Cathedral of the Sea

“They’re going ... they’re going to kill him.”

“Yes.”

Arnau searched the face of this girl who had grown into a woman. Many years ago, he had hidden her underneath this very church. Raquel was not crying, and although it was very dangerous, she was wearing her Jewish costume and the yellow badge.

“We have to be strong,” said the girl he remembered.

“Why, Raquel? Why him?”

“For me. For Jucef. For my children and Jucef’s children, and for our grandchildren. For all the Jews of Barcelona. He said he was already old, that he had lived enough.”

With Raquel’s help, Arnau got to his feet. They followed the noise of the crowd.

The three men were burned alive. They were tied to stakes on the top of bonfires of twigs and branches, which were set alight while the Christians were still baying for revenge. As the flames enveloped his body, Hasdai looked up to the heavens. Now it was Raquel’s turn to burst into tears; she hugged Arnau and buried her face in his chest.

His arms round Hasdai’s daughter, Arnau could not take his eyes off his friend’s burning body. At first he thought he saw him bleeding, but the flames quickly took hold. All of a sudden, he could no longer hear the crowd shouting; all he saw was them raising their fists menacingly ... and then something made him look to his right. Fifty paces or so from the crowd, he saw the bishop and the grand inquisitor standing next to Eleonor. She was talking to them and pointing directly at him. Beside her was another elegantly dressed woman, whom he did not at first recognize. Arnau met the inquisitor’s gaze as Eleonor continued to point at him and shout.

“That Jewish girl is his lover. Just look at them. Look at the way he is embracing her.”

Arnau had his arms tightly round Raquel, who was sobbing desperately on his chest as the flames rose skyward, accompanied by the cheers of the mob. Turning his eyes away from this horror, Arnau found himself looking at Eleonor. When he saw the mixture of deep-rooted hatred and joyous revenge on her face, he shuddered. It was then that he heard the woman standing next to his wife laugh, the same scornful, unforgettable laugh that had been engraved on his memory since childhood: the laugh of Margarida Puig.

47

THIS WAS A revenge that had been a long time coming, and involved many more than Eleonor. A revenge for which the accu-JL sation against Arnau and Raquel was only the start.

The decisions Arnau Estanyol had made as baron of Granollers, San Vicenc dels Horts, and Caldes de Montbui had ruffled the feathers of the other Catalan nobles. They were afraid of the winds of rebellion stirring their own serfs ... Several of them had been obliged to use more force than ever needed before to stifle a revolt among the nobles that was demanding the abolition of privileges which Arnau—that baron who had been born a serf—had reneged on. Among them were Jaume de Bellera, son of the lord of Navarcles, whom Francesca had suckled as a boy, and someone from whom Arnau had taken his house, his fortune, and his way of life: Genis Puig. After losing, Genis had been forced to live in the old Navarcles house that belonged to his grandfather, Grau’s father. The house was a world away from the palace on Calle Montcada where he had spent most of his life. Both these men spent hours lamenting their ill fortune and plotting revenge. Revenge which, if his sister Margarida’s letters were true, was about to come to fruition...

ARNAU ASKED THE sailor giving evidence to wait. He turned to the court usher of the Consulate of the Sea, who had burst into the chamber.

“A captain and soldiers sent by the Holy Inquisition wish to see you,” the usher whispered in Arnau’s ear.

“What do they want?” asked Arnau. The usher shrugged. “Tell them to wait until the hearing is over,” Arnau told him, before urging the sailor to continue his testimony.

Another sailor had died during a journey, and the owner of the ship was refusing to pay his heirs more than two months’ wages. The widow claimed that the contract had not been in terms of months, and that since her husband had died at sea, she ought to be paid half his total wage.

“Go on,” said Arnau, looking over at the widow and her three children.

“No sailor is ever paid by the month ...”

Suddenly the courtroom doors crashed open. A captain and six soldiers of the Inquisition came in wielding their swords. They pushed the usher aside and stood in the middle of the room.

“Arnau Estanyol?” the captain asked, looking directly at him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Arnau protested. “How dare you interrupt—”

The captain stepped forward until he was directly in front of Arnau. “Are you Arnau Estanyol, consul of the sea, baron of Granollers?”

“You know very well I am, Captain,” Arnau interrupted him, “but—”

“By order of the tribunal of the Holy Inquisition, you are under arrest. Come with me.”

The court missatges made to defend the consul, but Arnau motioned to them to be still.

“Be so kind as to stand aside,” Arnau asked the captain.