Golden Bracelets, Common Threads: a Story of Fate, Family, and Destiny

Amsterdam.

PROLOGUE

The Iberian Peninsula has been the scene of historic events that have shaped the Western world. Originally home to Celtic tribes, it was conquered by the Roman Legions in 24 BCE, by the Visigoths in the fifth century CE, and by the Moors in 712 CE. Over a period of 350 years, the Moors were driven back to North Africa beginning with the victory of King Afonso in 1118 and ending with the capitulation of Granada to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in 1485.

The peninsula was divided into two countries beginning with the northwestern corner in which the Minho River (the frontier with Galicia) became the northern border of Portugal, which extended south to Algarve on the Atlantic coast. The remainder became Spain, which was divided into various provinces under the control of different monarchs in Castile, Aragón, Galicia, León, and Granada. With the marriage of Ferdinand (Aragón) and Isabella (Castile and León) in 1469, the consolidation into one country with one Royal Court was completed.

Because of these internal realignments, Spain was late to enter the exploration for new territories. Because the overland trade routes were controlled by the Ottoman Empire beginning in 1444, countries in Western Europe began exploring new routes to India and China. The funding of Columbus’s voyages to the New World in 1492 marked Spain’s entry into the Age of Exploration.

The costs to consolidate and run the country, together with the costs to expand exploration, were exceeding the coffers that the Spanish king and queen controlled. To acquire more assets and funds and expand the Catholic Church, the monarchs were given approval by Pope Sixtus to initiate the Spanish Inquisition beginning in 1478 to target the Jewish inhabitants under their control forcing them to convert to Catholicism or be expelled. The Inquisition investigated these New Christians (also called Conversos, Judaizers, or Marranos) to see if they illegally continued to practice Jewish customs (Crypto-Jews). The Spanish Inquisition continued until 1834—a period of 356 years.

Portugal was positioned geographically to become the leading country in seafaring navigation to find new routes to India and China. King Manuel the First wanted to expand Portugal’s control of the seas and the routes to the gold, silver, spices, and products from the Orient. He also wanted to solidify Portugal’s control of a land across the Atlantic Ocean to the south and west that was rumored to contain massive amounts of highly prized brazilwood. In the year 1500, Manuel sent a large fleet to officially claim this land for Portugal; to continue to Africa and India to establish warehouses for spices, gold, and other rare commodities to begin exports to Portugal; and to expand Christianity.

In 1496, to win the hand of Queen Isabella’s daughter, King Manuel ordered the Jews in Portugal to convert or leave the country but gave them thirty years of amnesty. In 1521, after Manuel died, a more severe Inquisition was implemented.

King Manuel established sixteen captaincies to provide commercial development of the Brazilian logging industry; his son, King João III, expanded the captaincies to include additional territory when sugarcane was introduced, refined, and exported to Portugal. Jews who emigrated from Portugal were involved in the expansion of Brazil and worked in the sugar industry, several becoming owners of engenhos (sugar production facilities) and cane fields.

Dutch, English, and French ships attempted to colonize portions of Brazil and raid Portuguese ships. The Dutch attacked and briefly captured Salvador, Bahia in 1624. They were driven off, but they moved several hundred miles north and captured Recife in the state of Pernambuco in 1630. Under Dutch control, one of the rights given to all citizens was religious freedom. Jews left Portugal, Holland, and other Western European countries to come to the Dutch-held territory in Brazil. The Jews in the area formed the first synagogue in the New World, Zur Israel, in 1536.

These freedoms were short-lived. Portugal, after having been under the rule of the Spain, fought and gained its independence in 1640. Immediately, Portugal developed plans to retake northeastern Brazil from the Dutch. They were successful. Holland declared a truce and signed a provisional treaty with Portugal in 1654 to return the territory to Portuguese control. Fearing the return of the Inquisition as well as Portuguese law, Jews and other Dutch settlers left Brazil to return to Amsterdam or move to other territories in the Caribbean controlled by the Dutch. None desired to go to North America or New Amsterdam...until Fate and Destiny intervened.

CHAPTER ONE. THE END AND THE BEGINNING

IT BEGAN like the quiet rustling of dried, sun-scorched summer leaves that had fallen on the cobblestones of the plaza. Listening closely, you could hear the leaves whispering: Inquisicíon. In a few months it would grow into a swirling maelstrom throwing the entire Iberian Peninsula into turmoil causing the upheaval of thousands of lives.

It was 1494, Zaragoza, Spain, in front of La Seo Cathedral in the center of town. The Inquisition in Spain was spreading throughout cities, towns, and local areas forcing many Jews to convert and forget their Jewish roots (Conversos or Marranos), to convert and keep their Jewish traditions secretly (Crypto-Jews), or to leave the country. Persecution of the Jews in Spain was nothing new. In fact, the Visigoth Code dating to the seventh century had specific chapters that delineated the imposition of harsh restrictions on Jews living under their control on the Iberian Peninsula.

Many Spanish citizens in the province of Aragón opposed the Inquisition. One of these cities was Zaragoza. Nestled in Aragón’s central valley between the Pyrenees Mountains to its north and the Iberian Range to its south, Zaragoza was already important in Spain’s history. Originally named Salduie, it was conquered by the Romans in 24 BCE. It had been renamed Caesaraugusta after the first Roman emperor and became an important city of thirty thousand inhabitants with many Roman architectural features including baths, amphitheaters, and a sewage system. In the fifth century, it was overrun by the Visigoths who held it until they were conquered by the Moors in the year 719 and renamed it Saraqusta. It flourished as the capital of a Muslim state, and many beautiful Moorish buildings were constructed. In 1118, Christian armies under the command of King Alfonso I drove out the Arabs and established the kingdom of Aragón with Zaragoza (given the Spanish name) as its capital. Christians, Jews, and Muslims coexisted in a peaceful atmosphere.

Zaragoza’s small Jewish community of about five hundred people occupied a three square mile area on the southeast corner of the central business district. This was the same area they had occupied for several hundred years, originally following the conquering Romans to find a better life with less persecution than in other cities of the Empire. Their lives were peaceful if they paid their taxes and followed the rules established by the Romans, then the Moors, and then by the Spanish military governor under the watchful eyes of the Church.

Among the Jewish inhabitants was the family of Jacóbo Ramón. He worked in a small jewelry shop in the Jewish section and lived with his wife, Esther; his son of fourteen years, Moisés; and his daughter of ten years, Flora. The home was situated at the northeastern edge of the Jewish Quarter. It was made of wood with sections of brick, a tin roof, and plaster walls. A doorway entered into a larger room with a wooden table and four handmade chairs. Adjoining was a small cooking area next to a hearth built along the wall with a brick chimney. There were two small bedrooms, one for the parents and one for the children, each bedroom with a small window. There was a somewhat larger window in the main living/dining area with a view of a small wood behind which flowed the Ebro River.

What the house lacked in size and decoration it made up in love. People walking by would often hear laughter and shouts of joy and merriment. In fact, when any of the villagers wanted to lift their spirits, they would stop by the Ramón home. Our home has enough room for everyone who comes here. The walls expand with love, Esther would often say as she drew her children to her bosom.

Little did they and the other Jews realize that events were happening at that moment several hundred miles away in the city of Seville that would change their lives forever.

In 1478, King Ferdinand (at the request of Queen Isabella and with the approval of Pope Sixtus IV) initiated the Spanish Inquisition and appointed Tomás Torquemada, a Dominican priest, as Inquisitor General. Torquemada had been Queen Isabella’s religious adviser. With this new power, he began placing Inquisitors in each of the Spanish provinces to carry out the rules of the Inquisition to find and punish converts to Catholicism who still secretly practiced their original religious beliefs.

So far Zaragoza had been spared, and most citizens believed that their city was such a peaceful place that the Inquisition was not needed. Keep it where those who blasphemed the Church should be tried and brought to their ultimate fate, was the general feeling of the community. Even the Jews believed that their lives were safe.

All were blind to the inevitability that was coming.

* * *

On October 15, Bishop Pedro de Arbués rode his donkey along the narrow dirt path between the trees of the ancient Roman olive orchard that had been planted next to the Ebro River. Turning slightly to the right for a short distance, he reached the entrance to the rectory at the right side of the impressive La Seo Cathedral. The bishop, tired and dusty from his long journey, sighed, shrugged to loosen the cramped muscles of his neck and back, and casually dismounted. No entourage, no guards from the king, and no Church dignitaries accompanied him. He was so inconspicuous that no one paid attention to him or to the small, locked wooden chest that he carried under his left arm. That chest contained the official letters of his appointment as Inquisitor; the regulations to be followed; a plain, solid silver cross with dimensions of four inches by six inches used during official Inquisition activities; and announcements with the royal seal set by Ferdinand’s own hand to be posted on the front doors of the cathedral.

The announcement that Arbués read was the Edict of Grace which gave each citizen thirty days to provide testimony professing their faith to the Catholic Church and anonymously giving information about any citizen who was not following the Church’s teachings. When the announcements were read at Sunday Mass, there was an uneasy silence as the parishioners quietly filed outside after extending pleasantries with the bishop at the front vestibule. A few gathered afterward and read the announcements that had been posted on the outside of the large, heavy, oak and iron doors. Can this really be happening in Zaragoza? Why here? Why now? was the general sentiment being whispered in hushed tones.

The next morning, as the Jewish community arose for another day of work, cleaning their homes, shopping for food, preparing the meals, and watching the playful activities of the children, mention of the Edict came to the attention of several Jews, who immediately informed Rabbi Avram ben Higdal.

Beloved Rabbi, are these rumors true? What do they mean for our families and us? Do our neighbors really feel this way about us?

I have no idea, replied Rabbi ben Higdal. I have been in contact with my fellow rabbis in the centers of learning in Avilá, Barcelona, Córdoba, and Granada where the Inquisition is already being enforced. If this is true, we will have many days of travail and possibly death before us.

When Jacóbo arrived at his home that evening, Esther met him at the doorway with a frightened look on her face. The children were atypically quiet as he entered their sparsely decorated home. The flickering cooking fire in the corner cast dark shadows on the walls. Moisés remembered this moment and how the shadows turned from gaily dancing shapes into dark, heavy monsters.

Now, don’t worry. Everything is still the same. I am sure we will be fine, Jacóbo said as he tried to reassure his family. However, his face was drawn with lines beginning to form on his forehead. He drew his children near, hugged them, kissed his wife, and felt his confidence return surrounded by his family. Let’s have something to eat, talk, and everything will be all right. He uncovered a surprise he had hidden in his coat and quickly placed it in the center of the table—a fresh, shiny red apple for dessert. The children smiled at each other and laughed with excitement; Esther looked into her husband’s eyes and shared the fear he was feeling.

* * *

Outwardly, all was fine in Zaragoza for several months; however, this had given Arbués time to record and review the testimony that had been given. He repeated this carefully worded letter for Torquemada to his scribe:

Esteemed Inquisitor-General, Highest Magistrate of the Inquisition throughout Spain and her

Territories, and Personal Appointee of the Holy Father in Rome:

As you anticipated, the Edict of Grace has uncovered many disturbing activities of heresy in this city once thought to be a center of learning and love for Our Savior. I will proceed as directed to find the unholy ones and take the appropriate measures that we discussed.

You can be assured that Our Mother Church and the Holy Trinity will be defended by our loyal Catholic brothers and me.

Dutifully signed and sealed this fifteenth day of May in the year of Our Lord 1495,

Bishop Pedro de Arbués, Inquisitor for Zaragoza

The first meeting of the Inquisition Council of Inquiry took place a week later. Citizens who had given testimony were called individually to reconfirm what they had said. As these reviews began, many townspeople began whispering their fears of what would come next. They had lived in peace with their Jewish neighbors. In fact, many had close Jewish friends and business dealings, and they disliked what was happening.

The Jewish community began dreading each day, knowing that the Inquisition was tightening its grip. A small group met one Tuesday evening in the home of the baker. The rabbi had not been invited so as to keep their actions secret.

We cannot sit by and wait for the indignity which will surely come to us, said Mordecai ben Aaron. Our businesses, our lives, our families, and our religion are now in jeopardy, left in the hands of this bishop—this henchman from Castile.

Listen to me. The coming days will be hell for us, said Rubén ben Zion. I was in Córdoba last month visiting my sister, and the Inquisition guards burst into her home, dragged her husband away, and threw him into prison. We don’t know what will happen next.

Rising from his chair, he turned to face the others and continued, This Inquisition is more organized than you can imagine. They have rules which follow the Canon Law of the Roman Catholic Church.

Now, Rubén, don’t get us all upset, replied Mordecai. It’s bad enough just knowing we are threatened.

Threatened? More like being hunted like dogs, replied Rubén. You tell me what you think after you hear this. It begins with accusations, the Edict of Grace; for thirty days anyone can be accused of activities against the Church doctrine. That is followed by detention, which means they can throw you into the dirtiest of prisons for an unspecified time; you could even die there without anyone knowing.

He lifted a fist into the air. They’re tracking down not just our Converso and Marrano brothers. They are also going after converts from Islam–Moriscos– as well as non-Catholic Christians, bigamists, and those believed to be heretics against the faith.

When he said this, the other men began squirming.

Then, continued Rubén, comes the trial, more like a rigged interrogation to see if you violated Church dogma—any little thing like lighting candles on Friday night, even if it is just to see in the dark, if they think these are religious candles. And at the trial they can take you out of the room and torture you until they get a confession.

His voice rose in anger. "Can you imagine the sentencing? Anything from having to wear that stupid yellow sambenito jacket with the red crosses on it, rowing in a ship’s galley with slaves for the rest of your life, or even death by burning at the stake—the auto de fé.

He concluded by saying, These people are trying to destroy us! and slumped onto a wooden bench.

Is this true? I don’t believe you, said Israel ben Simon, the head of the synagogue’s Ritual Committee. What can we do? Should we flee in the middle of the night?

Samuel ben Judah, the owner of the jewelry store where Jacóbo worked, spoke up. Should we riot and get our Catholic friends to support us? Should our rabbi have a meeting with the bishop to work out an arrangement—maybe give more money to the Church?

Marcus ben Levi, the owner of a vegetable stand, said, "We have to do something...now...to stop this bishop and what he represents. If we take him out, make it look like a group of thieves attacked him, maybe things can get back to normal."

Putting his hands on his hips he ended, Our non-Jewish friends will understand; they don’t like what he is doing to disrupt this community. And if we do it so no one knows the ones who did it, and we keep the names secret, it will be forgotten in a year.

* * *

Arbués had chosen the most impressive cathedral in the province of Aragón as his headquarters for the Inquisition. The inside of La Seo Cathedral was beautifully decorated with gold and silver that were brought from mines in the Middle East, since the Western world of the Americas had not yet started sending its vast riches into the coffers of Spain. Construction on La Seo (Spanish for see) Cathedral began in 1140. It was also known as the Catedrál de San Salvador (Cathedral of the Savior).

Its design was an outstanding example of fifteenth century Gothic architecture. A magnificent seven-story tower of Portuguese design stood at the plaza entrance to the Cathedral and a Roman museum. The façade had a beautiful, intricate masonry design of checkered jacqués. A magnificent Mudejár dome in the cathedral roof, constructed in 1346, permitted daylight to flood the interior of the cathedral above the altar. The interior was resplendent with three naves, Romanesque apses, various alcoves, a glorious golden altar, and a beautiful, highly polished, multicolored brown marble floor with intricate circle pattern designs that reflected the golden altar and white-alabaster interior. Along the wall was St. Bernard’s Chapel, which contained the body of Archbishop Hernando de Aragón. The cathedral was used as the site for royal coronation ceremonies.

On the evening of September 15, 1495, Arbués was praying in the cathedral. He must have expected trouble because he was wearing a helmet and chain mail body armor when he was attacked by a band of knife-wielding thugs pretending to be robbers. Despite the protection, he died a few days later of the wounds he suffered.

In minutes, word began spreading that the bishop had been killed in his own church while praying. An uproar came from all members of the community—Arab, Catholic, and Jewish—denouncing this crime, the killing of a holy man. The murder inflamed the citizens of Zaragoza against the Conversos and in support of the Inquisition.

Even if he were the Inquisitor, officially nothing bad has happened to us yet—just some words, Rabbi ben Higdal told a small group of his anxious followers who immediately came to his home after hearing the news. At the same moment Bishop Arbués had been assassinated, the rabbi had been saying his evening prayers in the small, simple sanctuary the Jewish congregation had been permitted to build.

Of course, this death complicates matters, he continued. He began shaking his head, wringing his hands, and looking to the heavens for salvation and what to say. Go back to your homes, speak quietly, hold your families close, and pray. This day is pivotal for Jews in Zaragoza. Let’s see how our non-Jewish friends respond. With the grace of God, we will be all right.

How wrong he was.

A few hours after Arbués died, citizens of Zaragoza, many who had opposed the coming of Arbués and the Inquisition, formed mobs in front of the cathedral. Enraged, they demanded answers and retribution. Quickly the vigilante groups began seeking revenge. Yelling Death to the perpetrators, they turned against the Jewish community, grabbed any Jews they could find in the streets, beat them, burned their stores, and attacked innocent families in their homes.

The first to feel the torture of the rack was the rabbi. Shouting the Shema prayer ever louder as the slow torture became more unbearable, he succumbed in three hours. In succession were the Jewish elders, their families, and friends. The arrests moved to the town square where the public humiliation spoke as loudly as the cries of anguish coming from Jewish families. Many of Moisés’s friends’ families converted immediately. Many who tried to escape were captured, brought before the tribunal, and then thrown into prison where they were tortured, starved, or burned as heretics.

* * *

That evening, the Román family was at home. Not being close enough to the town plaza where she could have heard or seen what was happening, Moisés’s mother sent him to draw water from a nearby spring a half-mile away. I want to prepare something special tonight, and I need fresh water to make it taste better, she told the young teenager, who had just reached his fourteenth year.

Walking happily, he hummed a few songs that were popular among the children of the time, kicking the twigs away in front of his path and brushing the branches and their green leaves aside as he approached the spring, where he gently scooped the fresh, cool water into the wooden bucket his mother had handed to him. As he stood to return home, he heard the muffled shouts of the mob and saw flames and dark smoke rising from where he had come. He dropped the bucket and raced home as fast as he could with the acrid smell of smoke mixed with the unmistakable smell of burning human flesh filling his nostrils.

Cautiously he approached the clearing where his house had stood. The mob had moved on to a neighbor’s property and was outside his vision. He could hear them as they continued their path of murder and destruction. Could he believe the horror in front of his eyes? His home was gone—burned to the ground, the smoldering remains of his young life. The partially burned bodies of his father, mother, and sister lay in front of him—torn apart as though ravaged by wild animals. Most of the family’s meager possessions were burned beyond recognition.

Suddenly he became aware of the sounds of horses and townspeople coming back to finish what they had begun. He dropped to his knees, crying. My poor family. I will never forget you and our years of love together.

He stooped and tried to cover the exposed bodies with a ragged, partly burned blanket. He had just enough time to take the two simple golden bracelets that his mother always wore, one on each wrist—one from her father when she become a young woman, and the other from her husband when she became his bride—and placed them carefully in a leather pouch he carried in his right front pocket. These became priceless mementos that he would always hold in sacred regard as symbols of her undying love.

Quickly he moved into the low brush and high grass around the back of the house. Digging into the dirt, he found the secret hiding place his father had shown him where a small burlap sack was buried containing a few silver coins and a prayer book. He scooped these into the left front pocket of his coat and ran for his life into the hedges, hiding behind trees and rocks as the sun set behind him. That musky, burning smell stayed in his nostrils as he cried in silent tribute to what had happened.

Remembering the tragic scene that had taken his family from him, Moisés vowed, My family, I will cherish every minute of our days together, and I will retell our story to future generations who will follow us. Today at this terrible moment in my life, I remember what we would say at our Seder table: ‘Each of us must never forget that the Holy One, Blessed be He, has given us this Exodus and we must forever teach this lesson to all.’ That is my promise to you.

Moisés’s problem of escaping the widening net of the Inquisition was now becoming a quandary. Before, he had his parents to shield him and take the responsibility for protecting the family. Now, for the first time in his young life, he had to do it all. Could he confide in his neighbors and ask them to hide him? Should he contact other Jewish families trying to flee? Should he pretend to be the son of Conversos who had died? He had been walking, hiding, and running in the darkness for at least four hours. Hunger had left him. The fear that had caused the blood to pound in his veins had subsided and was replaced by nervousness in the pit of his stomach. The cold night air and clear sky with its blanket of stars gave him some respite from the scene he had encountered.

Bewildered by all the choices and risks he would face, he hid under the wagon of a merchant who was delivering hay in the area to farmers with a cow or two. This farmer’s house and barn were dark; only the smell of animals and the freshly cut hay surrounded Moisés,