The First Book of Samuel, SAREJESS [ebook voice reader TXT] 📗

a boon some times. The cobbled streets of Servile were busy this morning. The crowd was a mixed lot of peasants, nuns, nobility, and just about every sort of person one would expect of the city of Sivilla. Samuel was shaken from his reflections by the sound of people shouting in the square. Today Don Pedro Della lasvegus ex Kings councilor was to be burned at the stake as a heretic. A few years previous the church had become worried by the large number of heretic beliefs which were starting to spring up and had set up courts of inquisition the one in Servile had caught a number of fish in its nets, the latest being Don Pedro. He had been a councilor to the King for quite a number of years, a noble Spaniard of an old established family. He had served the king abroad and at home loyally for more years then he could remember, but recently he had been accused of holding heretical beliefs. He had been heard to mention that if a man wished to be saved from eternal damnation then he should pray for forgiveness and ask specifically for this forgiveness from God. Furthermore he had been heard to mention that he did not see what benefit it was to confess ones sins to a priest in confession. This had alerted the inquisition that was always ready to believe the tales borne to it by persons who either were jealous of Don Pedro's popularity with the king or by people who ardently believed that they were acting in accordance with the churches best interest.

At first after his arrest Don Pedro had been haughty and disdainful of the priests and wardens who had questioned him. He genuinely believed that the king would come to his aid. This had not happened however, and the king had dropped him like a hot coal. Deserted by the king and any others who might have said anything in his defense on his long service to the Spanish court, Don Pedro was left to the grand inquisitor, and soon the torture had begun. Hot coals were applied to his feet in an attempt to make him confess his heresy, when this did not work; he was lifted with a set of ropes and pulleys to the roof of the torture chamber. The brown robed priest standing to one side then on his command, Don Pedro was dropped to within two feet of the floor, dislodging the joints in his shoulders. He screamed in agony as he was once more lifted to the roof. A shout and he was dropped no more then a few inches. At other times there was a shout but he was not dropped. After the second day of this he was questioned on the subject of his accomplices in these heresies which he believed. The priests reasoned that for one so senior in the Kings council there must be others who were involved in the attack on the church. To this Don Pedro would not answer, thus for days he was tortured but never a word did he utter.

In the end when it became apparent that they would get no confession from him, they promised him that on the day of his execution they would allow the executioner to strangle him before the flames took him if he would confess. Don Pedro, a now broken man looked into the face of the priest and spat; this sealed his fate. He had rejected the mercies offered by mother church and would burn. He would die a heretic.

Thus it was that Samuel the innkeeper a man who had known Jesus the carpenter from Nazareth stood watching a follower of this same Jesus been burned to death by others who professed to be followers of this same Jesus. The doomed man arrived on a cart being too badly tortured to walk through the city streets. He was roughly helped up onto the stake by the executioner. The executioner removed the lighted taper from the hands of the accused. Once more a priest asked him to confess his heresies before he died. To this the doomed man said nothing. The crowd was in a holiday mood waiting for the fun to start but the prisoner was not playing the game. Either through weariness of the whole matter or because he was finished with this world, the accused looked out on the crowd, a strange peaceful light reflected in his eyes. Samuel shivered. The last time he had seen that look was on the face of Jesus while he hung on the cross of Golgotha.

The executioner was signaled by the priests and church officials to light the fagots, which surrounded the doomed man. The smoke rose lazily into the air. As the fire began burning the dryness of the weather helped the fire to spread quickly. All the time the poor man looked out into the crowd but not in horror of what was happening. When the fire reached him he began to pray in Spanish asking the Lord for forgiveness. A hush fell over the crowd as he continued until quite suddenly the flames took him. He screamed not at all, the smell of burning hair and flesh filled the square. The crowed watched in a mixture of sadness and wonder as they realized that a holy martyr had died before their eyes and they had done nothing to prevent it. The crowd began to dissipate. No one wanted to meet his neighbor’s eyes, all feeling ashamed. Samuel turned and walked back to the inn where he had served Don Pedro an occasional tankard of wine.

Samuel pushed open the door of the inn. Entering he found the smell of lamb drifting though the ground floor. Quickly he moved to the bar and poured himself a tumbler of red Tuscan wine. Swallowing it in a huge gulp, Samuel turned once more to the duties of the day. For a moment his thoughts turned to the execution he had just witnessed. He had been horrified by what he had witnessed. How could the followers of Jesus be so cruel? If only they had known what their master had been like then maybe they would see the way they should behave toward one another.

Maria, one of the servants, entered the large front room with a pile of dishes on a tray that she started setting on the tables. She worked quietly and quickly, singing to herself. She suddenly became aware that Samuel was watching her. “Hola Samuel” she said “How was it? Did the heretic scream?” she asked him. “Hola Maria. No he did not. He died with dignity, not uttering a word until the flames reached him, and then he began to pray.”

”Dio he must have been a saint to face death so bravely” she said shaking her head and crossing herself. Samuel could not understand this thing. In one breath she was calling Don Pedro a heretic, in the next a saint. The Christian faith seemed to be full of inconsistencies Samuel thought. He left Maria to finish her work while he checked on the kitchen.

In the kitchen he found the cook stirring a large pot of lamb stew. It was now close to eleven in the morning. Soon the inn would be full of people coming to eat a meal before the mid afternoon siesta. Samuel hurried out into the small back yard and began picking carrots to add to the stew. He loved this small garden. It didn’t get a lot of sun but it got enough to grow vegetables. Samuel had come a long way from Israel. It had been so many years ago that now when he thought of Israel it was always in an abstract way. He seldom thought of his family who had passed into Abraham’s bosom many ages ago but he still remembered the wonderful summer days in Bethlehem as a child. He remembered the sound of his mother’s laugh; it always made him happy when he thought of her. Today was going to be hot. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he continued to work in the garden. The sounds of life in the city drifted into the garden as did the smells of wood fire burning in preparation of the mid day meal.

His thoughts turned once more to the gruesome death he had witnessed earlier Don Pedro Lasvegus was not the sort of person who you would consider the type of person to have come to this end but yet it had happened. Samuel was glad that when he had entered Spain he had come disguised, as a Christian, laying aside his identity as a Jew. It was most probably the wisest move he could have made. He had religiously followed the Christian observances while he was in Spain it made sense because word had spread to the rest of the world that Spain was a Catholic country and Catholics were well received here. Thus Samuel had become a catholic for all intents and purposes. He had been here for about forty years now. Soon he would have to move again. He never stayed longer then forty years in one place. People began asking questions if one stayed longer, he had learned this from bitter experience, but for a short while longer he would linger in the Spanish sunshine.

This morning’s execution was not the only one. Recently there had been a marked increase in the burning of heretics. Samuel was beginning to worry. If people really wanted to they could begin asking questions that would expose him thus he began thinking of where he would like to travel to next. Maybe a colder northern climate he thought he heard that France was a nice country, maybe he would go there next or maybe England. King Henry was well known for the problems he was having with the Church of Rome. Maybe he would be well received in England. He could open an inn in one of the counties. He had heard from travelers that England was a very green country, rich in trees and Samuel had a fondness for tree. Yes, maybe England would be his next home.

Once again his thoughts turned to Don Pedro’s end. Six months ago Don Pedro had walked into the inn and ordered wine for himself and a friend. They had talked and enjoyed an afternoon in the inn. At that time Don Pedro’s tongue had loosened more and more, laughing and joking like the noble man that he was without a care in the world, now Don Pedro was no more.

The main room of the inn was full. It was early evening and a group of minstrels had just started up singing and playing a lively old folk song. The guests eating at the tables joined in, stamping their feet in time to the music. The smell of good food wafted through the room as the guests tucked into their food. Samuel was busy serving a table of travelers with some of the local red wine.

He was paying little attention to the people leaving and entering the inn, so he did not notice the black robed priest enter. Samuel only became aware that one of the members of the feared inquisition was present. When he noticed the dark look that passed across Maria’s face, he turned and saw the tall thin man seated in the corner drinking a glass of wine looking in his direction. Samuel smiled and moved forward his hands extended in a sign of welcome like any good host would greet a valued customer. “Greetings Padre, can we offer you some food or more wine?” “No I am content” said the priest, “but I would