Cathedral of the Sea

Pone could not read, but he quoted this passage from memory as he showed anyone who cared to see the legal document he had been given:We rule that if he wishes Joana to be handed over to him, said Pone should offer proper surety and swear to keep her in his house in a place twelve feet long, six feet wide, and two rods high. That he should give her a straw mattress large enough to sleep on, and a cloak to cover herself with. The place of her confinement is to have a hole in which she may discharge her bodily functions, and a window through which food is to be given her. The said Ponc shall provide each day eighteen ounces of fully baked bread and as much water as she requires. He will not give her or cause her to be given anything which might hasten her death, or to do anything which might lead to the death of said Joana. In respect of all of which, Ponc is to provide a proper guarantee and security, before the aforementioned Joana is handed over to him.

Pone supplied the magistrate with the required surety, and Joana was handed over to him. He built the brick hut in his garden, making it two and a half yards long by a yard and a half wide. He made sure there was a hole for her to carry out her bodily functions, and left the window through which Joanet, who was born nine months later and was never recognized by Pone, could have his hair stroked by his mother. In this way, he walled up his young wife for the rest of her days.

“Father,” Arnau whispered to Bernat, “what was my mother like? Why do you never tell me about her?”

“What do you want me to tell you? That she lost her virginity raped by a drunken nobleman? That she was a whore in the lord of Bellera’s castle?” thought Bernat.

“Your mother... ,” he answered finally, “was unlucky. She never had good fortune.”

Bernat could hear how Arnau swallowed hard before asking the next question.

“Did she love me?” the boy asked, his voice choking with emotion.

“She didn’t get the chance. She died giving birth to you.”

“Habiba loved me.”

“And I love you too.”

“But you’re not my mother. Even Joanet has a mother to caress his head.”

“Not all children have ...” Bernat started to say. “The mother of all Christians,” he suddenly thought, as the words of the priests surfaced in his memory.

“What were you saying, Father?”

“That you do have a mother. Of course you do.” Bernat could feel his son relax. “All children who like you have no mother are given another one by God: the Virgin Mary.”

“Where is this Mary?”

“The Virgin Mary,” Bernat corrected him, “is in heaven.”

Arnau lay in silence for a few moments before he spoke again.

“What use is it having a mother in heaven? She can’t stroke me, play with me, kiss me, or—”

“Yes, she can.” Bernat could clearly recall what his father had explained when he asked these very same questions. “She sends birds to caress you. Whenever you see a bird, send your mother a message. You’ll see how it flies straight up to heaven to give it to the Virgin Mary. Then the other birds will get to hear of it, and some of them will come to fly round you and sing for you.”

“But I don’t understand what birds say.”

“You will learn to.”

“But I’ll never be able to see her ...”

“Yes, of course you can see her. You can see her in some churches, and you can even talk to her.”

“In churches?”

“Yes, my son. She is in heaven and in some churches. You can talk to her through the birds or in those churches. She will answer with birds or at night while you are asleep. She will love and cherish you more than any mother you can see.”

“More than Habiba?”

“Much more.”

“What about tonight?” Arnau asked. “I haven’t talked to her tonight.”

“Don’t worry. I did it for you. Now go to sleep, and you’ll find out.”

8

THE TWO NEW friends met every day. They ran down to the beach to see the boats, or roamed the streets of Barcelona. Each time they were playing beyond the Puig garden wall and heard the voices of Josep, Genis, or Margarida, Joanet could see his friend lifting his eyes to the sky as if in search of something floating above the clouds.

“What are you looking at?” he asked him one day.

“Nothing,” said Arnau.

The laughter grew, and Arnau stared up again at the sky.