legs almost gave way under him. The king had to disembark!
Even Count de Terranova, the king’s counselor who had been left in charge of the city, seemed to support the idea. Arnau glared at him.
The three city aldermen, Count de Terranova, and several other leading citizens got into a catboat and were taken to the royal galley. Arnau could hear that his own guild companions were also in favor of it: “He mustn’t give the king of Mallorca time to rearm,” they argued.
The discussions went on for several hours. Nobody moved from the beach, awaiting the king’s decision.
In the end, the boatmen did not build their bridge, but not because the fleet had left to conquer Roussillon and the Cerdagne. Instead, King Pedro decided he could not continue the campaign in the present circumstances: they did not have sufficient money; a large number of his cavalry had lost their steeds during the sea crossing and needed to disembark; and above all, he needed fresh arms and provisions to pursue the war. He rejected the city authorities’ suggestion that he give them some days to organize festivities to celebrate the conquest of Mallorca, declaring that there was to be no celebration until he had reunited his kingdoms. So finally, when, on the twenty- ninth of June, 1343, Pedro the Third did disembark in the port of Barcelona, it was done like any other seaman—by leaping into the water from a small boat.
How could Arnau tell Maria he was thinking of joining the army? He did not have to worry about Aledis: what would she gain by making their adultery public? If he went off to war, why would she seek to harm both him and herself? Arnau remembered Joan and his mother: that was the fate awaiting her if their adultery became known, and Aledis was well aware of it. But Maria? How could he possibly tell her?
Arnau tried. He tried to say good-bye to her when she was massaging his back. “I’m off to the wars,” he thought he could say. Just that: “I’m off to the wars.” She would cry: what had she done to deserve it? He tried to tell her when she was serving him his food, but her sweet eyes looking at him prevented him from saying a word. “What’s wrong?” she said. He even tried it after they had made love, but Maria simply went on caressing him.
Meanwhile, Barcelona had become a hive of activity. The common people wanted the king to leave to conquer the Cerdagne and Roussillon, but the king seemed to be in no hurry. The nobles were demanding he pay them for the soldiers they had contributed, and for the loss of their horses and weapons, but the royal coffers were empty, so the king had to allow many of them to return to their own lands. Ramon de Anglesola, Joan de Arborea, Alfonso de Lloria, Gonzalo Diez de Arenos, and many others departed in this way.
So King Pedro was forced to call on the Catalan host: it would be his people who fought for him. The bells rang out all throughout the principality, and on the king’s orders, the priests in their weekly homilies called on all free men to enlist. The nobility had deserted the Catalan army! Father Albert spoke passionately, whirling his arms in the air. How was the king going to defend Catalonia? What if, when he saw the nobles abandoning King Pedro, the king of Mallorca joined with the French to attack them? It had already happened once! Father Albert cried out above the congregation’s heads in Santa Maria: who among them had not heard of the French crusade against Catalonia? On that occasion, the invaders had been defeated. But now? What would happen if King Jaime were allowed to rearm?
Arnau stared at the stone Virgin with the child at her shoulder. If only he and Maria had had a child. If that had happened, he was sure none of this would have taken place. Aledis would not have been that cruel. If only he had been given a son ...
“I’ve made a promise to the Virgin,” Arnau whispered to Maria while the priest was still haranguing the congregation, recruiting soldiers from the high altar. “I’m going to join the royal army so that she will give us the blessing of a child.”
Maria turned toward him before looking at the Virgin; she took his hand and held it tight.
“You CAN’T DO this!” Aledis shouted at him when Arnau announced his decision. Arnau raised his hands to get her to speak more quietly, but she paid him no heed: “You can’t leave me! I’ll tell everyone—”
“What good would that do, Aledis?” he interrupted her. “I’ll be with the army. All you will do is ruin your own life.”
They stared at each other, crouching in the bushes as they always did. Aledis’s bottom lip started to tremble. How pretty she was! Arnau lifted a hand toward her cheek to wipe away her tears, but thought better of it.
“Good-bye, Aledis.”
“You can’t leave me,” she sobbed.
Arnau turned back to her. She had fallen forward on her knees, her head between her hands. When he said nothing, she peered up at him.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she moaned.
Arnau saw the tears roll down her face; her whole body was racked with sobs. Arnau bit his lip and looked up at the top of the hill, where he went to fetch his blocks of stone. Why hurt her any more than necessary? He spread his arms wide.
“I have to do it.”
She crawled over and reached out to clutch his legs.
“I have to do it, Aledis!” he repeated, jumping backward.
Then he ran off down Montjuic hill.
27
SHE COULD TELL by the vivid colors of their clothes that they were prostitutes. Aledis was uncertain whether she should approach them, but the smell from their pot of meat and vegetable stew was irresistible. She was hungry. She was starving. The girls, who looked as young as she was, were moving and talking animatedly around their fire. When they saw her close to the camp, they invited her to join them; but they were prostitutes. Aledis looked down at herself: ragged, evil-smelling, filthy. The whores called out to her again; she was dazzled by the way their silk robes caught the sun. Nobody else had offered her anything to eat. Hadn’t she tried at every tent, hut, or fireside she had come across? Had anyone else taken pity on her? No, they had treated her like a common beggar. She had begged for help: a crust of bread, a piece of meat, a vegetable even. They had spat on her outstretched hand and laughed. These women might be whores, but they had asked her to share their meal with them.
The king had ordered his armies to assemble in the town of Figueres, in the north of the principality. All those nobles who had not abandoned him headed there, together with the hosts of Catalonia, including the citizens of Barcelona. Among these was Arnau Estanyol. He felt free and hopeful, and carried his father’s crossbow and his blunt
