Cathedral of the Sea

Bishop and inquisitor continued their conversation. Throughout the whole time, the Dominicans did not take their eyes off Arnau. Arnau tried to think of other things: of Mar, or Joan, but whenever he did so, he could feel one of the Dominican’s eyes clawing at him as if he had guessed what he was thinking. He shifted his weight time and again, felt his unruly beard and unkempt hair. In their gleaming gold robes, Berenguer d’Eril and Nicolau Eimerich sat comfortably behind the tribunal bench, glancing at him and continuing their discussion at their own leisure.

After a long pause, Nicolau Eimerich addressed him in a loud voice: “Arnau Estanyol, I know you have sinned.”

The trial proper had begun. Arnau took a deep breath.

“I do not know what you mean. I consider I have always been a good Christian. I have tried—”

“You yourself have admitted to this tribunal that you have not lain with your wife. Is that the attitude of a good Christian?”

“I cannot have carnal relations. I do not know if you are aware that I was already married before, and could ... could not have children then either.”

“Are you telling the tribunal you have a physical problem?” said the bishop.

“Yes.”

Eimerich studied Arnau for a few moments. He leaned forward on his elbows and then hid his mouth behind his hands. He turned to the clerk and whispered an order to him.

“Declaration by Juli Andreu, priest at Santa Maria de la Mar,” the clerk read out from one of his pieces of parchment. “‘I, Juli Andreu, priest at Santa Maria de la Mar, questioned by the grand inquisitor of Catalonia, do declare that approximately in the month of March in the year of our Lord 1364, I held a conversation with Arnau Estanyol, baron of Catalonia, at the request of his wife, Doña Eleonor, baroness, ward of King Pedro. She had expressed to me her concern at her husband’s neglect of his conjugal duties. I declare that Arnau Estanyol confided to me that he was not attracted to his wife, and that his body refused to allow him to enjoy relations with her. He said that it was not a physical problem, but that he could not force his body to desire a woman for whom he felt no attraction. He further said that he knew he was in a state of sin’”—Nicolau Eimerich’s eyes narrowed—“ and that for this reason he prayed as often as he could in Santa Maria and made substantial donations toward the construction of the church.”’

The chamber fell silent again. Nicolau stared fixedly on Arnau.

“Do you still affirm that you have a physical problem?” the inquisitor asked finally.

Arnau remembered his conversation with the priest, but could not remember exactly what... “I cannot recall what I said to him.”

“Do you admit that you had this conversation with Father Juli Andreu?”

“Yes.”

Arnau could hear the clerk’s quill scratching across the parchment.

“Yet you are calling into question the declaration by a man of God. What possible interest could the priest have in lying about you?”

“He might be mistaken. I do not remember exactly what was said ...”

“Are you saying that a priest who was not certain what he heard would make a declaration like the one Father Juli Andreu has made?”

“All I am saying is that he might be mistaken.”

“Father Andreu is not an enemy of yours, is he?” intervened the bishop.

“I have never considered him one.”

Nicolau spoke to the clerk again.

“Declaration by Pere Salvete, canon at Santa Maria de la Mar. ‘I, Pere Salvete, canon at Santa Maria de la Mar, questioned by the grand inquisitor of Catalonia, declare that at Easter in the year of our Lord 1367, while I was saying holy mass, the service was interrupted by a number of citizens of Barcelona who alerted us to the theft of a host by heretics. The mass was suspended, and the faithful left the church, with the exception of Arnau Estanyol, consul of the sea.’” “Go with your Jewish lover!” Eleonor’s words rang out in his head once more. Arnau shuddered, exactly as he had when he first heard them. He looked up. Nicolau was staring at him ... and smiling. Had he seen his reaction? The clerk was still reading the declaration: ‘“... and the consul answered that God could not oblige him to lie with her...’”

Nicolau silenced the scribe. The smile vanished.

“So is the canon lying too?”

“Go with your Jewish lover!” Why had he not let the clerk finish? What was Nicolau up to? “Your Jewish lover, your Jewish lover ...” The flames licking at Hasdai’s body, the silence, the enraged mob baying for justice, shouting words that were never properly spoken, Eleonor pointing at him, the bishop standing next to her, staring ... and Raquel clinging to him.

“Is the canon lying as well?”

“I have not accused anyone of lying,” said Arnau. He needed time to think.

“Do you deny God’s commandments? Do you object to the duties demanded of you as a Christian husband?”

“No ... no ...,” stammered Arnau.

“Well, then?”

“Well, then what?” “Do you deny God’s commandments?” Nicolau repeated, his voice rising.