was beside Joan. He slapped him hard twice, once on either cheek.
“The mistress says you are to cover your eyes.”
“I’m an inquisitor!”
This time, the blow from Esteve sent Joan crashing against the wall. He lay there at Esteve’s feet.
“Put the blindfold on.” Esteve lifted him with one hand. “Put it on,” he repeated when Joan was upright.
“Do you think that by using violence you can intimidate an inquisitor? You cannot imagine—”
Esteve did not let him finish. First he punched him hard in the face, and Joan went hurtling against the wall once again. Then Mar’s servant began to kick him—in the groin, the stomach, his chest, his face ...
Joan curled up in a ball to protect himself from more pain. Esteve picked him up with one hand.
“The mistress says you are to put it on.”
Joan was bleeding from the mouth. His legs gave way under him. When the servant let go, he tried to stay on his feet, but a stab of pain in his knee made him lurch forward and clutch Esteve’s body. The giant pushed him away.
“Put it on.”
The cloth was beside him. Joan realized he had wet himself and that his habit was sticking to his thighs.
He picked up the blindfold and put it on.
Joan heard the servant close the tower door and go down the staircase. Silence. On and on. Then he heard several footsteps on the stairs. Joan clambered up, gripping the wall. The door opened. They had brought some pieces of furniture with them; could they be chairs?
“I know you have sinned.” Mar was seated on a footstool. As she intoned the Inquisition’s charge, her voice reverberated around the room. Next to her, the little boy was watching the friar closely.
Joan said nothing.
“The Inquisition never blindfolds its... prisoners,” he complained finally. “Perhaps if I could see you face-to- face ...”
“That’s true,” he heard Mar reply. “You only blindfold their souls, their dignity, decency, their honor. I know you have sinned,” she said again.
“I won’t accept a trick like that.”
Mar signaled to Esteve. The servant went over to Joan and punched him hard in the stomach. Joan bent double, gasping for breath. By the time he had managed to straighten up again, there was complete silence in the room. He was panting so hard he could not even hear the others breathing. His legs and chest ached; his face felt raw. Nobody said a word. A knee to the outside of his thigh toppled him to the floor again.
Pain surged through him. He curled up into a ball once more.
Still silence.
A kick to his kidneys sent him arcing in the opposite direction.
“What do you want from me?” Joan screamed between the waves of pain.
Nobody answered. Finally the pain subsided, and it was then that Esteve picked him up again and hauled him in front of Mar.
Joan struggled to stay on his feet.
“What do you ... ?”
“I know you have sinned.”
How far would she go? Would she really beat him to death? Was she capable of killing him? Yes, he had sinned; but what authority did Mar have to judge him? He shuddered so violently he thought he was about to collapse again.
“You’ve already condemned me,” Joan managed to say. “Why judge me then?”
Silence. Darkness.
“Tell me! Why do you want to sit in judgment on me?”
“You are right,” he heard her say at length. “I’ve already condemned you, but remember it was you who confessed your guilt. On this very spot, it was you who robbed me of my virginity; this was where you had me raped time and again. Hang him and get rid of his body,” Mar told Esteve abruptly.
Mar’s footsteps began to descend the staircase. Joan felt Esteve tie his hands behind his back. He could not move; none of his muscles responded. The servant raised him in order to get him to stand on the stool where Mar had been sitting. Then Joan heard the noise of a rope being thrown up over one of the wooden beams in the ceiling. Esteve missed his aim, and the rope clattered to the floor. Joan wet himself again, and his bowels loosened. The noose was round his neck.
“I have sinned!” shouted Joan with what little strength he had left. At the foot of the stairs, Mar heard his anguished confession.
At last.
Mar walked back up to the top of the tower, followed by the little boy.
“Now I’ll listen to you,” she told Joan.
AT FIRST LIGHT, Mar was ready to leave for Barcelona. Dressed in her finest robes and wearing the few jewels she possessed, she allowed Esteve to lift her onto her mule. She urged the animal on.
