Cathedral of the Sea (81 page)

Joan shrank back in his seat. How often had he used the same tactic? Plucking words from the air in order to ... But how did Arnau know it had been Eleonor? Could it be that he had really... ?

“It wasn’t Arnau who put the blame on his wife,” Joan lied. “It was me.”

Nicolau Eimerich raised his hands to the heavens. “And how do you know it was her, Brother Joan?”

“She hates him ... No!” he tried to correct himself, but Nicolau was already pouncing on his words.

“Why would she do that?” cried the inquisitor. “Why would the king’s ward hate her husband? Why would a good, God-fearing Christian wife come to hate her husband? What kind of wrong can her husband have done her to awaken such hatred? Women were born to serve men; that is the law on earth and in heaven. Men beat women, but the women do not hate them for it; men keep women shut up, and are not hated for that either. Women work for their husbands, and fornicate with them when the man so wishes. They have to look after them and submit to them—but none of that creates hatred. So what precisely do you know, Brother Joan?”

Joan clenched his teeth. He should not say anything more. He felt defeated.

“You are an inquisitor. I demand you tell me all you know,” shouted Nicolau.

Joan still said nothing.

“You are forbidden to protect sin. Whoever is silent about a sin is more guilty than a person who commits one.”

In his mind’s eye, Joan saw an endless number of village squares, with the inhabitants shrinking in the face of his diatribes.

“Brother Joan”—Nicolau spat the words as though they were distasteful, pointing to him across the table—“I want his confession by tomorrow. And pray that I don’t decide to judge you as well. Oh, and Brother Joan!” he added as the friar was about to leave the room. “Make sure you change your habit. I have already received complaints. And from what I can see ...”

Nicolau waved disdainfully at Joan’s habit. As he left the chamber, glancing down at the filthy, threadbare folds of his tunic, Joan almost bumped into two men who were waiting in the grand inquisitor’s antechamber. With them were three armed men who stood guard over two women in chains: an old woman and a younger one, whose face ...

“What are you doing still here, Brother Joan?” asked Nicolau Eimerich, coming to the door to receive his visitors.

Joan delayed no longer, but scurried off down the corridor.

JAUME DE BELLERA and Genis Puig went into Nicolau Eimerich’s office. After casting a rapid glance at Francesca and Aledis, Eimerich left them in the antechamber.

“We have heard,” said the lord of Bellera once they had presented themselves and taken seats, “that you have arrested Arnau Estanyol.”

Genis Puig fiddled nervously with his hands in his lap.

“Yes,” said Nicolau curtly, “it’s public knowledge.”

“What is he accused of?” Genis Puig interjected. The nobleman at his side glared at him. “Don’t speak; don’t say a word until the inquisitor asks you to,” he had warned him many times.

Nicolau turned to Genis. “Don’t you know that is a secret?”

“I beg you to forgive my friend,” Jaume de Bellera quickly said, “but you will soon see why we are so interested. We have heard that there is an accusation against Arnau Estanyol, and we wish to back it up.”

The grand inquisitor straightened in his seat. A ward of the king, three priests from Santa Maria who had heard Estanyol blaspheme in the church itself, arguing out loud with his wife. Now a nobleman and a knight. Few accusations could have more convincing witnesses. He nodded to the two men to continue.

Jaume de Bellera narrowed his eyes at Genis Puig in warning, then began the speech he had so often rehearsed.

“We think that Arnau Estanyol is the incarnation of the Devil.” Nicolau did not move. “He is the son of a murderer and a witch. His father, Bernat Estanyol, killed a groom in Bellera castle and then fled with his son, Arnau, whom my father was keeping locked up because he knew what he was capable of. It was Bernat Estanyol who led the rising in Plaza del Blat during the first bad year we had: do you remember it? He was executed on the same spot...”

“And his son set fire to his body,” Genis Puig could not stop himself from exclaiming.

Nicolau gave a start. Jaume de Bellera gave his companion another warning look.

“He set fire to the body?” asked Nicolau.

“Yes, yes, I saw it myself,” lied Genis Puig, recalling what his mother had told him.

“Did you report him to the authorities then?”

“I ...” The lord of Bellera tried to intervene, but Nicolau waved to him not to interrupt. “I... was only a child. I was afraid he might do the same to me.”

Nicolau raised his hand to his chin to hide a sly smile. Then he motioned for the lord of Bellera to continue.

“His mother, that old woman outside, is a witch. Nowadays she is the mistress of a bawdy house, but she was the one who suckled me, and bewitched me with milk intended for her son.” When he heard this from the nobleman, Nicolau’s eyes opened wide. The lord of Navarcles realized why. “Don’t worry,” he said quickly, “as soon as the sickness became apparent, my father brought me to the lord bishop. I am the son of Llorenç and Caterina de Bellera, the lords of Navarcles. You can verify that no one in my family has ever had the Devil’s sickness. It can only have been that accursed milk!”

“You say she is a harlot now?”

“Yes, that too you can verify. She calls herself Francesca.”

“And the other woman?”

“She wanted to accompany her.”

“Is she another witch?”

“That is for you to decide.”

Nicolau thought for a few moments.

“Is there anything more?” he asked.

“Yes,” Genis Puig intervened. “Arnau killed my brother Guiamon when he refused to take part in his diabolic rites. He tried to drown him one night on the beach ... My brother died soon afterward.”

Nicolau stared once more at the knight.

“My sister, Margarida, can confirm it. She was there. She grew frightened and tried to run away when Arnau began to summon the Devil. She can confirm all this for you.”

“And you did not report Arnau then either?”

“I’ve only recently learned about it, when I told my sister what I was thinking of doing. She is still terrified that Arnau might harm her; she has lived with that fear for years.”

“These are very serious accusations.”

“They are nothing more than Arnau Estanyol deserves,” said the lord of Bellera. “You well know that this man has spent a lifetime undermining authority. On his lands, contrary to his spouse’s wishes, he abolished customary practices. Here in Barcelona he lends money to the poor, and as consul of the sea he is well-known for his habit of giving judgments in favor of the common people.” Nicolau Eimerich listened attentively. “Throughout his life he has sought to undermine the principles on which our social harmony is based. God created the peasants to work the land under the tutelage of their feudal lords. Even the Church, in order not to lose them, has forbidden its serfs to take the habit ...”

Nicolau intervened. “In New Catalonia many of those customary practices no longer exist.”

Genis Puig was glancing anxiously at each of them in turn.

“That is precisely what I am trying to say.” The lord of Bellera chopped the air with his hands. “In our new Catalonia there are no abuses... thanks to our prince, thanks to the Church. We have to populate the lands won from the infidel, and the only way to do that is by attracting new people. That is what our prince has decided. But Arnau is nothing more than the prince ... of darkness.”

When he saw the grand inquisitor nod imperceptibly at these words, Genis Puig smiled broadly.

“He lends money to the poor,” the nobleman went on, “money he knows he is never likely to recover. God created the rich ... and the poor. It is not right that the poor should have money and marry off their daughters as though they were rich; that is against the will of our Lord. What are those poor people going to think of you churchmen, or of we nobles? Are we not following the precepts of the Church when we treat the poor as they should be treated? Arnau is a devil, the son of devils. Everything he does is designed to prepare for the coming of the Devil through the rebellion of the common people. I beg you to think on all this.”

Nicolau Eimerich thought about what he had heard. He called in his scribe to note down all the accusations that the lord of Bellera and Genis Puig had made. He sent for Margarida Puig and ordered that Francesca be imprisoned.

“What about the other woman?” he asked. “Is she accused of anything?” The two men hesitated. “In that case, let her be set free.”

Francesca was sent to the huge palace dungeon. She was chained to the wall at the opposite end from Arnau. Aledis was thrown out onto the street.

When he had finished organizing everything, Nicolau Eimerich slumped in his chair. Blaspheming in the temple of our Lord; having sexual congress with a Jewess, befriending Jews; committing murder; engaging in diabolic practices, going against the precepts of the Church—and all of this backed up by priests, nobles, knights... and by the king’s ward. The grand inquisitor leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself.

“How rich is your brother, Joan? Stupid man! What fine are you talking about, when all that money will fall into the hands of the Inquisition anyway as soon as your brother is condemned to die?”

ALEDIS STUMBLED AS the soldiers pushed her into the street outside the bishop’s palace. When she regained her balance, she realized that several passersby were staring at her. What was it that the soldiers had shouted? Witch? She was almost in the middle of the street by now, and people were still peering at her. She looked down at her filthy clothes. She felt her brittle, unkempt hair. A well-dressed man walked by, openly staring at her. Aledis stamped her foot and leapt toward him, baring her teeth like a dog attacking its prey. The man jumped backward and then ran off, slowing down only when he realized Aledis was not following him. Now it was Aledis who scrutinized all those around her, forcing them to lower their eyes one by one, although some of them still cast covert glances out of the corner of their eyes to see what she was doing.

What had happened? Men sent by the lord of Bellera had broken into her house and arrested Francesca as she rested on a chair. Nobody had given them any explanation. The soldiers roughly pushed the girls aside when they tried to intervene; they all turned to Aledis to see what she would do, but she was paralyzed by fear. A few clients ran out of the house, hose around their ankles. Aledis confronted the soldier who seemed to be in charge:

“What does this mean? Why are you arresting this woman?”

“On the orders of the lord of Bellera,” the man replied.

The lord of Bellera! Aledis looked toward Francesca, who was being held under the arms by two soldiers. The old woman’s body had begun to shake. Bellera! Ever since Arnau had put an end to the privileges at Montbui castle and Francesca had told Aledis her secret, the two women had overcome the only remaining barrier between them. How often had she heard the story of Llorenç de Bellera from Francesca’s lips? How often had she seen her weep when she remembered those days? And now ... another Bellera; and Francesca was being taken to the castle, just as when ...

Francesca was still trembling, held by the two soldiers.

“Let her go!” Aledis shouted at them. “Can’t you see you’re hurting her?” The two soldiers turned to their captain. “We’ll go of our own accord,” said Aledis, also looking in his direction.

The captain shrugged, and the soldiers handed the old woman over to Aledis.

They were taken to Navarcles castle, where they were shut in the dungeons. They were not mistreated, however. On the contrary, they were given food, water, and even bundles of straw to sleep on. It was only now that Aledis understood the reason: the lord of Bellera had wanted Francesca to reach Barcelona in good health. They were taken to the city two days later, in a cart, in complete silence. What for? Why? What did it all mean?