Cathedral of the Sea

Guillem saw the aldermen explaining what was going on to the leaders of the other guilds. Who wasn’t fearful about what might happen to their money? Although of course the Inquisition was to be feared as well. It was an absurd accusation ...

“We have to defend our privileges,” shouted one of those who had been talking to the bastaixos.

The crowd grew agitated. Soon swords, crossbows, and fists were being waved in the air, to more cries of, “Via fora!”

The noise grew louder and louder. Guillem saw some city councillors arrive. He immediately went over to the group talking together round the statue.

“What about the king’s soldiers?” he heard one of the newcomers ask.

The alderman repeated the exact words that Guillem had suggested to him: “Let’s go to Plaza del Blat and see what the magistrate does.”

Guillem left them. For a brief moment, he stared at the small stone image the bastaixos were carrying. “Help him!” he said in silent prayer.

The group set off. “To Plaza del Blat!” was the cry.

Guillem joined the stream of people flocking back up Calle de la Mar to the square where the magistrate’s palace stood. Few among them knew that the aim of the host was to determine what attitude the magistrate would adopt, so that while the Virgin on her dais was placed in the center of the square where usually the banner of Sant Jordi and the other guild banners would hang, Guillem had no difficulty in getting close to the palace itself.

In the center of the square, the councillors and guild aldermen gathered round the Virgin and the pennant; all had their eyes fixed on the palace. When the rest of the crowd realized what was happening, they all fell silent and turned toward the palace as well. Guillem could feel the tension rising. Had the infante kept his side of the bargain? The king’s soldiers were lined up, swords drawn, between the crowd and the palace. The magistrate appeared at one of the windows, squinted down at the people gathered below him, and disappeared again. A few moments later, a captain appeared in the square. Thousands of pairs of eyes, Guillem’s included, turned to him.

“The king cannot intervene in the affairs of the city of Barcelona,” the captain shouted. “It is for the city to decide whether to call the host or not.”

With that, he ordered the line of soldiers to withdraw.

The crowd watched as the soldiers filed out of the square and disappeared beneath the old city gate. Before they had all left the square, a huge cry of, “Via fora!” rent the air. Guillem trembled.

JUST AS NICOLAU Eimerich was about to order that Francesca be taken back to the dungeons to be tortured, the sound of bells interrupted him. First came San Jaume, the call for the host to gather, and then one by one all the other church bells in the city began to chime. Most of the priests in Barcelona’s churches were faithful followers of Ramon Llull’s doctrines, and so were not opposed to the lesson the city intended to teach the Inquisition.

“The host?” the grand inquisitor asked inquiringly of Berenguer d’Eril.

The bishop shrugged.

The Virgin of the Sea still stood in the center of Plaza del Blat, waiting for the banners of all the guilds to join that of the bastaix. Already, though, many people were heading for the bishop’s palace.

Aledis, Mar, and Joan could hear them approaching. Then all of a sudden, cries of “Via fora” began to fill Plaza Nova.

Nicolau Eimerich and Berenguer d’Eril went over to one of the leaded windows. When they opened it, they saw more than a hundred people down below, shouting and waving their weapons in the air. The shouts grew louder when they spied the two provosts.

“What’s going on?” Nicolau asked the guard, starting back from the window.

“Barcelona has come to set its consul of the sea free,” a boy shouted when Joan asked the same question.

Aledis and Mar closed their eyes and set their mouths in a firm line. They felt for each other’s hand, and stared up with tear-filled eyes at the window that had remained half-open.

“Go and fetch the magistrate!” Nicolau ordered the captain of the guard.

With no one paying any attention to him, Arnau got up from his knees and took Francesca by the arm.

“What made you tremble?” he asked her.

Francesca just managed to stop a teardrop from falling down her cheek, but she could not prevent her mouth from twisting in pain.

“Forget me,” she said, her voice choking with emotion.

The uproar outside the windows made all further conversation or thought almost impossible. The host had assembled and was heading for Plaza Nova. It passed beneath the old city gate, and on past the magistrate’s palace. He watched it go by from one of his windows. Then the men marched along Calle de los Seders up to Calle Boqueria and the church of San Jaume, whose bells were still ringing out, and then up Calle del Bisbe to the bishop’s palace.