Cathedral of the Sea

When they looked out at the Calle del Born, they saw more lanterns heading toward them. Arnau looked back; there were more lights inside the church too.

There was no way out. The watchmen were talking and shouting to one another. What could the boys do? The wooden floor! He pushed Joan down. The planks did not quite reach the wall. He pushed Joan down again, until the two of them were in the church foundations. The lights reached the platform above them. The footsteps on the wooden boards echoed in Arnau’s ears, and the watchmen’s voices hid the sound of his wildly beating heart.

They waited while the watchmen searched the building. It took them a lifetime! Arnau peered upward, trying to work out what was going on. Each time he saw light filtering through the boards, he crouched down to hide still farther in.

In the end the watchmen completed their search. Two of them stood on the wooden boards and for a few moments shone their lanterns all round. How could they possibly not hear the beating of his or Joan’s heart? The men moved away. Arnau turned his head to look at the spot where his brother had been crouching. One of the watchmen placed a lamp by the wooden planks; the other one was already walking away. Joan was not there! Where could he have got to? Arnau went over to where the church foundations joined the wooden floor. There was a hole, a small underground passage through the foundations of the church.

When Arnau had pushed him down into the foundations, Joan had crawled under the wooden floor. He found nothing in his way, so he went on crawling along the passageway, which angled slowly down toward the main altar. Arnau had encouraged him onward, whispering, “Be quiet,” several times. The noise of his body scraping against the sides of the tunnel prevented him from hearing anything more, but he was sure Arnau was right behind him: he could hear him clambering under the floor. It was only once the tunnel broadened out, allowing him to turn round and get to his knees, that Joan realized he was all alone. Where was he? It was completely dark.

“Arnau?” he called out.

His voice echoed round him. It was ... it was like a cave. Beneath the church!

He called out again and again. Quietly at first, then much louder, but he was frightened by the sound of his own shouts. He could try to get back, but where was the mouth of the tunnel? Joan stretched out his arms, but could feel nothing: he had crawled too far.

“Arnau!” he shouted again.

Nothing. He began to cry. What might he find in the cave? Monsters? What if this was hell? He was underneath a church; didn’t they say that hell was down there somewhere? What if the Devil appeared?

Arnau meanwhile was crawling down the passage. That was the only place Joan could have gone. He would never have climbed back out from under the floor. Arnau struggled on for a few yards, then called out once more. No one would hear outside the tunnel. No reply. He crawled on.

“Joanet!” he shouted, then corrected himself. “Joan!”

“Here,” he heard the reply.

“Where is here?”

“At the end of the tunnel.”

“Are you all right?”

Joan stopped shaking. “Yes.”

“Come back then.”

“I can’t. This is like a cave, and I can’t find the way back.”

“Feel the walls until you ... No!” Arnau changed his mind. “Don’t do that, Joan, do you hear me? There might be other tunnels. If only I could reach you ... Can you see anything, Joan?”

“No,” the other boy replied.

Arnau could crawl on until he found him, but what if he got lost too? Why was there a cave down there? Ah, now he had an idea! He needed light. If they had a lamp, they could find their way back.

“Wait where you are! Do you hear me, Joan? Stay still, all right? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, I can. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to get a lamp and come back. Stay where you are and don’t move, promise?”

“Yes ... ,” said Joan reluctantly.

“Think that you are underneath your mother, the Virgin.” Arnau did not hear any reply. “Did you hear me, Joan?”

Of course he heard him. He had said, “Your mother.” Arnau could hear her, even if he could not. But he had not let him talk to her. What if Arnau did not want to share his mother, and had deliberately shut him up down there, in hell?

“Joan?” Arnau insisted.

“What is it?”

“Wait for me, and don’t move.”

With difficulty, Arnau managed to crawl back until he was under the boards by the Calle del Born entrance. He quickly snatched the lamp that the watchman had left there, then disappeared into the tunnel again.

Joan could see the light approaching. When the walls opened out, Arnau took his hand away from the lantern to give more light. His brother was kneeling a couple of yards from the mouth of the passageway.

“Don’t be afraid,” Arnau said, trying to calm him.