Cathedral of the Sea

Arnau looked at the knight, then at the army. They had all lowered their weapons. None of the three thousand men seemed to dismiss Felip de Ponts’s arguments: none of them wanted war. They were all waiting for Arnau’s decision. Such was the law of Catalonia, the law regarding women. What was to be gained by fighting, killing the knight, and freeing Mar? What would her life be like now that she had been abducted and raped? Would she spend it in a convent?

“I give my consent.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then, as Arnau’s decision spread through them, a murmur rose from the ranks of soldiers. Someone shouted his approval. Another man agreed. Several more joined in, until the entire host acclaimed it.

Joan and Eleonor glanced at each other.

A hundred yards away, locked in the tower of Felip de Ponts’s farmhouse, the woman whose future had just been decided was watching the army massed at the foot of the hill outside. Why did they not charge up it? Why did they not attack? What could they be discussing with that wretch? What were they shouting?

“Arnau? What are your men shouting?”

45

IT WAS THE shouts from the host that convinced Guillem that what he had heard was true: “I consent.” He clenched his teeth. Somebody clapped him on the back and joined in the shouting. “I consent.” Guillem stared at Arnau and then at the knight. His face seemed relaxed. What could a mere slave like him do? He looked again at Felip de Ponts: now he was smiling. “I have lain with Mar Estanyol ...” That was what he had said: “I have lain with Mar Estanyol!” How could Arnau ... ?

Someone thrust a wineskin at him. Guillem pushed it away.

“Don’t you drink, Christian?” he heard someone ask.

He caught Arnau’s eye. The city councillors were congratulating Felip de Ponts, who was still on his steed. All around him, soldiers were drinking and laughing.

“Don’t you drink, Christian?” he heard again behind him.

Guillem pushed the man off and looked in Arnau’s direction once more. The councillors were congratulating him as well. Despite being surrounded, Arnau met Guillem’s gaze.

Then the crowd, with Joan among them, forced Arnau to head up the hill to the farmhouse. Arnau was still looking back at Guillem.

The entire host was celebrating the agreement reached. Some soldiers had lit campfires and sat around them singing.

“Drink to our consul and the happiness of his daughter,” said another man, again offering him a wineskin.

Arnau had disappeared on the track up to the house.

Guillem pushed the wineskin away again.

“Are you refusing to drink to ... ?”

Guillem stared the man in the eye, then turned his back on him and set off walking in the direction of Barcelona. Gradually the noise of the host faded in the distance. Guillem found himself alone on the road back to the city. He walked along, dragging his feet ... dragging along with him his feelings, and what little pride as a man he could still feel as a mere slave. All this he dragged along with him back to Barcelona.

Arnau refused the cheese that the trembling old woman who looked after Felip de Ponts’s farmhouse offered him. Aldermen and councillors had all crowded into the large room above the stables, where the big stone hearth stood. Arnau looked in vain for Guillem among the crowd of people. Everyone was talking and laughing, calling out to the old woman for her to serve them cheese and wine. Joan and Eleonor stayed close to the hearth; whenever Arnau looked in their direction, they glanced away.

A sudden whisper in the crowd made him switch his attention to the far end of the room.

Mar had come in, on Felip de Ponts’s arm. Arnau saw her pull herself free and come running over to him. She was smiling. She threw her arms open, but instead of embracing him, she suddenly stopped and let them fall by her sides.

Arnau thought he could see a bruise on her cheek.

“What is going on, Arnau?”

Arnau turned to Joan for help, but his brother was still looking down at the floor. Everyone in the room was waiting for him to speak.

“The knight Felip de Ponts has invoked the usatge: Si quis virginem ...,” he muttered at length.

Mar did not move. A tear started to roll down her cheek. Arnau lifted his hand to brush it away, then thought better of it, and the teardrop slid down Mar’s neck.

“Your father ...,” Felip de Ponts began to say from behind them, before Arnau could silence him, “the consul of the sea, has consented to your marriage before the entire host of Barcelona.” He rushed through the words before Arnau could stop him ... or change his mind.

“Is this true?” asked Mar.

“The only thing that’s true is that I would like to hold you ... kiss you ... have you with me always. Is that what a father should feel?” Arnau thought.

“Yes, Mar.”