The Coffee Trader

“Yes,” Miguel said, though he did not believe it and instantly regretted having said so. But he was angry. He could not have said why, but he felt wounded, as though she had violated some trust between them.

He had not seen the tears start, but there they were, glistening upon her face. He fought the urge to pull her to his body, to feel her breasts against his chest, but he couldn’t, so instead he pressed on. “I have nothing more to say to you. Now leave me so I may think on what to do with this knowledge that I wish I had never heard.”

The cruelty of his words stuck in his throat; he knew what they would mean to her. She would wonder if Miguel might keep quiet. He now knew his brother’s wife was a papist, and that information could destroy Daniel. Miguel might reveal this information to usurp his brother’s place in the community, or he could use it to threaten Daniel into forgiving his debts.

Miguel would do none of these things. No matter how repulsive her sin, he would not betray Ha

“I heard voices. Is something wrong?”

Daniel appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, looking pale. His little eyes focused on his wife, standing far too close to a retreating Miguel.

“It is only your silly brother,” Ha

“It is not for a woman to decide if a man is silly,” Daniel pointed out, not unkindly. He merely illuminated information she may have forgotten. “Nevertheless,” he said to Miguel, “she may be right. I won’t have you catch plague and kill us all.”

“The entire household has an opinion on my clothes.” Miguel affected as best he could an easy ma

Ha

His confusion about Ha

Ha

She found the pig’s head. It sat upon the stoop just inches from the door, angled in a congealed pool of blood. Already ants had begun to crawl upon it in such numbers that at first it appeared to Ha

Her shriek roused the house and the closest neighbors. Miguel had slept badly and had already risen, prayed, and dressed. He sat struggling with the weekly Torah portion when her shrill voice penetrated the tiny windows of the cellar, and he was the first to find Ha

They called immediately for the doctor, who gave her potions to help her sleep and explained that if she could be kept calm for a day, the danger to her life would pass. Ha

from

The Factual and Revealing Memoirs of Alonzo Alferonda

I returned home one night from evening prayers (yes, evening prayers-there were still, thank God, a few small synagogues that defied the Ma’amad and permitted me to worship among their number so long as I was careful not to be seen), when I felt a hand grip my shoulder. I looked up expecting to see some desperate debtor who, fearing for his life, thought to strike at Alferonda before he could be struck. Instead, I saw Solomon Parido.

“Senhor,” I said, swallowing my relief, “I hardly thought to receive another visit from you again so soon.”

Parido appeared hesitant. He no more liked coming to see me than I liked seeing him. Perhaps he liked it less. I had nothing to lose from these encounters, but he had his pride. “I had not thought to seek you out.”

“And yet,” I observed, “here you are, lurking in the streets, waiting for me.” I had cause to be anxious that he knew I had been at worship, but he said nothing, and I could only conclude that he would not have failed to play so valuable a card. My friends at the small synagogue were safe.

Parido set his jaw as though bracing himself and turned to me. “I want to know more of what you have pla

I picked up my pace, if only a little. It was a trick I learned so long ago I hardly even notice doing it most times. Varying your pace of walking sets your companion on edge. He has to think more about trivial things than he ought, and that takes his concentration from where it needs to be. “I marvel at your presumption,” I said. “What makes you think, if I had anything pla

“I may be your enemy, as you style it, but Lienzo is not. You are manipulating him.”

I let out a laugh. “If you think so, why not tell him?”

“Things have gone too far now; he’d never believe me. I’ve asked his brother to warn him off you, but I doubt that will do much good.”

“I doubt it too. A better strategy might have been to have his brother encourage him to do business with me.” I winked at him. “I heard someone left the head of a pig on his brother’s doorstep. I wonder if you, senhor, might know who would do such a thing.”

“How dare you accuse me of so wretched a crime? Listen to me, Alferonda. If you bear any friendship for Lienzo, you’ll stop this. If he crosses me, I’ll destroy him.”

I shook my head. “You think you can destroy anyone you like. You think you can work miracles of destruction. Your power as parnass has corrupted you utterly, Parido, and you ca

He stared at me for a moment, and I could tell by his face that I had struck something. This was the oldest trick of them all, but I knew it well. I had practiced it often. The appearance of sincerity can truly unman even the most stalwart foe.

“Think,” I said, eager to press the advantage, “of what you have accused me, of what you have accused Miguel. Do you really think it plausible that men engage themselves in these wild plots? Is it not far more likely that your suspicion and greed have misled you not only to suspect things that are untrue but to do real harm to others?”

“I see I’ve wasted my time,” he said, and turned away.

I was not one, however, to let the fish go, once hooked. “You haven’t wasted your time,” I called after him, “if you will only think of what I have said. You are wrong, Parido. You are wrong about me and wrong about Lienzo, and it is not too late for you to atone for your sins.”