Cathedral of the Sea

“Grau has changed a lot. He’s a rich and important man now.” Guiamona pointed to the many chests lining the walls of the room: the sideboard; a piece of furniture Bernat had never seen in his life before, which was filled with books and crockery; the carpets adorning the floor; and the tapestries and curtains hanging from windows and walls. “He barely attends to the workshop and his potter’s trade these days; it’s Jaume, his chief assistant, who sees to everything. He’s the man you met in the street. Grau is busy as a merchant: ships, wine, oil. Now he is a guild official, which in accordance with the laws and usages of the city, means he is an alderman, a gentleman. Soon he expects to be made a member of the Council of a Hundred.” Guiamona looked around the room. “He’s not the same anymore, Bernat.”

“You’ve changed a lot too,” Bernat said, interrupting her. Guiamona looked down at her matronly body and nodded. “That man Jaume,” Bernat continued, “said something about Grau’s relatives. What did he mean?”

Guiamona shook her head, then replied.

“What he meant was that, as soon as they heard that Grau was rich, all of them—brothers, cousins, nephews—suddenly started turning up at the workshop. They had fled their lands to come and seek Grau’s help.” Guiamona could not help noticing her brother’s expression. “So you too ... ?” Bernat nodded. “But you had such a wonderful farm!”

When she heard Bernat’s story, she could not hold back her tears. As he told her what had happened to the lad in the forge, she stood up and came to kneel next to his chair.

“Don’t mention that to anyone here,” she warned him. Then she laid her head on his lap, and went on listening. “Don’t worry,” she sobbed when Bernat had finished. “We will help you.”

“Ah, sister,” said Bernat, stroking her head. “How do you intend to help me when Grau would not even help his own brothers?”

“BECAUSE MY BROTHER is different!” shouted Guiamona so loudly that Grau took a step backward.

It was night by the time her husband returned home. Small, skinny Grau, a bundle of nerves, strode up the staircase, cursing. Guiamona was waiting for him. Jaume had told him what had happened: “Your brother-in-law is sleeping in the hayloft with the apprentices, his boy ... with your children.”

Grau charged up to his wife.

“How dare you!” he shouted at her when she tried to explain. “He’s a fugitive serf! Do you know what it would mean if they found a fugitive in our house? My ruin, that’s what! It would mean my ruin!”

Guiamona let him talk. He whirled round her, flinging his arms theatrically into the air. He was a good head taller than she was.

“You’re mad! I’ve sent my own brothers overseas on ships! I’ve given my sisters dowries so that they would marry outsiders, and all so that nobody could accuse this family of the slightest thing! And now you ... Why should I act any differently for your brother?”

“Because he is different!” she shouted, silencing him.

Grau hesitated. “What? What do you mean?”

“You know very well. I don’t think I need to remind you why.”

Grau avoided meeting her gaze.

“This very day,” he muttered, “I’ve been meeting one of the five city councillors with a view to being elected to the Council of a Hundred as a guild official. I think I’ve won three of the five over: I still need to convince the bailiff and the magistrate. Can you imagine what my enemies would say if they found out I had given shelter to a fugitive serf?”

Guiamona reminded him softly: “We owe him everything.”

“I’m only an artisan, Guiamona. A rich one, but still an artisan. The nobles look down on me, and the merchants despise me, however much they are willing to do business with me. If they found out I had taken in a fugitive ... do you know what the landowning nobles would say?”

“We owe him everything,” Guiamona repeated.

“Well, then, we’ll give him the money and send him on his way.”

“He needs his freedom. A year and a day.”

Grau paced nervously around the room. Then he buried his head in his hands.

“We can’t,” he said. “Guiamona, we can’t do it!” he said, peering through his fingers. “Can you imagine ... ?”

“Can you imagine! Can you imagine!” She butted in, raising her voice at him. “Can you imagine what would happen if we threw him out and he was arrested by Llorenç de Bellera’s men or one of those enemies of yours? What if they found out that you owe everything to him, a fugitive serf who agreed to give you a dowry that was not yours by right?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, Grau, no. But that’s how it is. If you won’t do it out of gratitude, do it out of self-interest. It’s better for you to be able to keep an eye on him. Bernat wants his freedom. He won’t leave Barcelona. If you don’t take him in, there will be a fugitive and a little boy, both of them with the same birthmark by their right eye as I have, wandering the streets of Barcelona. Think how useful they could be to those enemies you’re so frightened of.”