feet and legs dug into his mount’s withers, which spurred it into a full gallop. It headed straight for the city gate, with the boy still hanging on desperately. When the horse leapt over a small mound, he was thrown off into the air, then rolled on the ground until he came to rest in a clump of bushes.
Bernat was in the stables. The first he heard was the thunder of horses’ hooves on the cobblestones, and then the baroness shouting. Instead of walking in quietly as they usually did, the horses clattered across the yard. Bernat went out to look, and came across Tomas leading in the horse. It was in a lather, panting heavily through its nostrils.
“What... ?” Bernat started to ask.
“The baroness wants to see your son,” Tomas shouted, hitting the animal’s side.
The baroness’s shrieks could still be heard outside the stables. Bernat looked pityingly at the horse, which was pawing the ground.
“The mistress wants to see you,” Tomas shouted again as Arnau came out of the harness room.
Arnau looked at his father, who merely shrugged.
They went out into the yard. The baroness was livid, waving the whip she always took when she went riding, and shouting at Jesus, the tutor, and all the slaves who had come out to see what was going on. Margarida and Josep were still hanging behind. Genis stood next to the baroness, dirty, bleeding, and with torn clothes. As soon as Arnau and Bernat appeared, the baroness strode toward the boy and slashed his face with her whip. Arnau lifted his hand to his mouth and cheek. Bernat darted forward, but Jesus stepped in between them.
“Look at this,” the head stableman roared, showing him the severed rope. “This is your son’s work!”
Bernat took the rope and the halter and examined them. Hand still to his face, Arnau looked at them as well. He had checked them the previous day. He peered up at his father just as he in turn was glancing toward the stable door, where Tomas was observing the scene.
“It was fine,” Arnau shouted, picking up the rope and halter and shaking them in Jesus’s face. He glanced at the stable door again. “It was fine,” he repeated, as the first tears welled in his eyes.
“Look at him cry,” a voice suddenly said. Margarida was pointing at Arnau. “He’s the one to blame for your accident, and now he’s crying,” she added to her brother Genis. “You didn’t cry when you fell off the horse because of him,” she lied.
Josep and Genis were slow to react, but then they too joined in making fun of Arnau.
“That’s right, cry, little girl,” one of them said.
“Yes, go on, cry,” repeated the other.
Arnau saw them pointing at him and laughing. He could not stop crying! The tears ran down his cheeks, and his chest heaved as he sobbed. He stretched out his arms to show everyone, including the slaves, what had happened to the rope and the halter.
“Instead of crying, you should say you’re sorry for your carelessness,” the baroness chided him, smiling broadly at her stepchildren.
Say he was sorry? Arnau looked at his father, a puzzled look on his face. Bernat was staring at the baroness. Margarida was still pointing at Arnau and sniggering with her brothers.
“No,” he objected. “It was fine,” he added, throwing the rope and halter onto the ground.
The baroness began to wave her arms in the air, but stopped when she saw Bernat take a step toward her. Jesus caught Bernat by the elbow.
“She is a noblewoman,” he whispered in his ear.
Arnau looked at them all, then ran out.
“No!” SHOUTED ISABEL when Grau said he would get rid of father and son when he learned what had happened. “I want the father to stay here, working for your sons. I want him to be aware at all times we are waiting for his son to apologize. I want that boy to apologize publicly in front of your children. And that won’t happen if you get rid of them. Tell the father that his son cannot come back to work until he has said he is sorry ...” Isabel was shouting and waving her arms. “Tell him he will receive only half his wage until that happens, and that if he looks for other work we’ll make everyone in Barcelona aware of what happened here, so that he won’t be able to make a living. I want an apology!”
“We’ll make all of Barcelona aware ...” Grau could feel the hair on his body prickle. All those years trying to keep his brother-in-law hidden, and now ... now his wife wanted the whole of Barcelona to hear of him!
“Be discreet, I beg you,” was all he could think to say.
Isabel looked at him, her eyes bloodshot with rage. “I want them humiliated!”
Grau was about to say something, but thought better of it, and pursed his lips.
“Discretion, Isabel, that’s what we need,” was all he said.
Grau gave in to his wife’s demands. After all, Guiamona was no longer alive; there were no more birthmarks in the family, and they were all known as Puig rather than Estanyol. When Grau left the stables, Bernat listened with narrowed eyes as the stableman told him of the new conditions.
“FATHER, THERE WAS nothing wrong with that halter,” Arnau complained that night when the three of them were back in the small room they shared. “I swear it!” he said, when Bernat said nothing.
“But you can’t prove it,” Joan butted in. He had already heard what had happened.
“You don’t need to swear it,” thought Bernat, “but how can I explain to you... ?” He remembered how horrified he had been at his son’s reaction in Grau’s stables: “I’m not to blame, so there’s nothing I need to apologize for.”
“Father,” Arnau repeated, “I swear to you ...”
“But...”
