Free Rose of Fire by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Rose of Fire
    An original short story by
    C ARLOS R UIZ Z AFÓN
    Translated from the Spanish by Lucia Graves

    Set at the time of the Spanish Inquisition in the fifteenth century, “Rose of Fire” tells the story of the origins of the mysterious labyrinthine library, the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, which lies at the heart of Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s novels The Shadow of the Wind , The Angel’s Game , and now The Prisoner of Heaven .

    And so, when 23 April came round, the prisoners in the block turned to David Martín, who lay in the shadows of his cell with his eyes closed, and begged him to tell them a story with which to alleviate their tedium. ‘I’ll tell you a story,’ he replied. ‘A story about books, dragons and roses, as befits the date,* but above all, a story about shadows and ashes, as befits the times . . .’
    (from the lost fragments of The Prisoner of Heaven )
    * 23 April, St. George’s day (World Book Day) is celebrated in Catalonia with gifts of roses and books.
    1
    The chronicles tell us that when the maker of labyrinths reached Barcelona on board a vessel hailing from the East, he already carried with him the germ of a curse that was to stain the city’s skies with fire and blood. It was the year of Our Lord 1454. A plague had decimated the population during the winter and the city lay under a blanket of ochre-coloured smoke that rose from bonfires ablaze with hundreds of corpses and shrouds. From afar one could see the noxious pall spiralling upwards. It crept through towers and palaces and soared like an omen of death, warning travellers to continue on their way and not approach the city walls. The Holy Office had ordered the city to be sealed off and had carried out an investigation. After days of brutal interrogation it was established without a shadow of a doubt that the plague had originated in a well close to the Jewish quarter, also known as the Call de Sanaüja, where Semitic money-lenders had conjured up a demonic plot to poison its waters. The usurers’ substantial goods were seized and what was left of their bodies was cast into a pit in the marshes. Now, all that anyone could do was hope that the prayers of honest citizens might bring God’s blessing back to Barcelona. Every day fewer people died and more people believed that the worst was over. However, as fate would have it, the former turned out to be the fortunate ones and the latter would soon envy them for having already left that vale of misery. By the time a timid voice dared to suggest that a terrible punishment might fall upon them from Heaven to purge the vile act committed against the Jewish traders In Nomine Dei , it was too late. Nothing fell from Heaven except ash and dust. Evil, for once, arrived by sea.
    2
    The ship was sighted at dawn. Some fishermen, mending their nets by the Sea Wall, saw it emerging out of the mist, carried in by the swell. When the prow ran aground on the shore and the hull listed to port, the fishermen clambered aboard. A powerful stench rose from the bowels of the ship: the hold was flooded and a dozen sarcophagi floated among the debris. Edmond de Luna, maker of labyrinths and sole survivor of the voyage, was found tied to the helm and burnt by the sun. At first they thought he was dead, but when they took a closer look they noticed that his wrists were still bleeding where they were tied and a cold breath issued from his lips. He carried a leather-bound notebook under his belt but none of the fishermen was able lay his hands on it because by then a group of soldiers had turned up in the port and their captain, following instructions from the Bishop’s Palace – which had been alerted of the ship’s arrival – ordered the dying man to be taken to the neighbouring Hospital de Santa Marta. The captain then posted his men around the shipwreck to guard it until representatives of the Holy Office were able to inspect the vessel and make a proper Christian appraisal of the events. Edmond de