Cathedral of the Sea

“I’ve visited some people I knew before.” The Sicilian looked up from his food. “They no longer want to risk their money in commerce: they prefer to buy the city’s debt. They live on the interest. They have told me that nine years ago, Barcelona’s debt was around a hundred and sixty-nine thousand pounds; nowadays it must be nearer two hundred thousand, and it’s still increasing. The city can no longer pay the interest on the different loans it has given as guarantee for the debt; it is facing ruin.”

Guillem reflected on the endless debate among Christians about whether it was permitted to earn money through interest. With the collapse of trade, and the consequent lack of money from commerce, the city authorities had once again sought to get round the prohibition by creating these new types of loans, which entailed the rich lending them money in return for a guarantee of a yearly payment—which obviously included interest. Repayment of the property levy implied handing over a third more than the original sum. The advantage of these loans was that there was much less risk than that involved in commercial ventures... as long as Barcelona could pay.

“But until that moment of ruin arrives,” said the Sicilian, “there is a great opportunity to make money in Catalonia ...”

“By selling,” Guillem intervened.

“In the main, yes,” said the Sicilian. Guillem could tell he trusted him more now. “But you can also buy, provided you do so in the proper currency. The parity between the gold florin and silver croat is a complete fiction; it has nothing to do with the rate that you can get in foreign exchanges. Silver is pouring out of Catalonia, yet the king is determined to defend the value of his gold florin against the market; his attitude is going to cost him dearly.”

“Why do you think he persists in it then?” Guillem asked. “King Pedro has always behaved very sensibly ...”

“It’s purely out of political interest,” said Jacopo. “The florin is a royal currency: it is minted in Montpellier under his direct control. But the croat is minted in cities like Barcelona and Valencia under licence. The king is determined to support the value of his own currency even if it’s a mistake—but for us, his obstinacy is very fortunate. He has put parity between gold and silver at thirteen times more than its real value in other markets!”

“What about the royal coffers?”

That was what most interested Guillem.

“Thirteen times overvalued!” laughed the Sicilian trader. “The king is still fighting Castille, although it seems the war may soon be over. King Pedro the Cruel is having problems with his barons, who are deserting him in favor of the House of Trastámara. Pedro the Ceremonious can count on support only from the cities and, apparently, the Jews. The war with Castille has ruined him. Four years ago, the Monzón parliament provided him with two hundred and sixty thousand pounds for his war chest in return for fresh concessions for nobles and cities. The king is spending the money on the war, but he is giving up privileges that might affect him in the future. And now there’s a rebellion in Corsica ... if you are owed money by the king, you can forget it.”

Guillem’s attention wandered from what the Sicilian was saying. He merely nodded and smiled when it seemed appropriate. So the king was ruined, and Arnau was one of his biggest creditors. When Guillem had left Barcelona, Arnau had lent the royal house more than ten thousand pounds: how much could it be now? The king had probably not even been able to pay off the interest on the cheap loans. “They will put him to death.” Joan’s words came back into Guillem’s mind. “Nicolau will use Arnau to help strengthen his position,” Jucef had told him. “The king does not pay any revenues to the pope, and Eimerich has promised him part of Arnau’s fortune.” Would the king want to owe money to a pope who had just backed a revolt in Corsica by denying the rights of the crown of Aragon? But how could he get the king to stand up to the Inquisition?

“YOUR PROPOSAL INTERESTS us.”

The infante’s voice was lost in the vastness of the Tinell chamber in Barcelona’s royal palace. He was only sixteen, but he had just presided, in the name of his father, over the parliament that dealt with the revolt in Sardinia. Guillem glanced surreptitiously at the king’s heir, seated on the throne flanked by his two counsellors, Joan Fernández d’Heredia and Francesc de Perellós, both of whom were standing. It was said that the infante was weak, and yet, two years earlier, he had found the strength to try, pass sentence on, and execute the man who had been his tutor since birth: Bernat de Cabrera. And after ordering his beheading in Zaragoza market square, he had been obliged to send the viscount’s head to his father, King Pedro.