Cathedral of the Sea

“That the Holy Office cannot allow two”—he dismissed them with a gesture—“two laymen to question a sentence that it has passed. That is divine justice. There is to be no other revenge! Do you understand that, Bellera?” The nobleman hesitated. “If you carry out your threat, I will try you for being possessed by the Devil. Do you understand now?”

“But I’ve sworn an oath ...”

“In the name of the Holy Inquisition, I relieve you of your promise.” Jaume de Bellera nodded. “And you,” added Nicolau, turning to Genis Puig, “you are to take great care not to wreak vengeance in a matter already resolved by the Inquisition. Is that clear?”

Genis Puig nodded.

THE CATBOAT, A small craft with one sail about thirty feet long, had pulled into a tiny cove on the Garraf coast, hidden from passing ships and approachable only by sea.

A rough wooden hut, built by fishermen from the flotsam the Mediterranean had deposited on the shore of the cove, was the only thing that broke the monotony of gray stones and pebbles that vied with the sun to reflect the light and warmth it brought them.

Together with a weighty bag of coins, the helmsman had received strict instructions from Guillem: “You are to leave him there with food and water and a man you can trust. Then you can go about your business, but stick to nearby ports and return to Barcelona at least every two days to receive further instructions from me. There will be more money for you when all this is over,” he had promised in order to secure the man’s loyalty. In fact, there was no real need for this: Arnau was known and loved by all seagoing folk, who saw him as an honest consul. The man accepted the money anyway. However, he had not taken Mar into account. She refused to share the responsibility of looking after Arnau with anyone else.

“I’ll take care of him,” she said once they had disembarked in the cove and she had installed Arnau in the shade of the hut.

“But the man from Pisa ... ,” the helmsman tried to argue.

“Tell him that Mar is with Arnau, and if that doesn’t satisfy him, come back with your man.”

She spoke with an authority he had rarely heard in a woman. He stared her up and down and again tried to object.

“Be on your way,” was all she said.

When his boat had disappeared behind the rocks at the cove entrance, Mar took a deep breath and peered up at the sky. How often had she denied herself a fantasy like this? How often, with the memory of Arnau fresh in her mind, had she tried to convince herself her destiny lay elsewhere? And now ... Mar glanced toward the hut. Arnau was still asleep. During the crossing, Mar had been able to check that he did not have a fever and was not wounded. She had sat down next to him, crossed her legs, and lifted his head onto her lap.

Arnau had opened his eyes on several occasions, stared up at her, then closed them again, a smile on his lips. She took one of his hands in hers, and whenever Arnau gazed at her, she squeezed it until he fell back into a contented sleep. This had happened time and again, as though he were trying to prove to himself that she was real. And now ... Mar went back to the hut and sat at Arnau’s feet.

HE SPENT TWO days going round Barcelona, remembering the places that had been part of his life for so long. Little seemed to have changed during the five years Guillem had been in Pisa. Despite the crisis, the city teemed with activity. Barcelona was still open to the sea, defended only by the tasques where Arnau had scuttled the whaling boat when Pedro the Cruel had threatened the coast with his fleet. The western wall Pedro the Third had ordered built was still under construction, as were the royal shipyards. Until they were finished, all the ships came aground for repairs or were built in the old yards at the foot of the beach opposite the Regomir tower. Guillem breathed in the sharp smell of tar that the caulkers used, mixed with oakum, to make the ships’ hulls watertight. He watched the carpenters at work, the oarmakers, blacksmiths, and ropemakers. In times gone by, he had accompanied Arnau to make sure that they did not mix new hemp with old when they twisted cables or rigging ropes. They would walk up and down, supervised by solemn-looking carpenters. Then after checking the ropes, Arnau would invariably head for the caulkers. He would send away everyone else, so that just he and Guillem could talk in private with these men.

“Their work is essential: they are forbidden by law to be paid by how much they do,” Arnau had explained the first time. That was why the consul wanted to talk to them, to ensure that none of the caulkers had been forced by necessity to do his work hurriedly, and so put the fleet at risk.