In 1600s Spain, Inquisitor Diego arrives in a rural village with a mission to investigate the local conversos, ensuring their conversions to Catholicism have been genuine. This inquiry goes well until visits the home of one converso named Alejandro. Baffled, and increasingly annoyed by Alejandro’s odd answers to basic theological questions, Inquisitor Diego decides to teach Alejandro a lesson.
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Feudal-age filial fellows’ fate was foremost following footsteps father-to-son, fairly fair if fitting the fellow or far from fair if far from fitting. For Moors since the Reconquista, like artistic artisan ancestor Aziz and his descendants such as Alejandro, that meant losing their glorious Granada emirate luxury business and sophisticated city life, chased to dusty hamlets and reduced to ignorant peasantry as conversion to Catholicism merely saved their lives, without buying trust or acceptance.
Diego was a lot luckier, as there was one major option for social promotion of ‘purebred Catholics’ : smart boys of modest birth discovered by a notable recommending them for admission to seminary could climb the ladder as clerics, even all the way to cardinal and minister of the absolutist crown. His father was a twentieth generation pig farmer in a neighbouring Andalusian village, but(t) as angelic altar boy the ambitious boy caught the pastoral eye and favour, finishing in Salamanca theology faculty, where inquisitors were recruited, finally sent to investigate conversos in his native province. Unlike temporal feudal courts, where guilty was almost the standard sentence, canon law retained the Roman presumption of innocence, which virtuous Diego wisely aimed to uphold in all his Inquisition cases, especially realizing rustic rascals rarely sinned except by ignorance, while inhabitants’ imputations tended to be unproven, sordid smear, simply-shamelessly serving such selfish purposes as personal rivalry or revenge rather than real religious reservations. Also aware reputation-wrecking rumours don’t die down without proper, probably painful proceeding, rendering the allegation-object almost a local outlaw, dutiful Diego diligently puts on a public-persuasive show to catch the rare guilty and use his ecclesiastical authority to clear the many mere mud-marked mutts as they mostly deserve. Considering conversos were commonly considered contemptible usual suspects, he kindly cares to take their cases, confident he can commonly clear them convincingly. Contrary to common belief, questioning under torture -often extorting ‘confessions’- was common practice in temporal courts, lots less in Inquisition, where it was rather last resort, but(t) Diego pondered a pup is probably better off having his posterior painfully pounded and pronounced publicly cleared than remaining a ‘dubious outcast’ with a wholly-healthy hide but(t) ruined reputation.
Knowing other falsely accused conversos were coldly condemned, confiscating their little land and personal property or losing it to vicious ‘true’ Catholic claimants, Alejandro and his family (who actually call him Ali) were grateful to hear the church sent no dogmatic, ‘heresy’-hating hawk to their rustic region but(t) pragmatical Diego, whose reputation for fairness had spread among converso communities. Clerics commonly call their flock God’s and their children, for the ecclesiastical establishment to mind, guide and chastise, often suffered in sulking silence, only conversos like Alejandro piously prayed for the privilege to be counted among those children, so he longed to learn lasting lessons by lectures and laid-on lash from the high and mighty man of God, which his own ignorant elders aren’t able to give, like he often got lovingly scolded, kicked and spanked by angry ancestors for field flaws and filial faults, a farm-boy’s frequent fanny-fate for the best. As obediently as often at home, he offers his orbs for any ordeal, prepared for any painful pantless-posterior-purple-paining penitence part of proving his proper ‘puerile’ piety. If only it earns him actual absolution after any amount of absolutely-abject-arse-agony, he and his whole family will thank God for it on naked knees every day, regretting only they ignore which patron saint to beg to intercede for them wretched rustic sinners of pure hearts and send such proper paternalistic personification of procedurally-perfected piety, his hotly-hided humble-hound-heinie heavenly helps him finally feeling warmly welcomed as a lesser son of God like when his clothless currish kid cones were crimson-castigated by (grand)father or patriarch in countess cases, thanked tearfully for a tender-tanned teen-tail, way worthier with this Godsent ‘grandee’ who needs only one hell-hot hiding-go to save them from hellfire and hatred hell on earth !