Cathedral of the Sea

the end of that time he has been unable to pay them off, he is declared abatut or bankrupt. He is imprisoned on bread and water, and all his possessions are sold to pay his debtors ...”

“I don’t have any possessions.”

“If those possessions are insufficient,” Guillem continued reciting from memory, “he is beheaded outside his countinghouse as a warning to all the others.”

Arnau said nothing.

Guillem did not dare look at him. How was he to blame for any of this?

“Don’t worry,” he told him. “It will never happen.”

35

THE WAR CONTINUED in Mallorca, but Arnau was happy. Whenever there was no work to do, he stood at the door of his countinghouse and looked out. Now that the plague had gone, Santa Maria was coming back to life. The tiny Romanesque church he and Joanet had known no longer existed; work on the new church was steadily advancing toward the main doorway. He could spend hours watching the masons placing the blocks of stone; he had a vivid memory of all those he had carried. Santa Maria meant everything to Arnau: his mother, his acceptance into the guild ... and of course, a place of refuge for the Jewish children. Occasionally a letter from his brother made him even happier. Joan’s letters were always short, and told him only about his health and the fact that he was studying hard.

As he looked out, a bastaix appeared carrying a stone. Few of the guild members had survived the plague. His own father-in-law, Ramon, and many others had died. Arnau had wept for them on the beach with his former companions.

“Sebastia,” he muttered when he recognized the man.

“What did you say?” he heard Guillem ask behind him.

Arnau did not turn round.

“Sebastia,” he repeated. “That man carrying the stone over there is called Sebastia.”

As he passed by, the bastaix called a greeting, without turning his head or pausing. His lips were drawn in a tight line from the effort.

“For many years, that could have been me,” Arnau went on, his voice choked with emotion. Guillem made no comment. “I was only fourteen when I took my first stone to the Virgin.” At that moment, another bastaix walked past the door. Arnau greeted him. “I thought I was going to snap in two, that my spine was going to break, but you can’t imagine the satisfaction I felt when I finally got there ... my God!”

“There must be something good about your Virgin for people to sacrifice themselves for her like that,” he heard the Moor say.

At that they both fell silent, watching the line of bastaixos passing by on their way to the church.

THE BASTAIXOS WERE the first to turn to Arnau.

“We need money,” Sebastia, who by now was one of the guild aldermen, told him straight-out one day. “Our coffers are empty, our needs are great, and at the moment there is little work, and what there is of it is badly paid. After the plague, our members are finding it hard to survive, so I cannot force them to contribute to our funds until they have recovered from the disaster.”

Arnau looked across at Guillem. He sat next to him behind the table with its glittering scarlet silk rug without showing the slightest emotion.

“Is the situation really that bad?” asked Arnau. “Worse than you could imagine. Food has become so expensive we bastaixos cannot even provide for our families. On top of that, there are the widows and orphans of those who died. We have to help them. We need money, Arnau. We’ll pay you back every last penny you lend us.”

“I know.”

Arnau looked across again at Guillem to seek his approval. What did he know about lending money? Until now he had only taken in money, never lent it out.

Guillem covered his face in his hands. He sighed.

“If it’s not possible... ,” Sebastia started to say.

“It is possible,” said Guillem. The war had been going on for two months now, and there was no news of his slaves. What did a few extra losses matter? Hasdai would be the one facing ruin. Arnau could allow himself to make the loan. “If your word is enough for my master...”

“It is,” Arnau said emphatically.

Arnau counted out the money the guild of bastaixos was asking him for, and solemnly handed it over to Sebastia. Guillem saw them shake hands across the table, both of them standing there trying clumsily to hide their emotions as their handshake went on and on.

Just as Guillem was losing all hope during the third month of the war, the four merchant ships arrived together in Barcelona. When the first of them had called in at Sicily and heard about the war in Mallorca, the captain had chosen to wait for more Catalan ships to arrive, including Guillem’s three other galleys. Together, they all decided to avoid Mallorca, and instead sold their cargoes in Perpignan, the second city of Catalonia. On their return to Barcelona, they met the Moor as agreed not in Arnau’s countinghouse but in the city warehouse in Calle Carders. There, once they had deducted their quarter of the profits, they gave him bills of exchange for the rest, plus everything that was due to Arnau. A fortune! Catalonia needed people to work, and the slaves had been sold at exorbitant prices.

When the merchants had left the warehouse and no one could see him, Guillem kissed the bills of exchange once, twice, a thousand times. He set off back to Arnau’s countinghouse, but when he reached Plaza del Blat, he changed his mind and went into the Jewry instead. After giving Hasdai the good news, he headed for Santa Maria, beaming at the sky and everyone he saw.

When he entered the countinghouse, he saw that Arnau was with Sebastia and a priest.