Torquemada’s campaign against the Jews had been relentlessly pursued since he had established his new form of Inquisition with himself as Inquisitor General, and the time had now come, he said, to make the supreme gesture against the Jews.

He wanted every Jew who would not accept Christianity to be driven from Spain.

Now, he declared, was the moment to do this. The Sovereigns had clearly been selected by the Divine will to create an all-Christian Spain. After seven hundred years they had recaptured the land from the Moors, so that the conquest was complete.

‘This is a sign,’ said Torquemada.

Public opinion was ready. The Jews had never been so hated as they were at this time.

This was due to a case which had excited much public attention.

A year or so before, a Jew, named Benito Garcia, was travelling in the course of his business, when he had been robbed; and in his knapsack was found a consecrated wafer.

The robbers took this wafer to the magistrate and told him where they had found it. They were immediately forgiven their crime, and Garcia was arrested for what was considered an even greater one. He was cruelly tortured; in his agony he mentioned the names of other Jews, and a story emerged. It was the old story of a Christian boy who was kidnapped by Jews, taken to a cave where he had been subjected to ritual murder, his heart having been cut out, after which he was crucified in the manner in which Christ had been.

The case had excited public opinion, and Torquemada and his officials had seen that it received the utmost publicity. The Christian boy’s body could not be found, but this, it was explained, was due to the fact that he had ascended to heaven as Christ had done. He became known then as Santo Niño, and miracles were said to have been performed in his name. Hysteria and superstition were intensified.

All those who were accused of being concerned in the case were tortured and met death at the stake. Two of them, however, had been considered too evil even for death by burning. These were an old man of eighty and his young son, who refused to accept the Christian faith and remained loyal to that of their forefathers to the end. Their flesh was torn with red-hot pincers, but before they died they were set over faggots which had been dampened that they might not burn too quickly, and these two – the old man and the youth – were finally killed by roasting over a slow fire.

Torquemada now believed the moment was ripe for the banishment of the Jews, and for this reason he came to Granada to see the Sovereigns.

Ferdinand’s greed was now well known and, as the fury of the people had been whipped up against them, the anxious Jews met together to discuss what could be done.

It was suggested that they should collect a large sum of money which they would offer to Ferdinand in exchange for permission to keep their homes.

So, shortly after Torquemada reached Granada to obtain the consent of Ferdinand and Isabella to his plan, a deputation of Jews arrived and asked for an audience with the Sovereigns.

Ferdinand and Isabella received this deputation.

‘Highnesses,’ they were told, ‘we could raise a sum of thirty thousand ducats which we would present to you in exchange for permission to stay in Spain and keep our homes. We implore Your Highnesses to allow us to set about collecting this money and to give us your sacred promise that when it is yours we shall be unmolested.’

Even Isabella hesitated. The exchequer was perilously low, for the war had cost so much more than she had believed possible and there was still a great deal to be done. The need for money was desperate.

Thirty thousand ducats! The words were the sweetest music in Ferdinand’s ears. And all they had to do was refuse to sign the Edict which Torquemada was preparing.

‘I see that you are eager to become good citizens,’ said Ferdinand. ‘I believe that we might come to some arrangement.’

The members of the deputation were almost weeping with relief; and Isabella felt a certain pleasure that she could agree to please both them and Ferdinand at the same time.

Meanwhile one of Torquemada’s lieutenants had sought out his master.

‘Holy Prior,’ he said, ‘a deputation is now in the presence of the Sovereigns. I have made it my business to discover theirs, and I have learned that they are offering thirty thousand ducats in exchange for the Sovereigns’ promise that they may remain in Spain.’

Torquemada’s face was paler than usual.

He snatched up a crucifix and made his way to the royal apartments.

He did not ask for an audience but stormed into the chamber, where Ferdinand and Isabella sat at a table while the Jewish deputation stood by, presenting documents which the Sovereigns were about to sign.

Ferdinand looked at the Prior with astonishment.

‘What means this?’ he demanded.

‘I will tell you what it means!’ cried Torquemada. ‘The angels are weeping this day. And the reason! Judas Iscariot sold his Master for thirty pieces of silver. The Sovereigns of Christian Spain are preparing to sell Him for thirty thousand!’

He took the crucifix from under his robe and, holding it up, he raised his eyes to Heaven.

‘Holy Mother of God,’ he went on, ‘you have interceded for us. Great victories have been granted us. Now you look down and see our unworthiness. I pray you do not hesitate to take our greatness from us. We have been granted grace, and in return we desecrate the holy name of God.’

Then he threw the crucifix onto the table, and continued: ‘You are bartering Christ for your pieces of silver. Here He is. Barter Him away!’

Torquemada then strode out of the apartment.

Isabella and Ferdinand looked at each other, then at the crucifix on the table, and a terrible fear came to them.

They saw themselves as guilty of the great betrayal.

Isabella said: ‘Pray leave us. The Prior is right. The Edict shall go forth.’

Thus was the fate of the Jews settled.

Meanwhile Cristobal waited.

Beatriz de Bobadilla and Luis de Sant’angel both implored the Queen not to allow him to go away again, while Talavera, on the other hand, was pointing out to the Sovereigns that the arrogance of Cristobal Colon was insupportable.

Luis de Sant’angel talked to Ferdinand of the explorer’s prospects.

‘Why, Highness,’ he said, ‘it is true the man demands a high price, but if he makes no discovery he receives nothing; and if he succeeds in making this discovery Spain will receive wealth as yet undreamed of.’

Ferdinand listened intently. He had made up his mind that Cristobal Colon must make his discoveries for Spain and no other country.

‘It is, however,’ he said to Luis de Sant’angel, ‘a question of providing the means. You know how the exchequer has been depleted since the Moorish wars. Where could we find the money to finance such an expedition?’

Luis was staring carefully ahead of him, for he knew that Ferdinand did not wish to meet his eyes. As Aragonese Secretary of Supplies, Luis knew that there were ample funds in the Aragonese treasury to finance the expedition. But the affluence of the Aragonese treasury was a close secret which Ferdinand did not wish to be made known at the Court of Castile – and more especially to the Queen.

Ferdinand did not forget for a moment his Aragonese ambitions, which meant as much to him as the conquest of Granada itself. Therefore while Castile groaned in poverty, and the Queen had wondered how they could continue to prosecute the war, Ferdinand’s Aragonese treasury had been in possession of these ample funds.