THE RICHES OF SANTIAGO BOOK ONE ********* Chapter Five: Maragall & The Genralitat

Despite his limp, a souvenir from prison, Gabriel Maragall maintained an aristocratic bearing. Destined to be a lawyer and gentleman farmer, he had never let a change in his circumstances interfere with his public persona. He rose each morning at 5:30, shaved carefully, and dressed impeccably, even when, as usual, he had no place to go. This evening, though, was different. This evening, the Generalitat would convene, and thank him for preventing a disaster. As a young man, sixty years previously, Maragall had backed the wrong horse in the War of the Spanish Succession, a regrettable decision to which Maragall still clung proudly. The war resulted from the Will and Last Testament of the childless and impotent Charles II, who passed away in the year 1700 as the last of the Hapsburgs to rule Spain. Charles Will bestowed the Spanish crown on his grand-nephew Philip, the Duke of Anjou and grandson of the reigning French monarch, Louis XIV, and had Charles left no further provisions, great suffering might have been averted. But Charles was childless and impotent for good reason. He was descended from Queen Joanna the Mad a total of fourteen times, and his father served also as an uncle and his mother as a niece. Charles genetic makeup was less diverse than identical twins, leaving him in delicate health and of questionable intellect. For no good discernible reason, other than perhaps to stir the European pot, he named his cousin, the Archduke

Charles of Austria as an alternate successor. European Royals of the time required far less justification to go to war to certify a claim to a throne. The powder keg known as Europe exploded set off by the competing claims to the Spanish crown. Maragall, following the lead of his father, welcomed the Austrians claim to the Spanish Crown, not out of any love for the Archduke or Austria, but out of enmity for the Bourbons who, in Maragalls view, failed to recognize the autonomous rights of the Catalan Corts. Maragalls father, a leading member of the Generalitat at the time, led Catalonias support for the Archduke Charles and opposition to Philip, the French Bourbon. After nearly a decade of war involving much of Europes monarchies and nationalities, Philip succeeded in securing his claim as Philip V, King of Spain. As punishment for their backing of his opponent, Philip outlawed the Generalitat and deprived Catalonia of their traditional autonomous privileges. The ban continued even to this day, enforced Carlos III, the third of Philips sons to occupy the throne. Despite the ban, a clandestine Generalitat continued to meet periodically. The purpose for todays meeting caused Maragall grave concern, and he intended to make his fears known. They would listen to his counsel. They had always listened to his counsel. He stumped hurriedly down the Ramblas toward the harbor, side by side with his old friend, Salvador Gaudi. Maragall and Gaudi were the only survivors of the pre-ban Generalitat. Maragall had inherited his position from his father, the most respected of Barcelonas leaders at the turn of the Century, and Gaudi, now 80, was the oldest living member. After his fathers tragic death in the early stages of the 18-month siege of Barcelona, Maragall fought bravely and earned Gaudis respect. Regardless, Barcelona eventually fell, and they descended into hell. When the 21-year old Maragall and 30-year old Gaudi emerged from prison only three years later, their hair and beards had turned snow white and Maragall would forever require a cane to support the torn Achilles tendon in his right ankle. Still, he moved more quickly than Gaudi.

I cannot run at this pace, Gabriel. You must slow down, Gaudi wheezed. Gaudi, an extremely tiny man weighing scarcely 100 pounds, wore a black beret pulled jauntily to the side of his head. Despite his advanced years, fragile physique and declining health, he still considered himself a lover, and never missed an opportunity to charm the ladies. Maragall immediately slowed. Gaudi was the one man for whom he made allowances. We dont want to be late, Salvador. We are the only antidote to the poison that man will spread. That man was the Don Paulo Remarque Cardenal, the current scion of the enormously wealthy Remarque family that had held a monopoly on the nao de la China, the Manila Galleon. The Galleon trade, Mexican silver in return for the silk, porcelain, ivory, jade and mercury of the Far East, had enriched all of Spain, and for more than a century each cargo had passed through the hands of the Remarques. Regardless, the family had fallen on harder times recently, partially due to political setbacks. Then again, Don Paulos grim talents deviated from those needed to operate a shipping empire. Why do you suppose hed ask to meet with the Generalitat? Whats his scheme? Maragall had been mulling the same question. On the surface, Cardenal and the Catalan Generalitat had no common interests. Catalonia wanted autonomy, separation from the Spanish overlords. Cardenal was one of those overlords. Cardenal wanted what? Word had spread through the members of the Generalitat that Cardenal wanted a meeting. The request had generated enough curiosity that the Generalitat agreed to convene. Whats that old saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

Maybe, Gaudi responded. But theres no harm in listening, is there? I dont trust him, Salvador. Not as far as I could throw him. If he says right, I say left. Whatever he wants, we must oppose. Gaudi kept his own counsel on that. As they reached Ferriers Tapas Bar, Maragall pulled up. Take a seat, Salvador. Im sure Ill find Ramon in here. Are you bringing Ramon to the meeting? The others wont like that. To hell with what they like or dislike. My father introduced me to the Generalitat when it was full of weak old men. He knew it needed some strong young blood. Were old, Salvador. Its time Ramon learns what he needs to do when were gone. Gaudi sat on the stone bench outside Ferriers as Maragall entered the bar. As nighttime approached, the dark interior of the bar was actually brighter than outdoors, lit by candles set in wall niches. As he expected, Maragall saw his grandson in conference with the lowlifes hed recently met. He needed to explain to Ramon the importance of picking friends wisely. He also saw the girl, Cosette, who set his rage ablaze. He knew his animosity was irrational. She was a lovely girl and she obviously worked very hard to help her father. But Ramon was smitten with her and that made Maragall angry. Angry? Why should I be angry, he wondered? Maybe Im not angry; maybe Im simply a scared old man. Or jealous. Jealous of him for his youth, and jealous of her for taking Ramon away. He knew Ramon must find his own way, but Maragall loved him too much to let go easily. And Ramon was now old enough to begin assuming his rightful place in Catalan leadership. Catalonia needed him now to carry on the fight of his grandfather and great grandfather.

Cosette noticed Maragall, and read the anger always lurking in his eyes. She went to Ramon and touched his shoulder, indicating his grandfather. Ramon leaped to his feet and rushed to meet Maragall. Papa, I didnt know you were here. Were you looking for me? I didnt have to look for you, Ramon, I knew you would be here. I need you to come with me. Of course, Papa. Where are we going? Maragalls eyes blackened. Youll learn when you need to know, he snarled. Lets go. Ramons eyes dropped to the floor. Yes, Papa. Im ready. Cosette pretended to be busy, cleaning the table the fat Spaniard had now vacated. As Ramon began following his grandfather out the door, she called out to him. Ramon, will you be back? Maragall snarled again, What business is it of yours? This time Ramon did not drop his eyes. Papa, Cosette is my friend. You taught me to always be polite to women and my elders. Maragall erupted, Are you correcting me? Yes, Ramon thought, but he didnt dare say. Instead, he walked to Cosette and stretched his hand out to her. Their fingertips touched gently, and her eyes, smoldering from Maragalls ugliness, softened. Ill be back as soon as I can, Cosette. If not tonight, then tomorrow.

Cosette felt all the eyes of the bar on them, particularly those of her father peering out from the kitchen. Oh, Ramon, she whispered. Lets leave. Lets go away and leave all this. Ramons eyes again dropped to the floor. We cant, Cosette. Its not right, for you, or me. My father would suffer, my grandfather, for all his anger, needs me. And your father would be heartbroken. You know you dont want that. I must go. Well talk as soon as I get back. I promise. He walked back to his grandfather. Im ready now, Papa. Maragall had particularly noticed the gentle touching of their fingertips. It had been such a casual, and yet tender and intimate gesture. His anger faded as his memory of intimate gestures, and guilt, returned. He looked to Cosette unable to form words when from the doorway he heard Gaudi. You need to apologize to her Gabriel. Gaudi, shuffling in his fragile gait, approached Cosette, doffed his beret, bowed deeply before her and raised her hand to his lips. Ahh, you are a beautiful young woman. Dont mind the old man, hes just constipated. Hell come to his senses soon enough. Cosette couldnt help laughing. She beamed at the old man and bent over to kiss him on the cheek. Thank you, he said while replacing his beret to its jaunty angle. You see, Gabriel, I get kisses from beautiful young women. What reward did you get? He turned and headed back out the door, placing his hand up on Ramons shoulder as he passed him. Come Ramon, weve work to do, places to see, women to conquer. Ramon couldnt help smiling as he followed the old man. Maragall, rooted in place, continued to look at Cosette. He turned on his heel and started to leave, but Cosette caught up to him and touched his arm. Looking at him steadily, she placed a kiss on his cheek as well. I love him, she said. Please dont let anything happen to him. Tears accumulated in the well of his eyes. He nodded to her, and left the bar.