Cathedral of the Sea (43 page)

It took hours for all the men to board the ships. Maria went home, while Arnau wandered among the others gathered on the beach. He met several of his companions on the way.

“What’s all the hurry?” he asked Ramon, pointing to the small craft that were continuously coming to take on more and more soldiers.

“You’ll soon see,” Ramon answered.

At that very moment he heard the first whinny of a horse, soon followed by hundreds more. The army’s horses had been drawn up outside the city walls; now it was their turn to embark. Several of the seven buses were already full of horses, brought from Valencia with the noblemen from that city, or from the ports of Salou, Tarragona, or from the north of Barcelona.

“Let’s get away from here,” Ramon warned Arnau. “This is going to turn into a real battlefield.”

Just as they were leaving the beach, the grooms led the first steeds down to the water. They were huge warhorses, which kicked, snorted, and threatened to bite, while their handlers struggled to control them.

“They know they’re off to war,” Ramon told Arnau, as they sought cover behind the boats drawn up on the beach.

“They know?”

“Of course. Whenever they’re put on ships, it’s to go to war. Look.” Arnau peered out to sea. Four of the flat-bottomed buses drew up as close to the beach as they could and opened their stern doors: they splashed into the water, revealing the gaping hulls inside. “And those who don’t know,” Ramon went on, “are made nervous by the ones who do.”

Soon, the beach was filled with horses. There were hundreds of them, all big, strong, powerful beasts, warhorses trained for combat. The grooms and squires dodged in and out, trying to avoid the rearing, biting animals. Arnau saw several of them fly through the air or flinch as they were caught on the receiving end of a flashing hoof. Everything was bedlam.

“What are they waiting for?” asked Arnau.

Ramon pointed to the ships once more. Some of the grooms were wading out to them, leading their horses.

“They are the most experienced ones. Once they are on board, they will attract the others.”

And so it proved. As soon as the first horses reached the ships’ ramps, the grooms headed back to the shore. The horses immediately started whinnying loudly.

That was the signal.

The rest of the herd plunged into the water, splashing so much that for a few moments they disappeared entirely from view. Behind them and on either side, a few of the most expert horsemen followed, cracking their whips and driving them toward the ships. Most of their grooms had lost the reins by now, and the horses swam or floundered on their own, careering into one another. For a while, there was total chaos: shouts from all sides, the lash of whips, animals neighing and struggling to climb up onto the ramps, roars of encouragement from the beach. Then, gradually, calm returned to the shore. The ramps were raised, and the horse transports were ready to set sail.

The order to depart came from admiral Pere de Montcada’s ship. All 117 vessels began to pull out of the harbor. Arnau and Ramon walked home along the beach.

“Off they go,” said Ramon, “to conquer Mallorca.”

Arnau nodded without a word. Yes, off they went. On their own, leaving behind their problems and their heartbreak. Cheered off as heroes, their minds set on one thing: war. What he wouldn’t have given to be among their number!

ON THE TWENTY-FIRST of June of that same year, Pedro the Third attended mass in the cathedral of Mallorca,
in sede majestatis,
wearing the traditional robes, attributes, and crown of the king of Mallorca. Jaime the Third had fled to his possessions in Roussillon.

The news reached Barcelona and spread through the mainland; King Pedro had taken the first step toward keeping his word of reuniting the kingdoms split on the death of Jaime the First. Now all that was left was for him to conquer the territory of the Cerdagne and the Catalan lands on the far side of the Pyrenees: Roussillon.

Throughout the long month that the Mallorca campaign had lasted, Arnau could not get the image of the royal fleet leaving the port of Barcelona out of his mind. When the ships were already some way from the shore, everyone on the beach split up and returned home. What reason did he have for following them? To receive care and affection he did not deserve? He sat in the sand until long after the last sail had disappeared beyond the horizon. “Lucky them, to be able to leave their problems behind,” he said to himself over and over again. Throughout that month, whenever Aledis lay in wait for him on the track up to Montjuic, or when afterward he had to face Maria’s loving attention, Arnau could hear the shouts and laughter of the Almogavar company, and see the fleet slipping into the distance. Sooner or later, he would be found out. A short while earlier, while Aledis was still panting on top of him, someone had shouted from the track. Had they heard the two lovers? They lay for a while holding their breath; then Aledis laughed and fell on him again. The day he was found out... it would mean disgrace, expulsion from the guild. What would he do then? How would he manage to live?

When on the twenty-ninth of June, 1343, the whole city of Barcelona came down to meet the royal fleet assembled in the mouth of the River Llobregat, Arnau had made his decision. The king had to fulfill his promise to conquer Roussillon and the Cerdagne, and he, Arnau Estanyol, would be part of his army. He had to get away from Aledis! Perhaps if he did that, she would forget him, and when he got back ... He shuddered: after all, this was war; men would die. But perhaps when he returned he could take up his tranquil life with Maria once more, and Aledis would no longer pursue him.

King Pedro the Third ordered his ships to enter the port of Barcelona in strict order of hierarchy: first the royal galley, then that of infante Don Pedro, then Pere de Montcada’s, followed by the one Lord Eixèrica commanded, and so on.

While the rest of the fleet waited, the royal galley made its way into port and sailed round it, so that everyone who had gathered on the shore could see it and cheer.

Arnau heard how everyone roared their approval as the ship passed in front of them. The bastaixos and boatmen were standing close to the water, ready to build the pontoon for the king. Also waiting next to the
bastaixos
were Francesc Grony, Bernat Santcliment, and Galcerà Carbó, all of them Barcelona aldermen, and other guild aldermen. The boatmen began to maneuver their craft into place, but the aldermen told them to wait.

What was going on? Arnau looked at the other bastaixos. How was the king to disembark if not across their bridge?

“He should not land,” he heard Francesc Grony tell Lord Santcliment. “The army should go straight on to Roussillon, before King Jaime can reorganize, or make a pact with the French.”

All those around him were of similar mind. Arnau stared out at the royal galley, still triumphantly sailing around the port. If the king did not land, if the fleet continued on to Roussillon without calling in at Barcelona ... His legs almost gave way under him. The king had to disembark!

Even Count de Terranova, the king’s counselor who had been left in charge of the city, seemed to support the idea. Arnau glared at him.

The three city aldermen, Count de Terranova, and several other leading citizens got into a catboat and were taken to the royal galley. Arnau could hear that his own guild companions were also in favor of it: “He mustn’t give the king of Mallorca time to rearm,” they argued.

The discussions went on for several hours. Nobody moved from the beach, awaiting the king’s decision.

In the end, the boatmen did not build their bridge, but not because the fleet had left to conquer Roussillon and the Cerdagne. Instead, King Pedro decided he could not continue the campaign in the present circumstances: they did not have sufficient money; a large number of his cavalry had lost their steeds during the sea crossing and needed to disembark; and above all, he needed fresh arms and provisions to pursue the war. He rejected the city authorities’ suggestion that he give them some days to organize festivities to celebrate the conquest of Mallorca, declaring that there was to be no celebration until he had reunited his kingdoms. So finally, when, on the twenty-ninth of June, 1343, Pedro the Third did disembark in the port of Barcelona, it was done like any other seaman—by leaping into the water from a small boat.

How could Arnau tell Maria he was thinking of joining the army? He did not have to worry about Aledis: what would she gain by making their adultery public? If he went off to war, why would she seek to harm both him and herself? Arnau remembered Joan and his mother: that was the fate awaiting her if their adultery became known, and Aledis was well aware of it. But Maria? How could he possibly tell her?

Arnau tried. He tried to say good-bye to her when she was massaging his back. “I’m off to the wars,” he thought he could say. Just that: “I’m off to the wars.” She would cry: what had she done to deserve it? He tried to tell her when she was serving him his food, but her sweet eyes looking at him prevented him from saying a word. “What’s wrong?” she said. He even tried it after they had made love, but Maria simply went on caressing him.

Meanwhile, Barcelona had become a hive of activity. The common people wanted the king to leave to conquer the Cerdagne and Roussillon, but the king seemed to be in no hurry. The nobles were demanding he pay them for the soldiers they had contributed, and for the loss of their horses and weapons, but the royal coffers were empty, so the king had to allow many of them to return to their own lands. Ramon de Anglesola, Joan de Arborea, Alfonso de Llòria, Gonzalo Díez de Arenós, and many others departed in this way.

So King Pedro was forced to call on the Catalan host: it would be his people who fought for him. The bells rang out all throughout the principality, and on the king’s orders, the priests in their weekly homilies called on all free men to enlist. The nobility had deserted the Catalan army! Father Albert spoke passionately, whirling his arms in the air. How was the king going to defend Catalonia? What if, when he saw the nobles abandoning King Pedro, the king of Mallorca joined with the French to attack them? It had already happened once! Father Albert cried out above the congregation’s heads in Santa Maria: who among them had not heard of the French crusade against Catalonia? On that occasion, the invaders had been defeated. But now? What would happen if King Jaime were allowed to rearm?

Arnau stared at the stone Virgin with the child at her shoulder. If only he and Maria had had a child. If that had happened, he was sure none of this would have taken place. Aledis would not have been that cruel. If only he had been given a son ...

“I’ve made a promise to the Virgin,” Arnau whispered to Maria while the priest was still haranguing the congregation, recruiting soldiers from the high altar. “I’m going to join the royal army so that she will give us the blessing of a child.”

Maria turned toward him before looking at the Virgin; she took his hand and held it tight.

“You CAN’T DO this!” Aledis shouted at him when Arnau announced his decision. Arnau raised his hands to get her to speak more quietly, but she paid him no heed: “You can’t leave me! I’ll tell everyone—”

“What good would that do, Aledis?” he interrupted her. “I’ll be with the army. All you will do is ruin your own life.”

They stared at each other, crouching in the bushes as they always did. Aledis’s bottom lip started to tremble. How pretty she was! Arnau lifted a hand toward her cheek to wipe away her tears, but thought better of it.

“Good-bye, Aledis.”

“You can’t leave me,” she sobbed.

Arnau turned back to her. She had fallen forward on her knees, her head between her hands. When he said nothing, she peered up at him.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she moaned.

Arnau saw the tears roll down her face; her whole body was racked with sobs. Arnau bit his lip and looked up at the top of the hill, where he went to fetch his blocks of stone. Why hurt her any more than necessary? He spread his arms wide.