the church were still being built, with each stone being patiently placed on top of another.
Arnau looked up. The keystone of the second vault in the central nave was already in position, and now work was going on to place the ones in the side naves. The birth of our Lord: that had been the subject chosen to be sculpted on the boss. The presbytery roof was almost completely finished. The next one, the first over the immense central nave, was still incomplete. It looked like a huge spiderweb: the columns of the four arches were still open to the skies, while the keystone hung in the center like a great spider ready to leap out on the finest threads to devour its prey. Arnau could not help staring up at the slender columns. He knew how it felt to be trapped in a spider’s web! Aledis was pursuing him more and more insistently every day. “I’ll tell your guild aldermen,” she threatened whenever Arnau hesitated, and so he sinned with her, again and again. Arnau turned to observe his fellow
Santa Maria itself seemed to have turned its back on him. Now that it was partly roofed over, and with the buttresses in place to hold up the side naves of the second vault, the city noblemen and rich merchants had begun work in the side chapels, determined to leave their mark in the shape of coats of arms, images, sarcophagi, and every kind of decoration sculpted in stone.
Whenever Arnau came to the church these days in search of help from his Virgin, there was always some merchant or nobleman busy among the building work. It was as though his church had been stolen from him. The newcomers had appeared all of a sudden, and they often paused proudly at the eleven already built chapels of the thirty-four planned all round the ambulatory. By now the birds of the coat of arms of the Busquets family could be seen in the All Saints chapel; the hand and lion rampant of the Junyent family in the Saint James chapel; Boronet de Pera’s three pears carved in the keystone of the Saint Paul chapel; the horseshoe and stripes of Pau Ferran in the marble of the same chapel; the arms of the Duforts and the Dussays and the font of the Font family in the Saint Margaret chapel. They had even forced their way into the Jesus chapel! There, in his chapel, the chapel of the
Arnau passed by nobles and merchants, his gaze lowered. All he did was carry stone and kneel before his Virgin to ask her to free him from the spider pursuing him.
When the religious services were over, the entire city made its way down to the port. King Pedro the Third was there, decked out for war and surrounded by his barons. While infante Don Jaime, count of Urgel, was to stay in Catalonia to defend the frontier of the Ampurdan, Besalu, and Camprodon, which were adjacent to the lands on the mainland ruled by the king of Mallorca, the other nobles were all sailing off with the king to conquer the island. They included infante Don Pedro, the seneschal of Catalonia; Pere de Montcada, admiral of the fleet; Pedro de Eixerica and Blasco de Alago; Gonzalo Diez de Arenos and Felipe de Castre; Father Joan de Arborea; Alfonso de Lloria; Galvany de Anglesola; Arcadic de Mur; Arnau d’Erill; Father Gonzalvo Garcia; Joan Ximenez de Urrea; as well as many other noblemen and knights, all of them equipped for battle, with their soldiers and those of their vassals.
Maria, who had met Arnau outside the church, pointed to them, shouting for him to look where she was pointing.
“The king! The king, Arnau. Look at him! Look at the way he bears himself! What about his sword? Can you see it? And that nobleman over there? Who is he, Arnau? Do you know? Look at all those shields, their armor, the pennants fluttering ...”
Maria dragged Arnau all the way along the beach to Framenors. There, some distance from the nobles and soldiers, stood a large group of filthy, poorly dressed men. They had no shields or armor and wore only long, stiff tunics, greaves, and leather caps. They were busily climbing on board small boats to take them out to the warships.
Their only weapons were flat swords and spears!
“Is that the company?” Maria asked her husband.
“Yes. The Almogavars.”
The two of them watched in the same respectful silence as all the others on the beach staring at these mercenaries who had been taken on by King Pedro. The conquerors of Byzantium! Even the children and women who, like Maria, had been impressed by the nobles’ swords and armor, surveyed the Almogavars with pride. They fought on foot and wore no protection, relying entirely on their skill and dexterity. Who could possibly laugh at the way they were dressed or the weapons they carried?
Arnau was told this was what the Sicilians had done: they had laughed at them on the field of battle. How could such a ragged group hope to fight nobles on horseback? And yet the Almogavars defeated them and conquered the island. The French had done the same: the story was told throughout Catalonia to anyone who would listen. Arnau had heard it on several occasions.
“They say,” he told Maria now, “that some French knights captured one of the Almogavars and led him before Prince Carlos of Salerno, who insulted him, calling him a poor wretch and laughing at the Catalan company.” Arnau and his wife were still watching the Almogavars climb on board the boats. “So then the Almogavar, in front of the prince and all his knights, challenged their best captain to single combat. He said he would fight on foot, armed only with his spear. The Frenchman could be on horseback, in full armor.” Arnau fell silent, but Maria turned and urged him to go on. “The French laughed at the Catalan, but accepted the challenge. They all made their way to an open field near the French camp. There, the Almogavar first killed the Frenchman’s horse, then took advantage of how unwieldy he was fighting on the ground and soon defeated him. As he was preparing to cut the knight’s throat, Carlos de Salerno promised the Almogavar his freedom.”
“It’s true,” someone added behind their backs. “They fight like real devils.”
Arnau could feel Maria clinging to him, gripping his arm as hard as she could while she stared at the mercenaries. “What are you looking for, woman? Protection? If you only knew! I’m not even capable of facing my own weaknesses. Do you think any of them could hurt you more than I am doing? They fight like devils.” Arnau stared at them: men who were happy to go off to fight, leaving their families behind. Why ... why could he not do the same?
It took hours for all the men to board the ships. Maria went home, while Arnau wandered among the others gathered on the beach. He met several of his companions on the way.
“What’s all the hurry?” he asked Ramon, pointing to the small craft that were continuously coming to take on more and more soldiers.
“You’ll soon see,” Ramon answered.
At that very moment he heard the first whinny of a horse, soon followed by hundreds more. The army’s horses had been drawn up outside the city walls; now it was their turn to embark. Several of the seven buses
