Secret Struggle

One day in March 1492. Queen Isabella is in Santa Fe again today. In the center of the council chamber established in her executive office, Isabella sits in an elegant velvet chair. With a melancholy expression on her face. On the desk before her, documents from the Roman Curia are carelessly scattered. These are letters delivered to both monarchs years ago under the name of Pope Innocent VIII. King Ferdinand sits beside Isabella. Standing before them is Grand Inquisitor Tomás de Torquemada. Behind him stands Isaac Abravanel. And beside him, Luis de Santángel also waits in attendance.

Those who directly hold the fate of the united Kingdom of Aragon and Castile are now gathered together. The next few hours will determine the kingdom's future for the next hundred years. Isabella understands this all too painfully. She clenches her trembling hands tightly and begins to speak, drawing strength from that action.

"Torquemada. Do you remember the scolding that came from the Roman Curia several years ago? This letter contains quite harsh criticism, stating that your methods of conducting the Inquisition are beyond reason. You haven't forgotten, have you? Recently, the Papal Court seems to have been cowed by our kingdom's unstoppable momentum and has kept quiet. And now, you have come to us recommending the expulsion of the Jews. There are 200,000 Jews in our territory. If we misjudge, the kingdom will face ruin."

Tomás de Torquemada. A man who considers himself a devout slave of God, yearning for the religious purification of the Iberian Peninsula as the holy land of Christ. And a man clothed in the madness called conviction that heretics must be eliminated from this world to achieve that purpose. However, he is also a man who has continued to grind his teeth before the physical reality that it is impossible to take the lives of all 200,000 Jews. Now Torquemada is completely intoxicated with his own belief that the expulsion of all Jews from the country is the only way to fulfill God's will.

"Your Majesty Isabella. I remember that letter. How carefree the Pope is. He pays no attention to the fact that devout children of Christ suffer daily from the temptations of heretics, and instead listens to the complaints of those very heretics and sends us grievances. This too is because they are running rampant in this land."

Having said this much, Torquemada takes a breath.

"I too do not wish to conduct the Inquisition. However, no matter how much we try to convey the truth of the Gospel to those lost souls and save their souls from darkness, those people interfere.

Just when the pitiful ones are opening their eyes to the Gospel and trying to grasp the light of this world, they grab them by the collar and drag them back into darkness. All of this is because heretics continue to squat in this country. We have exhausted every means. We have even segregated Christians and Jews in the cities so they cannot interact. Still, false converts continue to appear. If both monarchs truly wish to make the kingdom a nation of devout Christians and obtain God's true blessing, there is no other means than to expel all Jews from this land!"

Ferdinand, who had been listening to Torquemada's eloquent speech with his cheek resting on his elbow, slowly opens his mouth. His eyes are those of a cold-hearted ruler, emitting an infinitely cold light.

"What you want to say is consistent. I'll grant you that. By the way, the property confiscated from apostates through the Inquisition is currently enriching the treasury to some extent. However, if we expel all Jews from the territory, eventually the treasury's income will also decrease. What will you do about that?"

After glancing at Abravanel, Torquemada casually declares:

"The property of the Jews to be expelled will all be confiscated. Naturally. This way, enormous assets will enter the treasury. It will be useful both for recovering the treasury damaged by the Reconquista and for the future prosperity of the kingdom. This is the least contribution that the heretics who have continued to bring calamity to this country can finally make. More specifically..."

Without letting Torquemada finish his words, Abravanel interrupts. His face is flushed red with anger, and his eyes are bloodshot with rage and fear.

"Your Majesty Ferdinand. May I speak?"

"I'll listen. As you are a Jew, you are none other than a party to this matter. We too must carefully determine whether a policy that would cause us to lose talented individuals such as yourself would truly bring prosperity to this country."

Upon hearing these words, Abravanel glares at Torquemada and continues:

"I submit to you. If both monarchs should decide on such an expulsion, it will surely lead the kingdom's future into darkness. How much we Jews have contributed to both monarchs - please remember this once more. The kingdom will continue to face various difficulties in the future. At such times, we Jews will spare no effort in making further contributions for the glory of both monarchs. But what will happen if you permanently expel 200,000 Jews from the territory now? In exchange for temporary wealth, you will lose their eternal contribution. Both monarchs bear the responsibility for the peace and development of all people in the kingdom. You must not be swayed by temporary emotions."

Upon hearing this, Torquemada stares at Abravanel with an expression of fury.

"How dare you call making both monarchs' land eternally the holy land of Christ a temporary emotion! Lord Abravanel. Such disrespect toward both monarchs is absolutely unforgivable! Moreover, expelling Jews will end the kingdom's future? What nonsense! Realizing this expulsion will mark the beginning of the kingdom's brilliant future!"

However, Abravanel does not flinch. Ignoring Torquemada's anger, he appeals to both monarchs.

"Your Majesty Isabella, Your Majesty Ferdinand. If you could withdraw this expulsion, I, Abravanel, will cooperate with others to donate 30,000 ducats. If that is not enough, all Jews in this land will contribute their property. However, if you decide to let us remain in this land, the wealth and prosperity that will be brought to both monarchs in the future cannot be compared to that."

"That must not be, Your Majesties! Once, Judas Iscariot sold Jesus for thirty pieces of silver. Now, will you sell Jesus again for gold!"

"This cannot be overlooked! You seem quite fond of that story. But let me say this clearly. The thirteen people who were at what you call the Last Supper - they were all Jews. Above all, Jesus himself was a Jew, was he not? Such cunning sophistry that seems to confuse Judas Iscariot alone with all Jews. I cannot forgive this, swearing on the pride of my people!"

Torquemada stares at Abravanel with bloodshot eyes. He becomes enraged and shouts. Isabella restrains him with her hand and speaks sadly:

"Abravanel. That you, my loyal retainer, are simultaneously a devout Jew. And that I must decide such matters before you. I cannot help but be troubled. A monarch is truly a sad being. However, for the sake of our people, I must make a decision. As long as you do not convert, for the sake of Christians, there is no choice but to ask you to leave."

"That is not so. We should be able to live together under both great monarchs. Have we not done so for hundreds of years!"

Isabella does not answer Abravanel's words. She maintains silence, staring into the void. As if to fill that silence, Ferdinand speaks:

"Santángel. Let me ask you. If we were to expel all Jews from this country now, how much property would enter the treasury?"

An expression of anguish appears on the face of Santángel, who had maintained complete silence until now, not uttering a single word. Abravanel thinks to himself:

(What a cruel question to ask. Was Ferdinand always such a cold-hearted king!)

Abravanel cannot help but shudder upon touching the darkness in Ferdinand's heart that he had never known before. And Santángel, who was asked the question, becomes dazed as if he had lost his soul, maintaining silence for a while. Seeing this, Torquemada provokes mockingly:

"Lord Santángel. What is the matter? Please answer. Is it perhaps too cruel for a converso like you to answer? However, do not forget that I am the Grand Inquisitor. Depending on your answer, I may immediately regard you as a heretic."

Santángel resolves himself and responds. Raising his voice as much as possible so that the trembling of his soul would not be conveyed:

"If all Jews in the kingdom's territory were to be expelled with their property confiscated, the assets that could be obtained would be far more than 30,000 ducats. I believe it would easily reach several dozen times that amount."

Upon hearing this, Ferdinand quietly closes his eyes. And continues to ask:

"I see. Then, what else is needed to carry out this expulsion certainly and without confusion?"

Santángel appeals, summoning all the strength of his spirit:

"Your Majesty Ferdinand. If this expulsion were truly to be carried out, terrible confusion would certainly arise. Efforts must be made to avoid this confusion as much as possible. First, the safety of the Jews should be guaranteed during the period until they are expelled. Otherwise, the country would certainly fall into great chaos due to robbery and plunder. Appropriate deadlines should be set, and illegal inspections and levies disguised as tax collection from Jews leaving the country should be strictly monitored."

"Hmm. Quite right. It would be outrageous for measures to contain confusion to cause further confusion. If we make the final decision on expulsion, I will seek your counsel again."

Saying this, Ferdinand turns his head toward Isabella, suggesting with his eyes the end of this discussion. When Isabella tries to say something in response, Santángel interrupts and pleads with both monarchs:

"Catholic Monarchs. Finally, I, Santángel, would like to make one request that I stake my life on. Please, just for a moment, could you lend your ears to my words?"

Upon hearing this, both monarchs settle back into their chairs and look at Santángel. Isabella says:

"Speak."

Santángel looks straight into Isabella's eyes and begins:

"Please, please grant permission for Cristóbal Colón's voyage. I have calculated the funds needed for this voyage once more. If we may use Palos's ships, this voyage will not require as much funding as both monarchs fear. It would be about the same amount as hosting foreign guests for a ten-day banquet. I, Santángel, will provide all of these funds. Both monarchs need only grant permission. Even if it fails, that ambitious man will simply disappear into the ocean foam and become the world's laughingstock.

However, that man is now heading toward France. If this voyage succeeds under the French king, it will certainly pose a serious crisis to both monarchs' honor and the kingdom's prosperity. Please grant this lifelong wish of Santángel."

Ferdinand, listening beside Isabella, says nothing, only staring into Santángel's eyes. What that man, who would later be called the new prince by Machiavelli, is thinking - Santángel can no longer tell. Instead, Isabella beside him speaks:

"Understood. I cannot completely ignore such an earnest wish from you. Give me some time."

Upon hearing these words, Santángel bows deeply, deeply. Seeing this, Ferdinand calmly announces the end:

"Well, today's discussion ends here. The expulsion of Jews, Colón's voyage. Wait until we render our judgment."

Saying this, Ferdinand rises from his chair and leaves the room. Isabella slowly follows after him. Just before leaving the room, Isabella suddenly stops and turns around. She faces Abravanel and asks one question:

"Will you still not convert?"

"I will leave. Please forgive me, Your Majesty Isabella."

Upon hearing this, Isabella merely nods slightly and disappears into the interior.

The Alhambra Decree declaring the expulsion of Jews was promulgated several dozen days later, on March 31, 1492. The Santa Fe Capitulations approving Colón's voyage were concluded on April 17. The deadline for Jewish expulsion was set for July 31. Cristóbal Colón departed from Palos on August 3.

Entrusted Hope

Mount Moncayo is now enveloped in deep, pitch-black darkness. Santángel now realizes that the moment has come for heaven to gently blow out the lamp of his life. In his mind's eye resurfaces the image of the Santa María, which departed from the port of Palos as if cutting through the ships of Jews fleeing the country with the morning sun. On that ship, that Colón waves proudly to the shore, steering his vessel loaded with ambition and madness toward the open sea.

However, at the moment of death, what crossed Santángel's mind was no longer about Colón. Only whether the young life he had tried to save had been able to pull in the thin thread of fate and grasp the future filled his heart.

(That girl's name was Nunes.)

In his fading consciousness, Santángel calls that name repeatedly.

(Ah, I'm sorry. Nunes. Your mother was my cousin, yet I couldn't even save that one life so close to me. Your mother became a victim of burning at the stake all too easily and turned to ash. I tried desperately to save her! But I could do nothing! Now I can only pray that you, who I heard escaped to Portugal, have survived and are living on.

I lived a false life. Just to escape from humiliation and fear! Ah, Abravanel. I hate your strength. For trivial honor and some money, I continued to falsify my own soul. It is unforgivable. But God! And Messiah, who has yet to appear before us! Please, please protect that girl. That girl is the last hope of my clan. Please, please...)

The vitality gradually leaves Santángel's face. Even at the moment when the last strength quietly departs from his soul, no peace comes to the man's expression. Still, the pitch-black darkness continues to gently embrace the body that has lost its master, forever and ever.