In the Shadow of The Alhambra: The Fate of Vidal and his Family in South of Sepharad

January 31, 2024 Colin Mustful

Panorama of the Alhambra from Mirador de San Nicolas. From left to right: Generalife, Veleta mountain, Nasrid Palaces, Palace of Charles V, and Alcazaba

The Alhambra is a royal palace built atop Sabika hill in Granada, Spain. A sprawling complex with elaborate architecture and a commanding position over the city below, the Alhambra demands the attention of all visitors to Granada. Originally built in 1238 by Muhammad I Ibn al-Ahmar, the first Nasrid emir and founder of the Emirate of Granada, today the Alhambra is one of Spain's major tourist attractions and a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

It’s no wonder why, then, the Alhambra is a predominant feature in the lives of the characters in Eric Z. Weintraub’s novel, South of Sepharad. Set in Granada in 1492, South of Sepharad follows Vidal, a Jewish physician who, along with his family, lives in the Jewish sector of Granada called La Judería. When Granada, an Islamic state, is conquered by the Catholic Monarchs Isabella and Ferdinand, all Jews are told that they must leave Granada or convert to Catholicism.

Below is an excerpt from Weintraub’s novel. In it, Vidal has only just learned about the Catholic takeover. As he goes about his daily activities in the shadow of the Alhambra Palace, he worries about the future.

For the remainder of the day, they hurried from Bib Rambla to El Albayzín to make house calls. By midday, the procession had passed, and they crossed the unobstructed main road back into La Judería as locals swept the fallen carnations and horse manure from the stone streets. Wherever they walked in the city, La Alhambra loomed in their view of the sky. The stone-built palace was the size of a small town and so entrenched in the side of Sabika hill that it seemed to have sprouted out from the mountain it rested upon. The sound of the procession now came from the palace itself, but because towers and houses obstructed even the road to the entrance, Vidal saw no sign of man, horse, or sigil. Although he’d never know how they altered the emir’s former palace, the idea of new rulers occupying the sacred Alhambra made him uneasy. Simply because his daughter knew nothing did not mean that Vidal’s suspicions were unfounded. He wanted to ask every converso and Catholic he knew—his patients, Catalina’s family—but imagined he’d seem mad for bringing up such a topic. This was not appropriate to discuss, especially when he had no evidence other than a feeling in his stomach and rumors of horror stories in faraway cities. The Articles of Capitulation proved his theory false. It was absurd to believe that the new monarchs would punish him for his faith or for his residence in Granada. Their armies had fought for control of Granada for nearly a decade and now found themselves exhausted, depleted, and in charge of a new kingdom. The monarchs were undoubtedly concerned with how to get supplies through the mountains, how to run the economy, how to govern the Moors, and how the irrigation system worked. He doubted they’d think to ask the emir anything before they banished him. Yet he should worry about his faith? He laughed every time he asked himself the question. What difference would it make? He was one man in a city of thousands.

This unique watercolor artwork of the Alhambra was specially designed for Eric’s novel, South of Sepharad.

It is from that great palace looming over the city that Vidal’s fears were realized. On March 31, 1492, the Catholic monarchs signed the Alhambra Decree, an edict exiling all Jews from the Kingdom of Spain forcing them to become conversos—converts to the Catholic faith. Just a few weeks later, the Catholic monarchs signed another historic document from within the Alhambra. On April 17, they signed the contract which set the terms for the expedition of Christopher Columbus. From his vantage point on the streets of La Judería, Vidal could not have imagined how the world was about to change.

The Alhambra was never far from Vidal’s sight or his mind. As a palace of the Muslim rulers, it posed no threat to the Jews who were allowed to practice their faith without fear of persecution from the Islamic state. But, whether a Muslim or Christian palace, it also reminded Vidal that Granada was not his homeland. When the Alhambra decree was signed, the Jews of Spain were given four months to flee or convert. After learning about the ultimatum, Vidal stays awake at night pondering the history and future of his people and his faith.

They finished dinner in silence. As he lay on their straw bed in the dark that night and listened to the belabored snores of a woman who’d eaten too soon before sleeping, he recalled a story his father had once told him. When he was ten years old, he had spent the day exploring Granada with his friends. He looked up at the Nasrid Great Mosque and La Alhambra and envied the Moorish buildings for their extravagant size and architecture, much grander than his school or synagogue. When he came home, he went to his father’s table—the same table where the decree still lay—and asked why the Moors’ buildings were so much grander than the Jews’. “Because we live in an Islamic nation.” “Why don’t we live in a Jewish nation?” “No such place has existed for nearly 1,500 years.” His father told him the story of the Roman invasion of Jerusalem, the destruction of the Second Temple, and the banishment of the Jews from the city. How a small band of Jews sailed from the easternmost banks of the Mediterranean Sea and settled among the Muslims in the Iberian Peninsula. “The peninsula became our home, and our ancestors have prospered in the city of Granada for more than a millennium.” The sentence echoed in Vidal’s mind over the sound of Bonadonna’s snores. He looked up at a bedroom ceiling enshrouded in darkness. More than a millennium. And now they would be banished again.

Vidal, his family, and much of his community fled Spain never to return. For Vidal, the Alhambra receded into the background as his caravan of Jews traveled through the hot, dry climes of southern Spain, seeking the Mediterranean and North Africa. But the Alhambra, and its new Catholic inhabitants, were not done with Vidal’s family. Catalina, Vidal’s eldest daughter, stayed behind as a converso. For a while, she remained there in relative safety. But like all conversos she was faced with the Spanish Inquisition. Unbeknownst to Vidal, Catalina was asked to enter the Alhambra. But did she ever leave?

Indeed, the Alhambra Palace is a place of great historical significance and stunningly beautiful architecture. But it’s also a place of cultural significance that can have different meanings at different times and to different peoples. To the Jews of Granda it was their overseer and eventually their exiler. It looms over the city, ever-present, ever-beautiful—a reminder of all things past and all things yet to come.

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