So it was that on the second Sunday of July 1339, King Pedro paid his first visit to Barcelona, the city he had humiliated. Three reasons brought him there: the oath that his brother-in-law Jaime the Third, king of Mallorca, count of Roussillon and Cerdagne, and lord of Montpellier, had to swear as a vassal of the crown of Aragon; the general council of bishops of the province of Tarragona (to which Barcelona belonged); and the transfer of the remains of Saint Eulalia the martyr from the church of Santa Maria to the cathedral.
The first two events took place out of sight of ordinary people. Jaime the Third expressly asked that his oath of allegiance be given not in front of the populace, but in the palace chapel, before a small group of chosen nobles.
The third event, however, became a public spectacle. Nobles, churchmen, and all the inhabitants of the city came out onto the streets. The most privileged among them accompanied the royal party as they first heard mass in the cathedral, then walked in procession down to Santa Maria, before finally returning to the cathedral with the martyr’s remains.
All along the way, the streets were lined with people anxious to proclaim their king. Santa Maria’s apse was already roofed over; work had begun on the second vault, but a part of the original Romanesque church still survived.
Saint Eulalia was martyred during Roman rule, in the year 303. Her remains were kept first in the Roman cemetery and then in the church of Santa Maria de las Arenas, which was built on the pagan burial ground once Emperor Constantine had issued his edict authorizing Christian worship. When the Arabs invaded Spain, the men in charge of the tiny church decided to hide the martyr’s remains. In 801, when the French king Louis the Pious liberated the city, Frodoi, the then bishop of Barcelona, decided to search for the saint’s relics. Once found, they were laid to rest in a small coffer in Santa Maria.
In spite of being draped in scaffolding and surrounded by stones and building material, Santa Maria looked splendid for the royal visit. The archdeacon, Bernat Rosell, together with members of the commission of works, noblemen, beneficiaries, and other church dignitaries, all of them dressed in their finest robes, were there to greet the king. The bright colors of their garments were spectacular: the July morning sun poured in through the unfinished roof and windows of the church, glinting on the gold and metal adorning the vestments of those privileged enough to wait for the king inside.
The sun also glinted on the blunt tip of Arnau’s dagger: the humble
The
That July morning, Arnau and his companions were allowed through the lines of soldiers protecting the royal party. He knew he was the envy of all the citizens thronging the streets in the hope of seeing the king. A mere laborer in the port, here he was striding into Santa Maria alongside noblemen and merchants, as if he were one of them. As he walked through the church on the way to his chapel, he found himself opposite Grau Puig, Isabel, and his three cousins, all of them decked out in silk, as haughty and condescending as ever.
“Arnau,” he heard someone call just as he was continuing on past Margarida. Was it not enough for them to have ruined his father’s life? Could they possibly be so cruel as to want to humiliate him still further in front of his colleagues, here in the church? “Arnau,” he heard someone call again.
He looked up and saw Berenguer de Montagut standing in front of him, only a yard from the Puig family.
“Your Excellency,” said the master builder, addressing the archdeacon. “May I present Arnau ...”
“Estanyol,” Arnau stammered.
“He is the
The prelate nodded and held out his ringed finger, which Arnau leaned forward to kiss. Berenguer de Montagut patted him on the back. Arnau saw Grau and his family bowing to the prelate and the master builder, but neither paid them any attention, moving on to greet other nobles. Arnau straightened and strode away from the Puig family toward the Jesus chapel, where he joined his guild companions to stand guard.
Shouts from the crowd outside announced the arrival of the king and his retinue. King Pedro the Third; King Jaime of Mallorca; Queen Maria, Pedro’s wife; the infantes Pedro, Ramon Berenguer, and Jaime—the first two the king’s uncles, the last his brother; the queen of Mallorca, also a sister of the king; Cardinal Rodes, the papal envoy; the archbishop of Tarragona; other bishops and prelates; nobles and knights—they all headed in procession down Calle de la Mar to Santa Maria. Never before had Barcelona seen such a display of personalities, such wealth and pomp.
Pedro the Third, the Ceremonious, wanted to impress the people of Barcelona whom he had neglected for more than three years. He succeeded. The two kings, the cardinal, and the archbishop were carried on litters by bishops and nobles. At the provisional high altar, they received the chest with the martyr’s remains. The entire congregation looked on closely, and Arnau could scarcely contain his nervousness. The king himself carried the coffer with the holy relics from Santa Maria to the cathedral. He went inside and handed over the remains for burial in the specially constructed chapel beneath the high altar.
22
AFTER THE INTERMENT of Saint Eulalia’s remains, the king held a banquet in his palace. Together with Pedro at the royal table sat the cardinal; the kings of Mallorca and Aragon and the queen mother; the infantes of the royal house; and several prelates: twenty-five people in total. More noblemen occupied the other tables, as well as a large number of knights—the first time they had been included in a royal celebration. But not only the king and his court celebrated the occasion; the whole of Barcelona was given over to merriment for eight days.