41. The monastery’s weathercock

The rooster before you is a witness to one of the monastery’s best-known stories.

Today, you see it here inside the church. Originally, however, it stood much higher up, at the very top of the lantern tower, where it served as a weathervane and constantly indicated the direction of the wind.

Its story takes us back to the fourteenth century, during the height of the Black Death. In 1348, the monk Arnau Ramon de Biure was elected abbot of our monastery.

Shortly afterwards, the community received a large inheritance from a nobleman, Ramon de Saltells, who left all his possessions to the monastery.

But there was one important detail. Saltells had a son named Berenguer, who had not been heard from for years. In a time marked by death and uncertainty, it seemed likely that he had vanished. Even so, Saltells included a clause in his will stating that, if his son were ever to return, the monks would have to pay him a considerable sum.

And that is exactly what happened. In 1350, quite unexpectedly, Berenguer reappeared. He returned to Sant Cugat and claimed his entire inheritance.

The conflict was inevitable, and both sides turned to a jurist for mediation

The jurist ruled that the monastery had to pay Berenguer a substantial sum within six months. But the abbot did not have the money, and every attempt to raise it failed…

Time was running out… and the tension was growing…

Then came Christmas Eve in 1350. Inside the church, the community of monks was celebrating the Office of Matins, just before Midnight Mass. Everything seemed to be unfolding as usual… until Berenguer and several accomplices burst into the church, disguised with false beards and armed with swords.

They force their way into the choir, where the monks are gathered, and strike the abbot on the head. He rushes to the altar, seizes a cross, and presses it to his chest as a shield, hoping it will stop his attacker. But it does not, and he dies of his wounds.

Here, history gives way to legend. It is said that, at that very moment, the monastery’s largest bell began to ring by itself, as if denouncing the crime. This iron rooster, though inanimate, is also said to have crowed so loudly that its cries were heard in the neighbouring villages.

Today, the original rooster is preserved here as a silent witness to that night. On top of the lantern tower, you can see a replica installed in 2022.

If you then make your way to the entrance of the sacristy and look up at the stained-glass window above the door, you will see a depiction of that blood-stained Christmas.

This rooster reminds us not to remain silent in the face of injustice, but to denounce it and seek creative solutions.

Pause for a moment before this rooster… and reflect on how, sometimes, even the smallest objects can preserve the greatest stories.