changes, and the stones reflect all the different hues. How right Berenguer was! It’s like having a new church every day, every hour, as if a new one were constantly being born, because although the stone is dead, the sun is alive and different each day; the reflections change with it.”
The two of them stood enthralled by the warm, colored light.
After a while, Arnau took Mar by the shoulders and turned her toward him.
“Don’t leave me, Mar, I beg you.”
Next day at dawn, in the dark, overornate chapel of Santa Agata, Mar tired to hide her tears as she witnessed the ceremony.
Arnau and Eleonor stood stiff and unmoving in front of the bishop. Eleonor looked straight ahead of her all the time. At the beginning of the ceremony, Arnau turned to her once or twice, but she did not deign to turn her head in his direction. From then on, he merely glanced at her occasionally out of the corner of his eye.
39
As SOON AS the wedding ceremony was over, the new barons of Granollers, San Vicenc, and Caldes de Montbui left for Montbui castle. Joan told Arnau of the questions that Eleonor’s steward had asked. Where did Arnau think she was going to sleep? In rooms above a vulgar countinghouse? What about her servants? And her slaves? Arnau made him be quiet, but agreed to leave Barcelona that same day, provided Joan went with them.
“For what reason?” the friar asked.
“Because I think I am going to need your good offices.”
Eleonor and her steward left on horseback. She rode sidesaddle, while a groom walked alongside holding the reins. Her scribe and two maidens rode mules, and a dozen or so slaves pulled as many mules loaded down with all her possessions.
Arnau rented a cart.
When the baroness saw the ramshackle vehicle arrive, drawn by two mules and carrying the scant possessions that Arnau, Joan, and Mar were bringing with them—Guillem and Donaha had stayed in Barcelona— her eyes blazed fiercely enough to light a torch. This was the first time she had really looked at Arnau and her new family; they had been married, they had gone through the ceremony before the bishop and with the king and his wife in attendance, but she had never even deigned to consider them.
They left Barcelona with an escort provided by the king. Arnau and Mar sat up on the cart, while Joan walked alongside. The baroness urged her horse on so that they would arrive at the castle as quickly as possible. It came into sight before sunset.
Perched on the top of a hill, it was a small fortress where until their arrival the local thane had lived. Many peasants and serfs were curious to see their new lords, so that by the time they were close to the castle, more than a hundred people had thronged around them, wondering who this man could be, so richly dressed but traveling in a broken-down cart.
“Why are we stopping now?” asked Mar when the baroness gave the order for everyone to come to a halt.
Arnau shrugged.
“Because they have to hand over the castle to us,” Joan explained.
“Don’t we have to go in for them to do that?” asked Arnau.
“No. The Customs and Practices of Catalonia prescribe something different : the thane, his family, and their retinue have to leave the castle before they hand it over.” As he was saying this, the heavy gates of the fortress swung slowly open, and the thane appeared, followed by the members of his family and all his servants. When he reached the baroness, he gave her something. “You’re the one who should receive those keys,” Joan told Arnau.
“What do I want with a castle?”
As the thane and his party passed by the cart, he could not hide a sly smile. Mar flushed. Even the servants stared openly at them.
“You shouldn’t allow it,” Joan said again. “You are their lord now. They owe you respect and loyalty—”
“Listen, Joan,” said Arnau, interrupting him, “let’s get one thing clear: I don’t want any castle, I am not and have no wish to be anyone’s lord and master, and I have not the slightest intention of staying here any longer than is strictly necessary to sort out whatever needs sorting out. As soon as that’s done, I am going back to Barcelona. If the lady baroness wishes to live here in her castle, so be it. It’s all hers.”
This outburst brought the first smile of the day to Mar’s face.
“You can’t leave,” Joan insisted.
Mar’s face fell. Arnau turned to confront the friar.
“What do you mean, I can’t? I can do as I choose. Am I not the baron? Don’t the barons leave home for months on end to follow the king?”
“Yes, but they are going to war.”
“Thanks to my money, Joan, thanks to my money. It seems to me more important that somebody like me accompanies the king than any of those nobles who are always asking for easy loans. Well,” he added, looking toward the castle, “what are we waiting for now? It’s empty, and I’m tired.”
“By law, there still has to be—” Joan began.
“You and your laws,” Arnau snapped at him. “Why are you Dominicans so concerned about legal matters? What is there still—”
“Arnau and Eleonor, barons of Granollers, San Vicenc, and Caldes de Montbui!” The cry echoed out over the valley that lay beneath the castle hill. Everyone looked up to the tallest tower in the fortress. Eleonor’s steward, his hands cupped to amplify the sound, was shouting at the top of his voice: “Arnau and Eleonor, barons of Granollers, San Vicenc, and Caldes de Montbui! Arnau and Eleonor ... !”
