Guillem signaled to two of the slaves standing in the doorway, and the three of them walked over to Isabel. The baroness still sat there haughtily, challenging Arnau with her look.
One of the slaves knelt down, but before he could touch her, Isabel took off her own shoes and let them fall to the floor. She stared straight at Arnau.
“I want you to gather up all the shoes in the house and burn them out in the yard,” said Arnau.
“Yes, Master,” said Guillem once more.
The baroness was still gazing at him defiantly.
“Those chairs,” said Arnau, pointing to the ones she and Grau Puig were sitting in. “Take them out of here.”
“Yes, Master.”
Grau’s children lifted him out of his chair. The baroness stood up before the slaves could take the chair from under her and stack it with the others in a corner of the chamber.
But she was still defying him.
“That robe is mine too.”
Did he see her tremble?
“You don’t mean to say... ?” spluttered Genis Puig, still carrying his father.
“That robe is mine,” Arnau insisted, staring straight at Isabel.
Was she trembling?
“Mother,” said Josep, “go and change.”
Yes, she was trembling.
“Guillem,” shouted Arnau.
“Mother, please.”
Guillem went up to the baroness.
She was trembling!
“Mother!”
“What do you want me to put on?” howled Isabel to her stepson. Then she turned again to face Arnau. Her whole body shook. “Do you really want me to take my robe off?” her eyes asked him.
Arnau frowned sternly, and slowly, very slowly, Isabel lowered her gaze to the floor. She was sobbing with rage.
Arnau waved to Guillem to leave her. For a few moments, the only sound in the main chamber of the palace was of her sobbing.
“By tonight,” Arnau said at length to Guillem, “I want this building empty. Tell them they may go back to Navarcles, which they should never have left.” Josep and Genis stared at him; Isabel was still weeping. “I’m not interested in those lands. Give them some of the slaves’ clothes, but no footwear. Burn it all. Sell everything else and close this house up.”
Arnau turned round and saw Mar, her face flushed. He had forgotten all about her. He took her by the arm and they walked out of the room.
“You can close the gates now,” he told the old man who had let them into the palace.
The two of them walked in silence to his countinghouse, but before they went in, Arnau came to a halt.
“Shall we go for a walk on the beach?”
Mar nodded.
“Has your debt been repaid now?” she asked him when they could see the sea in front of them.
They walked on a few steps.
“It never will be, Mar,” she heard him murmur. “Never.”
38
ARNAU WAS WORKING in the countinghouse. The seagoing season was at its height. Business was thriving, and Arnau had become one of the richest men in all Barcelona. Even so, he still lived in the small house on the corner of Canvis Vells and Canvis Nous, together with Guillem, Mar, and Donaha. Arnau would not heed Guillem’s advice and move to the Puig family palace, which had been shut for four years. Mar was proving to be quite as stubborn as Arnau, and had still not agreed to be married.
“Why do you want to push me away from you?” she said to him one day, her eyes bathed in tears.
“I ... ,” Arnau stammered, “I don’t want to push you away from me!”
She went on weeping, and leaned against his shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” Arnau reassured her, stroking her head. “I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to.”
So Mar went on living with them.
But on the morning of June 9, a church bell suddenly began to ring. Arnau stopped what he was doing. A moment later, another bell began to sound, and soon afterward many more joined in.
