Cathedral of the Sea

“Citizens of Barcelona,” he shouted, loud enough for the whole army to hear, “I know the reason why you are here today. I know you are seeking justice for one of your citizens. Here I stand. I confess to being the perpetrator of the crimes I am accused of, but before you take me prisoner and lay waste to my buildings, I beg you for the chance to speak.”

“Do so,” one of the councillors authorized him.

“It is true that, against her will, I have abducted and lain with Mar Estanyol ...” At this, a murmur ran through the ranks of the host, forcing him to break off for a moment. Arnau’s hands gripped his crossbow. “I did so at the risk of losing my life, aware that this is the punishment for such an offense. I did it, and if I were born a second time I would do it again, because such is the love I have for this girl, such the despair I felt at seeing her waste her youth without a husband beside her to help her enjoy the fruits God blessed her with, that my emotions overcame my reason, and I behaved more like an animal crazed with passion than one of King Pedro’s knights.” Joan could sense the entire army listening intently, and willed the knight to say the right thing. “For being an animal, I hand myself over to you; but as the knight I long to become once more, I solemnly swear to marry Mar Estanyol and to love her for the rest of my life. Judge me! I am not prepared, as our laws provide, to give her up to another husband of the same social rank. I would kill myself rather than see her with anyone else.”

Felip de Ponts finished his speech and waited, proud and erect on his steed, defying an army of three thousand men. The host was silent, trying to take in all that they had heard.

“Praised be the Lord!” shouted Joan.

Arnau stared at him in astonishment. Everyone, including Eleonor, turned to look at the friar.

“What do you mean by that?” Arnau asked him.

“Arnau,” Joan insisted, taking hold of his arm and speaking loud enough for all those around them to hear, “this is nothing more than the result of our own negligence.” Arnau looked startled. “For years we have gone along with Mar’s whims, neglecting our duties toward a beautiful young woman who should already have brought children into the world, as the laws of God decree—and who are we to go against our Lord’s intentions?” Arnau started to say something, but Joan raised his hand to cut him short. “I feel guilty for this. For years I have felt guilty for being too complaisant with a headstrong girl whose life was without meaning according to the precepts taught by the holy Catholic Church. This knight,” he went on, pointing to Felip de Ponts, “is nothing more than the hand of God, someone sent by our Lord to carry out a task we have proved ourselves unequal to. Yes, for years I have felt guilty seeing how God-given beauty and health were being wasted by a girl fortunate enough to be adopted by somebody as good and kind as you. I have no wish also to feel guilty for the death of a knight who, risking his own life, has merely accomplished what we ourselves were incapable of doing. Give your consent to the marriage. I, if my opinion is of any worth, would accept the knight’s proposal.”

Arnau said nothing for some time. The whole army was waiting to hear what he had to say. Joan took advantage to glance round at Eleonor, and thought he could see a triumphant smile on her lips.

“Do you mean to say that all this is my fault?” Arnau asked Joan.

“Mine, Arnau, mine. It’s I who should have instructed you concerning the laws of the Church, and what God’s designs for mankind are, but I never did ... and am sorry for it.”

Guillem’s eyes were blazing.

“What are the girl’s wishes?” Arnau asked Felip de Ponts.

“I am a knight of King Pedro,” the other man replied, “and his laws, the exact same ones that have brought you here today, take no account of the wishes of a woman of marrying age.” A mutter of approval ran through the ranks of the host. “I, Felip de Ponts, a Catalan knight, am offering my hand in marriage. If you, Arnau Estanyol, baron of Catalonia and consul of the sea, do not consent to the marriage, then take me prisoner and judge me. But if you do consent, then the girl’s wishes are of little importance.”

“This is not about her wishes, Arnau,” Joan insisted, lowering his voice. “It’s about your duty. Fulfill it. Nobody asks their daughters’ or their wards’ opinion. The decision as to what is best for them is taken on their behalf. This man has lain with Mar. What she wishes does not really matter now. Either she marries him or her life will be hell. You are the one to decide, Arnau: another senseless death, or the divine solution to our lack of care.”

Arnau turned to his companions. He saw Guillem still staring at the knight, bristling with hatred. He saw Eleonor, the wife the king had forced on him. They met each other’s gaze. Arnau gestured to her for her opinion. Eleonor nodded. Arnau turned back to Joan.

“It’s the law,” Joan insisted.