Victus by Albert Sanchez Pinol

Author:Albert Sanchez Pinol
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-07-23T04:00:00+00:00

And while our allies were departing, leaving us on the palisades, and the Bourbon columns made their implacable approach toward Barcelona, what did the Red Pelts decide to do? Nothing. Even as Starhemberg was packing his bags, up till the very last moment, they were still sending him dispatches for signature. According to their twistedly legalistic logic, that Austrian vulture was still viceroy. The machinery of state really ought to keep up appearances. The fact that Starhemberg was in league with the enemy, that he was handing over our homes and our freedom, well, heavens, that hardly seemed important!

Among the Allied regiments boarding ships were a few Catalans, though not many, who in their day had been enlisted in Charles’s imperial army. They weren’t Miquelets, halfway between hell and the law, merely men who wanted to make careers in a regular army. They knew exactly what was going on. They weren’t at the heart of government, they didn’t have daily dealings with the executive and their elevated politics, and yet they understood what was up and to whom they owed their fidelity. Right up until the final day, there were men who abandoned the ranks of the Allied forces, even some who leaped overboard from ships to head for Barcelona. Starhemberg exceeded mere rigor, ending up in cruelty: He gave orders that deserters should be executed, when the truth was that throughout the whole war, he had been quite unenthusiastic in his pursuit of deserters. And so our most generous young lads were left hanging from trees, dotting the path of retreat, and all the while the Red Pelts were bowing down before these boys’ murderer.

Toward the end of 1713, the Red Pelts decided to call the Catalan parliament. They were so disconcerted at the situation that the session could be summarized in one single point: How to face the Bourbon advance, submit or fight?

I should clarify that our parliament was divided into three groups, or branches: One was made up of the nobility; the second represented the common people; and the third, inevitably, consisted of the cockroaches from the Vatican.

As for you, woman, you are not to interrupt me or correct me when I pick on the priests! I’m perfectly aware of what I’m saying, and I’m going to speak my mind.

I am not saying that all priests are bad people. It’s not that. During the siege, you could see certain priests who were thinner than cypresses, fragile as glass, still and impassive as they faced enemy fire. With no earthly possessions but their cassock, they had bullets buzzing past their ears and they remained imperturbable on their knees, administering the sacrament to the dying on the front line. Their bishops, however, were like the Red Pelts, but black. You need only to look at the behavior of the cardinal and bishop of Barcelona himself, the wretched Benet Sala.

On the first day of discussion, the secretary to the parliament asked the ecclesiastical branch their view. As theirs was the smallest group of the three, it seemed logical that this should be cleared up before the others.

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