The Debt of Tamar (7 page)

José kissed Reyna on the forehead, then headed towards the door.

“You’re not staying?” The young doctor turned to José.

He lowered his voice so Reyna could not hear. “I’ve been through this enough times. Fetch me when it’s done.”

“Yes, Don José.”

“Oh—and Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“Make sure my boy comes out alive.”

In the morning, Don José awoke to the sound of birds chirping. The sun outside was bright and the room was covered in the thick glow of red and orange light cast through the stained glass window. He sat with his body slumped over his desk and his face flat against a map of the empire. After straightening himself up, he found the young doctor sitting in a chair by the door. “Is it done?” His voice was hoarse.

The doctor leaned forward. “Several hours ago. She’s sleeping now.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He squinted to shield his eyes from the light.

“I won’t mince words with you, José. When the baby finally did arrive, your wife had already lost a lot of blood. She’ll recover though.”

“Is she in much pain?”

“Not now. The potion I gave her was very effective. It knocked her out quickly.”

“So she’ll be all right?”

“She’ll be fine. We’ll have to just keep an eye on her.”

“And the baby?”

“I was a bit concerned, especially since your wife went into labor as early as she did, but the baby came out healthy, a bit small, but healthy.”

“A healthy boy,” José said to himself.

“A girl,” the doctor corrected.

The two men stared at one another. The quiet tick of the grand clock sounded throughout the room. José was the first to look away. He closed his aching eyes.

“A girl then,” he frowned.

“A beautiful, healthy girl.”

“One great lady has left this house.” José lowered his head. “Perhaps another destined for greatness has entered in her stead.” He forced a sad smile. “And Reyna, she doesn’t know about La Señora?”

“No, I didn’t mention it. It would have been too much for her to handle right now. Though, I think she may have suspected something.”

José nodded, then came to his feet. “Thank you, Doctor. Perhaps with the next birth, we will have our boy.”

“Don José,”

“Doctor?”

“There is something else you should know.”

“What is it?”

The doctor cleared his throat. “The labor was very hard on your wife.”

“Yes, you mentioned that. But she’ll recover, like you said, and you’ll be here to oversee her recovery?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be here, and she will make a full recovery , it’s just that—”

“Come out with it already.”

“Don José, I’m afraid this will be her only child.”

José stood unmoved. “But we will have a boy one day.”

“That won’t be possible.”

“You said she will make a full recovery?”

“She will live a long and healthy life. She is a mother, you are a father. José, you have a
child
now.”

“But, are you sure? I want a second opinion.”

“Naturally, and you should seek one out. Though, I’m afraid it will only confirm what I’m telling you here today. I’m sorry.”

Don José was about to reply when the shrill cry of an infant suddenly sounded.

“Listen to that.” The young doctor smiled as the wailing echoed throughout the villa. “Hear how strong her lungs are.”

José stood there, mesmerized by the piercing cries of his infant daughter. Then, he looked over at the doctor. “I’d like to see my wife now.”

“She’s finally fallen asleep. Let her rest, José.”

Pushing past the doctor, José headed out from his study and made his way up the stairwell to the second story landing. He stood there, his infant daughter screaming in the room to the right of him, his dead aunt silent in the room to left. He walked straight ahead and entered his wife’s room. He could hear the doctor’s quiet footsteps as he trailed behind.

Reyna looked angelic—her long, dark hair framing her pale face as she rested peacefully. “How can she sleep through this?” José whispered.

“She’s heavily medicated,” the doctor explained. “She’ll be out for several hours.”

José eyed a basket filled with blood-soaked sheets.

“She really does need to rest now,” the doctor continued.

“And what of the baby?” José cut in. “Shouldn’t she be fed?”

“The wet nurse is in with your daughter now.”

José nodded, then lowered himself into a rocking chair by the bed.

“Don José, you should also rest. Why not go back to bed? I can call for you if anything comes up.”

“No. I want to be here when she wakes.” His eyes were on his wife as he rocked back and forth in the chair. “I don’t want yours to be the face she sees when she rises.”

“
Effendi
?”

“You can go now.”

“But Don José, don’t you want to meet your daughter?”

The baby’s cries continued to echo throughout the stone house. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. “That will be all for now, Doctor.”

“I thought I might find you here,” The elder Doctor Hamon said as he approached José in the smoke-filled coffee-shop.

“What made you so sure I’d be here?” José rolled a pair of dice onto the backgammon board then moved his pieces accordingly. “Your turn.” He nodded to the fat man sitting across the table.

“Well you haven’t been home in three days. I kept stopping by each day hoping to find you.”

José took a long drag on his
nargileh
pipe. “Sit down. Have a drink with us.”

“How is your wife?”

“She’s feeling a bit better.”

“And your daughter? Have you chosen a name?”

“Tamar.”

“Tamar,” the doctor repeated.

“It means date.”

“The sweetness of dates.”

“I did not choose the name.” José cut in. “It was Reyna’s idea.”

“Yes, your daughter must have brought much sweetness into your lives to have been given such a name.” He waved down a young boy and requested a cup of coffee then turned back to José. “You know that I would have been there if I could. I would have given anything for La Señora, for your wife, for
you
.”

“You would?”

“Of course, José. How can you even question it? I have known you since you first stepped foot off that ship—From the moment you and Reyna arrived in Istanbul. Now tell me, why haven’t you been home?”

José lowered his chin, looked around, then whispered, “I think I am being punished.”

“How can you think that way? What a ridiculous idea.”

“I rejected my fate.”

“You didn’t reject anything, José.”

“I changed the course of destiny. We were never meant to marry.”

“You can’t change your destiny. This is all G-d’s plan.”

He turned away and settled his gaze on an obscure spot ahead. “It’s like I’m an impostor in my own home. I can’t stand it any longer.”

The doctor stood abruptly from his place and pulled José up with him. “We’re leaving.”

“Doctor?”

“You’re going home to take care of your wife—Take care of your
family
. This is the responsibility of a man.”

They walked besides one another taking the backstreets in order to avoid the hustle of the market.

When they arrived at the villa, Doctor Hamon turned to José. “I need to be heading back to the palace now.”

José nodded. “I suppose it’s time I met my daughter.”

Doctor Hamon nearly gasped. “I think so,” he said quietly.

José turned abruptly and made his way along the cedar-lined path toward the entrance of the grand villa. Without stopping to remove his shoes, he climbed the staircase to the second story landing and headed toward the nursery. He could hear Reyna singing soft lullabies as he entered the room. When their eyes met, she did not stop her song, but turned her attention back to the infant cradled in her arms.

He approached gently, his measured step in perfect rhythm to Reyna’s slow, soothing lullaby. When her song came to an end, she looked up at José. Her face was pale but her eyes radiated light.

“Reyna.” He took a few quick steps towards her.

“Shhh.” She ushered him close with one hand. “Come see your daughter.” She tucked the edge of the blanket around the baby. “Here she is.” Reyna’s voice was calm and steady.

José came to one knee and examined his baby girl. Around her neck lay a long strand of blue beads.

“To protect her,” Reyna explained.

He looked about the room. Swords and daggers hung from the walls, along with garlic bulbs and onion bits.

“And those are to ward off evil spirits,” she continued.

José examined his daughter.

Her eyes were as green and glistening as the Mediterranean waters that had carried them to Istanbul. She uncurled her fingers and reached out to José’s bearded chin. Her pink lips puckered as she looked about the room.

“She’s beautiful.” José leaned forward and kissed the tiny button of her nose. “Tamar,” he said the name aloud. “How very much your
baba
loves you.”

Reyna turned to José. “Does this mean that you are happy?”

He swallowed the bitterness he felt inside. Could he ever be truly happy, going through life, knowing that he would never father a son? He glanced down at his daughter. She was beautiful and perfect in every way. He had loved her from the moment he first laid eyes on her. And yet, he was not happy, not yet anyhow. Perhaps in time he would come to accept his fate. Perhaps in time, he might even be content.

He looked deep into the eyes of the woman that he loved and forced himself to say, “Yes, my dear. I am happy.”

The next morning, he awoke early to the healthy cries of his newborn daughter. José rinsed his hands and said the blessing over washing. Then he dressed for the day and headed through town to the synagogue, where he joined the
minyan
of men readying themselves for the morning prayers.

He was greeted by friends and neighbors who congratulated him on the birth of his daughter. Along with the other men, he recited the blessing for the
teffelin
, while wrapping the black leather bindings
around his arm and forehead. The men all prayed the silent portion of the morning service alongside one another. Facing toward Jerusalem, they were a sea of rocking bodies cloaked in blue and white prayer shawls. In his prayers, José gave thanks to the Lord for giving him a healthy baby girl. After the service, the rabbi offered him some
shisha
bits to chew on and wine to celebrate. Encouraged by the enthusiasm of all the well wishers, and feeling gay from the fog of wine, José made a sizable donation to the synagogue, in memory of La Señora, the late and the great, Doña Antonia Nissim.

Then, he stumbled out of the building into the narrow alley below. He turned back toward the crowd of men exiting the synagogue. “Hayim! Shall we head to the coffeehouse?” José called out to a young man with a flowing red-beard.

“Sorry, José.” The man shrugged apologetically. “I have to head to the market and get my vegetable stand ready for the morning rush.”

“What about you, Simon?” He turned his attention to a flat-faced man with protruding ears. “Perhaps a trip to the bathhouse,
eh
?”

“I wish I could!” The man playfully slapped José’s back. “But spices don’t trade themselves.”

“All right.” José stumbled forward. “Goodbye then!” he called out to his friends as he made his way back home.

He was rounding the corner leading into the piazza when two young men wearing cone-shaped hats moved swiftly toward him. These were hats unlike any an ordinary Ottoman civilian might wear. He immediately recognized these men to be the Sultan’s janissaries by the signature mustaches they wore. Each wielded a
falanga
, the infamous whip unleashed on civilians who were found to be publicly drunk or inciting a raucous. Could they have noticed José stumble? Was it possible that they were able to detect his drunkenness? No, he tried to calm himself. After all, he had only had a glass or two of wine. José straightened his posture and tried to compose himself.

“Are you Don José Nissim?” One of the Janissaries spoke up.

“I am.” José swallowed hard. “What’s this about?”

“You’ll have to come with us. We’ve been instructed to escort you to the palace.”

“Topkapi?” His palms began to sweat. He was sure he could hear the beat of his heart echo in his chest. “What was the reason given?”

“Please come with us,
Effendi.”
The two men escorted José around the corner and into the sun-drenched piazza where their chariot was stationed.

“Please, I have an infant daughter at home. My wife will be worried.”

“We will send word to your wife that you will be home later today.”

“Later? How late? Gentlemen, if you could just tell me what this is about.”

“You will find out soon enough.” They took hold of his arms and led him towards the chariot.

It was the second time in his life that he’d been summoned to Topkapi, only this time, he could not fathom the reason.

Unlike the majestic grand gates he’d passed through on his first visit to the palace some five years earlier, José was now escorted to a side entrance and through a nondescript door that blended seamlessly with the slate-grey walls surrounding Topkapi. He was led through a windowless maze of narrow halls that zigzagged for some time, until finally, the dark maze opened into a small, sun-drenched courtyard walled with terraced gardens.

He stepped out into the space. “Will you now tell me what I am doing here?” He spun around, only to find that his escorts had vanished. He was alone. José took a few cautious steps forward and examined his surroundings. Then, he climbed a few steps leading up towards a breathtaking view of the Bosphorus. On a stone bench beneath the shade of a vast chestnut tree, he sat looking out at the sea for what seemed to be eternity.

“So you are Don José the Jew!” a voice sounded after some time.

José winced. He forced himself to his feet.

Before him stood a strapping young man with yellow hair and eyes the color of sand. Perched on the leather sleeve of his bulging forearm was a beady-eyed falcon with a grey spotted coat.