Cathedral of the Sea

Early each morning, Arnau and Joan attended mass and took part in the solemn processions that wound their way through the city to the tolling of the church bells. Then, like everyone else, they wandered the streets of Barcelona, enjoying the jousts and tournaments in Plaza del Born, where nobles and knights demonstrated their martial skills, either on foot wielding their big broadswords, or on horseback charging one another with lances at the ready. The two young men were also fascinated by the mock sea battles staged in the streets. “Out of the water they look much bigger,” Arnau commented to Joan, pointing out the men-o’-war and galleys mounted on wheels that were hauled round the city while their crews pretended to board and do battle with one another. Joan looked disapprovingly at Arnau whenever he made a small wager on cards or dice, but smiled and joined in the games of bowls, the bolit and escampella, at which the young seminarian showed remarkable skill in knocking down the pins in the first and hitting the coins in the second.

But what Joan most enjoyed was hearing the songs about the heroic deeds of Catalans in history, from the mouths of the many troubadours who had flocked to the city. “This is the chronicle of King Jaime the First,” he told Arnau when they heard the tale of the conquest of Valencia. “That is the story of Bernat Desclot,” he explained on another occasion when the troubadour had finished his account of the battles of Pedro the Great during his conquest of Sicily, or the French crusade against Catalonia.

“Today we have to go to Pla d’en Llull,” said Joan when another day’s procession was over.

“Why is that?”

“A troubadour from Valencia who knows Ramon Muntaner’s chronicle is going to perform there.” Arnau looked at him quizzically. “Ramon Muntaner is a famous chronicler from Valencia. He was a leader of the Almogavars when they conquered the duchies of Athens and Neopatras. He wrote the history of the wars seven years ago, and I’m sure it will be interesting ... at least it will be true.”

The Pla d’en Llull, an open area situated between Santa Maria and the Santa Clara convent, was filled to overflowing. People were sitting on the ground, talking among themselves but not taking their eyes off the spot where the Valencian troubadour was to appear: so great was his reputation that even noblemen had come to listen, accompanied by slaves carrying seats for their families. “They’re not here,” Joan told Arnau when he saw him looking anxiously among the nobles. Arnau had told him about his meeting with the Grau family in Santa Maria. The two men found a good place to sit alongside a group of bastaixos who had been waiting for some time for the spectacle to begin. Arnau sat on the ground, but not before he had scanned all the noble families who stood out higher than all the rest.

“You should learn to forgive,” Joan whispered. Arnau said nothing, but gave him a hard look. “A good Christian—”

“Joan,” Arnau interrupted him, “never. I’ll never forget what that harpy did to my father.”

At that moment the troubadour appeared, and the crowd broke into applause. Marti de Xativa was a tall, thin man with easy, fluent gestures. He raised his hands to call for silence.

“I am about to tell you the story of how and why six thousand Catalans conquered the Orient, how they defeated the Turks, the Byzantines, the Alans, and all the other warlike peoples who tried to stand against them.”

Again, applause rang out all round the square. Arnau and Joan joined in.

“I will also recount how the emperor of Byzantium murdered our admiral Roger de Flor and many other Catalans, after inviting them to a feast ...”

Someone shouted: “Traitor!” and the rest of the public growled more insults.

“I will end by telling you how the Catalans took revenge for the death of their leader, devastating the Orient and sowing death and destruction in their wake. This is the story of the company of Catalan Almogavars, who in the year of 1305 set sail under the command of admiral Roger de Flor ...”

The Valencian troubadour knew how to capture his audience’s attention. He gesticulated and acted out his words, accompanied by two assistants. He also invited members of the public to take part.

“Now I turn again to our Caesar,” he said, as he began the story of the death of Roger de Flor. “Accompanied by three hundred horsemen and a thousand foot soldiers, our admiral went to Andrinopolis, where xor Miqueli, the emperor’s son, had invited him to a feast in his honor.” At this point, the troubadour pointed to one of the most elegantly dressed nobles in the crowd and asked him to come up onto the stage to play the role of Roger de Flor. “If you involve your audience,” the troubadour’s master had explained, “especially if they are nobles, they will give you more money.”

On the platform, the figure of Roger de Flor was received with adulation by the two assistants, acting out the first six days of his stay in Andrinopolis. On the seventh, xor Miqueli summoned Girgan, the leader of the Alans, and Melic, chief of the Turcopoli, and their cavalrymen.

The troubadour strode restlessly round the stage. The crowd started to shout again; some of them got to their feet, and it took all the efforts of the two assistants to prevent them from intervening to defend Roger de Flor. The troubadour himself stabbed the admiral, and the nobleman playing the part fell to the ground. The crowd bayed for revenge for the treachery. Joan looked across at Arnau, who sat there staring at the fallen nobleman. The eight thousand Alans and Turcopoles assassinated all the thirteen hundred Catalans who had followed Roger de Flor—the assistants made stabbing gestures at one another time and again.

“Only three men survived,” the troubadour continued, raising his voice. “Ramon de Arquer, a knight from Castello d’Empuries, Ramon de Tous ...”

He went on to tell how the Catalans wreaked their revenge, laying waste to Thrace, Calcidia, Macedonia, and Thessaly. The crowd cheered whenever the singer mentioned any of these names. “May the vengeance of the Catalans be upon you!” they cried over and over again. They all knew of the feats of the Almogavars when they reached the duchy of Athens. There they killed twenty thousand men and won another victory, after making Roger des Laur their captain. All this the troubadour sang, and then he went on to relate how they gave the woman who had been married to the lord of la Sola as wife to their new leader. At this point, the troubadour sought out another nobleman, invited him up onstage, and then picked a woman from the audience and brought her up to accompany the new chief of the Almogavars.

“In this way,” sang the troubadour, joining the hands of the nobleman and the woman, “the Almogavars shared the city of Thebes and all the castles and lands of the duchy, and married off all the women to the men of the Almogavar company, according to their merits.”

As he was singing the final verses of his chronicle, the two assistants chose men and women from the audience and formed them into two lines. A lot of people were happy to be chosen: they saw themselves in the duchy of Athens, as Catalans who had avenged the death of Roger de Flor. The group of