The Errant Flock (8 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Sinfa, Saul Cabrera’s granddaughter, lived in one of the only detached houses in Sagrat’s Jewish quarter. It sat at the end of the street furthest away from the Jewry’s wall and looked onto an open patch of ground filled with shrubs and cacti.

After being retrieved from the rocks beneath the wall, Saul Cabrera’s body was taken to his home covered in bloodied hemp sheeting. He had lain in the back of a cart driven by two soldiers and pulled by a mule, and his body had travelled through the streets, unnoticed by its neighbours.

Upon seeing his broken body, Sinfa’s screams had filled the damp air, and her cries for help brought families in night attire running to her aid. Panic spread quickly. The physician was the Jewry’s patriarch, and only Rabbi Rabinovitch held equal power and sway amongst Sagrat’s dwindling Jewish population. His death would be a devastating blow to the already beleaguered community.

At first, neighbours cried with grief, but when the reality of Cabrera’s suicide had sunk in, many discarded their weeping for harsh, unforgiving words. The mystery surrounding the physician’s fatal fall at a time when he was badly needed by the community was bewildering to some, but it also drew stark disapproval from others. He was a man who had everything in abundance, and his suicide had been a most selfish act, some of the neighbours agreed in angry whispers.

Rabbi Rabinovitch assembled a small crowd of mourners in the Cabrera house’s spacious hallway. Amongst them were members of the Jewish council, disbanded by order of the duke but still actively meeting in secret on a weekly basis. The council members were worried. Cabrera’s power over the Peráto family had managed to hold a couple of unjust laws against the Jews at bay, but most of the town’s new legislation had seen the demise of Jewish privileges and station in just about every occupation. Now, with Cabrera gone, they would have no voice and no support within the castle walls. The new duke, they all agreed, would shut his ears to their pleas for equality.

Rabinovitch called for Guillermo, his son. Guillermo held great promise as a future rabbi. He was going to become a very effective spiritual leader one day; he’d been bred for that role. Though gangly with an uncomfortable looking gait, which gave him the appearance of being timid and a bit of a simpleton, he was not shy with his opinions, nor was he simpleminded. He was cunning, with a brilliant head for economics. The old duke had seen great promise in Guillermo’s talented mind, for figures and economic management. His Guillermo should be the town’s lord treasurer, not that fool, Sergio Garcia, who couldn’t count up to ten without becoming unravelled.

When Guillermo arrived, the rabbi took him by the arm and led him to an alcove that sat underneath the stairway of the Cabrera’s two-story house. There wasn’t much time to talk in private, but Rabinovitch was determined to resolve a very important matter concerning Saul Cabrera’s granddaughter, Sinfa. She had made it clear various times that she was not keen on the idea of marriage with his Guillermo. She would find the idea much more appealing now, he thought, for without her grandfather’s protection, life in the Jewry would become difficult for her.

“Look around you, Guillermo. Just about every Jew in Sagrat is here, either outside or inside this house. There are so few of us left in the town, yet we are all here united in grief. I fear that soon only conversos will remain in Aragon, pretending to be good Christians but wishing they were still Jews. I wonder if, in a hundred years from now, Sagrat will remember that we, the Jewish nation, ever existed here.” Rabinovitch grunted angrily. He had watched hundreds of Jews turn their backs on their religion, but whilst some scorned it in public, they continued to practice it in secret.

“Hypocrites, Guillermo. We are surrounded by back-stabbing, lying cowards,” he said, voicing his thoughts. “I recall a time when these streets were not separated from each other by walls and when your grandfather and his father lent money to Christians from here to the sea.

           “I will never forgive that young upstart in the castle for taking away your chance to be Sagrat’s treasurer. Luis Peráto is not half the man his father was. Now,
he
was a duke. The last time I spoke to Cabrera, he told me that the duke was struggling to find enough coin to send to the king in Granada.”

“No doubt blame for the duke’s financial troubles will be placed at the Jewry’s gates,” Guillermo said.

Rabinovitch nodded. “I agree, son. Cabrera’s death will spell trouble for all of us. I swear he was the only reason we still have roofs over our heads and money in our purses. We must prepare for the worst.”

“Do you think he killed himself?”

“No, I don’t think he did. I can’t imagine any earthly reason why he’d throw himself off that wall. But if for some reason he did end his own life, it was because he’d lost his wits.” Rabinovitch hid his grief. Saul Cabrera had been his closest friend since boyhood. He needed to cry just as much as Sinfa did, but he didn’t have that comfort.

“There are some important matters that you need to attend to, my lad,” he said, putting his sadness to the side. “I want you to make sure that Sinfa Cabrera agrees to marriage before the end of the day. She won’t refuse you. Not after this.”

“Father, don’t you think she should have time to mourn before I ask her again? She has refused me twice now. How do you suggest I persuade her when she’s made it quite clear she’s not interested?”

“Do you love her?”

“I’m fond of her. I’ve known her all my life. I used to wipe her runny nose and chase her down the street to pull her hair.”

“Well, that’s good enough. Love is sometimes an impediment anyway,” Rabinovitch said, discarding Guillermo’s statement. “You and she are firm friends. Friendship is better than passion, which burns out and leaves resentment in its wake. Don’t ever wish for the love of a woman. Ask for her respect. That’s all that matters.

“Sinfa is far too haughty for her own good. She’s thinks she’s independent, but that’s easy to say when food and clothing are being provided. Her days of looking down her nose at you are over. She’s alone now and must turn to someone for protection. That somebody should be you...Did you know the Cabreras never paid any taxes or rent?” Rabinovitch asked.

Guillermo nodded. “I did know this. You’ve told me many times about how lucky the Cabreras are.”

“The man was hording money in his house for years.”

“Well, it won’t do him any good now, will it?”

“No, no, it won’t.” Rabinovitch watched the small gathering waiting patiently for him to join them. They would want to hear that everything would be all right and that nothing would change. But life would not be the same, for with Saul gone, the duke would no longer have to honour his promises to his late father.

Chapter Fourteen

Sinfa Cabrera was inconsolable. Her neighbours in the Jewry did everything they could to comfort her, but they asked each other what they could do to ease her pain. Saul Cabrera, her grandfather, had been the duke’s physician, and he’d just thrown himself off the highest part of the castle wall. She would never recover.

She mourned as she sat by her grandfather’s body, which lay on the floor. She was accompanied by the shomerim; watchmen selected to accompany the remains until burial. Volunteers from the chevra kadisha, the holy society, were charged with caring for the physician’s dead body. It had been cleansed, bathed, and had received the tahorah ritual, or the pouring of water, as it was commonly known.

The body was completely covered in white linen shrouds, and bandages hid his badly damaged skull and face, leaving only one eye and part of a cheek visible. His injuries were horrific, and although Sinfa was sickened at the sight of him, she insisted on being present for every ritual.

At seventeen years old, Sinfa was headstrong, and she’d refused to accept the soldiers’ explanation regarding her grandfather’s death. He’d gone for a walk and must have decided to visit the watchtower, they had told her. Perhaps her grandfather was sad? He took his life in a moment of madness, one soldier offered.

“Perhaps he was sad? He took his own life in a moment of madness?” she now said, angrily repeating the soldiers’ words to Rabinovitch. “I will never believe that. It’s not true! Yayo suffered his fair share of sorrow, but he was not an unhappy man, nor was he a sinner. The duchess is due to give birth. He told me only yesterday morning that he was thrilled at the prospect. He would never deny God’s goodness in this life … How am I to bear this?”

Rabinovitch stroked his white beard, shook his head, and then spread his arms wide. “I don’t believe your dear yayo threw himself onto the rocks either. Anyone who ever knew him well would say the same. He practiced medicine to save lives. He was proud of you and looked forward to seeing you settled with my Guillermo. He would never take his own life, under any circumstances. But this is how it appears, and we must believe what we’re told.”

“No, I won’t, and you shouldn’t either!” Sinfa was horrified.

“We must.”

“What do you think happened to him?” she asked him, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“I have no idea, child. We may never learn the truth. God only knows what dark forces are at work in this town. We are in dire need of his guidance and protection. Our troubles are grave, herded into this walled corral like goats and treated like the dirt Christians tread upon. Life has turned sour for us, Sinfa. It will be best for everyone if you don’t upset anyone up at the castle with your questions.”

Sinfa shook her head. She had so many questions, and she would ask them. “I must seek an audience with the duke. Surely he will afford me that favour? Yayo was with the duke and duchess all day yesterday. Maybe someone saw what happened to him before he fell. Perhaps there’s a witness that has not yet come forward. I have to know.”

Rabinovitch again spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness. “Sinfa, as always, you are stubborn and determined to get your own way. But listen to me child, I’ve spoken to the council. We think it best if we bury your yayo quietly and without any fuss – and let that be the end of the matter. He goes to the grave a sinner against God. Many are angry with him, and some refuse to see him go to his rest because of what he did.”

“But it’s not true! How can they think that?” Sinfa insisted. “Will he be afforded a eulogy?”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t give him that. He murdered himself, and all his good deeds in this life have been wiped out. We should leave now for the cemetery. It’s time for you to say goodbye to him.”

“He didn’t sin. He didn’t,” Sinfa mumbled under her breath. From where she sat, she could see the crowd of mourners in the hallway. They were whispering. They probably wanted to put her yayo in the ground as quickly as possible to hide his black stain. Their lives were dark and dreary, but without her yayo’s devotion to them, their world would have ended long ago.

She was furious. Already these people seemed to have forgotten how much Saul Cabrera had done for them. He was the only one who had managed to persuade the duke not to demolish the synagogue. Yayo’s voice was what stopped the Christians from taking an entire street of Jewish houses for themselves before the wall went up. He had even given coin and alms to some Jews who had lost their businesses.

“Look at them out there. They look as though they’re ashamed to show their faces here, instead of being honoured to be in my yayo’s house,” she said, motioning towards the hallway. “They have more to worry about than his offence against God. Who will look after them now? You?”

“Be quiet!” Rabinovitch said scathingly. “You must behave with dignity. Don’t meddle in problems that don’t concern you. It’s time to get off your high horse and realise that without my family, you will have no decent life here.

“It’s been decided. Guillermo and I will move into this house with you. You and he will be married immediately, and you’ll have his protection. No one else will marry you … Now, cover your head properly. It’s time to go. Cry your tears and mourn your yayo, like a good granddaughter.”

              Sinfa released a throaty sob. Her large green eyes flashed with defiance, but she wouldn’t say another word, lest she anger the rabbi further. She flicked errant tendrils of her long black hair behind her ears and tightened the shawl about her head. For now, she would have to listen to the old man and keep her thoughts to herself. But when her grandfather’s burial ritual was completed, she would tell Calvo Rabinovitch a few truths.

Walking to the cemetery, she told herself that she would survive this tragedy. She didn’t need a husband; she needed her grandfather. She wouldn’t want for money either. Her grandfather had a hidden treasure. Over the years, she had watched the pile of coins grow until it could no longer fit under the wooden slatted floorboard in her sleeping room. It had to be moved to a bigger hole underneath the hallway floor, covered by a carpet. “This is for the storm that’s coming,” her yayo had told her every time he added coin to the pile. And he’d always insisted, “If we are forced to leave, we will not go hungry, nor will we have to beg like dogs from Christians.” She’d always thought it strange when he talked about a Jewish expulsion when it was obvious to everyone that the duke relied on his medical skills and his wise council.

She didn’t need Guillermo’s or the rabbi’s protection. Contrary to what they thought, she was quite capable of getting by on her own, with all the coin she needed to weather any storm. She was going to the castle. She’d demand an audience with the duke and a proper explanation of what happened to her grandfather, and that was that!