by Luz Gabás
Once the last prayers were finished, the parishioners filed outside in stunned silence, their heads down. Corso took Brianda by the arm to lead her to his horse, but Jayme, accompanied by Marquo and his wife, blocked his path.
“Did you complete your mission?” he asked.
“We searched every village from here to the westernmost valleys, but the fugitive fled to France,” Corso responded drily. “Your soldiers can tell you it was so.”
“He is going to Bearn,” Marquo intervened. “King Henry of Navarre’s sister gives refuge to all the rebels who arrive there to organize a French incursion into Spain.”
Brianda frowned. Why had Corso abandoned Pere to obey the orders of her stepfather? And why did Marquo know about it? She looked with curiosity at Marquo. It had been more than two years since she had last seen him. His hair, previously curly, was cut very short, and the sparkle in his eyes had vanished. Alodia, heavily pregnant, showed signs of impatience. She did not look well for a girl her age, thought Brianda. She was too thin, despite her swollen belly, and red marks spoiled her pale skin.
“According to my sources,” Marquo continued, “they might get the support of certain lords who haven’t forgotten about the murder of the Justice of Aragon by the king.”
“More wars!” exclaimed Brianda despondently.
“Well, they won’t get any support here,” Alodia said in a slurred voice. “You heard Father Guillem. The malign one stalks us, surely disguised as a heretic. We should all unite against the invader.”
“Shut up!” Marquo snapped at her. “You know nothing!”
Jayme smiled sinisterly.
“Your wife is right, Marquo. The threat hanging over us is much greater than the quarrels between the boxwood and the gorse or the skirmishes in Zaragoza. But don’t you worry, Brianda—” He addressed her but did not look her in the eye. “French Bearn is far away and there are more and more king’s soldiers to defend us. Our help might not be needed to achieve the peace we have also sought for so long here.” He bowed slightly in farewell, but after taking a few steps, he turned and looked at Corso. “Given that you did not serve me well, you are still in my debt.”
Corso muttered a curse, took Brianda’s arm again, lifted her onto his horse, and got up behind her. They rode in silence for a stretch. The midday sun slowed their steps.
“Why did you lie to me, Corso?” Brianda suddenly asked. “What were you up to with the enemy?”
“In this land, it’s getting more and more difficult to know who is who.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Jayme threatened to expose me as a deserter if I didn’t do as he ordered. If I were free to escape, I’d kill him. Now my only cause is you and little Johan. I owe my loyalty to both of you. Nothing else matters.”
Brianda turned and kissed him.
“I understand you, but promise that you won’t lie to me again.”
Corso nodded.
“Did you see the look on Jayme’s face when he answered Alodia?” asked Brianda. “He spoke of peace, but his words were as dark as those of Father Guillem’s sermon. There was a moment when I felt so afraid that everyone began to seem like strangers.”
Corso did not answer. During his time as a soldier, he had learned to live with fear. Each day he rose not knowing whether he would lose his life, yet he had always confronted his enemies face-to-face. Father Guillem’s words were much worse than any threat of war because the enemy the clergyman spoke of was not clearly identifiable. Corso did not share his thoughts with Brianda, but his chest burned with insecurity and apprehension.
Once in Anels House, he handed over the horse’s reins to a servant and led Brianda by the hand to their room. In silence, he pulled off her clothes, took off his own, placed her on the bed, and began to kiss and caress her as if it would be the last time. He anxiously took possession of her mouth, impatiently imprisoned her breasts in his hands, and held her so tight she found it difficult to breathe. When he finally entered her, it was with desperation, as if the only possible peace were somewhere deep inside her.
Brianda accompanied his frenzy with tear-filled eyes. She too felt the need to love him in a way that would block out her thoughts, her worries, and her fears; to possess him so that her only perception of the world was their consuming pleasure; to honor him with the soul that gave life to this simple body that death would one day rot.
Corso suddenly stopped. Leaning on his elbows, he buried his hands in her hair and fiercely looked into her eyes.
“Let’s go away, Brianda,” he murmured. “Far away …”
36.
At the beginning of Christmastime, Brianda decorated the entrance and hall of Anels House with branches of pine and holly, and, in the hearth, Corso lit a huge ash log that burned slowly until the Feast of the Epiphany. That day, little Johan crowed with triumphant joy when he hit the traditional hollowed log, and a handful of sweets tumbled out. Like the other children in the highlands of Orrun, he was unaware of the worries of his elders, whose mood that year was ill suited to celebrating the incarnation of God in the child Jesus. Father Guillem had loaded them with fasts, litanies, and prayers of penance in atonement for all possible sins.
One morning in the middle of January 1592, the Tiles church bells began to toll insistently. Not even for the three Christmas masses and the offices of matins and lauds had such a racket been made. The pealing echoed through the fields and reverberated at the foot of Beles Peak.
“What could have happened?” Brianda wondered aloud, peering out her bedroom window. “There is no smoke to be seen, and the day is peaceful.”
Corso got out of bed and began to get dressed.
“Someone is coming on horseback,” Brianda announced. “He must be bringing news.”
The rider was Remon, Gisabel’s husband.
“I have orders from the bailiff to call and convene the council in the church in Tiles,” he said, out of breath, as he drank a cup of water in the kitchen. “The masters of each house in Aiscle, Tiles, and Besalduch must attend. Men only. It will begin at midday.”
“But the General Council is always held on the feast of Saint Vincent in Aiscle,” Brianda replied. “Do you know what’s going on?”
Remon shook his head and left.
The morning passed full of conjecture. Brianda wanted to attend the council, but Remon had been clear that only men were allowed, and Corso did not want her to relive the embarrassment she had suffered in Monzon. Finally, Corso rode alone to the church. When he arrived, the middle benches were already occupied. Jayme, Pere, and Marquo had taken their seats at a rudimentary wooden table placed before the altar. Corso went to the Anels chapel and sat down alone. He was surprised to see Alodia in the first bench.
Jayme was the first to speak. He held a wad of papers in his hands, which he flicked through every now and then.
“For a while, Father Guillem has been warning us that a terrible evil has come among us. Our prayers have not been enough, so it is now us, those responsible for civil and criminal jurisdiction, who must act immediately to root it out.” He pointed to a well-dressed man of medium build, serious-looking, with bushy eyebrows. Corso recognized him as the lawyer who had initially guided them in their appeal for Lubich. “Arpayon and I have worked for several days preparing statutes of indictment as they have done in other places affected by similar misfortunes—”
Pere sat up in his seat, alarmed.
“Statutes of indictment? You intend to temporarily renounce the laws that protect the people of the Kingdom of Aragon? To what end?”
“Our situation is so delicate that we cannot wait for ordinary justice to resolve it.” Jayme shot a quick look at Corso.
Corso realized Jayme was secretly thinking of their dispute over Lubich.
“May I ask what moves you with such speed?” Pere requested.
Jayme gestured to Alodia to stand up and approach the table. Marquo’s wife was a pitiful spectacle; her hair gathered up in a bun h
ighlighted the paleness of her face and her extreme thinness. With her shoulders hunched and her hands pressed against her belly, she looked old before her time.
“Our fears,” said Jayme, who with a gesture included Marquo, Arpayon, and Father Guillem, “were confirmed once we heard Alodia’s testimony, a testimony she will now share with you.” With a look and a slight head movement, he pressed her to speak.
Alodia looked at her husband and then at the audience before she began.
“My son was born on Christmas Day. For me and those of my house, it was a gift from God that he came into the world the day we celebrated Christ’s birth. The child was good and healthy until four days ago. When I woke up he was dead.” She had to make a tremendous effort to speak. Visibly nervous and with a trembling voice she added, “He had the tip of his nose turned and stuck against his face, his mouth was open, and on his wrists there were marks as if he had been grabbed by someone.” She began to cry. “My only consolation was that he had been baptized at birth.” She cried harder. “The previous day my son was fine, and then witches killed him during the night.”
“Witches!” A murmur spread through the church. Corso saw how the people whispered and nodded, as if at last naming the evil with that word made it concrete and even beatable.
Jayme patiently waited for silence to return and then asked, pronouncing each word slowly, “Would you say, Alodia, that someone gave you the evil eye and that you are a victim of it?”
The woman nodded slightly but repeatedly.
“We will not ask you to say the name publicly because as is stated in these statutes”—Jayme looked through the papers and read out loud—“against such transgressions any man or woman, even if consort, partner, or accessory to the crime, will be able to testify, given that this crime is perpetrated secretly and with demonic suggestion. The abovementioned crimes will be proceeded against—not only those that are committed from now on but also those committed before the preparation and promulgation of this order and statutes, and for which we will take oaths from all men and woman of this locality, married or widowed, so that they give testimony of all they know about any person and about those accused of profanation and witchcraft. We also order and enact a statute that those who wish to defend themselves or contract a lawyer may do so. If a copy of the process is required, it shall be given, but without the names of the witnesses to avoid scandal and enmities.”
He looked up and fixed his gaze on each of them, while adding, “The crimes of witchcraft and spell-casting are so great and offensive to God Our Lord and cause such damage to people that they must be punished in the speediest possible manner. Alodia has been brave enough to inform us of what happened. I find it difficult to believe that nobody else here has been witness to the actions of witches and spells—”
Again the voices of those present rose in chorus, but this time people’s conversations were frantic and overlapping. Corso heard tales about illnesses and anguish, about quarrels between neighbors, about old women walking alone at night, about some who talked ill of Lent and the clergy, about others who without working found their work done and plenty of hot bread, about songs heard during the night, about people who had woken up in the morning covered in pinches and bruises, about the increase in the number of black cats instead of the common white and gray ones, about the continuous robberies they suffered, about children who died with their bodies discolored, about people who did not smell like Christians, about some people who had refused to help others and later had miscarriages, and about others who had refused to make the sign of the cross on the ground beside the washing area …
“How many neighbors do we know who have died as dry as tinder or acted like rabid dogs before dying?” Jayme got to his feet and raised his voice above the tumult. “Do you not feel tired and of bad humor these days? How many of you feel a heavy hand on your hearts at night? How many of you in daytime feel agitated and bewildered because of your terrible dreams?”
“Many of us, Jayme,” answered Pere, shouting to be heard. “We have had years of altercations and scarcity, but what you are suggesting goes beyond our knowledge. How are we to become our own judges?”
“We have the counsel of Father Guillem, and we put ourselves under the protection of His Royal Majesty and of the Illustrious and Reverend Bishop of Barbastro to act in the king’s name.” Jayme looked at Pere with a puzzled expression. “Men, children, and animals die. The crops rot, and the storms, the cold, and the hail destroy the fruit on the trees. Women are barren, and those who aren’t lose their children in childbirth or soon afterward, as happened to Alodia. A terrible evil has come among us, Pere, and you suggest we shouldn’t act to stop it? The guarantees offered under the Aragonese law you appeal to would convert the trials against the witches into a long process when what we need here is quick action.”
Several neighbors applauded his words.
Satisfied, Jayme concluded, “Marquo will read these statutes and indictments, necessary for the imprisonment and punishment of the maleficent, useful and beneficial for the good of this jurisdiction, granted to end the damage and ruin in this district and to punish those who offend God Our Lord, in whose service we act. We will name two men among you to form part of this council, and Arpayon will sign and ratify the document.”
Corso listened carefully to Marquo’s reading of the document. He wanted to know with absolute precision the nature of that enemy against which he would need to protect himself and his family. He could not see it as a monster with horns and a tail, and for that reason his heart was filled with worry. He could slay any animal from the depths of hell with his sword. However, this intangible being engendered by fear, resentment, mistrust, gluttony, and envy would be difficult to face head-on. Slippery, cunning, and astute, like the worst of traitors, it would show its face when it would be already too late. The words that came out of Marquo’s mouth were more dangerous than all the battles he’d ever fought.
When the justice had finished reading, Corso stood up and quickly left, unaware of the reproachful looks aimed at his back.
Once in Anels House, Corso asked Leonor and Brianda to meet him in the hall. When they came, he locked the doors and bade them sit by his side near the fire. He wanted to ensure that nobody overheard the conversation.
“They have accused spell-casters, witches, magicians, and the maleficent of all the misfortunes in the valley. To remedy this, the council has approved a statute of indictment so that anyone can be a suspect and legitimately accused of witchcraft, without need of other information. The justice can detain anyone at any time and more rapidly if there is suspicion of flight, without observing any judicial process or law of the Kingdom of Aragon.”
“Marquo?” Brianda could not imagine the young man detaining anyone merely based on an accusation of witchcraft. “And he agrees to his new task?”
“The document was prepared by Jayme, the lawyer, and himself, so he must. And not only that. He will oversee the trials and interrogations of the accused and witnesses, and he will pass sentence even if it is the death penalty, as advised by the council. He will also recommend the type of torture he sees fit. They have appointed two representatives, Domingo the carpenter and Remon of Lubich, to be part of the tribunal, and neither refused.” Corso sighed. “How could they? If they had refused, they would themselves have been suspect and fined.”
“Heavens above!” exclaimed Leonor. “And nobody protested?”
“After Alodia spoke, there was some sort of communal recognition of what many had apparently suspected.”
“Wait, what was Alodia doing there?” Brianda asked.
“They brought her so she could describe how witches killed her newborn son.”
“Witches!” spat Leonor. “Aldonsa told me one of Alodia’s servants told her the child had suffocated under Alodia’s breast. If she didn’t drink so much wine, she would be more alert. That she could make up such viciousness to disguise her own stupidity!”
“I’m afraid
that no one will believe any other version,” said Corso. “She has lit a dangerous flame.”
“I see you’re worried, Corso,” Brianda said, frowning. “What have we to fear if our behavior is proper?”
Corso took her hand. “Brianda, one person’s good actions and motives are questioned by another. Was I right to flee from the king’s army? Yes, because that decision led me to you. But I will always be a deserter. Can you assure me that nobody has ever looked at you badly? Are you sure you have never looked at anyone with hate in your eyes? Also, per what they said this morning, it’s not necessary that crimes have occurred. It’s enough that the suspicion exists.”
A shiver ran down her spine.
“So, what can we do about it? Lock ourselves in the house? Stop talking to our neighbors?”
“I told you a couple of weeks ago, Brianda, but you didn’t take me seriously. Let’s go away.”
For the first time since she had met him, Brianda heard desperation in his voice.
“Go away!” Brianda got to her feet and began pacing from one end of the room to the other. “Where? This is our home!”
“Somewhere where nobody knows us.” Corso turned to Leonor. “Am I the only one who senses a particular threat to this house?”
“You’ve just said that they’ll act with more haste if they suspect flight,” responded Leonor. “An escape would make you look guilty.”
“When I say let’s go, I am including you.”
Leonor shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Let it be God’s will. At my age, my only wish is that, when my hour comes, my remains rest beside Nunilo’s.”
Corso stood up. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! What has this land got that makes you stick to it with such dangerous devotion?” He went over to Brianda and rested his hands on her hips. “I have always respected your decisions and supported you, but I ask you, I plead with you, and I order you that you hurry and collect your things and those of little Johan. Tonight we will sleep in the monastery in Besalduch, and tomorrow we will travel into Catalan territory, something we have wanted to do for a long time, to see Barcelona, if anybody asks. The indictment will not last forever. We’ll come back someday.”