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 Llorenc 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.
