasting flesh.

  Inquisition guards stood smugly surrounded by fresh-faced district officials. José blinked in horror. His body temperature started to rise. His shirt began to cling to the sweat beads making their way down the length of his chest.

  His eyes fell upon one of the condemned.

  Her black tresses fell about her face and dusted the length of her waist and hips. As she cried out for mercy, tears and sweat ran down her cheeks and over her gaping mouth. Her body twisted like a caged beast while they set her legs on fire. For a split second, her wide eyes locked with his and when they did, a jolt of agony ripped through him.

  “Don’t look at them!” Doña Antonia commanded. She grabbed hold of José’s collar and examined his pupils, one at a time, pulling back his lids for closer inspection. “The damage is done,” she whispered.

  His eyes searched the carriage for some trap door that could transport him away from this nightmare.

  Reyna was crying now, her head buried in her palms and her hunched shoulders trembling.

  “We are witnesses,” he said after a long moment. “We cannot look away.”

  José forced himself to turn back towards the crimes being committed. There were women he did not recognize. Old and young, none were spared. There were skinny young men in tattered clothes engulfed in flames that rose from glowing bundles of dry wheat secured by hemp chords tied around their ankles.

  Just as the heat had become nearly unbearable, a wild fury overtook him. “Stop!” José lunged towards the carriage door. “Stop at once!” he shouted again before Doña Antonia leapt forward and grabbed the drenched fabric of his shirt with her bejeweled fingers.

  “Sit down!” Doña Antonia pushed him back against the bench. Her knowing glare frightened him to stillness. A moment of silence passed in the carriage before she spoke. “Do not raise your voice again. You will get us all killed!”

  His knees began to tremble as he sa
t in his place. “We have to do something.” He covered his face and shook his head in disbelief.

  “Tell them who you are,” Reyna said suddenly. “They’ll listen to you, Mother. Make them stop!”

  José took his aunt by the wrist and opened the carriage door. “You must end this!”

  “There’s nothing we can do!” She yanked her arm free of his grip only to have him reach out and grab her even more forcefully.

  “You have to speak up. Tell them you have just come from the Queen. Tell them who you are! You can stop this!” He kicked open the carriage door and dragged her to the street below.

  Above the barbaric cheers, the determined voice of the Inquisitor General announced the names and sins of the condemned. The stench of roasting flesh crept through every pore of his being. José squinted to shield his eyes from the char and dust and dirt. The ashes of the condemned were tossed about in the wind. “Do something!”

  Doña Antonia folded to the ground collapsing into sobs. A dirty shoe kicked her in the gut as the stampeding crowd unwittingly began to trample her. José shoved them aside and gathered his aunt in his arms.

  He stood there in the center of the piazza, his aunt in his arms and the stench of charred bone suffocating him. In the corner of his eye, flames danced and whole bodies cried for mercy. He turned his gaze upward as though trying to escape into an empty swatch of sky. Could it be the same sky he had gazed upon earlier that morning? All he saw was smoke. All he felt was pain. With his head tilted towards the heavens he let out a long, piercing cry. For just a moment, he had silenced the world.

  Without warning, they were then swept away by the violent mob like twigs in a river’s current. José held onto his aunt so tightly, he nearly suffocated her. “Don’t let go,” he told himself over and over again as they were pushed and prodded along. He tried his best to shield her from being smashed and smacked by elbows and knees and boots. He dropped her at least once but managed to lift her back up quickly. Eventually, they were spat out at the far corner of the piazza.

  She was choking for air when they finally emerged from the mob. He laid her on the earth a safe distance from the crowd. She pulled him close and nearly poured the words into his ears. “We are them!” She was sobbing so heavily, he was not sure he heard her correctly.