The exile

The exile is one of the short stories, which appear in the short story collection titled The Unveiling.

The exile

The unveiling

The bus stopped in front of the huge cathedral, the Toledo Cathedral, I was among the last to get off, and followed right away the main group of our organized tour while most of the tour members were already crossing the cathedral's broad entrance.

We were a group of haphazard collected tourists from several hotels in the Puerta Del Sol area of Madrid, of different nationalities, Anglo Saxon mostly. We roamed in the huge halls of this gigantic and incredibly beautiful cathedral, while listening attentively to our guide's explanations.

On our way out we stopped near a huge painting depicting a group of Spanish nobles attending some kind of a burial service it seemed; yes that what it was I realized while listening to our guide:

'Here is the burial of the count of Orgaz, by El Greco…'

So that's the famous painting, I thought amazed by its complex composition, and its dark colors; while listening to our guide's words of praise, in his monotonous voice.

'… And if you'll count the figures that stand right behind the deceased and the clergy men from the left, the sixth one is El Greco's auto portrait…'

Silence ensued as each one of us counted without uttering a word the heads in the portrayed group of nobles, to identify the famous painter.

'Our next stop is El Greco's abode and museum,' our guide reminded us and asked us to hurry and leave the cathedral and return to our bus.

I did hear him and was about to leave with the rest, but I stayed a few more seconds watching the sixth figure with just its head popping above the burial ceremony; after I've identified the painted face as the famous El Greco, I must have been spellbound I guess hardly noticing the passing time, for when I turned towards the exit they were gone, I rushed out to see the bus moving away rather fast. I waved an arm hopping someone would see me, but the bus vanished right after leaving the cathedral square turning into a hidden lane.

I was desperate and didn't know what to do next… A cab passed by and I hastened to hail it.

'Do you know where the El Greco museum is?' I asked him that foolish question, and you can guess how confused I was.

'Si senior, cien pesetas…'

'Muy bien f..k off, adelante.' I added quite frustrated, the entire tour in that plush tourist bus was one hundred twenty pesetas per person…

'It's in the Jewish quarter,' the cab driver said in English smiling, to let me know that he got the message.

I opened the rear door and sat down, while he took off and in a matter of hardly fifteen minutes we reached the museum.

'Where's that bloody bus, they should be here?' I blurted out dumbfounded.

'Oh you lost the bus, but you're lucky.' The cab driver made efforts to console me.

'Am I?!?'

'The buses have to park far from here, and your friends must be still on their way on foot.'

'No but I see them,' I said having had a glimpse of some of them in the garden between the two buildings that the museum is consisted of no doubt.

I paid him it was his lucky day but to my regret it wasn't mine, and I rushed to join the tour participants.

'Oh there you're,' the guide said relieved, we're going in.'

We roamed in the museum in both houses, saw all the exhibits and there are many of them; time oozed by slowly and we were very impressed, but it was high time to return to Madrid.

Someone touched my right shoulder; I turned around and saw a familiar face.

'Hola,' he said smiling benevolently.

And who the hell are you? I almost muttered angrily, I've had enough for one day.

'I'm the owner and I wish to let you understand better, what you've seen here.'

This declaration was made in Spanish.

'The owner, don't tell me you're El Greco himself…?'

'Yes it's me you're not wrong,' he added smiling.

'I've got to return to Madrid,' I said impatiently, I'd no time to waste on impostors.

'I'll get you there in no time at all, you don't have to worry.'

'But how, they're on their way to the bus, and that's the only mean of transportation that I've.' I insisted trying to make him understand politely how uptight I am, but I thought I'd spare a few more seconds for his sake.

'But why have you turned to me?' I wondered.

'You must be a Greek by birth, aren’t you?

'No I'm not, I'm Jewish.'

'That's explains my attraction to you, for I'm very well treated here in the Jewish quarter.

Oh and how did you get here and why?' I asked him surprised and amazed at the same time.

'Being a native of Crete, I'd to travel to Italy to improve my art, to study at the studios of the great masters. So I've spent some time in Venice of Titian and Giorgione, and in Rome Hopping to meet Raphael; but they treated me very badly and I was as good as they are and better even in the beginning of my career. They used me as a sub contractor, I couldn't get orders, I couldn't open a studio, and I'd to work for them.'

'That's why you've decided to travel to Spain?'

'Well in a way, the Spanish ambassador discovered me and he organized my migration to Spain… You see I'm as famous as any of them, be it Leonardo, Michelangelo, Titian, Botticelli…' He added with a smile from ear to ear, very proud of himself…

The phone rang and I woke up in my bedroom suite in Hotel Ritz De Madrid.

'Senior Zuarets wake up please otherwise you'll miss your Toledo tour.'

Copyright © Haim Kadman 2014. All rights reserved.

Reviews

[Themistocles Parnassos]

I like the story and the style.

[Haim Kadman]

Thanks so much Themistocles.