Free Bartolomé by Rachel vanKooij Page A

living by sitting in idleness, reading, impressed Joaquín.
    â€˜I can’t do it,’ Isabel whispered to him as they stood outside the shop. She was embarrassed to think that all the passersby would be whispering about her.
    Joaquín stepped up to the pawnbroker. ‘Señor, my mother would like to pledge a ring for a short while,’ he said politely.
    The old man snapped his book shut and stood up. ‘Everything that is left here is left only for a short time, Señora,’ he said kindly.
    He opened the door and led Isabel and Joaquín into a dusky room. ‘Rebecca!’ he called. ‘We have customers.’
    A pretty young girl emerged from the darkness, carrying an oil lamp. She put it down on a table and smiled at Joaquín and Isabel. Isabel rummaged in her skirt. With shaking fingers, she took out the ring and unwrapped it. She held the jewel out to Joaquín, who put it on the table. The pawnbroker pushed the oil lamp nearer. He took a magnifying glass and a pair of scales out of a drawer. He weighed the ring carefully and examined it closely for a long time.
    â€˜Definitely more than one generation old,’ he murmured. ‘Comes from the Seville area, if I am not mistaken.’
    Joaquín stared at the girl. She had an ivory face, framed by jet-black hair.
    â€˜Rebecca, offer the señora a seat,’ ordered the pawnbroker.
    Isabel protested, but Rebecca pushed a chair towards her. Joaquín put out his hand for it.
    â€˜Thank you very much, Señorita,’ he said hoarsely.
    Isabel sat down. Her hands were clutching the linen that the ring had been wrapped in. Suppose the pawnbroker put the ring in his pocket and sent them away without giving them anything for it!
    The old man stretched his back. ‘The ring has a certain value,’ he declared carefully, watching the woman’s face closely. Interpreting the relief that always showed in the faces of customers when this sentence was pronounced was an art in itself. That was how he managed always to lend just as much money as the customer needed, and not as much as the jewellery was actually worth. If they could pay him back the sum lent later, he pocketed only the small amount of interest. On the other hand, it often happened that he made a hefty profit if the piece had not been reclaimed by the agreed time and so reverted to him.
    Isabel cast her eyes down. She felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the old man. She was afraid of him.
    Joaquín stood in front of his mother. ‘We want to swap the ring for a book,’ he said bravely, ‘preferably the Bible.’
    Bartolomé had insisted to him that only the Bible contained infinitely many words.
    â€˜The ring for a book?’ repeated the pawnbroker disbelievingly.
    Joaquín nodded. ‘My brother needs it to study reading and writing. When he’s mastered it, we’ll bring the book back and get the ring.’
    The pawnbroker shook his head. Never before had anyone suggested such an unusual trade. ‘If I give you a book, you’ll have to pay the interest in cash.’
    Joaquín nodded his agreement.
    â€˜Within six months – by Epiphany, that is – you must redeem the ring. Otherwise, it’s mine.’
    â€˜Agreed, Señor.’
    Joaquín put out his hand, relieved, to seal the bargain.
    â€˜Just a minute,’ said the pawnbroker. ‘I haven’t got a Bible. But I have other fat books. Rebecca, get them out of the chest.’
    Joaquín thought things over. Bartolomé wanted a Bible. The pawnbroker had only other books. How was he going to know which of them was good enough for studying out of?
    Rebecca came back with an armful of leather volumes and put them down beside the ring on the table. They smelt musty.
    â€˜Choose one,’ the pawnbroker urged Joaquín.
    Joaquín bit his lip. Should he just take the thickest book?
    â€˜They are good books,’ said the girl