Cathedral of Évora

Stand still for a moment on the worn paving in front of the cathedral. Feel the warmth coming off the stone, even in the late afternoon. Above you, two heavy towers rise from a wall of pale grey granite. The light here in the Alentejo is strong and dry, and it picks out every edge of the carved doorway. Swifts cut across the sky. Somewhere behind you, a café spoon clinks against a cup.

This is the Sé of Évora, the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Assumption. Locals simply call it the Sé, from the Latin word for a bishop's seat. It sits on the highest ground of the old walled town. That position is not an accident. For centuries, whoever held this hilltop held the city, and the cathedral was built to say so in stone.

The story begins in the late twelfth century. Évora had recently passed from Moorish rule to the young Portuguese kingdom. Work on a great church started in the 1180s, and it was consecrated in the early 1200s. Building continued for decades after that. Some accounts suggest an earlier mosque once stood on or near this spot, though the details are uncertain. What is clear is the message: a new Christian kingdom was planting itself firmly on the hill.

Look again at the front. It feels less like a church and more like a fortress. The towers are thick and blunt, with few openings. This is typical of the moment between two styles. Romanesque building, the older style of round arches and massive walls, was giving way to Gothic, with its pointed arches and taller, lighter spaces. Here you can see both at once. The cathedral is often described as the largest medieval cathedral in Portugal.

Notice that the two towers do not match. Each one ends in a different kind of top. One carries a cone-shaped spire, ringed by smaller cones. The other is finished differently. Medieval buildings were rarely completed in one campaign, and later builders added their own ideas. Many visitors photograph the front without noticing this. Once you see it, though, the facade suddenly looks more human — the work of many hands over many years.

Now step closer to the main doorway. On either side stand tall stone figures of the Apostles, the followers of Christ. They were carved in the fourteenth century, during a later Gothic phase of work. Their faces are calm and a little stiff. Their robes fall in long, straight folds. Granite is a hard stone to carve, so look at how much detail the sculptors still managed to cut into it.

Inside, the temperature drops. Your eyes need a few seconds to adjust. The nave, the long central space of the church, stretches ahead under pointed vaults. The walls are bare granite, framed with white plaster. There is very little decoration here, and that plainness is part of the effect. Sound behaves differently too. Footsteps travel far, and a whisper near a pillar can carry further than you expect.

Here is a surprise many people walk straight past. In the nave, look for a painted Gothic statue of the Virgin Mary. She is shown pregnant, with one hand resting on her belly. In Portuguese she is called Nossa Senhora do Ó. Images of a pregnant Mary are rare in European churches. For generations, women in the region have come to her to pray for a safe birth. It is a small, tender figure inside a very serious building.

Now walk forward to where the nave meets the arms of the church. Look straight up. Above the crossing rises a lantern tower, a tall structure with windows that pull daylight down into the centre. From outside, its roof is covered in stone scales, a little like a pine cone. Similar towers exist in a few churches in Spain. On a bright day, the light falls through it in a soft column onto the floor.

At the far end, the mood changes completely. The main chapel is not medieval at all. It was rebuilt in the eighteenth century in the Baroque style, rich and theatrical, with coloured marble in pink, white and grey. The architect was João Frederico Ludovice, a German-born master who also designed the vast palace and convent at Mafra, near Lisbon. Standing between the grey nave and this polished marble feels like walking between two different centuries.

Up in the choir, there are carved oak choir stalls from the sixteenth century, and a Renaissance organ that is considered one of the oldest in Europe still in place. Local tradition also holds that the banners for Vasco da Gama's first voyage to India were blessed in this cathedral before he sailed in 1497. It is a much-loved story, but treat it as tradition rather than a documented certainty.

If your visit includes the cloister, do not miss it. This square Gothic courtyard was built in the fourteenth century. Its arches have round, rose-like openings that frame the sky above. Bishops were buried here, and the air is quiet in a way the town outside is not. Above the cloister, you can usually climb to the roof. From there, you see red-tiled roofs, white walls and the open plains of the Alentejo running to the horizon.

The cathedral also houses a museum of sacred art, with objects collected over centuries of worship. And just a short walk away stands the Roman Temple, a set of columns that is far older than anything here. Évora's historic centre is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. From this hill, you can sense how each era — Roman, Moorish, medieval, Baroque — built over the one before it.

Before you leave, step back out into the square and turn around once more. Look at the two unmatched towers and the patient Apostles at the door. The stone you are looking at has been warmed by this same sun for around eight hundred years. As you walk down the narrow streets, listen for the bells. They mark the hours here, just as they did when the first builders laid these blocks.