Cathedral of the Sea

One thing was clear: she needed a child from her husband to secure her future. Arnau had kept his word, and Eleonor had been able to enjoy a very different kind of life: one of luxury, which she had seen while she lived at court, but had been unable to enjoy for herself because of all the royal treasurers’ petty regulations. Now she could spend as much as she wanted; she had all she could wish for. But if Arnau were to die ... And the only thing that stood in her way, the only thing keeping him from her, was that voluptuous young witch. If that witch were not there ... if she disappeared ... Arnau would be hers! Surely she would be capable of seducing a runaway serf.

A FEW DAYS later, Eleonor summoned the friar to her apartments. He was the only one among the Estanyol family with whom she had any dealings.

“I don’t believe it!” said Joan.

“But it’s true, Brother Joan,” said Eleonor, face buried in her hands. “He has not even touched me since we were married.”

Joan knew that Arnau had no love for Eleonor and that they slept in different chambers. That was unimportant: nobody married for love, and most nobles slept apart. But if Arnau had not ever lain with Eleonor, they were not properly married.

“Have you spoken to him about it?” he asked.

Eleonor moved her hands from her face, making sure that Joan got a good view of her reddened eyes.

“I do not dare. I would not know what to say. Besides, I think ...” Eleonor let her suspicions float on the air.

“What do you think?”

“I think Arnau is much closer to Mar than to his own wife.”

“You know Arnau adores her.”

“I am not talking about that kind of love, Brother Joan,” she insisted, lowering her voice. Joan sat upright in his chair. “Yes. I know you find it hard to believe, but I’m sure that girl, as you call her, wants my husband for herself. It’s like having the Devil in my house, Brother Joan!” Eleonor brought a tremble to her voice. “My weapons, Brother Joan, are those of a simple woman who merely wishes to comply with the precepts of the Church to married women, but every time I try to, I find that my husband is so blinded by her charms he is prevented from even seeing me. I have no idea what to do!”

Was that why Mar refused to get married? Could it be true? Joan reflected on it: the two were always together, and he had seen her fling herself in his arms. And the way they looked each other, the way they laughed and smiled! How stupid he had been! He was sure the Moor knew it, and that was why he always defended her.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said evasively.

“I have a plan ... but I need your help and, above all, your advice.”

43

As HE LISTENED to Eleonor’s plan, a shudder ran through Joan’s body.

“I have to think about it,” he told her when she insisted how dramatic her situation was.

That evening he shut himself up in his room. He excused himself from dinner. He avoided Mar and Arnau. He avoided Eleonor’s inquisitive looks. Instead, he consulted his volumes of theology, which were neatly arranged in a cupboard. He was confident he could find the answer to his dilemma there. During all the years he had spent apart from his brother, he had always thought of him. He loved Arnau; he and his father were the only ones Joan could turn to in his childhood. Yet there were as many hidden folds to his affection as there were in his black habit. Lurking somewhere among them was an admiration that came close to envy. Arnau, with that frank smile of his, those easy gestures: a little boy who claimed he could talk to the Virgin. Brother Joan clenched his fists when he remembered how often he himself had tried to hear that voice. Now he knew it was almost impossible, and that only a chosen few were blessed with that honor. He had studied and disciplined himself in the hope that he might be one of them. He fasted until his health was threatened, but all in vain.

Brother Joan buried himself in the doctrines of Bishop Hincmaro of Rheims, those of Saint Leo the Great, of Master Graciano, the epistles of Saint Paul, and many others.

It was only through the carnal communion of the married couple, the coniunctio sexuum, that matrimony among human beings reflected the union of Christ with the Church, which was the main objective of the sacrament. Without that carnalis copula, matrimony did not exist, according to the first of these authors.

Only when a marriage had been consummated through carnal relations was it regarded as valid by the Church, ruled Saint Leo the Great.