Figueres.
The mistress, who was watching as Aledis remembered her journey, saw that the young girl was trembling.
The presence of the royal army in Figueres attracted hundreds of people. Aledis had joined them, already in the grip of hunger. She could no longer recall what they looked like, but she was given bread and water, and somebody offered her some vegetables. They came to a halt for the night north of the River Fluvia, at the foot of Pontons castle, which guarded the river approach to the town of Bascara, halfway between Girona and Figueres. It was there that two of the travelers took payment for the food they had offered her: both of them raped her brutally in the night. Aledis was past caring. She sought in her memory for the image of Arnau’s face, and took refuge there. The next day, she followed the group like an animal, walking several paces behind them. But this time they did not give her any food, or even talk to her. At long last, they reached the royal camp.
And now ... what was this woman staring at? She did nothing but stare ... at Aledis’s stomach! Aledis could see that the robe fit snugly over her flat, smooth stomach, and she squirmed beneath the other woman’s gaze.
The mistress pursed her lips in satisfaction, but Aledis did not see the gesture. How often had she witnessed silent confessions of this sort? Girls who made up stories, but at the slightest pressure were unable to sustain their lies: they always grew nervous and looked down at the ground, just as this one did. How many pregnancies had she seen? Dozens? Hundreds? Never had a girl with such a flat, smooth stomach like hers really been pregnant. Had she missed a month? Possibly—but that was not enough to lead her to undertake such an arduous journey to see her husband before he went off to fight.
“There is no way you can go to the army camp dressed like that.” Aledis looked up when she heard the other woman speak. She glanced down at the robe again. “We are forbidden to go there. If you wish, I could find your husband for you.”
“You? You would help me? Why would you do that?”
“Haven’t I already helped you? I’ve given you food, had you washed and dressed. Nobody else has done as much in this hellish camp, have they?” Aledis nodded, and shuddered as she recalled the way she had been treated. “Why does it seem so odd to you then?” the woman added. Aledis hesitated. “We may be whores, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have feelings. If someone had given me a helping hand some years ago ...” The woman gazed into space, and her words floated up into the roof of the tent. “Well, that doesn’t matter now. If you wish, I can help you. I know many people in the army camp, and it wouldn’t be difficult to locate your husband.”
Aledis thought it over. Why not? The other woman was thinking of her new recruit. It would be easy enough to have the husband disappear ... All it would take was a scuffle in the camp ... Lots of the soldiers owed her favors. And then what would the girl do? Whom could she turn to? She was on her own ... She would be hers. If it was true, the pregnancy was no problem either; she had dealt with many others in the past, for the price of a few coins.
“I thank you,” said Aledis.
That was it. She was hers.
“What’s your husband’s name? Where does he come from?”
“He’s part of the Barcelona host. His name is Arnau, Arnau Estanyol.”
At this, Aledis saw the other woman tremble. “Is there something wrong?” she asked.
The woman fumbled for the stool and sat down. Perspiration beaded her brow.
“No,” she said. “It must be this ghastly hot weather. Pass me that fan, will you?”
It was impossible! she told herself, while Aledis carried out her request. The blood was beating at her temples. Arnau Estanyol! Impossible.
“Describe your husband to me,” she said, fanning herself as she sat.
“Oh, it ought to be very easy to find him. He’s a
The mistress went on fanning herself in silence. She was gazing far beyond Aledis, to a village called Navarcles, to a wedding feast, a straw mattress, a castle ... to Llorenc de Bellera, her disgrace, hunger, pain ... How many years had gone by since then? Twenty? Yes, at least that many. And now ...
Aledis interrupted her thoughts: “Do you know him?”
“No ... no.”
Had she ever known him? In fact, she remembered little about him. She had been so young!
“Will you help me find him?” Aledis asked, bringing her back to the present once more.
“Yes, I will,” said the other woman, indicating that Aledis should leave the tent.
Once she had gone, Francesca buried her face in her hands. Arnau! She had managed to forget him, and now, twenty years later ... if this girl were telling the truth, the child she was bearing in her belly would be ... her grandchild! And she had been planning to kill it! Twenty years! What could he be like? Aledis had said he was tall, strong, handsome. Francesca had no image of him, even as a newborn baby. She had succeeded in making sure he had the forge to warm him, but soon it had become impossible for her to go and visit him. “Those wretches! I was only a girl, but they queued up to rape me!” A tear coursed down her cheek. How long had it been since she had cried? She had not done so twenty years earlier. “The boy will be better off with Bernat,” she had thought. When she learned what had happened, Dona Caterina had slapped her and sent her off to be the soldiers’ plaything. When they had finished with her, she had lived off the scraps thrown over the castle wall. She wandered among the heaps of rubbish and waste, fighting with other beggars for whatever moldy, worm-ridden remains they could find. That was how she had met another young girl. She was skinny, but still pretty. Nobody seemed to be looking after her. Perhaps if ... Francesca offered her some scraps she had saved for herself. The girl smiled, and her eyes lit up; she had probably known no other life than this. Francesca washed her in a stream, scrubbing her skin with sand until she cried out with pain and cold. Then all she had to do was present her to one of the captains at Lord Bellera’s castle. That was how it had all started. “I grew hard, my son, so hard that my heart turned to stone inside me. What did your father tell you about me? That I left you to die?”
That same night, when the king’s captains and those soldiers who had been fortunate at dice or cards came to her tent, Francesca asked if any of them knew Arnau.
