Ildefonso Falcones - Cathedral of the Sea

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 ...

Arnau’s attention was caught by a figure dressed in black who was noting down all the goods seized. The Dominican paused in his work and stared defiantly at him. The onlookers fell silent as Arnau realized where he had seen those eyes before: they belonged to one of the friars who had studied him during the tribunal sessions, behind the bench next to the bishop.

“Vultures,” Arnau muttered.

These were his possessions, his past, his moments of joy and of defeat. He would never have thought that to witness the way they were stripping him ... He had never attached any importance to material things, and yet it was a whole life they were carting away.

Mar could feel Arnau’s palm grow sweaty.

Someone in the small crowd started to jeer the friar. At once, the soldiers left the furniture and drew their weapons. Three other armed men appeared from inside the house.

“They won’t allow the common people to humiliate them again,” warned Guillem, dragging Mar and Arnau away.

The soldiers charged the group of spectators, who scattered in all directions. Arnau let himself be led away by Guillem, although he constantly looked back at the cart.

They forgot about Santa Maria, where the soldiers were still chasing some of the onlookers. Instead, they skirted round the church until they came to Plaza del Born and their new home.

THE NEWS OFArnau’s return spread quickly through the city. The first people to arrive at his new house were missatges from the Consulate of the Sea. The official did not dare look Arnau in the face. When he addressed him, he used the title “Your Worship,” but he was there to give him the letter in which the Council of a Hundred stripped him of his position. Arnau held out his hand to the official, who finally raised his eyes.

“It’s been an honor to work with you,” the official said.

“The honor was all mine,” replied Arnau. “They don’t want anyone poor,” he told Guillem and Mar when the official and his soldiers had left the house.

“We need to talk about that,” said Guillem.

But Arnau shook his head. “Not yet,” he pleaded.

Many other people came to visit Arnau in his new home. Some of them, like the alderman of the bastaix guild, he received personally; others of more humble station were happy simply to offer their best wishes to the servant who attended them.

On the second day, Joan appeared. Ever since had had heard that Arnau was in Barcelona, Joan had been wondering what Mar could have told him. When the uncertainty became unbearable, he decided to face his fears and go to see his brother.

When Joan entered the dining room, Arnau and Guillem stood up to greet him. Mar remained seated at the table.

“You burned your father’s body!” Nicolau Eimerich’s accusation rang through Arnau’s mind as soon as he saw Joan. Until then, he had been trying to push the thought away.

Still standing in the doorway, Joan stammered out a few words. Then he walked over toward Arnau, head lowered.

Arnau’s eyes narrowed. So he had come to ask forgiveness. How could a brother ... ?

“How could you do it?” he said when Joan was by his side.

Joan’s gaze shifted from the floor to Mar. Had she not punished him enough? Did he have to confess everything to Arnau as well? She seemed surprised at his presence.

“Why did you come here?” asked Arnau coldly.

Joan searched desperately for an excuse.

“We have to pay the expenses at the inn,” he heard himself say.

Arnau’s hand chopped the air, and then he turned on his heel.

Guillem called one of his servants and gave him a bag of money.

“Go with the friar and pay the hostel bill,” he commanded.

Joan turned to the Moor for support, but Guillem did not so much as blink. The friar walked back to the door and vanished through it.

“What happened between you?” asked Mar as soon as Joan had gone.

Arnau said nothing. Ought they to know? How could he explain that he had burned his father’s body, and that his own brother had denounced him to the Inquisition? He was the only one who knew.

“Let’s forget the past,” he said at length, “at least as much as we can.”

Mar sat in silence for a while, and then nodded.

JOAN FOLLOWED GUILLEM’Sslave out of the house. The young lad had to stop and wait for the friar several times on the way, because he kept stopping and peering blindly around him. They had taken the way to the corn exchange, which the boy knew well, but when they came to Calle de Montcada, the slave could not get Joan to follow him any farther. The friar would not budge from the gateway to Arnau’s palace.

“You go and pay,” Joan told the boy, to be free of him. “I have another debt to settle,” he muttered to himself.

Pere, the aged servant, led him into Eleonor’s chamber. As Joan walked along, he started muttering something, at first in a low whisper as he crossed the threshold, then louder as he climbed the stone staircase with Pere, who looked round at him in astonishment, and then in a roar as he entered the room where Eleonor was waiting for him:

“I know you have sinned!”

On her feet at the far end of the room, the baroness surveyed him haughtily. “What nonsense are you talking, Friar?” she said.

“I know you have sinned,” repeated Joan.