Ildefonso Falcones - Cathedral of the Sea

“Whar ... ?”

Jaume de Bellera was standing there, his fist raised to pound once more.

“What do you want?” asked the grand inquisitor, glancing across at the captain who should have been guarding the antechamber. He was pinioned against the wall by Genis Puig’s sword. “How dare you threaten a soldier of the Holy Inquisition!” Nicolau roared.

Genis lowered his sword and stared at his companion.

“We’ve been waiting a long time,” said the lord of Navarcles.

“I have no wish to see anyone,” Nicolau said to the captain, who had struggled free from Genis. “I’ve already told you that.”

The inquisitor made to close the door, but Jaume de Bellera prevented him from doing so.

“I am a Catalan baron,” he said slowly and carefully, “and I demand respect for my rank.”

Genis bellowed his agreement, and lifted his sword again to prevent the captain from coming to Nicolau’s aid.

Nicolau looked into the lord of Bellera’s face. He could call for help; the rest of the guards could be there in a moment, but those desperate eyes ... Who knew what two men used to imposing their authority could do? He sighed. This was far from being the happiest day of his life.

“Very well, Baron,” he said, “what do you want?”

“You promised you would sentence Arnau Estanyol, but you have let him escape.”

“I do not recall having promised anything, and as for letting him go ... it was your king, the man whose noble line you support, who refused to come to the aid of the Church. Go and demand an explanation from him.”

Jaume de Bellera muttered some unintelligible words and waved his hands in the air.

“You could still condemn him,” he said.

“He has escaped,” Nicolau admitted.

“We’ll bring him to you!” shouted Genis Puig, who was still threatening the captain, but was listening closely to what they were saying.

Nicolau turned to look at him. Why did he have to explain anything to them?

“We provided you with more than enough proof of his sin,” said Jaume de Bellera. “The Inquisition cannot—”

“What proof?” barked Eimerich. These two dolts were offering him a way to save his honor. If he could question their proof... “What proof?” he repeated. “The accusation by someone possessed by the Devil like you, Baron?” Jaume de Bellera tried to say something, but Nicolau silenced him with a scything movement of his hand. “I’ve looked for the documents you said the bishop drew up when you were born.” The two men glared at each other. “But I couldn’t find them.”

Genis Puig let his sword hand drop to his side.

“They must be somewhere in his archives,” Jaume de Bellera spluttered.

“And you, sir?” Nicolau shouted, turning to Genis. “What do you have against Arnau Estanyol?” The inquisitor could tell that Genis was trying to hide the truth: that was what Nicolau was good at. “Did you know that to lie to the Inquisition is a crime?” Genis looked to Jaume de Bellera for support, but the nobleman was gazing up at some point on the chamber ceiling. Genis was on his own. “What do you have to say?” Genis shifted uncomfortably, not knowing where to look. “What did the moneylender do to you?” Nicolau insisted. “Did he ruin you, perhaps?”

Genis reacted. It was only for a split second, a second in which he glanced at the inquisitor out of the corner of his eye. That must be it! What could a moneylender do to a nobleman if not ruin him financially?

“Not me,” Genis replied naively.

“Not you? Who then? Your father?”

Genis looked down at the floor.

“So you tried to use the Holy Office by lying! You made a false accusation for your own personal revenge!”

Hearing the inquisitor scream at his companion brought Jaume de Bellera back to reality.

“But he burned his father,” Genis insisted almost inaudibly.

Nicolau waved his hand angrily. What should he do now? If he arrested and tried them, that would only mean keeping alive something that was much better dead and buried as soon as possible.

“You are to appear before the clerk to the Inquisition and withdraw your charges. If you do not do so ... Do you understand?” he shouted when neither of them appeared to react. They nodded. “The Inquisition cannot judge a man on the basis of false accusations. Get out of here,” he concluded, signaling to the guard captain.

“You swore on your honor you would have revenge,” Genis Puig said to Jaume de Bellera as they turned to leave.

Nicolau heard the recrimination. He also heard the response: “No lord of Bellera has ever broken his oath,” Jaume de Bellera retorted.

The grand inquisitor’s eyes narrowed. That was enough. He had allowed a prisoner to go free. He had just ordered two witnesses to withdraw their charges. He was making a bargain with ... a man from Pisa? He did not even know his name! What if Jaume de Bellera carried out his revenge before he had a chance to get his hands on the fortune Arnau had left? Would the man from Pisa keep his side of the bargain? All this had to be kept quiet once and for all.

“Well, on this occasion,” he bellowed at the men’s retreating backs, “the lord of Bellera is not going to keep his word.”

The two men turned back to him.

“What are you saying?” said Jaume de Bellera.

“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.