house. Besides, as you know, the guild pays married men more.”
Arnau could not bring himself to look Bartolome in the eye.
“We have looked around a lot, and we think Maria is the right person for you,” added the priest.
Arnau stared at him.
“Every good Christian has a duty to marry and bring children into this world,” insisted Joan.
Arnau turned to look at his brother, but even before Joan had finished, a voice on Arnau’s left claimed his attention.
“I don’t think it’s a very difficult decision, my boy,” Bartolome advised him.
“I won’t join the Franciscans if you don’t marry,” Joan repeated.
“You would make us all very happy if you became a married man,” added the priest.
“The guild would not look kindly on the fact that you refused to marry, and as a result your brother could not continue in the Church.”
Nobody said another word. Arnau pursed his lips. The guild! There was no way out.
“Well, Brother?” asked Joan.
Arnau turned to face him, and for the first time saw someone he did not recognize: someone who was asking him a question in deadly earnest. How had the change in his brother escaped him? He still had an image of him as a smiling young boy running everywhere to show him the city, a boy with legs dangling over the side of a crate while his mother stroked his hair. How little the two of them had talked during the past four years! He had always been at work, loading and unloading the ships, arriving home at nightfall too tired to speak, content to have done his duty.
“Would you really not take the habit because of me?”
All at once it was just the two of them.
“Yes.”
Just him and Joan.
“We’ve worked very hard for that.”
“Yes.”
Arnau rested his chin on his hand and thought for a few moments. The guild. Bartolome was one of the aldermen: what would his colleagues say? He could not let Joan down after all the efforts they had made. Besides, if Joan left, what would become of him? He looked at Maria.
Bartolome waved for her to come over. The girl shyly left her mother’s side.
Arnau saw a simple young woman, with wavy hair and a generous smile.
“She is fifteen,” he heard Bartolome say when Maria was next to the table. Feeling the pressure of all their gazes, the girl crossed her hands in front of her and looked down at the floor. “Maria!” her father called out.
She raised her eyes and blushed as she sought out Arnau’s face. She was still squeezing her hands together tightly.
This time it was Arnau who looked away. When he saw how Arnau was avoiding his daughter, Bartolome became concerned. The girl gave a deep sigh. Could she be crying? Arnau had not meant to offend her.
“Very well,” he said.
Joan raised his cup, closely followed by Bartolome and the priest. Arnau reached for his own wine.
“You’re making me very happy,” said Joan.
“To the happy couple!” cried Bartolome.
A HUNDRED AND sixty days a year! By order of the Church, Christians were meant to avoid eating meat a hundred and sixty days each year, and each and every one of them saw Aledis, along with all the other housewives of Barcelona, go down to the beach near Santa Maria to buy fish at one of the two stalls in the city.
“Where are you?” As soon as she saw a ship, Aledis peered along the shoreline to where the boatmen were loading or unloading the goods. “Where are you, Arnau?” She had seen him once, his muscles so taut it seemed as though they would burst through the skin of his body. “My God!” Aledis shuddered, and began to count the hours until nightfall, when her husband would fall asleep and she could go down to the workshop to be with Arnau, his image still fresh in her memory. Thanks to the many days of abstinence, Aledis came to understand the
That morning Arnau was on his way back for another stone. On his own. He was carrying his leather headpiece in one hand, and was barechested. Aledis saw him walk past the fish stall. The sun was glinting off the sweat covering his whole body, and he was smiling at everyone he met. Aledis stepped out of the queue. Arnau! She longed to be able to call out to him, but knew she could not. The women waiting in line were already staring at her, and the old woman who was behind her pointed to the gap she had left. Aledis waved for her to take her place. How could she escape the attention of all these gossips? She pretended to retch. One of the women came to help her, but Aledis pushed her away: the others smiled. Aledis retched again, then ran off, while the other pregnant women gestured knowingly.
Arnau was striding along the beach on his way to the royal quarry at Montjuic. How could she catch him? Aledis ran along Calle de la Mar to Plaza del Blat. From there she turned left beneath the old gateway in the Roman wall, next to the magistrate’s palace, and then ran all the way down Calle de la Boqueria until she reached the gate. Everyone stared at her: what if someone recognized her? What did she care! Arnau was on his own. Aledis left the city by La Boqueria and flew down the track leading to Montjuic. He must be somewhere near ...
“Arnau!” This time she did shout out loud.
