Cathedral of the Sea

The galley captain came to the side of the ship and waved at Filippo.

“I have the feeling I may not see you again,” said the old man. Sahat turned to look at him, but Filippo clung to him even more tightly. “I’m growing old, Sahat.”

The two men embraced at the foot of the ship.

“Take care of my affairs,” Sahat said, stepping back.

“I will, and when I am no longer able to,” Filippo said in a shaky voice, “my sons will carry on for me. Then, wherever you may be, it will be for you to give them a helping hand.”

“I will,” Sahat promised in turn.

Filippo drew Sahat to him again and kissed him full on the lips. The crowd waiting for this last passenger to come aboard murmured at this show of affection from Filippo Tescio.

“Godspeed,” the old man said.

Sahat ordered the two slaves carrying his possessions to go on ahead, then went on board himself. By the time he had emerged at the galley’s side, Filippo had vanished.

The sea was calm. There was no wind, but the galley sped along thanks to the efforts of its 120 oarsmen.

“I didn’t have the courage,” wrote Jucef in his letter after he had explained what had happened following the theft of the host, “to escape from the Jewry to be with my father in his final moments. I hope he understands, wherever he may be now.”

Standing in the prow of the galley, Sahat raised his eyes to the horizon. “You and your kind had the courage to live in a Christian city,” he said to himself. He had read and reread the letter many times: “Raquel did not want to escape, but we convinced her she must.”

Sahat jumped to the end of the letter:Yesterday, the Inquisition arrested Arnau. Today, thanks to a Jew who works in the bishop’s household, I discovered that it was Arnau’s wife, Eleonor, who accused him of being a friend of Jews. Since the Inquisition needs two witnesses to bring a charge, Eleonor has called several priests from Santa Maria de la Mar to testify that they overheard an argument between her and her husband; apparently what Arnau said then is considered sacrilegious and supports Eleonor’s accusation.

It was a very complicated affair, Jucef added. On the one hand, Arnau was a very rich man, and the Inquisition was interested in his fortune; on the other, he was in the hands of a man like Nicolau Eimerich. Sahat had a strong memory of the arrogant inquisitor, who had occupied the post six years before he himself had left Catalonia, and whom he had seen at some religious ceremonies to which he had been obliged to accompany Arnau.Ever since you left, Eimerich has been gathering more and more power. He has not even been afraid to publicly challenge the monarch. For years, the king has not paid revenues to the pope, and as a result Urban IV has offered Sardinia to the lord of Arborea, the leader of the rebellion against the Catalans. And after the long war with Castille, there is unrest again among the Corsican nobles. Eimerich, who depends directly on the pope, has taken advantage of all this to openly oppose the king. He insists the Inquisition should have the right to try Jews and other non-Christians, God forbid! But the king, who is responsible for all the Jewries in Catalonia, is strongly opposed to this. Eimerich is still trying to convince the pope, who has no great wish to defend our monarch’s interests.But in addition to attempting to attack the Jewries, against the king’s interests, Eimerich has also dared denounce the works of the Catalan theologian Ramon Llull as heresy. For more than half a century now, Llull’s doctrines have been treated with respect by the Catalan Church. Seeing this attack as a personal insult, the king has appointed jurists and philosophers to defend his work.In view of all this, I am afraid that Eimerich will try to turn the trial against Arnau, a Catalan baron and consul of the sea, into a new confrontation with the king in order to cement still further his position, while at the same time securing a considerable fortune for the Inquisition. I understand that Eimerich has already written to Urban IV to inform him that he will keep what the king is owed by Arnau to pay the revenues Pedro owes him; so that at one and the same time the inquisitor can wreak his revenge on the king through a Catalan nobleman, and also strengthen his position with the pope.I also think that Arnau’s personal situation is delicate, if not desperate. His brother, Joan, is known to be a cruel inquisitor; his wife is the one who has made the accusation against him; my father is dead; and the rest of us, given the charge of befriending Jews and for his own good, dare not show our subbort for him. You are the only one he has left.

That was how Jucef ended his letter: You are the only one he has left. Sahat put the letter into the small chest in which he kept all the correspondence he had had with Hasdai over the past five years. You are the only one he has left. Standing at the prow of the galley, with the box in his hands, Sahat gazed out at the horizon. “Row, men ... I am the only one he has left.”

AT A SIGNAL from Aledis, Eulalia and Teresa retired to bed. Joan had already left them some time earlier; Mar had not responded to his farewell.

“Why do you treat him like that?” Aledis asked once the two of them were alone in the dining room. The only sound was the crackling of the almost spent logs on the fire. Mar said nothing. “After all, he is Arnau’s brother...”

“That friar deserves no better.”

As she spoke, Mar did not even raise her eyes from the table, where she was trying to remove a splinter of wood. “She is a beautiful woman,” thought Aledis. Her long, wavy hair hung down over her shoulders. Her features were well defined: plump lips, prominent cheekbones, a strong chin, and a straight nose. On their way from the palace to the inn, Aledis had been surprised at how white and perfect Mar’s teeth looked, and could not help noticing how firm and shapely her body was. Yet her hands were those of someone who had worked hard in the fields: they were rough and calloused.

Mar left the splinter and looked up at Aledis. The two women stared at each other in silence.

“It’s a long story,” she admitted.

“If you want to tell it, I have the time,” said Aledis.

Mar’s mouth twitched, and she let several more seconds go by. Why not, after all? It had been years since she had talked to a woman; years that she had lived wrapped up in herself, doing nothing but work inhospitable lands, hoping that the ears of wheat and the sun would understand her misfortune and take pity on her. Why not? Aledis seemed like a good woman.

“My parents died in the plague outbreak, when I was no more than a child ...”

Mar told her everything. Aledis trembled when Mar spoke of the love she had felt on the plain outside Montbui