Failing this, I must inform Your Majesties that it will be necessary to destroy all the public baths in the city. It is bad enough that the Mahometans flaunt these dens of sensuousness in our faces every single day. You will recall how our soldiers, on discovering that Alhama possessed more baths than any other city in this peninsula, decided that the best way to save the town was to destroy it, and this they did with the words of our Saviour on their lips. The obscenities painted on the side of the baths added fervour to their already strong determination. It was in these circumstances that our crusaders eradicated every remnant of sin.
Matters in Granada are much more serious, and not simply on the spiritual level. These accursed baths are also their regular meeting places to talk amongst themselves and engage in plots of sedition and treason. There is a great deal of unrest in the city. Every day my faithful conversos bring me reports of conversations in the Albaicin and the Moorish villages which are dotted, like the plague, in the Alpujarras.
My own inclination would be to end the discontent by arresting the ringleaders and burning them at the stake. What a tragedy befell our Church with the death of Tomás de Torquemada. The noble Count, however, is of a totally different disposition. For him Torquemada was nothing more than a Jewish converso trying desperately to prove his loyalty to the new faith. The Count is opposed to any firm measures against the heathen in our midst. He imagines that by speaking their language and dressing as they do he will win them over to our ways. Her Majesty will perhaps understand that I can neither comprehend nor appreciate the logic underlying such behaviour. Many of our knights, who fought like lions when we took Alhama, are permanently engaged in carefree and jocund revelry in Granada. They believe that their war is over. They do not understand that the most decisive stage of our war has only just begun. It is for that reason that I request Her Majesty to authorize the measures listed below and kindly to inform the Captain-General of Granada, Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, that he is not to obstruct any action taken by the Church.
— We must instruct the Moriscos to cease speaking Arabic, either amongst themselves in private or for the purpose of buying and selling in the market. The destruction of their books of learning and knowledge should make such an edict easily enforceable.
— They must be barred from keeping slaves bred in captivity.
— They should not be permitted to wear their Moorish robes. Instead they must be made to conform in dress and the way they carry themselves to the Castilian manner.
— The faces of their women must under no circumstances be covered.
— They must be instructed not to keep the front doors of their homes closed.
— Their baths must be destroyed.
— Their public festivals and weddings, their licentious songs and their music must be disallowed.
— Any family which produces more than three children must be warned that all extra progeny will be placed in the care of the Church in Castile and Aragon so that they can be brought up as good Christians.
— Sodomy is so widespread in these lands that in order to root it out we must be severe in the extreme. It should, in normal circumstances, be punished with death. Where the act is committed on animals a period of five years as a galley-slave would be adequate punishment.
These measures may appear to contradict the terms of the Capitulation agreed by us, but this is the only lasting solution to the disease which has eaten into our souls for so long. If Your Most Gracious Majesties are in agreement with my proposals I would suggest that the Holy Inquisition opens an office in Granada without further delay and its familiars be dispatched to this sinful city immediately to collect evidence. Two, or at the most, three autos de fe will make these people understand that they can no longer trifle with the power which God has willed to rule over them.
I await an early reply and remain Your Majesties’ most faithful servant, Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros.
Ximenes folded the paper and affixed his seal to the parchment. Then he called for his most loyal friar, Ricardo de Cordova, a Muslim converso who had converted at the same time as his master, Miguel, and had been gifted by him to the Holy Church. He handed him the letter.
‘Only for the eyes of the Queen or King. Nobody else. Clear?’
Ricardo smiled, nodded and left the room.
Ximenes was thinking. What was he thinking? His mind was dwelling on its own frailties. He knew that he was not smooth of speech or letter. He had never been adept at coupling fire with water. The grammar he had studied as a boy in Alcala had been of the most primitive variety. Later at the university in Salamanca he had devoted himself to a study of the civil and canonical law. Neither there nor in Rome had he acquired a taste for literature or painting.
Michelangelo’s frescos left him completely unmoved. Despite himself he had been greatly impressed by the abstract geometric patterns on tiles he had seen in Salamanca and later in Toledo. When he thought about such matters, which was not very often, he confessed to himself that it would have been far more natural to worship the Lord as a concept. He did not like the cluster of images inherited from paganism and clothed in the colours of Christianity.
If only he had possessed the epistolary skills of his illustrious predecessor, Cardinal Mendoza. His letter to Isabella and Ferdinand would have been written in the most flowery and fashionable language. The monarchs would have been so moved by the literary quality of the composition that they would have accepted the dagger concealed underneath the verbiage as a necessary adjunct, but he, Ximenes, could not and would not deceive his Queen.
He had become Isabella’s confessor when Talavera was sent as Archbishop to Granada, and to her great pleasure and surprise had not betrayed any feeling of agitation or anxiety on being conducted to her presence. Nor had she noticed in his facial expression, or the manner in which he approached her, the slightest trace of servility. His sense of dignity and the piety which exuded from every pore of his body were unmistakably genuine.
Isabella knew that she had a fervent priest, his inflexible temperament akin to her own. Talavera had treated her with respect but had not been able to conceal his despair at what he took to be a combination of cupidity and prejudice. He had always tried to lecture her on the virtues of tolerance and the necessity of coexistence with their Muslim subjects. Ximenes was made of sterner stuff. A priest with an iron soul and, moreover, a mind like her own. Isabella invited him to take charge of her conscience. She poured out her heart to him. Ferdinand’s infidelities. Her own temptations. Fears for a daughter whose mind appeared to desert her without warning. All this the priest heard with a sympathetic face. On one occasion alone had he been so stunned by her revelation that his emotions overpowered his intellect and a mask of horror covered his face. Isabella had confessed an unsatisfied carnal urge which had gripped her some three years before the Reconquest of Granada. The object had been a Muslim nobleman in Cordova.