Notice the towering medieval stone complex ahead of you, anchored by a massive rectangular watchtower featuring rows of arched gallery windows near its flat roof. This is the Palau Reial Major, or the Grand Royal Palace. It looks impenetrable now, but this site holds a foundational story of utter devastation. Deep beneath the main hall, there are ancient stone remnants from the Visigoths, the early Germanic people who ruled this region after the fall of the Roman Empire. By the year 985, a royal residence stood here. But then came Almanzor, a fearsome military leader from the Caliphate of Córdoba, the powerful Islamic state ruling most of Spain. He laid siege to Barcelona for eight grueling days. When the city's defenses finally broke on July 6, the brutality was absolute. This original palace was consumed by flames. The citizens who had desperately sought refuge inside its thick walls, and in the cathedral next door, were either killed or dragged away as slaves. It was a horrific end, but it sparked a profound beginning. The local ruler, Count Borrell the Second, begged the Frankish King for military help to rebuild. The King ignored him. So, Borrell simply refused to renew his vow of loyalty, making the Catalan counties effectively independent. Out of the blackened rubble of that fiery sack, a new Romanesque palace was built. It is a defining chapter in the city's relentless habit of being shattered, only to reforge itself into something bolder and more defiant. As the centuries rolled on, the palace grew alongside the power of the Crown of Aragon. The kings added grand gothic halls, a chapel, and even an exotic garden. They actually kept a collection of live lions in that garden to intimidate visiting ambassadors. You have to wonder how the densely packed medieval neighbors felt about the roaring. This palace also barely missed hosting a history altering tragedy. In December 1492, King Ferdinand the Second was walking down the palace steps when a sixty-year-old peasant swung a heavy sword directly at the king's neck. Miraculously, a thick gold chain the king was wearing deflected the blade, saving his life, though the sword still cut four fingers deep into his collarbone. The attacker claimed the Holy Spirit told him to do it. His punishment was unimaginably grim. He was paraded through the city, dismembered alive, and had his heart pulled out. Because of that attack, the royal court relocated to a quiet monastery outside the city to let the king heal. And that is why, despite the popular romantic legend that Christopher Columbus presented his discoveries to the monarchs in this very palace, the historic meeting actually happened at that distant monastery instead. Let us keep moving. Just steps away, we will walk into the courtyard that once held those royal gardens and roaring lions. It is now part of the Frederic Marès Museum, which is barely a minute walk from where you are standing. If you want to explore the interiors of this palace complex later, it is open Monday through Friday from ten to eight, Saturdays from nine thirty to six, and closed on Sundays.
