The Coffee Trader

“The giving of charity is one of our most important mitzvot,” said Joseph ben Yerushalieem. He was a wealthy merchant who had come to Amsterdam some months after Miguel and had been elected to the council after fulfilling (by a matter of weeks) the requirement that a parnass must have been living as a Jew for at least three years. Miguel knew he interpreted his duties as sourly as the Law would allow, showing no mercy to new arrivals who refused to embrace an equally strict adherence. “I commend you on your generosity, senhor, for charity exalts the Holy Name. This council is aware that you have suffered in business, but the rabbis say that a beggar must be treated kindly, for the Lord is with him.”

“Thank you, senhor,” said Miguel, who refused to believe that the Lord could possibly be with Joachim.

“However,” ben Yerushalieem continued, “this incident demonstrates something that this body has warned you of many times in the past. Your easy interactions with the Dutch, your fluency in their language, and your comfort with their companionship can lead only to difficulties between our two peoples. This community has thrived because it has kept its distance from our Dutch hosts. This incident with the beggar may seem small, and you have been guiltless of any ill intent, but it suggests that you are unwilling to follow this council’s advice that you keep a more formal distance from these people.”

“This problem has been brought to our attention before,” Desinea chimed in. “You are a man who habitually breaks the laws of this council because he believes he knows better than we do what is right for the Nation.”

“Precisely.” Ben Yerushalieem pressed on. “You have broken the rules of the Ma’amad because you thought yourself the best judge of right and wrong. It makes no difference, senhor, if you are seeking the affections of a pretty Dutch girl or giving alms to an inappropriate gentile. Both are forbidden, and forbidden for good reasons.”

Miguel found the pressure more intense than he had at first anticipated. “I thank you for taking the time to discuss these matters with me and allowing me the opportunity to improve my behavior. I shall redouble my efforts to be more vigilant in considering my actions in light of the larger good of this community.”

“I can only hope that you will,” Desinea told him sternly. “You are a grown man, Senhor Lienzo, not a boy whose transgressions can be overlooked.”

Desinea’s words stung furiously, but Miguel knew his pride would recover. The tide had begun to recede, after all. The Ma’amad had made its point. He had been warned.

“I wonder if that is enough.” Solomon Parido leaned forward as though scrutinizing something on Miguel’s face. Though animated by his expectation of triumph, he appeared, if anything, more morose than ever. Even the taste of victory brought him no joy. “Such warnings can be effective, I grant you, but I am not convinced they will suffice in this case. I am a friend of Senhor Lienzo’s family, so I speak with genuine concern when I say he has been issued many warnings in the past. Now we must ask, Have they led him to change his ways? Have they ever inspired in his heart a new love of the Law? Forgiveness is a blessing in the eyes of the Most High, but we must not forgive too easily or too often without damaging the community.”

Miguel swallowed hard. Perhaps, he thought, Parido only meant to appear harsh that he might better disguise his true intentions of protecting Miguel. Why would he have pretended friendship this past month only now to turn on him? If he sought to impose the cherem, why had he not made use of his knowledge that Miguel had bribed a servant girl into fingering Parido as the father of her child? None of it made sense.

“We ca

“Senhors, I must commend your generosity, but I wonder if generosity may not do our community more harm than good.”

Miguel felt himself wobble in the chair. This was no mere pretense at harshness. Parido was after blood.

“Really, senhor,” ben Yerushalieem said, “this denunciation is unbecoming. You and Senhor Lienzo have had disagreements, but Holy Torah commands us not to hold a grudge.”

“This is no matter of grudges. All Amsterdam knows that I’ve set aside our former differences, but that does not mean that I must hold my tongue when I see evil. I have it on good authority,” Parido pressed on, “that this man is engaged in a matter of business that presents a direct threat to this community.”

So this is his move, Miguel thought, as he tried to keep his face from twitching. He could not yet see the whole of the plan, but he recognized the pieces. The gestures of friendship now allowed Parido to claim only the best motives.

“Is this true?” Desinea asked.

“By no means,” Miguel managed to answer, though his mouth had grown painfully dry. “Senhor Parido might wish to reexamine his source of information.”

“Can you tell us more, Senhor Parido?” ben Yerushalieem asked.

“I believe it is Lienzo who must tell us more.”

“Senhor Lienzo,” Miguel corrected.

“The members of this council need no lessons in etiquette,” Parido explained softly. “You are here to answer our questions.”

“Senhor Parido is right,” another parnass, Gideon Carvoeiro, a

Parido made a halfhearted effort to hide a smile. “Precisely. You must tell us the nature of your new venture.”

And there it was. Parido had sought Miguel’s friendship to learn about his plans in the coffee trade. When that had not worked, he had deftly use his position on the Ma’amad not to arrange Miguel’s excommunication but to use their old animosity as an excuse to discover the nature of his business. Now Parido surely thought that Miguel had no choice but to divulge his secrets-otherwise he would almost certainly face the cherem, for defiance of the council was among the most serious of crimes in its eyes. Parido had set his trap brilliantly: Miguel must give up his secrets or be destroyed.

But Miguel would not be so easily ruined; a Jew from Salonika could not hope to scheme like a former Converso. Miguel believed he might still teach Parido a few things about deviousness.

“Senhors,” he began, after taking a moment to formulate his reply, “I hope you will consider that a man of business is not always at liberty to answer questions concerning his affairs. I have agreements with other merchants who depend on my silence. I need not explain to you the role of rumor on the Exchange and the importance of keeping some dealings quiet.”

“Quiet is not a luxury you possess right now,” Parido said. “The Ma’amad’s need to protect the Nation must take precedence over your inclination toward secrecy.”

Miguel swallowed hard. He might ruin himself if he spoke with too much arrogance, but the right tone would win the day. “Then I must respectfully refuse to answer, senhors.”

Desinea leaned forward. “I must remind you that our Nation knows no greater crime than refusal to cooperate with the Ma’amad. Any business scheme upon which you have embarked, lawful or no, may prove itself difficult to execute if you earn the enmity of our Nation.”

“Senhors,” he repeated, careful to keep his tone modest and respectful, for everything hinged on their response to what he now said. “I beg you consider what it is you ask of me, whether answers must be pursued regardless of costs. There is no one in this room who does not have a relation or friend who was destroyed by the Inquisition in Portugal. This council has established itself in the hopes that our people may never have to face those horrors again, but I fear that in truly understanding our enemy we may have become too much like him.”