Cathedral of the Sea

“For Santa Maria!”

The shouting echoed off the walls of the quarry and accompanied Arnau as he set off on his own down the path to the city.

But he was not alone. All the bastaixos who set off after him soon caught up and made sure that they fell in with him for a few minutes, encouraging him and helping him on his way. As soon as another one reached them, the first would continue at his own pace.

Arnau could hardly hear what they said. He could scarcely even think. All his attention was on the foot that had to come from behind, and once he saw it moving forward and touching the ground under him, he concentrated on the other one; one foot after the other, overcoming the pain.

As he crossed the gardens of San Bertran, his feet seemed to take an eternity to appear. By now, all the other bastaixos had overtaken him. He remembered how when Joan and he used to give them water they would rest the block on the edge of a boat while they drank. Now he looked for something similar, and soon came across an olive tree. He rested the stone on one of its lower branches; he knew that if he left it on the ground, he would never be able to raise it again. His legs were stiff as boards.

“If you stop,” Ramon had advised him, “make sure your legs don’t go completely stiff. If they do, you won’t be able to carry on.”

So Arnau, freed from at least part of the weight, continued to move his legs. He took deep breaths. Once, twice, many times. “The Virgin will take part of the weight,” Ramon had told him. My God! If that was true, how much did his stone really weigh? He did not dare move his back. It hurt terribly. He rested for a good while. Would he be able to set off again? Arnau looked all around him. He was completely alone. Not even the mule drivers took this path, because they had to go down to the Trentaclaus gate.

Could he do it? He stared up into the sky. He listened to the silence, then with one pull managed to lift the block of stone again. His feet began to move. First one, then the other, one, then the other ...

At Cagalell he stopped again, this time resting the stone on the ledge of a huge rock. The first bastaix reappeared, on their way back to the quarry. Nobody spoke, merely exchanging glances. Arnau gritted his teeth once more and lifted the stone again. Some of the bastaixos nodded their approval, but none of them halted. “It’s his challenge,” one of them commented later, when Arnau was out of earshot, and he turned to look at the boy’s painful progress. “He has to do it on his own,” another man agreed.

After he had passed the western wall and left Framenors behind, Arnau came across the first inhabitants of Barcelona. All his attention was still on his feet. He was in the city! Sailors, fishermen, women and children, men from the boatyards, and ships’ carpenters all stared in silence at the boy bent double under the stone, his face sweaty and mottled from the effort. They looked at the feet of this youthful bastaix, and he could see nothing else. Everyone was silently willing him on: one foot, then the other, one after the other ...

Some of them fell in behind him, still without saying a word. After more than two hours’ effort, Arnau finally arrived at Santa Maria accompanied by a small, silent crowd. Work on the church came to a halt. The workmen stood at the edge of the scaffolding. Carpenters and stonemasons put down their tools. Father Albert, Pere, and Mariona were there, waiting for him. Angel, the boatman’s son who by now was a craftsman, came up to him.

“Keep going!” he shouted. “You’re there! You’ve made it! Come on, you can do it!”

Shouts of encouragement came from the highest scaffolding. The crowd that had followed Arnau through the city cheered and applauded. All Santa Maria joined in, even Father Albert. Yet Arnau still stared down at his feet: one, then the other, one, the other ... all the way to the area where the stones were stored. As he reached it, apprentices and craftsmen rushed to receive the block the boy had carried.

Only then did Arnau look up. He was still bent double, and his body was shaking all over. But he smiled. People crowded all round to congratulate him. Arnau found it hard to tell who they all were: the only one he recognized was Father Albert. He was staring in the direction of Las Moreres cemetery. Arnau followed his gaze.

“For you, Father,” he whispered.

When the crowd had dispersed and Arnau was preparing to head back toward the quarry as his companions had done—some of them by now had made as many as three journeys—the priest called out to him. Josep, the guild alderman, had given him instructions.

“I’ve got a job for you,” he said. Arnau came to a halt and looked at him, puzzled. “You have to clean the Jesus chapel, to sort out the candles and tidy everything.”

“But ... ,” Arnau protested, pointing to the blocks of stone.

“There are no buts about it.”

19

IT HAD BEEN a hard day. Midsummer had only just passed, and nightfall came late. The bastaixos had to work from dawn to dusk loading and unloading the ships that came into the port, and were always under pressure from merchants and captains, who wanted to stay the shortest time possible in the port of Barcelona.

Arnau entered Pere’s house dragging his feet and carrying his leather strap in his hand. Eight faces turned toward him. Pere and Mariona were seated at the table with another man and woman. Joan, a boy, and two girls were sitting on the floor by the wall. All of them were eating from bowls.

“Arnau,” Pere said to him, “these are our new tenants. Gasto Segura, an artisan tanner.” The man merely nodded his head slightly, still eating. “His wife, Eulalia.” She did smile at him. “And their three children: ”Simo, Aledis, and Alesta.”

Arnau was exhausted. He waved his hand sketchily in the direction of Joan and the tanner’s three children, and went to take the bowl Mariona was offering him. Yet something made him take a second look at the three newcomers. What was it ... ? Their eyes! The two girls were openly staring at him. Their eyes were ... they were huge, a rich chestnut brown, sparkling with life. They both smiled at him.

“Eat, lad!”

Their smiles vanished. Alesta and Aledis quickly dropped their eyes to their bowls again, while Arnau turned to the tanner, who had stopped eating and was lifting his chin toward Mariona, who was offering Arnau his bowl from the fire.