The Coffee Trader

22

During his brief period of exile, Miguel thought it best to avoid other Jews of the neighborhood. Their stares and whispers would only sour his victory. Men who had suffered temporary bans always hid themselves away in their homes until they were again free to go about their business. They lurked about like thieves, they closed their shutters, they ate their food cold.

Miguel had too much to do and hadn’t the luxury of hiding in his cellar for the day. He sent a note to Geertruid, telling her he wished to meet the next afternoon. He suggested the Golden Calf. That disgusting little place where they had first discussed coffee might not suit his taste, but at least he knew Geertruid’s cousin did not serve other Jews, and on the day of his cherem he wished for secrecy. Geertruid wrote back and suggested instead another tavern, one near the warehouses. As it promised to be equally obscure, Miguel sent his agreement.

After sending out letters to his agents, Miguel prepared a bowl of coffee and took a moment to think about his most pressing needs: how to raise five hundred guilders to complete the amount Isaiah Nunes required. Instead of obtaining the missing money, he might transfer to Nunes the thousand that remained to him at the very end of the week. Nunes would not notice, or he would not be able to speak of it until the begi

In a much brighter mood, he indulged himself with a Charming Pieter pamphlet he had read only twice before. He had not even set the water for his second bowl of coffee to boiling before A

Why should she not summon Miguel to speak with her? She had never done so before, but Ha

Miguel entered, dressed in his austere Dutch attire, and bowed slightly. His eyes were sunken and the skin below them dark, as though he hadn’t slept in days.

“Yes, senhora?” he said, in a voice that managed to be both weary and charming. “You honored me with a summons?”

A

“Girl,” Ha

“Senhora, you have not worn that cap in a year’s time. I ca

“Then you had better start looking,” she answered. She would hear about that later. A

“Yes, senhora,” she replied, in a convincingly subservient tone.

“It is best to give her a task so she does not spend her time at keyholes,” Ha

Miguel took a seat. “She is a well enough girl,” he answered absently.

“I’m sure you know best.” Ha

“It is I who should thank you. Conversation with a charming lady will pass the time far more amiably than will books and papers.”

“I had forgotten that you have those things available to you. I had thought you must be sitting alone and in silence, but your learning frees you from dullness.”

“I’ve thought it must be terrible not to read,” he said. “Is it a loss you feel?”

Ha

“They say it is not so among the Tudescos,” she continued, half afraid that she prattled like a fool. “Their women learn to read, and they are given holy books translated into the common tongue. I think that way is better.”

A strange thrill shot through her body, as though she had just thrown herself off a bridge or before a speeding cart. Never before had she dared to say such things aloud. Miguel was not her husband, of course, but he was her husband’s brother, and for now that seemed to her dangerous enough.

He stared at her. At first she thought she saw anger, and she pressed herself into her chair in preparation for the sting of rebuke, but she had misread him. His eyebrows raised slightly, a little smile upon his lips. She saw surprise, amusement too, and maybe even delight.

“I had never thought you had such opinions. Have you discussed them with your husband? He might very well permit some learning.”

“I have tried,” she told him, “but your brother does not wish to hear me speak on matters of which I know nothing. He asked how I can have an opinion on something of which I am entirely ignorant.”

Miguel erupted into a raspy laugh. “You ca

Ha

“May I ask a favor of you?” she said, and then squirmed uncomfortably at the sound of her own words. She had thought to wait longer before mentioning it but found she grew impatient and nervous. Best to have it said.

“Of course, senhora.”

“May I once again try that coffee-tea you let me drink before?” What else could she do? She dared not steal any more of Miguel’s diminishing supply, and she had eaten all the fruit she’d taken. Besides, now that she knew that it was supposed to be a drink and not a food, she did not think there would be as much pleasure in grinding down the berries with her teeth.

Miguel smiled. “It would be my great pleasure, so long as you recall my request of your silence.” Then, without waiting for her reply, he rang the bell for A

Ha