Cathedral of the Sea (55 page)

“It’s not hard. A commission is nothing more than a loan with interest ... but in another guise. Someone, usually a money changer, lends money to a merchant for him to buy or sell goods. Once the operation is complete, the merchant has to give back the same amount to the money changer, plus a part of the profits he has made. It’s exactly the same as a loan with interest, but called by another name. The Christian who lends the money is making a profit, which is what the Church wants to prohibit—that profit comes from money and not from work. You Christians carry on doing exactly as you did a hundred years ago, before gaining interest from money was forbidden. Only now you call it something different. And when we Jews lend money for a deal, we are usurers, whereas if a Christian makes money through a commission, that’s fine.”

“Is there really no difference?”

“Just one: in commissions, the person who lends the money runs the same risk over the deal: in other words, if the merchant does not come back or loses his goods—if, for example, his ship is attacked by pirates, then the person making the loan loses too. The same isn’t true of a loan as such, because in that case the merchant would still be obliged to return the money plus interest. In reality though, it’s exactly the same, because a merchant who has lost his goods cannot pay us anyway, and we Jews have to fit in with customary practice: merchants want commissions without risk, and we have to accept them because if we didn’t, we would not make enough money to pay what your kings demand. Do you understand now?”

“We Christians do not give loans with interest, but offer commissions, which comes down to the same thing,” Arnau said.

“Exactly. What your Church is trying to prevent is not interest in itself, but making a profit by using money, not by working for it. And they prohibit loans only to those who are not kings, the nobility, or knights: a Christian can lend any of them what is known as a soft loan, because the Church considers this must be for war, and that makes the interest gained right and proper.”

“But only Christian money changers do that,” Arnau argued. “You can’t judge all Christians by what a few—”

“Make no mistake, Arnau,” Hasdai warned him, smiling and raising a finger. “Those money changers get money from Christians, and use it to set up commissions. If they make money from them, they have to repay those Christians who gave them the money in the first place. The money changers are the public face of this business, but the money comes from Christians—from all those who put money into their exchanges. Arnau, there is something that never changes throughout history: whoever has money wants more; a person like that has never given it away, and never will. If your bishops don’t do so, why should their flocks? Call it a loan, a commission, or whatever you like, but people never give something for nothing. And yet we Jews are the usurers.”

As they talked, night fell: a calm, starry Mediterranean night. For a while longer, the three of them sat enjoying the peace and tranquillity of the small back garden behind the Crescas family home. Eventually they were called in for supper, and for the first time since he had been living there, Arnau considered this Jewish family as being the same as him: people with different beliefs, but good people, as good and charitable as the most saintly of Christians. That evening he sat at Hasdai’s table and enjoyed to the full all the flavors of Jewish cooking served by the women of the house.

T
IME WAS PASSING, and the situation was becoming uncomfortable for all of them. The news reaching the Jewish quarter about the plague was encouraging: cases were becoming rarer and rarer. Arnau needed to get back to his own house. The night before he left, he and Hasdai met in the garden. They tried to talk about unimportant things in a friendly way, but there was an air of sadness to the meeting, and they both avoided looking at each other.

“Sahat is yours,” Hasdai unexpectedly announced, handing over the documents that sealed the matter.

“What do I need a slave for? I won’t even be able to feed myself until our ships put to sea again, so how could I feed a slave? The guild does not allow slaves to work. No, I don’t need Sahat.”

“But you will need him,” Hasdai replied with a smile. “He belongs to you. Ever since Raquel and Jucef were born, Sahat had looked after them as though they were his own children, and I can assure you he loves them as if they were. Neither he nor I can ever repay you for what you did for them. We think that the best way to settle our debt is by making life easier for you. To do that, you will need Sahat’s help, and he is ready to give it.”

“Make life easier for me?”

“We both hope to help make you rich.”

Arnau smiled back at the man who was still his host.

“I’m nothing more than a
bastaix.
Wealth is for nobles and merchants.”

“You can have wealth too. I’ll provide the means for you to do so. If you act wisely and follow Sahat’s advice, I have no doubt you will become rich.” Arnau looked at him to learn more. “As you know,” said Hasdai, “the plague is slackening. There are fewer and fewer cases, but it has had terrible consequences. No one knows exactly how many people have died in Barcelona, but we do know that four of the five city councillors have perished. That could have disastrous consequences. As regards our affairs, a good number of these who died were money changers who worked in the city. I know, because I used to deal with them and they are no longer there. I think that if you were interested, you could become a money changer ...”

“I know nothing about business or changing money,” Arnau protested. “Besides, every professional in a trade has to pass an examination. I know nothing about any of that kind of thing.”

“Money changers don’t have to pass any test,” Hasdai replied. “I know the king has been asked to establish some rules, but he has not yet done so. Anyone can be a money changer, as long as your countinghouse has got sufficient backing. Sahat has got enough knowledge for both of you. He knows all there is to know about the business. He has been part of my own dealings for many years now. I bought him in the first place because he was already an expert. If you allow him to, he can teach you and you will soon prosper. He may be a slave, but he is someone you can trust; besides which, he feels an extra loyalty toward you because of what you did for my children. They’re the only persons he has ever loved. They are his entire family.” Hasdai looked inquiringly at Arnau through narrowed eyes. “Well?”

“I’m not sure ... ,” Arnau said doubtfully.

“You’ll be backed not only by me, but by all the other Jews who are aware of what you did. We are a grateful people, Arnau. Sahat knows all my agents throughout the Mediterranean, Europe, and in the Orient—even in the distant lands of the sultan of Egypt. You will start with a lot of support for your business, and you can count on all of us to help you. It’s a good offer, Arnau. You won’t have any problems.”

Unsure if he was doing the right thing, Arnau accepted. This was enough to set all the machinery Hasdai had already prepared into motion. First rule: nobody, absolutely nobody was to know that Arnau was being helped by the Jews of Barcelona; that could only be used against him. Hasdai gave him a document that purported to show that all his funds came from a Christian widow living in Perpignan; this was the formal cover he needed.

“Should anyone ask,” Hasdai told him, “don’t say anything, but if they insist, tell them you have inherited it. You will need a lot of money to begin with,” he went on. “First of all you will need to underwrite your countinghouse with the Barcelona magistrates. That is a thousand silver marks. Then you will have to buy a house or the lease on a house in the money changers’ district, that is, either in Calle Canvis Veils or Canvis Nous, and equip it as befits your station. Finally, you will need more money to be able to start trading.”

Money changing? Why not? What was left of his old life? All the people he loved had died from the plague. Hasdai seemed convinced that with Sahat’s aid he could succeed. He had not the slightest idea of what a money changer’s life might be like: Hasdai assured him he would be rich, but what was it like to be rich? All of a sudden he remembered Grau, the only rich man he had ever known. He felt his stomach wrench. No, he would never be like Grau.

He underwrote his countinghouse with the thousand silver marks Hasdai gave him. He swore to the magistrates he would denounce any counterfeit money he came across—wondering to himself how on earth he would recognize it if by chance Sahat were not with him—and would slice it in two with the special shears all money changers kept for that purpose. The magistrate signed the enormous ledgers where he was to write down all his transactions, and, at a time when Barcelona was still in chaos following the effects of the bubonic plague, he was given official approval to operate as a money changer. The days and times when he was to keep his business open were also established.

The second rule that Hasdai proposed concerned Sahat:

“No one should ever suspect he is my gift. Sahat is well-known among the money changers, and if anyone finds out, you could have problems. As a Christian you are allowed to do business with Jews, but you should avoid anyone thinking you are a friend of Jews. There’s another problem regarding Sahat: very few in the profession would understand why I have sold him to you. I have had hundreds of offers for him, each one more generous than the last, but I’ve always turned them down, both because of his abilities and his love for my children. Nobody would understand why he is with you. We thought in fact that Sahat could convert to Christianity.”

“Why would he do that?”

“We Jews are forbidden to have Christian slaves. If any of our slaves convert, we have either to free them, or sell them to another Christian.”

“Will the other money changers believe it?”

“An outbreak of the plague is enough to undermine any religious belief.”

“Is Sahat willing to do it?”

“He is.”

They had spoken about the matter not as master and slave, but as the two close friends they had become over the years.

“Would you be capable of it?” Hasdai had asked him.

“Yes,” answered Sahat. “Allah, all praise and glory to him, will understand. You know the practice of our faith is forbidden in Christian lands. We fulfill our obligations in secret, in the privacy of our own hearts. That is how it will continue to be, however much holy water they sprinkle over me.”

“Arnau is a devout Christian,” Hasdai went on. “If he ever got to find out...”

“He never will. We slaves more than anyone know the art of dissembling. No, not while I’ve been with you, but I have been a slave all my life. Our lives often depend on it.”

The third rule remained a secret between Hasdai and Sahat. “Sahat, I have no need to tell you,” his former master said, with a trembling voice, “how grateful I am to you for this decision of yours. My children and I will be eternally grateful to you.”

“It is I who should thank you.”

“I suppose you know where you should concentrate your efforts.”

“I believe so.”

“Stay away from spices, from fabrics, oils, or wax,” Hasdai warned him, while Sahat nodded, having already expected this kind of advice. “Until the situation has settled, Catalonia will be unable to import these kinds of things. Slaves, Sahat, slaves. After the plague, Catalonia needs people to work. Until now, it’s not something we have done much of. You will find them in Byzantium, Palestine, Rhodes, and Cyprus. And in the markets of Sicily as well, of course. There are lots of Turks and Tartars on sale there. But I think it’s better if you buy them in their own countries. We have agents in each of them who can help you. Your new master should amass a considerable fortune in no time at all.”

“What if he refuses to deal in slaves? He doesn’t look the kind of person—”

“He is a good person.” Hasdai interrupted him to confirm his suspicions. “He’s scrupulous, of humble origin, and he’s very generous. He might well refuse to have anything to do with the slave trade. Therefore, don’t bring them to Barcelona. Don’t let Arnau see them. Take them directly to Perpignan, Tarragona, or Salou, or simply sell them in Mallorca. That’s where there is one of the biggest slave markets in all the Mediterranean. Let others bring them to Barcelona or wherever else they want to take them. Castille also needs a lot of slaves. Anyway, by the time Arnau has worked out how these things function, he will have made a lot of money. If I were you—and I’ll tell him the same myself—I would tell him to become familiar with all the different currencies, how money is changed, the various markets, the routes, and the main sorts of goods that are exported or imported. While he is doing that, you can be getting on with your own affairs. Just remember that we are no more intelligent than anyone else, and that anybody who has money will be importing slaves. There’s a chance to make a lot of money, but it won’t last. Make the most of it while you can.”