Cathedral of the Sea

“Arnau,” said Guillem, interrupting him, “did you hear what I said? The Inquisition has seized all your possessions.”

For a while, Arnau said nothing.

“I was a dead man, Guillem,” he replied at length. “Eimerich wanted my blood. Besides, I would have given everything I have ... everything I used to have,” he corrected himself, taking Mar’s hand, “for these past few days.” Guillem looked at Mar and saw her beaming smile and glistening eyes. His child. He smiled too. “I have been thinking...”

“Traitor!” said Mar, pouting her lips in mock reproach.

Arnau patted her hand. “As far as I can remember, it must cost a lot of money for the king not to oppose the Barcelona host.”

Guillem nodded.

“Thank you,” said Arnau.

The two men stared at each other.

“Well,” said Arnau, deciding to break the spell. “What about you? What has happened to you in all this time?”

THE SUN WAS high in the sky by the time the three of them headed out to the catboat, which the helmsman brought in close to shore at their signal. Arnau and Guillem climbed on board.

“Just one minute,” Mar begged them.

The girl turned toward the cove and looked at the hut for one last time. What would the future hold for her? Arnau and his penitence, Eleonor ...

Mar looked down.

“Don’t worry about her,” Arnau said when she was on board the boat. “She won’t have any money, and won’t bother us. The palace in Calle de Montcada is part of my wealth, so now it belongs to the Inquisition. All that’s left for her is Montbui. She will have to move there.”

“The castle,” murmured Mar. “Will the Inquisition take that too?”

“No. The castle and its lands were given to us by the king on our marriage. The Inquisition has no authority to seize them.”

“I feel sorry for the feudal peasants,” said Mar, remembering the day when Arnau abolished all the ancient privileges.

Neither of them mentioned Mataró and Felip de Ponts’s farmhouse.

“We’ll get by somehow—” Arnau started to say.

“What are you talking about?” Guillem cut in. “You will have all the money you need. If you wish, you could buy the Calle de Montcada palace all over again.”

“But that’s your money,” Arnau protested.

“It’s our money. Look,” said Guillem, addressing them both. “Apart from you two, I have no one. What am I meant to do with the money I have thanks to your generosity? Of course it’s yours.”

“No, no,” Arnau insisted.

“You are my family. My child ... and the man who gave me freedom and riches. Does this mean you do not want me as part of your family?”

Mar stretched out her arm to him. Arnau stuttered: “No ... that wasn’t what I meant at all ... Of course ...”

“Well, if you accept me, you accept my money,” said Guillem. “Or would you rather the Inquisition took it?”

His question forced a smile from Arnau.

“Besides, I have great plans,” said Guillem.

Mar sat looking back at the cove. A tear trickled down her cheek. She did not try to wipe it away, as it ran down and into the corner of her mouth. They were on their way back to Barcelona. To carry out an unjust punishment, to return to the Inquisition, to Joan, the brother who had betrayed Arnau ... and a wife he hated but from whom he could never be free.

59

GUILLEM HAD RENTED a house in La Ribera neighborhood. It was not luxurious, but was spacious enough for the three of them, with a room for Joan as well, Guillem thought when he gave his instructions. When he disembarked from the catboat in the port of Barcelona, Arnau was received with great affection by the workmen on the beach. Some merchants supervising the loading of their goods or coming and going from the warehouses also nodded as he passed by.

“I’m not a rich man anymore,” Arnau said to Guillem as he returned the greetings.

“News spreads quickly,” Guillem replied.

Arnau had said that the first thing he wanted to do when he returned was to visit Santa Maria to thank the Virgin for his freedom. The confused image he had of the tiny statue dancing in the air above the heads of the crowd while he was being carried by the city councillors had become much clearer. But his plan was interrupted when they passed by the corner of Canvis Vells and Canvis Nous: the door and windows of his house—his countinghouse—had been thrown wide open. A group of curious onlookers had gathered outside. They stepped aside when they saw Arnau arrive, but he did not go in. The three of them recognized some of the pieces of furniture and other effects that the soldiers of the Inquisition were carrying out and piling on a cart by the front door: the long table, which hung over the back of the cart and had been tied on with ropes, the red rug, the metal shears to test fake coins, the abacus, the money chests ...