My dismay was revealed on my face.
"You do not want to publish a literary masterpiece that was proclaimed the work of angels in Spain and sold better than anything those dolts Vega and Cervantes ever wrote—or stole—from me?"
"It's not that I don't want to publish it, it's just that I don't think our little printing venture could do justice to—"
Mateo's dagger blade appeared under my chin.
"Print it."
We had been in the business for some months when we received our first visit from the Inquisition.
"We did not know you were in the business of printing," a fish-faced man wearing the uniform of a familiar of the Inquisition told me. His name was Jorge Gomez. "You have not submitted your materials to the Holy Office and obtained from it permission to print."
I had carefully prepared a cover story and had prominently displayed, the "book" on saints that we were printing. I apologized profusely and explained that the owner of the shop was in Madrid to obtain exclusive rights to print and sell in New Spain matters concerning saints.
"He left Juan and me here to prepare for full printing of the tomes when he returns with the royal license and presents it to the viceroy and the Holy Office."
I again expressed my regret and offered the man a gratis copy of the book when printing was completed.
"What else do you print while your master is gone?" the Inquisition official asked.
"Nothing. We cannot even print the complete book on saints until our master returns with enough paper and ink to finish the job."
Familiars were not priests but technically just "friends" of the Holy Office, volunteers who assisted the inquisitors. In truth, they wore the green cross of the Inquisition and acted as a secret constabulary who performed services ranging from acting as bodyguards to inquisitors, to breaking into homes in the middle of the night to arrest those accused and haul them to the dungeon of the Holy Office.
Familiars were feared by all. Their reputation was so dreadful that the king occasionally used the terror they strike to keep those around him from swaying in their loyalty.
"You understand that you are forbidden to print any books or other works without first obtaining the proper permission. If it should be found out that you were in fact involved in any illegitimate printing..."
"Of course, Don Jorge," I said, rewarding the honorific to a peasant whose closest encounter with being genteel was stepping in the manure of a gentleman's horse. "Frankly, we have so little to do until our master returns, if there are any simple printing jobs that we are capable of and can do as an accommodation for the Holy Office, we would be happy to do so."
Something stirred deep in the familiar's eyes. The eye motion, which I could not have defined at the time but that I have come to realize is a slight widening of the inner circle of the eye, is a reaction that few people except successful merchants and successful léperos would recognize.
The common name for the phenomena is greed.
I had been trying to think of a way to offer the official mordida but had hesitated. Some of these familiars had the reputation of being such zealots that they would refuse their own mother the mercy of the garret and let them burn slowly from the toes up. None the less, I had given "Don Jorge" an opening.
"The Holy Office does need assistance with certain printing jobs. We once used the printer who occupied these very premises, but he proved to be a tool of the devil."
I crossed myself.
"Perhaps I can assist until my master returns..."
He took me aside so that Juan could not hear.
"Is that mestizo a good Christian?"
"If his blood were untainted, he would be a priest," I assured him. He had assumed I was Spanish, and of course that made me a defender of the Faith unless I acted contrary.
"I shall return later with two documents that I will need copies of for priests and nuns throughout New Spain. The contents change occasionally and will need to be updated." He stared at me narrow-eyed. "To uncover blasphemers and Jews, the workings of the Holy Office must remain a secret. Any failure to maintain the secrecy would be akin to doing the devil's work."
"Of course."
"You must take an oath of secrecy never to reveal what you have been given to print."
"Of course, Don Jorge."
"I will bring you two documents today. These documents require a large number of copies, and you will be paid a modest recompense to cover the cost of ink. The Holy Office will supply the paper."
"Thank you for your generosity, Don Jorge."
So that was it. He would be collecting the full amount of printing costs from the Holy Office but only passing on to me enough to pay for supplies to keep me in business. And assuredly the excess would not find its way to a poor box.
Oh, the wiles and intrigues of men! While this sort of intrigue is expected from any official in the realm, one would think that those who served the Church would hold themselves in better stead with God.
"What are these documents?"
"The list of people suspected of being blasphemers and Jews," he said, "and the list of books prohibited by the Holy Office."
EIGHTY-EIGHT
"Converso. Suspected marrano. Accused by Miguel de Soto."
Mateo finished reading the entry about Don Julio on the Inquisition's black list. I had naturally kept a copy of the list of suspect people after printing it.
"Who is Soto and why has he made an accusation that Don Julio is a secret Jew?" Mateo pondered.
"I spoke to an auditor in the viceroy's countinghouse, whose tastes in reading would make Lucifer blush and repent. He says Soto buys and sells workers. He deals in bond servants, landless indios, luckless mestizos, anyone or group that is helpless and can be roped into a project. He contracted with the tunnel project to provide indios—thousands of them. Even considering that he had to bribe half the city's officials to get the contract, he still made an enormous amount of money. Why he would make an accusation against the don, I don't know, but I can guess."
"The don has accused him of providing poor materials and workmanship on the tunnel, causing it to fail?" Mateo said.
"No, he only provided workers for others. My guess is he's doing Ramon de Alva a favor."
"What does Alva have to do with Soto?"
"Miguel is his brother-in-law. So is Martin de Soto, who hauled timber and materials for bricks."
"What service did Alva provide on the tunnel project?"
"None—on the surface, at least. He appears to be only involved in running the business affairs of Don Diego Velez, Marqués de la Marche." Eléna's uncle, but my connection to Eléna was a better kept secret the Inquisition's list of accused. "Alva appears to have made himself a very rich man along with the Marqués. The auditor says that whatever the Soto's are involved in, you will find Alva."
"Your nemesis."
"My tormentor. And now the don's. Don Julio believes that failure to follow his instructions and poor workmanship and materials caused the tunnel to collapse. But he has difficulty proving it."
"He is accusing the ones who did the work of the misdeeds. Miguel Soto probably charged for ten workers for every one he provided. And his brother-in-law no doubt delivered half the bricks and timber he was paid for. If a scapegoat is ever needed, a converso will fall faster than anyone else. Soto and the others are blackening the don's name with their accusations about Judaism. There is no better way to destroy a man's life than to be dragged out of bed by familiars in the middle of the night."