Cathedral of the Sea

That was how Jucef ended his letter: You are the only one he has left. Sahat put the letter into the small chest in which he kept all the correspondence he had had with Hasdai over the past five years. You are the only one he has left. Standing at the prow of the galley, with the box in his hands, Sahat gazed out at the horizon. “Row, men ... I am the only one he has left.”

AT A SIGNAL from Aledis, Eulalia and Teresa retired to bed. Joan had already left them some time earlier; Mar had not responded to his farewell.

“Why do you treat him like that?” Aledis asked once the two of them were alone in the dining room. The only sound was the crackling of the almost spent logs on the fire. Mar said nothing. “After all, he is Arnau’s brother...”

“That friar deserves no better.”

As she spoke, Mar did not even raise her eyes from the table, where she was trying to remove a splinter of wood. “She is a beautiful woman,” thought Aledis. Her long, wavy hair hung down over her shoulders. Her features were well defined: plump lips, prominent cheekbones, a strong chin, and a straight nose. On their way from the palace to the inn, Aledis had been surprised at how white and perfect Mar’s teeth looked, and could not help noticing how firm and shapely her body was. Yet her hands were those of someone who had worked hard in the fields: they were rough and calloused.

Mar left the splinter and looked up at Aledis. The two women stared at each other in silence.

“It’s a long story,” she admitted.

“If you want to tell it, I have the time,” said Aledis.

Mar’s mouth twitched, and she let several more seconds go by. Why not, after all? It had been years since she had talked to a woman; years that she had lived wrapped up in herself, doing nothing but work inhospitable lands, hoping that the ears of wheat and the sun would understand her misfortune and take pity on her. Why not? Aledis seemed like a good woman.

“My parents died in the plague outbreak, when I was no more than a child ...”

Mar told her everything. Aledis trembled when Mar spoke of the love she had felt on the plain outside Montbui castle. “I understand,” she almost blurted out. “I also ...” Arnau, Arnau, Arnau; his name came up after almost every five words. Aledis remembered the sea breeze playing on her young body, betraying her innocence, stirring her desire. Then Mar told her about how she had been kidnapped and forced to marry her husband; her confession reduced her to tears.

“Thank you,” said Mar when she could speak again.

Aledis took her hand.

“Do you have any children?” she asked.

“I had one,” said Mar, squeezing her hand. “He died four years ago, as an infant, when there was another outbreak of plague among children. His father never knew him; he didn’t even know I was pregnant. He died at Calatayud defending a king who instead of leading his troops boarded ship in Valencia and set sail for Roussillon to safeguard his family from the plague.” As she spoke, Mar smiled disdainfully.

“What has all this got to do with Joan?” asked Aledis.

“He knew I loved Arnau ... and that Arnau loved me too.”

When she had heard everything, Aledis slapped the table. Night had crept up on them, and the noise resounded through the empty inn.

“Do you intend to denounce him?”

“Arnau has always protected the friar. He is his brother, and he loves him.” Aledis recalled the two young lads who slept in Pere and Mariona’s kitchen; Arnau carrying blocks of stone, Joan studying. “I don’t want to harm Arnau, and yet now ... now I can’t even see him, and I don’t even know if he is aware that I am here and still love him ... They are going to try him. Perhaps, perhaps they will condemn him to ...”

Mar burst into tears once more.

“DON’T BE AFRAID I’m going to break the promise I made you, but I have to talk to him,” Aledis said to Francesca as she was leaving the dungeon.

Francesca tried to make out her features in the gloom. “Trust me,” she added. Arnau had stood up as soon as Aledis came back into the dungeon, but he had not called out to her. He simply listened in silence to the two women whispering together. Where was Joan? He had not been in for two days now, and Arnau had many things to ask him. He wanted him to find out who this old woman was. What was she doing there? Why had the jailer said she was his mother? What was happening with his trial? And his business affairs? And Mar? What had happened to Mar? Something was wrong. Ever since the last time Joan had visited him, the jailer had started treating him just like the rest again: all he got to eat was a crust of bread with stale water, and the bucket had disappeared.

Arnau saw the stranger move apart from the old woman. He started to slump down against the wall, but... but she was heading toward him.

He could see in the darkness that she was coming toward him, and he struggled to his feet. She stopped a few paces away, outside the range of the feeble light that dimly lit this end of the dungeon.