Cathedral of the Sea

“That’s impossible. Not all the ships are headed for the same destination. You know the sailing season is short. If the ships cannot leave, all our trade will be held up. They will not be back in time, and so will miss some journeys. That will push the price of everything up again. We will all lose money.” “You included,” thought Arnau. “On top of which, it’s dangerous for ships to wait too long in Barcelona: if a storm blows up ...”

“So what do you suggest?”

“That you set them all free. That you order the friars to stop searching their homes. That you give them back their belongings, that... ,” thought Arnau. “Impose a fine on the whole Jewish community,” was what he said.

“The people are demanding the guilty be punished, and the infante has promised to find them. The profanation of a host—”

“The profanation of a host,” Arnau interrupted him, “whether or not the bleeding host appeared, will of course be more expensive than any other kind of crime.” Why bother to argue? The Jews had been judged and condemned. The magistrate wrinkled his brow. “Why not make the attempt? If we succeed, it will be the Jews and only them who pay. If not, it’s going to be a bad year for trade, and all of us will lose.”

SURROUNDED BY WORKMEN, noise, and dust, Arnau looked up at the keystone that topped the second of the four vaults above Santa Maria’s central nave, the latest completed. On the end of the keystone was an image of the Annunciation, with the Virgin dressed in a red cape edged with gold, kneeling as the angel brought her the news that she was to give birth. Arnau’s attention was caught by the bright reds, blues, and especially the golden hues of the delicate scene. The magistrate had considered Arnau’s arguments and finally yielded.

Twenty-five thousand shillings and fifteen guilty men! That was the answer the magistrate gave Arnau the next day after he had consulted with the infante Don Juan’s court.

“Fifteen culprits? You want to execute fifteen people because of the ravings of four madmen?”

The magistrate thumped the table. “Those madmen belong to the holy Catholic Church.”

“You know it’s an impossible demand,” said Arnau.

The two men stared at each other.

“No culprits,” Arnau insisted.

“That’s not possible. The infante—”

“No culprits! Twenty-five thousand shillings is a fortune.”

Arnau left the magistrate’s palace not knowing where to go. What could he say to Hasdai? That fifteen Jews had to die? Yet he could not get out of his mind the image of those five thousand people packed into the synagogue with no water or food ...

“When will I have my answer?” he had asked the magistrate.

“The infante is out hunting.”

Hunting! Five thousand people were shut up on his orders, and he had gone hunting. It could not have been more than three hours by horse from Barcelona to Gerona, where the infante, duke of Gerona and Cervera, had his lands, but Arnau had to wait until late the following afternoon to be summoned again by the magistrate.

“Thirty-five thousand shillings and five culprits.”

Ten Jews for ten thousand shillings. “Perhaps that’s the price of a man,” thought Arnau.

“Forty thousand, and no culprits.”

“No.”

“I’ll appeal to the king.”

“You know that the king has enough problems with the war against Castille without looking for more with his son. That was why he named him his lieutenant.”

“Forty-five thousand, but no one guilty.”

“No, Arnau, no ...”

“Ask him!” Arnau exploded. “I beg you,” he added apologetically.

WHEN HE WAS still several yards from it, Arnau was hit by the stench from the synagogue. The streets of the Jewry looked still more wretched than before: furniture and possessions were strewn everywhere. From inside the houses came the sounds of the friars demolishing walls and floors in their search for the body of Christ. When Arnau saw Hasdai, he had to struggle to keep his composure. Hasdai was accompanied by two rabbis and two leaders of the community. Arnau’s eyes were stinging. Could it be from the acid fumes of urine coming from inside the synagogue, or simply because of the news he had to give them?

For a few moments, to a background noise of groans and wails, Arnau watched as the others tried to get fresh air into their lungs: what could it be like inside? All of them cast anxious glances at the streets around them; for a while they seemed to hold their breath.

“They want culprits,” Arnau told him when the five men had recovered. “We started with fifteen. Now it’s down to five, and I hope that—”

“We can’t wait, Arnau Estanyol,” one of the rabbis interrupted him. “One old man has died today; he was sick, and our doctors could do nothing for him, not even moisten his lips. And we are not allowed to bury him. Do you know what that means?” Arnau nodded. “Tomorrow, the stink of his decomposing body will be added to—”