Cathedral of the Sea

“Via fora,” Arnau said to himself.

He went out into the street. At Santa Maria, the workmen were quickly swarming down the scaffolding; masons and laborers emerged from the main doorway. In the streets all around, people were running and shouting, “Via fora!”

Arnau met Guillem, who was walking quickly toward the house, a worried look on his face.

“War!” Guillem shouted.

“They’re calling out the host,” said Arnau.

“No ... no.” Guillem stopped to get his breath back. “It’s not the city host. It’s Barcelona and all the towns and villages for two leagues around.”

That meant the hosts from San Boi and Badalona. From San Andreu and Sarria; from Provencana, San Feliu, San Genis, Cornella, San Just Desvern, San Joan Despi, Sants, Santa Coloma, Esplugues, Vallvidrera, San Marti, San Adria, San Gervasi, San Joan d’Horta ... the ringing of bells could be heard all round the city.

“The king has invoked the usatge princeps namque,” explained Guillem. “It’s not the city going to war; it’s the king! We’re at war! We’re being attacked. King Pedro of Castille has launched an attack ...”

“He’s attacking Barcelona?”

“Yes. Barcelona.”

The two men ran into their house.

Shortly afterward, they came out again. Arnau was carrying the weapons he had used when he served under Eiximen d’Esparca. They ran down Calle de la Mar toward Plaza del Blat, but soon realized that the crowd shouting, “Via fora,” was headed in the opposite direction.

“What is going on?” Arnau asked one of the men, grabbing him by the arm as he sped past.

“To the beach!” the man shouted, struggling free of him. “Down to the beach!”

“An attack from the sea?” Arnau and Guillem asked themselves, then joined the hundreds of others running down to the shore.

By the time they arrived, it seemed as though the whole of Barcelona was there, gazing out at the horizon and waving their crossbows in the air. The bells were still ringing loud in their ears. The shouts of “Via fora” gradually subsided, and everyone stood quietly on the sand.

Guillem raised a hand to his eyes to protect them from the fierce June sun, and began to count the ships he could see: one, two, three, four ...

The sea was dead calm.

“They’ll destroy us,” Arnau heard someone say behind him.

“They’ll lay waste to Barcelona.”

“What can we do against an army?”

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight... Guillem was still counting.

“They’ll destroy us,” Arnau said to himself. How often had he discussed this with other merchants and traders? Barcelona was defenseless from the sea. From Santa Clara to Framenors, it was open to the Mediterranean. There were no defenses at all! If a fleet sailed into its port...

“Thirty-nine, forty. Forty ships!” exclaimed Guillem.

Thirty galleys and ten men-o’-war. Pedro the Cruel’s fleet. Forty ships filled with battle-hardened men, up against ordinary citizens suddenly forced to become soldiers. If the ships landed, there would be fighting on the beach and the streets of the city. Arnau shuddered as he thought of all the women and children ... of Mar. Barcelona would be defeated. Then the city would be pillaged, the women raped. Mar! As he thought of what might happen to her, he leaned on Guillem for support. She was young and beautiful. He imagined her being overpowered by Castillian soldiers, screaming, crying for help ... Where would he be?

More and more people crowded onto the beach. The king himself appeared and began to give his men orders.

“The king!” the shout went up.

What could he do? Arnau thought desperately.

The king had been in Barcelona for three months, organizing a fleet to sail and defend Mallorca, which Pedro the Cruel had threatened to attack. But there were only ten of the king’s galleys in port—the rest of the fleet had yet to arrive. And it was in the port that they would do battle!

Arnau shook his head as he surveyed the sails coming closer and closer to the coast. The king of Castille had fooled them. Ever since the war had started three years earlier, there had been a succession of battles and truces. First, Pedro the Cruel had attacked the kingdom of Valencia, and then that of Aragon, where he took the city of Tarazona and directly threatened Zaragoza. At that point, the Church had become involved, and Tarazona was handed over to Cardinal Pedro de la Jugie. It was for him to decide to which of the two kings the city was to belong. A yearlong truce was also signed, although this did not include the frontier regions of the kingdoms of Murcia and Valencia.

During this truce, Pedro the Ceremonious succeeded in persuading his half brother Ferran, who had been allied with Castille, to change sides and attack Murcia. He did so, and reached as far as Cartagena in the south.

Now King Pedro was on the beach, taking command. He ordered the ten galleys to be made ready, and that the citizens of Barcelona and surrounding towns, who were beginning to arrive at the shore, should embark together with the small number of soldiers he had with him. Every vessel, big or small, was to head out to repel the Castillian fleet.