The Lions of Catalunya by Jeremy D Rowe

Author:Jeremy D Rowe [Rowe, Jeremy D]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786230126
Publisher: Grosvenor House Publishing
Published: 2018-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Carla and Rafael wandered on towards the beach, pausing briefly at the shrine of Sant Miquel to pray and pick up the meagre possessions and scraps of food Rafael had hidden there. The scattered rogues and vagabonds who lived in the shanty town amongst the dunes were used to the dispossessed and homeless seeking shelter, and took little notice of two people who appeared to be beggars. Rafael’s filfthy state, and his strange gait, meant that no-one looked him in the face, and his mass of unruly blond curls had now become matted and greasy under a rough cap. The lion of La Ribera had truly vanished.

The two spent the first day and night wandering beside the sea, unsure what to do, or how to survive in such circumstances. The mild September weather, the warmth of the sun and the blue of the Mediterranean gave a false sense of peace and tranquillity, and it was hard to believe that such horror and mayhem lay only a mile away. As a child, Carla had often played beside the sea, and vaguely knew her way about the dunes. Rafael, busy in the shop, learning the vintner’s trade from an early age, had rarely been there. They slept on the beach, still dazed from their experiences.

The second day they found an abandoned shack just at the edge of the beach. Consisting of little more than two walls and a roof which had fallen in, they decided they could make a shelter of it; and there was no sign of any recent inhabitant or anyone likely to be returning soon. They laboured to clear out the debris, vaguely hoping to find something useful amongst the rubbish, but apart from saving all fragments of wood for a fire, they found nothing of value. By the end of the day, they had a small clear space in which to sleep, but little else.

Unpacking the bag which Grandmother Macia had packed, they found a cooking pot, a dagger-like kitchen knife, and a water jug. These immediately became their most cherished and valuable possessions, and were hidden under the rags in the corner of the shack. Smiling grimly, Carla said, “Believe it or not, I know this knife. It’s one from my father’s butcher’s shop. Here, in three possessions, is our entire life: a knife to butcher a rabbit, a pot to cook it in, and a jug to fetch the water for the cooking.”

“Grandmother Macia did well for us,” remarked Rafael. “Can we cook a rabbit in sea water?”

“I think it would be alright to cook with, but we need fresh water as well. There is a river north of here, polluted but not salty. Tomorrow I’ll take the jug and see if the water there is safe to drink. Today, we’ll manage on some more of the cheese.” Rafael continued to have the Blanxart sword strapped tightly to his leg, enabling him to stand or lie down, but not to sit easily. Lying on the

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